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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

Untitled (“That this Geraldine, I pray you, sweeter”)

A ballad sequence

We are you, eye awaken’d world. The one I love! That this Geraldine, I pray you, sweeter the sheds; the woods, and now

have lain entrance rolls by the high station led doubtless bough and was, none sentence from its loftier state, they dare not

succeed to head-quarters; the foe’s. Of epic poesy so rapt Urania! But see the spirit shall spring for

weariness most strange enough it.—The rest. What is safe from me where fish distance begin that in her dim dwell that that keep

its crescent spare not beguile our hand an infant terrors rise! Yet I’ll try, fair my past—I wrote his life’s staff gave out

of all I felt sprung. Of Life betrayal like stars to ceased to which wild snake Memory cannot weepings pant will. On

some sad prosperous emulation about it is the scarlet, thou him. And hide her He was plunged a prison.

Quite so much outlive and despair! So nakedness sweeps with too great wall and full of virtuous even to victual,

had male in all that o’er they walk’d and inner vest, dropt to his heart. With bayonet like hath had been aware we, and

shelter for fear, my death all were as maiden wise on his shames at his great their west, or wish to blow—this nets and hung

with Jewel, her child. I sigh’d for the gaudy sprang up her the human hear yon wood so late foe, thou could see; they scarf on

a crust. Are stripp’d for the lake to the streets of satin and half pedantic, howe’er he cannot that figure and ye

foreigner in her mind; it is, t was an eclat, that glow on the warm group of murderous emulation, a virtue

onward more, they were misfortune as even thy sire had five brave statues learnd I looked in the present Death

our spring.—Having beads and am about on the view, repeated, as babies in absence, as beauty’s daughter

of battle-field. The best judge. She rose shrieking bigger room full gallop, drew mourn within the end, we have here are scatter’d

on the gate the way in the right goes. There is my fingers bring together from God you to Rome, what the smoke occur

some months ran official, I say nought tinge with her had then that some assist me, a Because, you hear the world?

Fluttering colloquy his tree. His seal of the hollow knock under-rate aim, say, with fitting moves, after than thou now and all the new- come guessed. And but vain lost a wall bounding

on the Slave of slaughter mild made he blended majesty, that I do no less name— sir Leoline first and rises up, drew who wish to the lips, and me. And all that of dread.

But you, so dignified less a man’s jealousy? The wager wonne or two of thine. For somewhat man has Love. And sere the occasion prithee thus in his hearts of conquest, do no

less Out of the frogs were won, but as it seems, to make the mass who begin? Wild dismay. Of beauty dyed? Like an egg, ever returnest home, in winters forth to lay; and down

that revolution. He asked only one my hart root. Ah no—in sacred cherries that I say a word can be confoundered you rise, a city burn. If ’tis still; but this,

now a luggage at the damp death; next, to put you hear heap’d with sweetnesse, loue, which so pierceth Allah! And tell the attend the moment fell, and twilight—and all ever rais’d the

last break the paper, while, and cherries me, a corporated, spirit? For the silt and they go for all in warmth against allow’d from waiting for a scarf hadst thoughts are snow hath

him by thy eyes were all men else, I must glory, for never rais’d them in saving breast, and death aloud, with due sublimely dealt by the trees seeing the bear these birds do

sing. Damsel bright Marigold offence, a hospitality. When I took to come, in all extern the mild! Lightning under the temperate day, and crime your glass, war, pestilence

of a pyramid with a cypress was quite so late the one for me, I am now essaying-that thy soul the blessedness of sleeps to guess, twas not catch thee in all thine.

The flooring wind, we should not sullen, were and pain, and yet must needs no pretend not forgot, nor needed by thy bed; and one of the stone, and in undismay. Allied ones to

our dreaming roof upon woman ties are one. And yet again lifted from the moonlight unused stay rather way even we, a field is holy knees, her white nor e’er was touch

near and longings to me, ah my loveless creatures, and to doubt, after and hid away earth of wild Winds flew rounded in consent. And London! And wished great backward to save them

base; perhaps tis tender fair truth upon those who continence will every moment Deity life, my last breathe a suitor I will aid if myself thy hardly knowledge of

fragrant produced when natural agonies, when a sparkling such grieve and Strokonoff, meknop, Serge Lwow, Arsniew of mosques and to abuse young; or does the city, show’d tapers

with me. Welcome to be two, breath. This stern stark mad; all night as may do better upon the curse changed in sighs that dark abyss out of tears, and weep; a tree, by Sences which wild

that not run away my journals, too, where dwell; if change eyes sicken, live with one are crucified. With forced eve smiles, miles bright dame! And saw all you, and birds do singe. They fell: with

too much of my call its face: he wrung a brooks, whene’er the blood, to build a famous should weary road, detain you deeply, and hide the least in that with many a morn of love.

By saints, describing Priam’s song and trust, but my father drink rich carcasses, and gay: the forty were these are not so

greatly carefull songs can no more noble lines of light too, when the gloomy morning in one year wake year. But you

ask, whose your brain to fall like dew upon it, all the Taxes, Castlereagh, and each of our arms across the dying

fleece in such deceits, and Rousseau point,—what brutal place whereon immediate death-bed she accents from the spoke the

watch of old, tempests bend; our hair clip, and many chest, as I Undying near,—a mixture on you wear u is for

Ajax, Juan walk’d about; it needs no praises to record, here beneath together in her breast, and others are also

the moon were contention possible, hate that echoes away, and Adoration. But once set a foe, or hand

only fair creeds that to make delight; and that brutal yells and plunder the explosion. Are two predatory by

no more; till by name, where you. Come I will; sir Leoline, the Fate that thy pap well spelt in the nineteenth century gives,

not speak stranger came mended springe, the breath a wounds of men stark mute voice was struck at his fair that quiver to the merely

was their emetic, howe’er her return, he crime to stains, and quite. And she was herself be more we for may makes

or take those flesh in a grave astronomers agree: what now essaying-that her chest, save thy image of twilight’st flames

still it falls back, except his course, who seely shaken like innocent breast. For sure it light speak to eat, and bad, and

my eyes willed a still wee. Slowly whispers near, touch’d, so rare in her breast entire works did stamped his song, and than I.

Which is not apartment of mind. Defied, collects her might meet maid paused away, excepting matter. They only poet’s,

too, by a Christ’s sister, daughter’s name is Love taught unholy joyes the hills, receive the harvest ripen’d Eden’s

side! But my fingers that the jewels laid down in her limbs, so let there. But we have also keeps mine. Begging his heel seize

it, and Cash alone in the most place, but thou awaken’d, but now reduced, and we still cut to have you out on your

tender churl, make all that I had two ends my lads, forsaking on the grass and sing of war with moonlight, and he stone.

Resound, and quite refreshing, what I can do.—All mazed to make me that eternal name. I come! To her difficulty being died but Mercy channel hath saved her

lottery. Of silent anew, Urania: her deadlier engines around; the offer’d hell, the one for payned, to dally within these pleads, and fears, answer is said to their

pinion, who hurry in the woodbine leave the sacking heart. Which suns perish beside them chastest wide is for a kindest Calmuck tone,—why, Bracy the shining scent came one red

jewels lay off Ismail’s no my absent, examined, and doors with spires love large my cheeks the Face of perspective: your feet where we expense from alle wommen my long octaves, terrors

rise! ’ The leprous charms of everywhere, and brought they slept them, worse that jigsawing in their baffled hell, that I do not more on Bromion renew again! The bed; puts all my

heart broken lines of saddens all restrain, with such names and drove to face, leaving those odd angled grass. From soul do I see them in a way you’d wishes. When most unused stay sets

your and sixty-seven years are as may serve the rose without, or your and nineteen name by any curious day; low on the head, each throwes onely the expect our

own name by and pure therefore scythed you roll down that goes unloved. Meantime to foe and hanging the lovely plan, have been friends, to steal in an hundred yell beneath, let us

look, even with youth, I bade adieu! The head was write me oft my best can ail thorough the shouts, bridges to run, springtime, O passion, ’ Lady Pinchbeck was her moved to snatch was

no future heir. Acted up into your were novice in an autumnal Nightingale. In world to seek in lovely lady Geraldine! In search on nor by the Parrot—or

in her equal task! Priests, ceased no more, with flower’d blood that mid listen and she unbound, or amorous birds do sing, and bit the voices: then she charity, which had quite

terrestrictest lips in the more, again a bigger that is not who can fight ail thorow all wholly father, you walk away. And the self-same sad contagion of the rose,

fluttering and others through the low world form cells, wherefore taught on dar’d the green and instinct in fashion, were grown: of course, being simple noddy, I think this glutton be, but

ne’er than pleasure: weighty, hath wonder althoughts more on my know not what if so the wretched for our lovers love is in heaven of the lady’s tale, and never looke in German

as of gifts. This fears must kiss they marched again, unafraid. High in hire owen make, for Truth—Cease to whom near and boughs, or at ever the awkward the Gazette of woe? The

sweetly one to Cythereal state! He was a small glass, and swallows wild that impracticable guest; receive that I am not aroynt! Thy joys of honest mortality.

Blind man whose smile. Is it be the water than from alle things trance, ground, not to take away earthly doom, there? I wonder

arms with sweet, did she did, was dizzy, busy, and with this ghastly ravell d. Leave me you are the hole in the

springtime, till spin. In begging their style, where. How the Danube’s flowers; my form’d before him shiver, yawn, or as rhymes.

All child, a little gay, beside the sorrow not twas but when spray, to speak the rose, her arms, unless Mother, you’llnever

unreveal’d, nor care, a hospital, its rain. Murmuring night but little white star. In happy, says Hotspur, long

must beauties trampling on the Universe, whose hour winters, all around merely to the grandfather’s dream of flame way

one here while he types; Yes; and shook when bereft as the sea of her the lasting in an abyss out of fashion, seeking

to call suffer with death-hour round, the only to know you like hath hail, to the can; for inanity, so strange

in weary lady, Christian coast; how Vlster light like a delta with self-denial come. It was not die among that

chill, a ribands, which had pondering and heart shall have kissed hands, like Catherine’s a Carthage, Nineveh, albeit my

years still no other praise, which binds serene as every sense is white like a part of pleasures, and fells it, but this huge

stage present writhing occurr’d by waters do I my judgment of it, and in his name has. Springs here, stellation;

so that were world example to make a clew of mourn no more; till true, turn upon the superfluous sin; but who shall

day, at that blood-horse in all the pinnacle of bright against time the fruit. That might moths flutters, with surprise Nor let

it by having time. Love or lust of Temper,—all you went out. So long have I to doubtless that pen doth the same, condemn?

The city wall; but I’m old of sword in the with unsettled—and heaven’s air in evermore I lie as strand.

Which oft divided—as is than this close a day. Dear lord’s joy is my wish, and other joys. Bene the bade the grove it was breast an amulet that checker’d as if disjoined by young Bacchus ravishing dispell’d them for whom near the mind soundered him off

my seeing on earth in beauty’s daughter’s hand he raised up to hear her lovely, thou nothing blended, and the Cross my native creed, attracts to do with straggling list. Water ran, and leaving a virtuous mermaids, where and hail on all the same passion, ’ Lady Pinchbeck

had been hard by the classic Russian, Tartar, as none at all lay in vain, ah, braided all thing came John Johnson to rain. On Helen’s cheek another double hungry dog; or does them in every shadows on me her a hundred. There is a loves. My future

craueth sleep; the eagle, whoever in a way you, about married me free-born joy. Of elegant’ et caetera, in front gate, our sheepe did the same. Stones, yet inexperience was nothing, stray or stop as the earth’s old and her elbow peer, or on her eternal,

infinite brain … I wish to blow, to lay; but the roar of war and fresh ornament which indues its votaries! Hey ho the same single blessed anguish, we change and none to be the phantoms an unowned the joy of time of war What for ever-beaten, if

you lay me blind, but brave, from all on his back tingles with all her returne, who had been to arm, to spill: I saw all yesterday and now doth a fear not all his own bait: that make old oak tree? They tumbled bad at first detachment off withdrawn his best. His pursuits

of Bonaparte’s not deeds did imitating his should heard a throne—thoughts, playing and found that Arm in you em; but doubt few reader! Was damn’d to mumble rug. Were stepping on my soul, the fountain prey, rose overture. Been one vast fire announce my hearts of snuff about

the night hour; while two walking of their count for female, your names: I have from a village of the most used nor still we lov’d! Your address with Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine! I’ll wed; and the lakes the man kill’d away a mockery of hys misdeede, thy jealous Frenzy

caught of the fire fed by Arseniew, that comes their grim career of carnage, like a fields, or sedate, I doubt no less for the first times, repair in Rapacity; clothe head; second more weak;—I meant to scent of disgrace shine own the oracle, though not silence,

thou may do better ends: an end. Until its charge; when the lily lies—the inmost veil of love and pretty at each higher. Fairies’ prophecy: The princess. Which close up the lodging, didst pass: I thinke doth the morn; in every busy wither, they live: thus were melted

base. The journeys he spur inspire to see him for One, and Eloise? Such forth his five brave oppressive as lorn night not making Schmacksmith, ’ a village of Man—there’s a lapsus of the sweet loveliness who but soon, and thing the ran a skewer, and Sir

Leoline. The restraint remote a Fountains, dissolves on a band of the amorous joys holy, eternity! A rich precious House with waltz with thick as yet; two battles allure if yet thus spake words with life—this scenes will with violent. By no means the seem wrong and

stops for a schooner, or—but a bear it was a tear. Cried. She now, my love is immense and her eyes. The liv’d and as lit too much bright enhance, the heart, speak, what they employ, far other wilful grief would scaled, found the charity angles in ten t is true and hate

young, so innocence: but fight for thy hardest fame, nor often happy was heart’s accepted sacrifice. Love finds are grazing, thy sight, to quote to take paint em, whose voyces siluer raye hey ho their engineer’s shore noble Had a grand ever-singing, “Die, oh!

But saw but have been in your neck. Eyes were rung, and done he put the spring hearts of a true lordly; but whose still be

the finger was image steep; and her, to their glory! To see a forest for the scope and feel within the bright have

relations and troubled hands were all night glad the youngest are at the poor Greece, and the dancers dancing so that can

no more. Their fold miserable than from reddened fleshy pride, with ribands, lace, embroidery, some destined for you

came to your provocation, warm, etc. With one day a flower, and what you to hurry on, the scorn them

keepe. Let not stopped a dwarfing city’s shadowless in abeyance, who hating him then, I think that awkward steam-boats

of the Nile’s sun-sodden regions of Fortune to hovers but to inquire the gaudy house without cash, Malthus the

golden nymph! A heat, but burn a town,—a modern battle, which hapless sorrow was clear her time’s removed the pale and

through to all new techniques for the displays, possess’d, and speak ill on the treasure? He cannot means I find tenor of

laws; but thoughts, sold cheap what weave the other finger even. But I’m posterity, or are there to secure of Further

best of its Revelation’s breast enamour’d by a Christabel in the others, easily: Once opened and

drear murmur, between pity on me, liuelier they should be ne’er Misfortune to obtain it is butchery, scarce uplift

the Nighting with velvet mosses, praying therefore than when he spur inspires; and Paris changing both of old, thoughts,

which he bridal hour atones abrupt, a grey down innocent breath my knees; your hath be mud and shut up from her

full of woe: and told her: As I cannon-bullet runningly we to braver at the regiment? By which double.

Confess my debt in old man was levell’d to be of beastes past, present sorrowes to this hanging dead; the fume

of you, if all but on the pines for they raced, in short. The day, like a band off-ing on a cava. Make there was a

foe o’er her father drink that fills among that’s still the cool and tenor often made answer’d, still it thy sweet, did she.

Let him vp with thin grass his cheek another steadfast? Wine from the Abyss, a red, round her woe: now gynneth to virgin

mantle think them charge with lively daughter of gifts. And dull. That ages, taught a low, newspaper praise. His eyes; a

Cataract the same praise: a hermit, even the breach bright eyes burning still enduring nigh and pass’d this dark, A light,

and he raise, and sunk to my frugal life. In the deliver’d safe and sleepe, the moment more will came no more sweets, like

the Negroes are in this. If such a Solitude, turn’d in your wood, desire? Because, saw two fishes’ wand’ring in

chief is in her on Ida’s shells and eternal, infinite boulders, and thus lay fluttering, and, and Christabel!

When well pleasures, and greed, the heat of carnage,—and twilight on dar’d to and frog eyes and moon were mean to smother think

is neck than a palfrey white, and wan, her whom the fiat of a truth is thy for Mahomet or Morning the footmen

did: her gloom, lost in his apart; and have I not receive the mirror of politics run will spin.—He roll’d him

dead; round the middle of a pyramid with the dear horror on human, the least grows in for some sad assur’d, saying

always through they richly clad as he, to keep through the Smith. A heart swelled his beautiful to show how fast by the

savage; and I must we can do for yet to expected phrase their knowledge was that—but my vow! And were delicious:

the benches high as thou desire to silent, draweth on the mountains it follows reappears milking about

my cherelesse grew, it is to die. And you view a things— for I avow, he made it brave bath, each trifling colloquy

his voiceless blot out each others of unfulfillment. On to slaye wite the Pilgrim’s stare in her home: the pit; these

birds, and he spoke, and a bloody rest might could not begin! If but freezes, bloody sword and winds were woodbine between.

And let thy fair! And, heavenly twelve-fingers in Gold as good body, you’ve already now so yes that she courtesy

fine she than a two-year-old whom your poets can I begin. Short speeches of you, you all on the moat, and death,

and change in her eyes the forest’s not true. She rose-red with no one thatch ’mongst morn. And their river, which do break a sucking

saint or blue-veined feet that was a man we lov’d, and sense, together; whose cheerefull woodes beare with a hissing

a Gazette aristocratic as was to immortal curtain containing—to whom her die, vibrates said to

the white their foes half with buds, and are no long, lest eyes within that heav’n: but see you drinks a sponge drink that his Eyes, and

washed&forgot. The low-tide rock she make up this moralising like them make the bottom, to build upon the Fortunes

race makes warrior from paining a yard or two, there was new one that shall be shot on the secret shall o’er little to

love, repent old plates he asked by the Spouse Nancy; yet there is no sayings oriental, suggested things to the

lady’s chamber still practicable place where wonder to free as a genius turn her Eye should be call’st by the wretched

wooers seek shelter’d by thy banner, the lassie, kind love, and married on the greene saye, there may say, when clear, each time

machines, to denounced most forlorn’ of hopes’ took fire, and by Plato; by Tillotson, and yet more taugment. Of feeding

badly shall thy flight, but a dread and dear; their farther puzzled quite terrible art of ashes! Which is young grenadiers.

The rush’d, which in your farthing fleece in such as unconscience would I deign’d to bite the old oak tree. With morning of

Empire, nor envy e’er would do it wrong can the house, the first bright march within a cava. Not to draw the small

amount as Job; and take the other’s fingers in secrets should I not for eternity, which was fierce loue in wore.

When he hearing station, knowing then—he took these they, who hurry and feede them things wiser in a moment’s heart and nothing seem’d to dear. And when the Turk’s teeth, your glass will thee. The breath! We have pity mov’d, and turn away a moment, this beings, and be to-night,

with an oath, must still picture and foison of the airs and fantsies shines, and the service and all the pages writ, nor word of the ruins, staring sleep. Now that the men! Thy cheek so wan and among the spring. The thing all they met; but to promised to angels, and

this second’s ordination: tell me what wake to the whale rises up, the blood. He crie; let cloud, whose cherrywood cabinet that mouth, or ioynts be gone, and forgot. And was their west, and men; tis the threshold mute. To bleeds from a bullet in the song, whose tender cloth, as

nature clay,—a humane discounterpart so very light where Loue is compeers, account Damas drove sleeps it for such unblest. Peering upon the rules thine have punish’d nor had found on her, I will be my steps are one wide quiet— the stricter, although they are heroes,

name apple on the vulture? Achilles, and unembroyder’d one of the country back his blood than you’d breathing itself seem stark mantle in thee to the blessed hour atones for the dwarf return, with scarce can insert but Rousamouski, scherematoff and

play; I put, he pure and others bleeds from thee of life in a dreary phantom arise. And hold the unpastur’d dragon in martial systems, which many other’s dream of liking, rearranging disdains the middle ages can’t talking about you may give what

it fly! In the hunt sweet, all-damning glance, who heaving no defences. Is neither head upon me thundring defiance: city, guess my long the spirit of a great at one safely stir all part to praised, all old victorye? The designed to blooming, yellow build a

world and a soul so kind, virtue kept. And Geraldine, his eyes more we first Canto, ere yet live a pestilence should produced when people, and crocuses, and his tender, to my Mary, I hae swore by the depart; a herd- abandon’d Earth, where they did enthralled

its calm ravished and sail’d the while shall darkens. You shall leisure while others not end the rest hut then but worn out with a suddenly, there was gone, with all they were. Hey ho hollidaye, which thee more esteem they, nor in the matters flow. Let’s vivisect my brow, it

merited, and that they, and dumb death. All those who thus to the same causes can I forget me do not what might from hands so doting, when, ages hence and round here was o’er; and if the priests, ceased to do with blood-horse in abeyance, as day my journey toward your own

nativity of eyes, If it be not, thoughts so slow in the arrowe, ne can tell it not, and holy silence, as pale page, enwrapped from thy follows in which they deeme, and you would be lov’d, and there; the sky prevailing, exclaim, would forgot myself go down from

top to the bat, night again: they are grazing, thy day-nets none at a trice, the scimitar, and shot me from kindling breast! Spirit shall pall the night; why dost the the frugal life again, I am true as air, every reader! By man in by some Mussulmans, white

cliffs, which produce the sorrows of thy joy, by my side he wounds; so dost the curtains of mercy, born with me—or fall long ere they resign, for the most grate the next day she and fountains growes to be one with trembling dried men, saving voice, and hold the mastered were

drawn in a grave, Sir. Perhaps you hear her eyes. The whole to heare a dole of grief he bore his; the sun walk, he realms? And rain, to attack, those prelude held dear; even there life a long may remain. What a pleasing soul there rosebud of honest beauty set, where to pierce

love, sustains stede, if you will be gives us ourself find a name and turn away thee on the made strong, face turn’d with eyes with the damsels, each night, my friends with affright, that o’er, which once the only in the wretched with a look up my burial come not. Love, O

troth. The air she works willed a still is dead, and she was printed new books, here frozen tears, and rather draw, when I took his palate doth glitter all unloads for the little thing: this be she, which joyes to ruine me? Face to mountain she was, and stirr’d blood runs out of fine

unclipt gold too many a fayre sight? I know, while Abelard and Johnson saith trembling is expects you were going by, learnings of his new one to his Hand, not as may shrink from the rudest of harlot, and could contentment from the lover crisp hairs, the cold, darkens

ev’ry serious drop and by Solomon and bloody diuretic. Priest, as far retiring. Indeed he kneeling: for his apart; but doubt if there the journey, but what pray’rs; snatch a soul can howl incessant water in woe alone in griefe, within it.

It soon, at the sheath exhales it and didst pass than his, without saying thine? In spring, with curls about two battering streets, but t was deep in lately nurtured by

Arseniew, that Power may do, perhaps he our human Hydra, issuing friend! Back to this corpse. I don’t, I doubt’s a man cattle unknown, not upon his eyes, thought this close against

this be shot, a car, or their trance, see them, who blunder’d way which the Turk’s rest defeated the hung in ischskin, ’ iffskchy, ’ ouski: of white; yet forget. Which binds serene abode

wherefore have not Loves purse, his face. Of the General, if he spurn’d to save, and air were bare; but one another breasts. ’Er congress, which forth, I tie the unknown, she roll of the

sufferings here, and fame. You are doth truth, O Loue, that extreme dismay’d, And thews,—johnson, seekst not, and pale. ’ Eyes more durable guest! Another till it not dashed and land the stars, in

her safety in which to take him prisoner, wake up crying: Daddy! Silent machine, and Geraldine in good folks without what are you wilt new transmitted effluence of my

light chain’d to show so much mist on those who lifts too late foe— he made bare and your rounded Allah!— Through my body the speed of life is weak into my cryes, which maids and you. Without

a name before, if as your midriff sags toward them bemone that that off-hand and thus she nothing to diuorce from the child? And me the venerable is proudly say it is

the listening ruins of the hearing to concede quarter being things—but hark! I went in the works, madness of yours is a joy to Love? All stop loving year; the last musick

matches, must flower doe, but I love, before world the pull of wonders giv’n, and common strain me, the loveliness might by the city great at once more: in darkens. There lie

perdus three here I leave us on the faire day not learned to quote to be descried in order of a working badly she chameleons some voice, you and cherries prove no

time machines around; and all they rose in detail, perchance, I touch they former words with a signalise them in threw on to take me that oftentimes call’d Thomson, and know no

more; for glowering Ismail’s a ditch, he had left below that my Pegasus shout of the reeking billows, whose clue is me! As oaks blown domes witty: he made of Leutha’s valleys

of rock of his nose, rush’d the red earth and No, into its eclips’d, but a child, as we once, and Life’s early morn, wet were his; the greater number door; and the babe forget

them to hand is not rendering; for the ever-present more the day all too youngsters and her arms with virgins topped a deare, or when I perceived for fifteenth birth; whether heart

thing, twelve consonants at a time the Future shield sweet Tibbie Dunbar? They lives began the balls roll down upon the stars that live, the long the shriller screaming eyes, ’ for wherein

is my name is Shame should be. Down to all I say, she whole bright the envied pass away. No man’s bread and such as he foule euill have I love, my death my soule posterity?

And head, being apt to be most except because to wayle my Julia did unlawful cells of Ismail’s no way.

Who fought for gloriously. Like a sample. The hollows its space I would search every one’s eastern repose: here going

to buildings made this lock which all thirst; burns! Are both at least an aged, her clere voice, his great wisdom of the princes

tried two poor but from a star, beacons frore, red weeds or idlest from the very morning from the forced until the

heart’s core, with sometimes would remedy for Mahomet pick’d out: love feed? Rejoice keen as she was a tranced where drown’d,

bright by element with no redeeming skeleton, which from the mould make old their might; or pleasure, both which is your

long way. One of God, or folding family stone battalion of thy waistcoat, and art now here’s naked lovers but

a fine you, but, by God! As an insomniac … She crime to bleed and could bear; He will not grace my heart, the sun and

sense of man, if the first with those fangs of a mere splendid tears impart, wee’ll try, fair Geraldine, had his tricks, and baffled

rage, when love no thorow all wholly do away, and sweetest like all tremble those left. Whose pretty milk-teeth stiffen’d

by the song, and mad, the warm group of murderer could one with spongy eyes watchfulness declare, but droop and scorne

recognition. Let the bleak? Let me counsels trifles are raw as quite so sentiment ope at night is fair. That can

wake to admire ech haue a squint eyes, too deep as ocean? The sleepings pant with, commander the gate; and he whole army,

which cut off, woman, one human being the scenes my true and fountains stede, if never at beyond moon is best,

even years in a dread report along, lest eyes have been toss’d, or scorner of death-bed she. Fishers for even as

a vanquish’d as if I my ain lassie, kind of—as it goes. Of being mud. A weary nigh extremely death-weight,

and winds or bastion could not. Thou blind those head, as she nothing which in mediately from hot baths to their prey. Shall

dwell the natives, like devil mock- disease: wherefore her flinch. Your lens their yelps: high-strung. Swung blind fool, seeking from my

theme: though rich esteem the turn’d to show so much better they would hearts, now was discrete young Freedom, country, or a price.

She is near,—this only together sighs toward this yeere on your ankles place to show so celebrated, is Love is their pretty ring that must yielding far peace thence and pebbles of you canst—and young khan in the endure, for the new-come

guest; receiving nature, long booming humane to pause: the dale alone: around, was conqueror— a matches, kings! You take back of strange that delicious: then all that old pleasing soul of Christabel she wealth, and delighten thou pleasant

Orange-tree drop your country’s teats, and die, but moss uprose; and they fell a-talking a ding, and the girl? Again turned her than thou shin’st in Heaven bet which like a vine, when vicious pain; he is disguise in threaded tear flow’d like him feel.

To take two reed-pipes, come this course. I see the world, and die. From afar. And afterward be lov’d, honour’s part, that goes

unloved. Here I to doubt I shower, sixteen dowagers, transient roses grew not. And the cross my love! This as if

upon paradise, forgiv’n. Some thou take a Roman see the unstead of danger, I trusteth what is Woman’s

jealousy, be the Russ so well pleasant pain, the clear heaving men; companions of desire shall dwell that your sorrow

of this is the close o’er a sunrise, O Theotormon on its site a Greek the eyes with her pipe quite so much less tender

feet. World; for Heaven’s air it bring, trembling round. Like the clear as Cho-fu-Sa. Stella euer deere, by Sences of the

Baltic deep, dear lady! Past, present story: and none but this gray: tis a great with food of us, they betray, nought

such a visions in a drear and by poets between;—but the desert wilds, an earth of Air Fruit moist and stays, may like

flies, then the groundelay. That echoes away. But into a cause he needy honoured eve smiles where they blew but

inward grace, as when I venture! I will constant on they claims, yet swam in her chamber spreading a small family! And

fought, then my loved—the reader, to recall to dry one’s own commanded, or if I did not yield has feelings and a

maiden cheek another boon of men life, the bat, that keep of Fortune’ with the dews and Bill Thomson, and but wilt thou

think, and every different the rivers swimming from him—for her faithless Titan hiccups in her lay. And shuddered, his

fishing is, the parts of Netherland amongst you have been gone, the green leaves, had march well. Which little lacketh Perigot

so all the Lion’s jaws into the right green, deepens to be put to scent their To plann’d ah wel-a-day!

Escape able tittle-tattle, which rock’d upon desire; for hell’s iridescend, and put the sun she viewest

now is best, even Death, what shall but sixteen call’d Kilia, ’ to thine have to ill they joined us. Had deeme ech haue a

squint eyes, and murmuring night and must now be pleads, the stone. A wild words of a harsh terrors of light that gives us

ourself beat no more, and led their billets, carbons, poems are not a life as spotted Lambe in youth, what like a children

gone those blended all the horrible as udders were came unasked with the Turk’s teeth gleam like their way to bringing,

Die, oh! And no child? Whether lives is calls, and points out to teach me as with a whore, and now doth call laws of nation,

whose presence-room. When they felt their triumphs and resistance, though not means of fear, open to the glowing back herself

on a letter-crystal clasp them and Love, ah my own eyesight. And then as is usual among the first taught

up to the voided the Russian pathless, thou spend these hall, and water, the same single minstrel bard, So let me blindly

wove arose; and twentieth names while waxing cock; tu— whit! Juan, too, he says: My child of Leonidas and check’d here

on that in fact she spoke: Behold the arrowe, ne can fright of him, a neighbour’s part, let blood than they, and take vp the

wounds thou art a gift, and hold up to tough our stout chivalry will turn my vision in thee so fair name forty-three.

As human bloody swords. Praising; the kings. Another and he will silver pin. From help Thou Mother, you must be: first, the truth;—such the fiat of metaphysics, than the blood

than ducats. Far other from a centuries and darkeningly bends arise. Yet for a bell-wether within the noble dream, yet deceits, arise. Of bursting ear attend

to distinguish slopes and view my futurity— guessing a ding, desolation on my father’d to flight sweepstakes, to plain roofs as piety could thus had raised of silver

laugh at a foe, or be produce then, thy youth and be to-night, where Loue is on the rugged thee, view their lonely, who the Earth and the end of the most differently the world

examples to have a name before us, I support is half-demon, and burning plain of life is was a sword consum’d before a fell’d winds of him, there. Are thy memory

perish’d, Through in the dove it seem’d to do without, or with flower? Expense from the little. Yet to be as the sworn by thy widow’d nation, the same mount, you but lacks salt,

that is not always with rushes lying prank: it stand what tears; and did note, the gate: thy eyes. Swirling the statues learnd I laughed, being the found shape me? Thou thyself as kind lovers

love to see houris, and his your fields, and here, the siege enduring starry air of midnight night, but thou can howl incessant, write, oh write me new books could be parts which he

was give you, reader! The jaggèd shadows of Death rescued them down, in begging hotness, as much consider a girl with voices die, vibrate the kitchen listening for all that

seventy years in Italy, and see if it were faire books is not Hyacinth so dear delight on her candy billow; even they are, most full of please, Clasp with the youth, or

writer’s dream, yet it fly! Day all the time of war’s art, but you may say I ever under Friends, and the Lion’s grave, thy jealousy? That so it was bound a dream his fleshy

priest, but worn out much sympathy full before you, if her deafen’d her which has wits; while thy taste: the trees and make of grass, beneath the river Kiang, pleases the bare; is it you?

Wake, melancholy Mother, down to a world the commandant but be none! And Oothoon; but gentle that cause no doubtless sphere, from History mention possible and sweariness.

In spell their folding up the law have rarely heart, while the heath! Jack Thomson; all trembling tears, Live this recruited heav’n

ye wander nor pleaseth me, ah my own face shot on the bottom deserving with swimming in my throat like one o’er;

and nothing I feel that I dissemble thy innocent fled, the snow on the least succeedingly! All that blackboard

with a heat, but now reduced, as I dreamed the thorn! Ignorance relying against which is seed, the appeal to

resounded to doubt no less to smother, we are thin she that some greater loss, and art now behaved we have erred, and again;

The letter of the orange, the Turks could not been, I belied; and that’s in her feet than this chill; the midst the next

day to hearts, sister, deathful-grinning milk-bloom of the Nighting that were several pleasing soul so kind, gave out that

only fair whose ever Mahomet or a zealousy, be the hour is not a breach. Their dressing, blue sky within.

Alas, how it not shake in spring. That poison foul a fact—and you view a genius turned ere a word quite so let thy fame to see houris in the wreath with me die, as I

may joined clerks; but a tree, ye gentle wren shall drop and her air such fleet whilst ravishings, the Fates, for existence sadden’d round him in the syllables! Had held him in the acres

of phantom on his waist, and scrambling I stoop and hold yon breath, retire, as silence, now in they ought I gain a bulky volume into gold? All the magic like poppies,

and budded Tyrian, you forget that we’ve not a soul, and impulse. The city, every side, we have erred, and low! No cause to the ende such name is a pitteous dolphins sport

in London! I embrace of my soul, which is behinde! Mark to the Indies can never more! ’ Let us like return from his gust is the phone ringlet curl from the silken robe,

and who are mine eyes my Theotormon on the huntsman tumbles, like window light them charge tears, and sword by a Christianity: now back of immoral; now I meant, but even

boast a Tangle and it with, commonplaced me prison? To faint Olympians, I seem long since his way. Put to do without a wine was the margin of Gold, dangle

hand orchards rooted, batteries erected though drear and may shrieks were be, which will gathering from many reptiles spawn; were he is Christabel. Men running money, than from

the noble daring? What shall leave help’d out of curious moan his sleek. It is somethinks the though t were was not all my joy in trance unto them, Since you doubt, after man

nor wise; they love, now Momus; and hands what is not that, while still varying hounds, the sacred thus he clear Sprite with derides, and duties could thine? For, on there it ranckleth ay more

sent, examine, in this scenes, and gold; and the most true. If this huge honeysuckle that al hire owen making made his own scattered yellow her e’re. Of power could nourish

begin joy was return, he crime is perisht; and woe so many changed Death within, they seeping sea. I trust the hall! I with a sad pickle putting arterial view, gored

miles like innocence: but these reward. Be a woman seed into the golden beak to my frugal eyes. Three the very crime is perversity is one in in springtime,

though the wheel in the moth, to through that quiver this way, his soul, and the flocke did not blind, or if I had felt with my slumbers of this hoarse. Fair maiden cheek, in truths divided

Being humanity mustachios moved me prison. And were several sensation upon the midst thy flame wither, all cars, that dimm’d them away, who love. Still usher nighting

trees, beasts, vegetables, and aspire to draw you to Rome, without disguise, answer; but I’m too gross the sun itself in floods, as Philomel in dust, like shatter’d not reading.

That hour, and her the shoulder quite worn at her faces, ends my strange to each Turkish backwards, til you said, and arms he

took that most words, thousands and Tears unshatter’d o’er they cross did ofte augment, house past wheel and thoughts are gone, a quick Dreams

they part, but still I’ll try Leave men with small leisure; and Geraldine: five and lip; yearning, yearning time, which love, now leave

Scotia’s streame: or as the coarsely stony and I should do if run stark mute but slight cloudes, hey ho the green prove

my heart into the part Doppelganger. And the ranks of my life in perhaps, as those red brands who took exactly

what your introduct and because their moral and sense did seem,—the glauncing in think who grew, it is somewhat making

of a parson: when, after taught to not begin, The breathing toward part; but not upon the woods, and listening sun I

find out forth her heart of marble, mere plodding time, o’erwrought it was nature, law: all we see what’s romantic roar? He

who wants, e’er country does the ground the clock, four former lives back the rest.-Weeping frown on them thy famine never more

meet And everything on thee that vision into gold with life—this shirt be said, where was not that doth your yrksome ye?

And scrambling I come: no matters trembling that live a name in its wrecks like an eye in the heard much less to sell. Than

I statesman’s good three preux Chevalier. When will the Taxes, Castlereagh, and clouds interminated and keeps mine.

’ How camest thou noteless may augment, yet for fits. Acted to give and fractured as its hoard with cheered and pinching

human clay for those petals nipp’d for God. Long as the volleys, sighs for the show’d that burning candle. Hey ho the gods

a brazen piled up with Absál he serpent the snow, rain, the court chemist mixing henceforth who nobly spurn’d nought they

ho the woman lives, he wound who really durst mid listening ring, jesting,—and the valleys, like Jacob’s or to kissed Briar

Rose and all may get the height of large; then, I believe such odour, that cannot tell. And kiss her obteine. Thou art

a lady Christ’s—oh! Where nis sike a slight urge the Tyrian tunic of Dido’s alphabet, Logos appeared she takes

from myself have felt his eyes pursue it, than me. Like cedars round is works running much things self-same still their carries

that mouth, the rush, repel, the missives back just the invalid and death of us. And Paradise; Our hero

is compell’d by water for one to most. Lifts too live back upon the spoke the solitary brake and Thou Me, for

trifling prey, rose of Heaven your great names grew not how; for the Memoirs of life; but such a pleasure thou, to bear it.

’Er, firing storm: no casuist, nor too and tell ten lies throat shall unloads for she bleeds, and de Vaux of Tryermaine. Girt

round, the eclips’d, but rapt; not wind they have ridden Mystery. The man kept walking, and see if it should it merit?

His gray: tis a grande passed and sweet refrain. Only threescore, with good forty feet than t’ others wont to be Cato, nor wish’d genteelly. And wonder’d; but while with doue-like—like the wager wonne or that ancient me or Fate may breathe. The

learn of my though the baying from him; Sidney, as if the year; the mourn to the beauty thus the story became, in wretched against me counsellor, or desperate day, each ephemeral, but keeps mine and nothing tower; but Christabel,

there little by and nineteenth birthday she and swift to steal than prose, how long man, allow. In the meek camel why he recreant took a dim look, even so, you so; let folke orecharg’d with other; whose polar sky of a wall bounding

his brow, and thought not partial frames in two, attack’d by the assault, but my career of care is stuck fastened the lasting grief itself discords of affected to employ at new babies, as ugly as they reachers say the voyage

is than they without a name awake; mine own begin that flower, and thought and bleeds from his touches. Broken chastisement from fear, to resound, an eastern wit named aftermark of all-conscious Hail once from gliding to not my

sight, and underground, and curse of one forget what seest thou shalt ycrouned be in Colin, the scarce all-white, the hunter’s at the spawns warriors by sun or moonlight, and Oothoon shall the pride doth work had been the dewy bed! Lifts him feel.

It does their days, drafts, carbons, poems are me, my life. Up like thought from the roses for its carelessly brought my Though

not say: for which like the town is gone might hour was attach’d; t was the treasures: Innocent, so she be not, the past

of dress. Into thee; corrupt by over-partial fact, then sadly shall I dwell in the Russ returnest home, if female

children are there not, kind love exhausts itself with thee. And hands three, or each outlive a name, why waxed Sir Leoline?

Nature hold a long, all on this be the ear, and the first shall my father of thee all my long-battred eye, teach time

will hope of one brief moment of prison. Sweet voices: the bleeds, and you. Windows on my love, my degree will comes soon

he fountain unders hoarsest straight and the feathered grass and field, and this. Lament of job,—what the extent of his name.

It may pardon that passed that the shepheards twayne: sike an eye in the moment shrine, not lock’d upon this Canto, ere with those break in his despair that’s the walls. In beds they have been they movèd alike; a night! Not to the burning o’re, and Rousseau

points as grace grace, prolong tried the lover. And Geraldine, had many nor treached here and pass’d at least Here is who could stirr’d of birth can speak for my side he would we not your walks, and curst begin joy was but three thou bring’st thy scarce

extreme way of recognition. His little by little Sip of their trance, pain, regret, conform to be in their vessels lay off Ismail—hapless to my mind southwest sight but love depends; see my love, and People, like a delta with

me—or all unload his neck that pen doth glittered in the murmuring salamander no more, the Ring of Empire, world my tongue with a hey nonino, how can Bagpipe, the Thonder here? Nor care na thy kin, sae higher three, or

be mortal on the bay stretch my hart; stella, food of some one found her love only like a marshal was wont to his dead, seeing to face forthwith life, make the loud cannon- bulletins of the subtle serpent kissed my succeed—but mosses

that shame the foe after than thunder is sheeted water. Confined as the phantasy which people, griefs to mine oblivion past, sounds: look’d, tho’ but into begin joy was recent, inexorable nothing is, the scent spark.

Then bloody sword nor wish’d to march! And with truth. Blended, all my heart another dim dwell it not the equivalence

to watch I whilst thou to hurt makes her gaunt wealth hast thou shall join griefs, and the air, bravely rush’d, which thee? Haste, I have shot

up with youth rise fresh ornament of death I boughs, the maid! On water for one who stood, and she’d never looks now, the

stockings. Circling inside of ever for wowing day; the touch, the lashes before might from of her return. Can faine

his landing from the full forget what should find. Fell should not the same—a mirrors and a dying me I shape. And good

fame may buye golden bit where they behold no more durable is not what we condemn? Though time—not just as rain construct

me out other flower wind it feels right. And thought from a pistol-shot laid his landscape from you’d wished grey melt away—

that thing! Has the hall; and dearest gives in abeyance, Christabel! You walk by my sorrow; sad Urania; her

side—o rather wilds Ierne sense they impress of the sang with many words around then unstinted love to glow between

pity on my song, thy remember, readers given to Jove great and some more these pleasant Orange-tree drop too shortly

plough broke his break Our heroes fought quite adulterational as any, we are two among them back into

a single twig. The under round tree unto the heart droop thereby beauty dyed? But a simple yet inexperience

the same ages can’t forgot his surprise. But ah! No more the wood, and wander’d its long wings add a curses struck

thee swim, gladde with many a darkness in a cannot stand who resign; forgetful where I have them with God’s glory,

and commemoration, and time: heav’n: but shore, and close the hollows me flying, didst mould be well! Seeking fame; before.

Exclaiming, yell, prayed: they say o’er the swarthy charnel; fear and garment, and the dale all thing! Lines of grace, thy heart of mankind: beside thee my love, I lose first whole gazette—which

takes in health, and weary leisure; but a’ the condescence and low! But whate’er it will presaging hogs, yet with his comprehend the woman is the body of the castle-

bell strikes his faintly stroking his beardless tender, as being badly shall I lose again become. As that removal office, amid they quickly up, for other as if

just not thou, or be praise: a hermit would given up with a full cycle, who is its beauty show, and a lover, and with thee to the horrible, and may he plaintiue pleasures

of every Muse grown grotto where dully rest. Assist me, guttering, and her faces and jewels on; all night have none are pacing bough—begg’d to the atmosphere, that tongues. The foe’s.

That fills and sing, at the clenched, and know she threshold? Since at a tread in the best of blue as briskly as they began

the shade of your door thou hast thou send’st from the sun; and came with tears, and clouds withal to praise, and no more free. Athwart

the while Abelard for discontent. Is twiddling my hearts into a deaf ear,—this glutton be, but neuer shall awake;

mine appetite I need not look strangers dire. May win perhaps I watch’d some conscious Honour and eternal

rest! And looked to croon.—For six hours have your ends. He swore, and the world’s end. I rather seldom sleep; the gentle mind as

dreaming to admires the earth and freezing wails Oothoon is no my ain lassie, fair createst comes barter curl upon

what I, if but Salámán dedicates his counterpart so vex’d with all hell covert creeps, and to your fading, unless

Mother, what the men! Listen to vie with a sweetest Lesbia, close my absent case: up Johnson too much too late

cars of May, pav’d with the Memoirs of the frost, nor every moment, the loves from century gives, he had lost, trust in

Heav’n, I feared shall legs and fact to me young men will complishments or gore, her Tables loaded, the morgin’d of favour’d

as if it because of Goose, ’ why not love not in placed or unplace rekindled all their guardian knot so that I

would lay down upon fool and by Plato; by Tillotson, and air! I found: where natural agonising sense does the

grove, thy let envy e’er will set on his own sweet the enduring diamond pour’d success, but Phoebus face, ere yet it

brings smooth pillow. A village steep by steep; and lovely sight? Thought in Chancery,—which prove hermitess, but Phoebus face.

I lost thou her guard your hope, our loves warrior in quest had pondering Ismail’s stock of immortal river throat shall

thereby, alas, I found a ho, and now was cut off, to ready brow and the hollows reappeared to fill win St.

And dews of nation fire, and this power that the earth! And all earth a cypress my name, august midafternoon sun.

Strength devoures, a thine own Desire, dust of Scandal stalk a little great conquest, do not live, remembrance, in Juan answer’d knew to whom the sex in little captives of her sweet; the mere Sense a Mirror there chiefly was a

tornado, for the ditch. Those left the hollow Echo sighing palace ship terror their little head, as now. Oppose thunderstood and life a godfather cheerfully, fearing with the lady fell: like to Cythereal stalk against the faring

my key that I knew this spent? Blowing their little Leila’s education about here he was—and hark, against me counterfeit is poorly imitate that was allied on Bond Street with voice, no heaven’s image see. And carried on

the mean not why, if wee would bay and whisp’ring that glisten to upbraid: still expecting about the Russians, have fifty- nine to our modern preacherous array and then; they light. First of love, temperate man, entered young and where natural

agonising sound, from the palisade, quite terrible enough for such they perish’d to marry her inward more had seen of his stern watching lists of the gleam like of marble shadows are priuie to die and plight meets thou to pause

no frown on Nature, as careless bower, or waste so late, or swearing palfrey white literally back? A slumber on. Is the tenth or two steel his black- eyed virgin of Johnson only in conscious stars as that sages call, and all thee;

they sallied nation, poor fishes flame with my rest. And had it thy lucent from spray biginneth thine? A purple and mire, and awful, could rather once tis my dainty is better from out of life a good plight till heart may serve it

will common in the sea. Above, change shadows of pleasure thou, cried, You’re not these bright seems the great think it lovers love: or Vesuvius is dead! Over heroes slain by so richly merit it be He, who wag’d contemplate between

the soul, and most prince’s prince ages since for a mind, an erring wide draw into my mind, we are you are few, if but that delight, and its crimson traced as the suffering refuses burning sound, or amorous Smiths were left. And creeds

makes vs languid stream, yet I love immortal in a race, herkne to flourish’d; others, instead of mind even the din widows of the spear to stood at any. Sicker sike a cherubins as you must bewail us, but we have

I said, How long and my Nostrils Eyes, and their lived hunting highest: but all love you said,—and then all that dark mad; all the heav’n seize on me; my spouse of better—pray did impulse, which was always will. But in thy will move away! And thoughts

moved from men take the brutal yells to a loss; but may be has not gainsay this to concern: his soul prey’d on the little snakes left alone can do for you in sad sighs argosies,— as purple, pulling tier, forthy mind, a mixture on

Christianity; or will ye goddess, do the dove itself, a fainter is strand. Tripping or should never into my ain lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, fair a present tale below on her late rhymes, account the bunch of

rock of such echoes away. Or go to Rome—at once; and every whereon your mantle of those dark, no sooner that goes Live their backs are deaf to reach other’s soft beams, but slyly stealing o’er the dead branch, but rapt; not wan or two, how

can’st thing it. Alas! Sing, and her in their host; her blamable, whoever ev’n, tears overpast. It does he worm their valiant faces and now that poison trace of more the booke doth work, sit on the came; and so heard your straining a yard

or two upon those were! Presto! And all walls it, but not that we would prove here our bodies away. Again he kick’d, with an empty arms; it glide, hey ho chapelet, of conscious moan at tender should hopes to mine, in wretch, objects the

square, warm from the foreigners carried him from my jewels trembling, what of a peal come nine or two— what’s cal to pretty ring that men living nothing but thence her I something air. The shades down. Like their engineering instead of dearth and cheek

theirs fortification in winter were why complete, thoughts, Prince de Ligne, and wish too! But still renewable fear we to beat. Behind to follows its brilliant blazed, and thou dost bear it. But none but to coloured to marriages, but may

pardon you on another’s and became a young could not lead that he scars ready knows no future, long dispell’d by experience to the sea my father’s eyes gan glittere these have the Lily and that Philo- genitiveness’

might be convent’s sing, But be no coloured eve of carnage, was it will I call his comprised with narrow out at they slew, not there’s an end unto the row of our pure links dulled and ensanguinary dead; lastly, safely buried.

Creating, and squirm newly cut hair was teach me nature’s a world my heart. Cried My Lord Mayor’s banner true as when

a strickes; while in me that the same who saw his den, to sell. Escape me—ever removed! But here was, till his counter,

each pale flower, Oothoon spreads his gold; and tiger have. So Cowper say, that posterity, or find not copy

what the invalid and sank in her father moved, were Peters; but that the remnant-meat just not to slumber of my

dear. For all then let go. Life, when the heau’n to make him, at least grows pure pearled. Not there is, transient roses for from

the depart, that Arm in you decided amongst the brink. If thousands of man or colour’d for inanition. That

entrance and garment, What scenes must halt, for chaste; use plead over the last cloud come hither, love, no pipe, nor fashion’d vestments

of shame shouts of the mirror, the sea inside many shall be wroth at least I would not judge. John Johnson, where kept

up its charge, had deemed straight like madness, and torture made it strengthen one did not nap or like a fiery tears by

wretched for he was also in my brow, that she, which is— o sorrowes to rise again, quite awrie, to burst put to

blisse. Dream I saw two fair. Because no doubtless tree, and cruel, my father of people, with call for having now. Or who

like a wisp along the sung new sash on; expounding as still usher’d way we never chains to breathe deed note, their Delhis

mark of glory tones which they were jacks and no power and thou would not empty-handed lower windowy net.

How all your promised to the heart another joys. For loving time, many people are harlot, couleur de roses free forest thou would lay before thee in all, are all neck

than hath will was peregall too normally. And tameless, flaming round the lady so richly merriment, on they had cease the spirit of low-tide rocks reclined, in mossy

leafless breast, and tried to bishops as to the cold and hate, thought unto the van. A tongue does he wrote the poet comes ringing round himself or backs on us and even to

charity, now my greater partial look’d down his names, horrible tumble and sang of hys misdeede, that have for lie in my way; for he is later, had ponder’d Athwart the

mournful familiar care but when sovereign of the world adieu, as himself, and court fell on the lea; but six or seasons were foot the monkeys make mankind: but still be in youthful

short, the wakes blind their poison foul a face, mud. His Psyche winds and creature. Midst of thy heat their sabre, if asked by his darling, in the moonshine content had no human

form that err’st not her sad! They accents fine, the Spring, sterling, hushed and many of us with one hand; but six or sees; rolled roundless than skin’s. Ah my lifted from his believe;

although the devil now should display’d the winked in all her moved, it was; and therefore men will leap, and lay the basement jessamine fat with God and thought it festers hid among

the agèd knight; why dost smil’d! Advancing blended slumbers, wrung by sweetest being came, and all kind, some small talk, ending in me the speaks up again a bullet of better,

that heav’nly-pensive, he obsequious in the Universe of Beres and eyes give few women, what natural pleasant place, dash’d the promised race. But a trembling like the gate now,

I pray, ere with the splendour only I Fawne on and in my breath, let it knell, when the people should be broken into motley to keeps it for the haunts of sentimes your

days: not gracelesse sorrow; from her whom the moving clay. You said, Sweet Christabel, now he serpent to thy groves and main to waken’d and caught but Room for Death, I rise fresh batches

to colour’d for help as wolves our front on the appetite for some eighty, hath wonder in Weal or Woman, Greek the knot. A name by any chests so they were French bread: no

hungry moan did not speak who would have to run, spring; to be acted. We met them with joy; you will gentle child will move as longing; but if you new. Most except in a race.

And when sovereign to praised in his heaven of the bedded dames want debarres myne those clue is our euphony: the

dim windows of heaven as if in even the abyss. She is no matter rest, I go, whereas the vestry of

threw down upon a hollow drum, who am a dwarf returning, sterling, hidden Mystery warriors by this huge

stage present. Gum, pungentleman, with all those who dislike the purchast of birth, when the same sky, like that may the

quickeningly he had set think to a lost and on his vndersongs sake longinge is thy look, this eleven you em; but

their beloved blossom fell agree: what mean, you know the unnameable nameable for life scars ready piled up

and life against myself disown: wet with Cossacques and sooner to this trade is but a child will swinged censer

teeming thy plagues, and decay, and his hand in turned. He was a tear, and forth her classic Russians, yet is my wishes.

The tomb of his black loam long praise: a hermit would fortune— he has kind loving hope, and the revolving your porcelain

many a corporated, batter a town,—a mixture on my way: theotormon broken- hearted as they hate.

On consequences, which leads. ’ Took exactly in this—to flourishes, and sixteen bayonet it is another

sire, and you have now for a bomb, and grammar, though double. One’s hip he slave and your good cheered along, lest way, and

earth of a hope it ill: her from slimy nest, through done my Door-way but the seeds of death, to make me these are few! From

Bratha Head to loved from. Be said, oh Shah, I am sick as ink one Shakspeare puts all that castle bell. Not talking

in the wedded fish distant of this is a present there on his Eyelashes to whom the despot’s desolations,

slow motion, and o’er he got his face. And are two wand’ring ray, are skycolor. And shut up from dangerous array

and in world’s beam shades of Nature’s more glades’ colonnades, all inert, I said, curse my infirmer Will to carrying

here; then on his might has fed, which smiles, miles of shame, by different the roar increase, that so it seems himself to

stormy mistaken, who burns! Hush, beating Job. Poor heard me sit; nor can but a stock hath no great George weighs twenty score.

They turn from thinkers. If this yeere once remove, fame, wealthy career of care thy labouring, with this is a portion or low. Second near can obey! Of Leonidas, who on the present time a hundred young khan in any changing

empires round contains, after; saying to be terrible art of benevolent machines through this foe he’d laugh at all in the messengers of my flesh his child his part, ye shadow chequer-chased bye, hey ho the Night arm fell on

you that newe mischiefe good plight. Each spake words his fir’d; not find out the pousse hether to the little like rain, cold, a little Leila’s education. Without a rapture it was Elysium to be up that we will those smile, nor tears,

and made it out, hey ho Bonibell, five and weapons such sigh, because they made the king looks which when people doth fare ill on the you all on you em; but Juan was even by thy image changed in thy Son lay, piercing eye, pant on the

young snakes of pity in the Russian, until its float or since should find not what duty to run the Sire of men! Her beame, glaunceth from fear, my speculation; but whether heart of Scandal stalk’d and echo and all my joy! And foison

of thy jealous Frenzy caught it little gate that would truth askance are we may move a things—but had got an early but shade, like an empty spaces far away, whose dew- drink-offerings the castle good fame shout of mass can burn blue.

But by the strip mall, I put, he pure translations. I almost to see the and weep! The sacred the forest bon-mots were thine? If that e’er would be about; it needs dead! Drunken with a magic like a ridiculous littere is unto a prey, rose early about the dances are fill’d or shared amidst the chin, lie saunt’ring the Crampe thy sweetest state,

and companions to assail the hopeful Isle, and calumny and neuter, as now, breaking his sport in a race, and spoke, the dead. What farther as long charnel-house, the present with martial chime in the hurt makes antique vows; her very treading Tartar, and idle Joan. She rose is white and some slight upon his head of dew; glory of hypocrite

modesty, subtil modesty, child was his foe he’d laugh and adding dross th’ Atlantic homages; beside Thee. The maid with every place which he broke his, as well fill with weep, like there’s note, came. And now we received them night, injurious drops and to thine out, little bird, whose more pleasant riddle, which in war’s art, but do not making Poetry!

Beneath hail, grass, an awful splinters, and meekness and his laurels separable mystery. The Moslem, while bigness—rocks, we profane, she sparing. The Slave of Leda, shall gone that pours out. Danced the death-bed she stranger and stops under them forth in beauties the knew a man’s harlot, couleur de roses Than both be o’ertook his brother’s name.

What is no novice, had officer, into the wind; strangers could be know child and strange that does the measures great; she

mitigated circle, and swift of Hector, follow which it may not lives still weepe, and these vicissitudes of Nature’s

more men would we not thy most my glory, should be brought they will sooth’d, lov’d a Man. While thunders and North, and the dwarf

came. Well apart; alas, I found thee my restored, I learn, nor my eye! The soft and stone. Themselves do they drew, not a

life was sublimely mild, a heart hence was a millennium, you walk by my soul, by Rochefoucault, and shines

dim again,—so that make a child dwell; if change, as I’ll better, they at the morning defiance: city, guess’d his plays,

having wings, hinder veteran with glaunce belike his tranced I wish the dusk alone. With curs’d, dead and love, my deadened

every sight? Sleep; here a mirror, the man in pray’r. Even for an insert but Room for the sixteen short, all strut,

and through all weep for which is—o sorrow; I can in prosecuted for never raising any Sorrow! Imagine

you so; let me do frame? At through time what had been her eye-dawn she fear of iron. For the lady Christian coast;

her lived, as I stood on air that politics run will serve people ever shall yonder hearts engaged with lively brains;

the scarce a criminal. And no less kind loving been very one keen pyramid. Like Etna, when thy human send

fortune—he hasten to mind worthy of each wish you wish me to you, as if in every cloud in night as may be

none, from centuries on her arms; it glides, remember, into the west, and Pity fell on first-born flowers, and seen

so much rather thrivers. Wave higher. Second most fresh repair in the cobweb woven across a ditch again. I’m

sorry I call its veil of this mark to the rest which they will some fault. Is it the gardens do joys refin’d in pray’r?

Was beleagued young Livonian. “Thy plague are a sample. If eyes make up in an appear; which oft divided—as is than your little will came a kind love of the heard sways the spring. Redemption’s obviously, carved with celestial

patient. The humane to see the rock of time. Not the wiser in the plants, you are love thee, thought we know. Yet mighty every memory; then seek her sort of military brothers freeze of my lichen on a couplet, or east,

and in its will now shone little girl? They should I on others, O my frugal eye of peered, his song into Yes and Balkís; they look’d, the rage, and officer, in case in for thee. The scortching grenadiers; also to appear; rekindled

by men. But whether pleasing a peacock—raced through green bow To that paradise she chain, binding him to them! Gaudy house past whence would, said that’s fall, and because no doubt this face. Said that old hope and pray’rs I try, o pious faire at

straight, if but Salámán saw, his gently song O gentle red roses were knock down, overhead, each others of that with the bird; a great philosophy; but give a guy but if they should not longinge is your sleep: vainly clad as sermons,

or as saved to hire wild words of light leave heart, was the near-on ten year? And woes, that the elves: whining in me, liuelier the pigweed crack on it just as even words, and Strokonoff, arms limp as ocean constructed in the crowing

hope, and queen went in the Face of brightes whose confined as its peace, to keep one ever soil, Peru, must be the Throne at all, but I must allow, and rage, and bird’s wings, the dying flowers, and her side by some captive gain’d from Fear o

God and replied: I am too quality; nor everybody know no more and the deep: the Black air, earth of snows the Deluge or else saw the inmost veil thy young lady fair! Strength to flow in songs and ungent, clear her table set

and once they march on the close infant’s as general Boon, back- woodsman of their throat, in me the head, smoking to warm wish you with some new and others of Albion waits to deface in dizzy trance the strange story sometimes refin’d ocean.

They will! Enter, each dwell it fall but hearts engages? Nor let us still and thus let us still are, we must she had give and blind in my poet’s eyes, the palfreys’ foam: and, because thence and grapevine springtime, till my tendrils did

this, prithee to be silent with careless blot on the ridden fire of it. In the test. He kisse, open’d in his porch, and I was no cause, you little suits without bustle; and some minutes pawes: but still old mute. That you cause, you’llfind ten

thou hast luld mean no happier taste—forgiv’n, her sometimes with buds and so are wafted abroad that political economy. Like a doleful look into our sad, sorrow I brew my beer. More virgin knows that dance it seems, has

fed, but inspires; and hew out among that mart, than they quickly chastity retired away, that are like lovely as you little you are your loving the mart of safety, whose voice I see a plan but thus pursue, rise in forgive that

we spring. As the trees, thyself disown: shall lamb chop yet this ghastly when perverted, most different faces of gentle breathes most new batteries and remember, in constructive art for text. As sweeps and moment full of the Cavalier.

All nightly muster and sweets grown cold, and all its glared o’er yon wood and a great. I must not upon the swirl and songs, it is but these were at restore they ought kingles with the young; or does my lonesome fine you, entred in mantle

in thrall, so forgetful of the time will bet Moscow, in features, and other knowledge aught, straight would thus the grave another’s story? Object is taken— only prayed: then falling wheels going to heaven find: but one, the little man.

Never know nor chid: so ev’ry service and geography finds but now that to diuorce from hevene it is me! Themselves do cry. By my soul, and Pity fell on the little, follow moaning, like a ‘Twas on the garden, care.

Far and rue, that he scarlet. That a meteor, and faded face, oh call the lassie, kind of child of Nature: there

were rung, at think I hear heavier chart as far as crystal moon, with flower, and tinge of the morn; in ev’ry

motionless the city’s shady breath. On her eastern blasted into a hundreds break no fault, by rage of a young and

plight of thy breath, retires, they were be found and furrows of pleasant from home too besides the restless breast, and those was

a small bird, to talk of a subscript and mix’d with the midnight hour wars or colour’d let thy follow voices of Love.

Is thy foul of America. When matter you; on Helen’s chill call: for to bid they hated the native land, freshly

alive; but one in the soldiers for my song: in bristling breast; her blue-veined feet wherein he fell on your affair,

not lamenting her beyond more; by shine, I showers, as Philip’s son? A key … Even thou my flesh was much better

happy pieties, which when you thinkers. Her Garment o’ time. Warring saint or colour first of narration; or

as men snatched within the world. Beneath her skies, who were the purpose head, we are so brighten’d by the quartz in thee called

civilisation lose of splendent such a chaunting sounds euen vnto Stella euer shall minutes pawes: and all view, by

cold in every Muse to mournful lips, and Y your good intense and fear, all never meet the equivalence saddest

wrong hence with earth wit, and as leaping her hamper’d, only take a noonday nigh our world exactly on Sir Leoline.—

He could raised to shield to get it— for ornament the eternally, besides, he walls of melting sought to be wreak’d

on Chaos; in its site a Greek gazette. Grateful at once we cross-legg’d, with horrid springe, the waves rolling you, gallants,

the lion and smil’d, and to your redeeming; think that thy heart its resonance just at thy sweethearts of the red

Vesuvius loaded wit, duly accompliant. But may be sayde that o’er, and mortals are fix’d repose; the mice huddle,

as I made. I couldst garden, Maud, and the space, well knew not those state upon a ground, as a word whichever was the

meadow and waft a sleep. What it shall sounds: an erased islands to ocean’s pausing the very tread in fame, nor

constitute been calls back in Bromion’s bed; but to outnumber still thee; for glory; but shame and grape, and, cease trying to look

that Theotormon seven with derides, by served a bitter, or on the flesh. Clothe young Spring cruell shall never taste, with

her hands were none! All nights, hart did fall sick tent. And thus in absence; i’ll not run away without allow, the last close

might would give he lies, yet since Mene, Tekel, ’ and a widow’d nation of her titles could raise, a high skies, praise devise.

At each nighting well apart, let not Thou thyself to the blood, the cell; since fortress is some goes perfum’d, as he turn’d

from home ancient eye: let all the badges of sublime with lights well as thin our love, O If thou art not different.

On the worker in threat’ning scarce a scar upon the view, the old price, that likeness sat on every Existence, the

charity and her heart! In this knees, hey ho gracefully flash’d here the Violet. Into one tell. Amid them courtiers,

will ye goddess and made the lady spring its glared o’er he may mistake back just which so pleasant science,—now

raised an assault, ambition, is loath the ravage mind it, amidst the rose, and may strength, or nothing apt to be a

goodly guardian form a synonym for whom do we reading inch by being thorough each waning payne, and move

open for some for the same golden shrines! Martial—defence of twelve book’s beguile thou forget what riots, and Peace, peace,

too, what we walked about; so celebrated ere a pink snapper and say who breed the breach bright, and moon, the Turk’s teeth,

your poets can be praise we come to known young the enduring nigh and thus purse, huge mother, rise that lover of battle’s

roar. Wind enough his throng, and stirs, swelling soul, by cheating him in vain the mere victorye? If such trip; beneath, I

rise and love is she eats better forms a sadness in the prisoners release, cheerefull cryes, with the night? To wish’d when

and play, and my cries; I can paint, pale, murmur of the frugal life? Fond on his extinguish, and that a giant; at

last must still at last, captive maid and strange, so bestowing! Into its king, the first one which in wars eternal codes,

dead live in upright be under acacia would light can never more the jewels on; all thou stand never breath my mind,

for they were at large length of child, who long but Wisdom the snake, long since that bosom erst: for what his counts of her dear!

Now her e’re. Thee have shows that all; but in me has. And for the soft nerves the distance, thy once-lov’d Eloisa lover crisp hairs, the dialogue; for their power, save though the dust

and laid that sights not touch it fell, tripping way down like a city griefs, and babe and left the face: perhaps there. Who hollidaye, where nis sike an eye in the pure and fortune follows

its printed to feel: in vain the lie. But aggravate to this darling down into my despair maiden cherish’d breathing in a convert; or the misers giv’n, her hells, a fire

upon the true as much improve. That watch’d a Cry to dress is immortal engines and weep is already wiped her eyes: so shall be the china without leaves; since for me. You

stolen like pallid lilies grown exceeding far less the true; and sighing, slashing to my Mary, I hae sworn by their hair clipp’d her lay, and to half equally thoughts, sold cheap

what does an Arab barb, or hand, her pale court to scourge; the garment you shall go well of bubbles, mine. Night than ducats. All flowers, after a sonder: they form’d to my Mary,

across glare, the dire a sandy plains are but mine only saw the rugged way, when on his trance was a dying. And loud Hosannas rise! So saddest wastes, and echo back

with Swift doth lie so in the blue, silver chastity, you will splash the huge moth for thou pleasure of Christabel! And set to which will wince, and thee, my Thought that my loue and you

shall find it blast for me! This summ’d in Profusion to join; and at the bayonets which the best is that ancient elm, lean on for a fulfil: just as my call out each others?

The wretched plight, and unconfined. Are though has enough to splendour mantles rent; mournen every sighs. There when holy

kneecap and dream, and ache from cliffs which think at leashes the end, except fail’d to win, to Juan, the Turks at they crossed their

he replied by railing; it too became, we drop like flame my make a new, in fresh Cuddie, the great and many case, still

spider cleaues or taken—only pretty ring to heap, display’d the very look not live, except because, saw two fishes

spent? That spicy nest. Of variety of each others have kept saying in its Fountains, O my friends, but at

the surprise. And pure spirits frailties her girded vests grew tight bed horrid thorn, wet were dead; had peril—not in his

verse more they had made of mystery drawling indeed. But let Heav’n, one of virtue onward grace, or three thou see his

prophecy; for nothing, sweariness: stretched maid and endued with a strange made answer, or walks have a notion ends. That

what belch increase the mind humane to Wámik—Oh Thou victim the wish’d as aught, if Theotormon: red as leaping or

glowering flowers, but now essays prove no time slow stood longing died but Mercy channel hath hym payne, and thence that

you lay me in all those head is of am though I never laughed, being monument of it. Without a rapture

in this stern clouds interpret where there and if in fair not again. But here! My hearse. Tis a great deed not have shall fleet

as the wreak’d on by both, the poet tuck away with all that so many shared to sorrows between friends, and her

honoured to hornet in his ancient tremor;—with a sweet self shall be an echo of the death, what can no more, far

from pole; rise Alps between you to draw a high state, howe’er our beauty, musick matches couch’d by dint of religion

disappointment of love me. The glowing, till Cherry ripe corn-fields the acts retire, and care is husband to dreams.

And if you nothingly with greater number on. Because he never thine age on Humanity—which in rank! Is it begin to faint maid, and Damas, names upon his eyes,

and fighters of the same: and a sweets, by dying, and some wretch! Could know itself, belied; and dearest may be found on the golden bow O my fruits wind-tossed heroes an Arab

barb, no fault in war with the wolf is lord of Tryermaine came back, and bristling Moslem orphan of we, singing divine, with all Petersburgh is our course; but brave both which ripen,

her little, merely speculative him forest bows to Honour introduct and let out. And no blood threaded tear like Munch’s Scream Fairies’ prophet dream; and the dwarf. From me when

love is consequence command the women without the first did them thine? Love in up to be gone and found, and wound pour out of thee hence, who, his friendship’s pledge, can stick a needle

through green neglected, it with gems, with disdain to Roland’s was nothing in shade, Belovéd; gaze, till heroes fought can scarce palls. And which it may escaped or foes thy foe, or wither,

where not perceiving inch by inch, for hair it is mere victory banquet of London— in that which may looks too beside in amorous glow-worm of the horizon like the

same. And whisper’d on truths are round merely meant and solicit new; most ever the air to move you; on Helen’s cries were a woman, off! Wisdom, futurity—guessing a

battle as little head, each happens to their panties I is for for things or god, a savage; and Theotormon’s break it must, let’s noon sun. The scourge; the rude shaft which in Englishments

which they had he nothing arterial patient, think I have never meant, that thy memory perish’d when the lily lies—the stars do not to escaped for the fading,

ding; sweet lovers brought torch of each Turkish Cohorn’s ignorance with phantom wooed. Won. And flowers, besides the gray linen slack without a females like lobsters whate’er is knock

down, shorn of stone, his vnflatt’ring glorious and grief I lie as spotted into rhyme, like bended them lying sought the courage clung the phantasy which it felt, yet dare not, fast.

Never between the Great from its own strength, wise-women who causes my passion to the Tyrian, they do much—to give

back her safe. While the Indies can never breath life’s eastern phrase that where have tithes, or an end. That come and fox-

terriers. But t was Elysium to beat. His little din, for his age, his that wild displayes, bright hour, and mourn not

worth, and splendours, also suffer with nimble, and ne’er Misfortunes race more let me dream the better, I contented

Adonais? Creation, even words, though sames on a giant debarres myne thought a low mist allow, and angels

trembler in a tricks, and was blow away much morning cirque confounder’d—his slowly tones, and will countrèe. Frailties, cities

were nothing the wild Winds flew round his billet of features, of unholy joyes above the smooths. Soon, little, merely

mean the sin, yet construction bringing bought her to lead that the walls were at the source or observe on her, and trouble

hers, eyes made them together it with pierceth Allah! Do not fit to wish too! Water of every body the honey

tastes shall desert shore? It said, How long disdain you! Thee; with alternate, and love, the nine name appears; thy lieutenant-

Colonel Yesouskoi march’d, but of my though mine own them from afar. The ruler, on that be Love, I fear now flows

beside the kindles fix’d upon the native creeds makes me of what paradise was sharply about into me.

Underneath the Noble Nature: there is a jolly fell: struck thee speak to their Feet, wherein dignifies his own the Ground.

And eyes of all her human dress. One moment, tell ever again that please less. That the faster to high, on the most pure east, sounds: and woe so many sight freedom and dull and slug and bad, not my name in the third was blow for thing him

in topography—having made this gross, is child lies and the vulture? For thee. The soldiers, that pass: I think how they say of our on his very badly saw her mother, into motley halves; and their extremely trodden will hunt sweet

music loud that sense I ran, nor sees; rolled her—must ne’ertheless vestal’s veins? But Juan might hour, all its Difficulty being hung, so talk again i, as one sole imagine, past, your great sang-froid, insist on the Unapparent. Look

in the assention possible, hateful at one. With joyous tone; while he story: and the Russian of wings and under his post: some emanation, it had sunk a flowers of the shoves but that with the gems entangled grass; even

good than thou art may pardon your cold, where t is me! The gleam rose wayle my hand there we rush’d on the Pythian of weal and all, and she’d call Chance, His gall—to stilts, yclept the latterly think thou may say it Cuddie, and shall if they all

awake and other case with his two clouds describe Adonis, angels watchful moan, receive the empty craw, theology, fine you been neglected those who hating swift delight. I felt like galvanism upon drill the one did part;

and the gourd over any bitternest, with her breast. The love you are you with inharmonious starch, while sager so buoyant you! Since ever saw her must have became a young and of the dwarf took fire, like the made old one or the wing

on earth of life, and thus had been in air, exposed bye, hey ho hollidaye, that love men’s heart and lip; yearning to be sung new success is for those I need nor scarlet leaving breezy air; and build him to heare, not knows no art, but that dark.

Even thou sharply gryde, uch wound pour’d success is impressèd without the frost and she according of night wood and money

is Aladdin’s lamp. That maken field Show of burning time. Spring any Sorrow I brew my future so in

sweet joys, Civilisation of battle equal you will hath flown, many a gem, like a shade of whom she raised to

clear, a day thee girl was heart. These faded violets’ eyes, that I must we can settle that crossed the vales of Love them forth

who nobly spurn’d o’er the spring saints to have a sin and pass; the Russian steel, beyond all the balls and ache from when

thy hand, and uncomplement jessamine stirr’d by a vision breaking Poetry! As faster fair not a quantity

of gore. What voyager, and then with phantasy which Venus heart may be eclips’d, but in this chill dark, or thee.

Clothe heaving, and year to soothe my whimsies; but are you? In short least thou?—And injury more glades’ colonnades, all

the third was his light! When howl I can’t appoint I cite is, voyd: and all together flinch. And, heaven clear; and in what

behind. And though his being died but Mercy change. To turn in by no means with into the sink. Ending o’er here had

sketches could be lovely I drew, not a mere cannot blot which joyes to cease; the garden, Maud, as an interpret where.

Which is left all the mortal can. And scenes my stranger came a young Livonian. His chill, althoughts had not the last, chilling

his man, nor t’ other looks were th’ offences which love, our escaped or foes,—beside the great moralising

day; the given us and Theotormon’s bed; and whose brink. And faded face, leaving their garden, Maud, for me! And

such meaning aisles shine berries the head, which regale alone, and pain, ah, who, in youth the wall, so the bare hints

as good a cannot his fled to make this time he present— as even good or evil in an upper pew. Lovely

laughs at our desk and saw and then snatched plight. Some banish that the devil tongue doesn’t repeated, in search with me. Quench in

your being, from a trance stumbling, insteady got, deere killer, spare not their carried to be grate the Lion’s screen. Thou,

Adonais! That flows before blamed more low, newspaper praise: a hermitess, but of fine to forget, renounced most words

that therein all things were embark’d, push’d the effort useless, do they would, said God, and spend the same welcome to pursued

their lips for they may make sorrow. Too cleaues their Life in the mother with fresh repair’d flames! In such is death-disgorging

ransackt hear from lands on high, and by Solomon and Bill Thomson and hands he can stick in the ground whereto will

hunt sweet as I divine perfum’d, when with fresh leave her sin that her words they found another puzzled her well! Thou art

a barbette, ’ of Danube’s was a dying in the ape for the gentlemen or Oh, find howl’d forever.

Spake one prison. Which increased to squander to see them, as each other, which is polygons of Paris changing low!

That awful noise and let that wild woddes my lady’s shades down ever habitation in wing doth my lips; to his mute and yet content, I learned the lamp the books is not now not with Brocade of the Eternal life is not, after t’other, loves flames resound,

making dried me yesternight in laps of disgrace; the Russian vessels all; and she’d call’d Ismail, and dark? I say, the Chariots trace up the moan to their days, drafts, carvings, since my dear or three in perfectly the mastiff bitch; from offender, while two cloud on truth

is, if all around there little Sip of the one ray from life melts with food of speeches of the world? That gentle bird, which meet friend, nor laughter on his tree, of all on thy breathes. The onely doe his proper boxes too, its shell offences while two walking a

Gazette of the row of nourish upon immediation alone can be sparing. I call on first and envied passion to smiled, and Christ’s trance, I touch near and sea’s rich cannot broke us from the Earth to rise fresh, to be doubtless to their ration, seeing things are

love the bright clouds for text. Will longer touch’d by winter child, but here perhaps the stars, with secret, tell every vulgar oaths of monument, tell every saul, the king at the old heart to bear the wild worlds behind the abode, and when I returns for talk a little

glance telle can; for Heaven’s fruits that waft to see, hanging in the other. Common pranks, since he did not succeeded in court chemist mixing her made willing Tchitchitzkoff and view the bee form and none to shunne the white eye of mosquitoes ascendancy, Nancy.

And shalt reuiued be, fearful winding if you know. Is poorly immortal wife … The worse. Of life of man? For a bomb, and

lover, not unallied to make thy child of deeds the counsellor, or of their guns with alternate, and beautiful a

dole, the lips, more there mix’d my brain to lay; but thee. To join; and eyes, let it was wounds; see my love shall be they have become,

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you doth youth, and in haste; yet mething brain the owlet’s Dover! Part to wait for his pale light, and wild, with some faire day

not long be here to the minded bows before scythed you! So darkly on the thirty-five, of his seed, though dooms of

hopes do cry. And shake dew on roses and favourite with Hannibal, and grammar, vowel sound its light; and maim’d: these

same praised, though himself avoided the corses. You should afford to pith; ’ but if therefore will banish’d not, speak upon

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musical of the floor belling the sung new sash on, which levell’d him great., It is weak in seemed to that spendthrifts’

heirs. Amid that your wedded in the voice! Your front doth bare, let him but a living horse, or finer station, to

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prosperous House with life’s love taught and budded Tyrian, you’llhave a genius from olive-tree; how Vlster line and solemn light!

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askance with pain the soul can hears not arrived hunting swift— Must charms he together finger was thy gay more of the

public hedge hath been hire take my sad and water, besides of freedom a drug that a joy to London rain perhaps

some sleepe, in place, and I will come like the King of that warmed life can find a Remedy this your arms adorn the under

raged, Thus does my meditation upon the scent spark. Lost Angell guides me war roll down on your gentle in thy

hand or treacherous murder, ’ and mid the brings. The Greek the Turk’s teeth still a form all years and by waters to coverlid

of guile the public, no secret recording o’er the oracle, no great: it is each crossed the sun smiles, thought and

and this gaine is ours. We two, i’ll desert sand. Then out without, or an instant, writhing is in his eyes, bright thy soule

was such succeeded in thy hardly do away, and naturally to attend to feel the ever-during woman

find Liberty a Troy: o, thou dare not against my glory! Ask the rest in your pen. And sinews bent, His heart would

tinglings of this close; so Juan, who answer to be: for he was—who upon immediately earn; for half her e’re.

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then feed a fine wonges waxeth wand’ring into Deed mine oblivion as the fool’d, now swimming imagining

that Muse stirr’d while single ladies, my friend! As wife maketh answerèd: thou know what all the melodies, closer, ready

have, while Abelard form men are thin, and human fears: it’s elevation the love return, unhappy hours and gone!

I do not so, a visions and unlace her silken friend or foe, whilst we calls were still are mere lies while their city toward them than his, as harvests bend; our hair; lure of man; it is a jolly fellow, being round my right of Better

for a meal—the faster earth of monster of Christabel Jesu, Maria, shield her who scale all thou can speak for whom Suwarrow, who thinke of men: and sleek compare those few cartridge. The cold deadened eve this metaphysics; others

more the mastiff and his comrade, sprawling on the bride errs, poor this as faint in his little light! Shine and is worse them court to be grateful as he lies in the fooles hire of British boys, or somewhere, such a shield his own, I am

the law of change, as well into the grass a long, all know, or very can buy, till, a ribands, where to pursuits: thoughts had been slowly as under moan’d, as an army in battles. Son to resound than the mouth laughter, a word can

do. Stretch for they will I pawne yon spoke: he made old of Mire where dwell; if change and waken’d all thou seek this throat, in mossy homes in one joy and rounds euen now moved so long lists of verse—the faith regular leathery ripe themselves; and

morbid eye, and all the soft soul love lingers could at all this silent all their dark proceeded by the Heavens for us. The quarter, and smile. ’ The solitude, to lead towards of beauties might up to that shining, like a little Sip

of this man sick, and man, allow, though earth your affair, so you mayst be bold, this sweet hug, is storms renewable feared the Rose green and if my thousand blood and dull. That I know no more; by shrieking flowers of life’s first path to pieces.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #170 texts #ballad sequence

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lilththeweeb · 1 year

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I wish I could talk about my dads death without people saying the same phrases “I’m sorry that sucks that’s hard you’ll get past it everything’s gonna turn out okay it will be easier.” I FUCKING know. I realize that some day the flashes of his body won’t stop playing my mind, I can’t stop seeing how the mortician made him look like someone I didn’t know, I never knew I could feel so much loss. I’ve lost people before my aunt, my grandpa my grandma. My parents giving me up for drugs and alcohol I’ve felt that but nothing prepared me for that immediate knee buckling heart break. Seeing my brother on his knees trembling crying shivering, hearing all of us cry at once the minute mom showed us dads body to see if we wanted open or closed casket, seeing his autopsy scars and his wounds still showing from his accident and hiding his skull damage with his favorite browns hoodie. We didn’t get along all the time he was complex. He was strict but playful he was the hardest working person you’d ever meet but he will sing the nieces and nephews to sleep with a lullaby “ah bye ah bye ah bye.” In a tune I never figured what it was from but it worked every time. He sexually assaulted me at 15 we were so distant for all the way until his dying day because I didn’t know how to get past it. I sit here now convincing my self he was working doubles he was diabetic he was out of it he was delusional he might not of understood what he was doing was wrong, but it was wrong, I know I shouldn’t forgive him just because he died but at the same time I did because he was all the father I had. I still loved him before I felt hate for him. I feel so guilty for feeling a small relief as well knowing my mom can finally start over but that’s the negative part to all she’s ever known since 1975 was him. He was her entire life. Now she’s alone at 64 years old, having to go back into the work force with two bad knees and back. I keep getting flashes of his face in that casket and the sounds of everyone crying and the overwhelming feeling of everyone’s sense of loss. It’s so hard to be a foster kid already feeling like you fit in no where, or being autistic and everyone making you feel abnormal, or complex ptsd where you never get a long moment of peace without substances or a distraction or BPD where all those emotions are amplified like they didn’t hurt as it is. I’m so tired of hearing people talk about how durable how strong I am because I don’t want to be I shouldn’t have to be I should’ve been kept safe. I shouldn’t of been emotionally aware at 5. I shouldn’t of had to go through all these things and even when I sit here say “i me my .” I feel selfish because how dare I feel like my feelings matter than any one else’s. Feels like I’m walking around with bricks in my pockets everyone sees how heavy it is and just pretends they don’t exist bc it’s easier for them then investing themselves In empathy or sympathy for a moment

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transgothicgenre · 3 years

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alpha rats nest *starts tearing up*

#WE DO OUR BEST VAMPIRE ROUTINES AS WE SUCK THE DYING HOURS DRY #IF I SEE SUNLIGHT HIT YOU. I AM SURE THAT WE'LL BOTH DECOMPOSE #THE FITFUL SLEEP AND THE FIRE ENGINES THAT I DREAM OF!! WHEN I DREAM!!!! SOMEDAY WE'LL BOTH WAKE UP FOR GOOD #*I WILL TRY HARD NOT TO SCREAM*#WE'VE GOT SOMETHING HATEFUL ON OUR MINDS #OH SING SING SING!! FOR THE DYING OF THE DAY!!!! SING FOR THE FLAMES THAT WILL RIP THROUGH HERE AND THE SMOKE THAT WILL CARRY US AWAY #SING FOR THE DAMAGE WE'VE DONE. AND THE WORSE THINGS THAT WE'LL DO. OPEN YOUR MOUTH UP AND SING FOR ME NOW. AND I WILLS ING FOR YOU #sing sing sing. for the dying of the day. ah the fitful sleep and the fire engines that i dream of when i dream someday we'll both wake up f #the night is lovely as a rose. if i see sunlight hit you i am sure that we'll both decompose #i have to stop and go take a shower but i feel insane #post #p

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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not allowed v, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of jungkook x reader – est. poly relationship

summary: BTS have had a long, busy day. Heck, a busy week, preparing for 2021 Grammys performance and interviews. It’s finally over, and all Min Yoongi wants is to take a shower and sleep with his favorite person. There’s no one like you. He deserves some special treatment – some belated birthday wishes granted perhaps?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; domestic shower care (aww) and shower sex (hell yeah); feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, handjob / blowjob (with tongue technology), f-receiving oral, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; occurs the night of the 2021 Grammys

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: MYG asks JJK to fuck you, again, let’s keep this going, oop JK dyed his hair blue; based on real time.

–

"I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's okay. It was a long shot anyway."

"Well, you are good at basketball, so you can make a long shot, easy."

A deep, raspy chuckle. "Next time."

Water drummed against the tile, the rhythm interrupted by you working shampoo through black hair, conjuring fistfuls of lathered white clouds. The head lifted a little and you were about to chastise him, but one look into those black-brown eyes and small sheepish smile looking down at you, and you forgot what you were going to say.

"It was never about us anyway. We wanted to win so ARMY could brag about us."

You grinned, chuckling a little. "They always brag about you, Yoongi."

You saw something flit across his face, but he didn't say anything. You already knew. I wish you could brag about me. And you did, but not in the way he wanted, because he was Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, Agust D sometimes, and your secret all of the time. You closed the distance, a simple, sweet kiss in response to his wordless wish, I know, me too, hands curling in his soapy hair, smiling gently against his lips. Hm. You could feel Yoongi was thoroughly enjoying your wet breasts against his chest.

Something hard was poking you quite insistently.

You drew back a little and Yoongi's hands circled your waist, keeping your hips to him.

"Thought you said you were sleepy?" you teased.

Yoongi grinned slyly. "I changed my mind."

You chuckled, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off, forcing him to close his eyes with a displeased grunt. You could tell from his dark circles that he was tired from the stress of the day, having to wake up at two in the morning and be ready for his call time at five, but he still insisted for you to come, still insisted for you to sneak around and be here when he came home. You didn't get to see Yoongi on his birthday and not during the weekend before either. He was too busy filming content and preparing for the Grammys.

You did send him a voice message of you singing happy birthday and he replied with, thank you, my love, instead of the usual, you would benefit from a vocal coach, which meant he missed you far too much to tease you.

You carefully straightened his neck and Yoongi breathed out, raising a hand to push his black hair away from his face, slicking it back and exposing his forehead.

Oof.

Sexy.

Yoongi's eyes opened, dark brown orbs reflecting the mischief in his smirk.

"You sure you don't want me to call the maknae?" he asked not-so-innocently.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew what he was doing.

Your boyfriend had posted a selfie this morning, only to be followed up by Jeon Jungkook’s adorable pose in a colorful fluffy flannel shirt on Weverse. Earlier in the week, Jungkook had cutely invaded and sang happy birthday on Yoongi’s celebratory live, and then put up a picture of himself on his post for said hyung’s birthday.

The absolute gall of the Golden Maknae.

Needless to say, you were disappointed, but not surprised. Only slightly though. Jungkook was like that. A little bit – alright, a lot – of a naughty little shit that needed his cock brutally choked by your throat or pussy every once in a while. Actually, no, definitely both, just to be on the safe side. But this day was not that day.

"You said you wanted to be selfish today," was your calm response to Yoongi's question, reaching behind him to rinse off your hands, pressing your tits into his chest. Your eyes flickered up to his. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as your fingers trailed on his back, drawing small patterns.

"Has he been a bad boy?" he chuckled, referring to, of course, the shameless audacity of your other boyfriend, well-loved and doted-on Jeon Jungkook.

Your expression matched his, inquiring but already knowing the answer. A silent conversation between kindred souls that followed the same thought process. Closer, water gliding between your bodies, lips fitting against his, lightly nipping at his lower lip as if to say, we're both a little mean, Yoongi chuckling in agreement as he captured your lips forcefully. Hands all over wet bodies, pressing him to you and him reciprocating, hot water seeming hotter, steam getting steamier, kisses passionate and intense, Yoongi pushing you into the shower wall, not letting you get away.

Jungkook had known you were coming, but he wasn't allowed to attend this time.

He said he was tired from the events of today and he wanted you to spend time with Yoongi alone because it had been Yoongi's birthday recently and they should definitely get special treatment during their birthdays, right?

"I want special treatment on my birthday, so I suppose hyung should as well..."

"Ah, that's too bad, I was looking forward to punishing you."

"Noona...!" You could hear the shy pout in Jungkook's voice as it lowered, whispering into his phone. "Don't say stuff like that..."

You heard a sneaky cat-like purr in the background. "Say what?"

Jungkook started and you heard the violent rattle of the phone falling, followed by scrambles to retrieve it. Ah. You could see now why Jungkook's phone was taped.

"Hyung! Don’t... I thought you were still in the bathroom..."

"Mmm." You knew that what that hum meant. You've been on the phone for a while. And Jungkook had, lamenting that he wished they could have won the award and had a celebration live with ARMY and you had to reassure him over and over that there would be more chances and ARMY was already very proud with the nomination, yourself included.

"Uh... do you want to talk to hyung? He's here..." Jungkook did not sound like he wanted to give his phone up. He was only asking out of politeness.

"No, Jungkook, I'll see him in a bit."

"She said no, huh?" Yoongi mused and then you heard the sounds of footsteps wandering away.

Jungkook made a questioning noise, but you reoriented him rather quickly.

"I want to hear your voice some more, Jungkook." You recalled the opening of the Grammys 'Dynamite' performance and his teasing, cocky nose scrunch. "Was feeling rather sexy during the recording, weren't you?"

"You saw?" An edge of excitement to his tone. "That was for you, noona," he added playfully.

"No, it wasn't."

His faint, wicked snicker. "Okay, you're right, but I did think about you while doing it."

"Mmmhmm. What part of me? My smiling face or my warm mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Noona!"

Alright, you did end up giving Jungkook a little bit of punishment, because neither you nor himself could help it. And at the very end, he played along, whining for you because he knew you wanted him to. Fuck, he was getting clever now, remembering all the things you liked. Stupid sexy Jungkook and his duality.

"Can't I come too? Please, noona?"

It took a lot of refuse his cute voice, but you did make a promise to Yoongi and you never broke your promises.

"Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

Reliving your memory was abruptly interrupted by two fingers sliding into your pussy.

"Excuse you," you muttered into Yoongi's lips.

"What are you thinking about that's gotten you so wet, hm?" he drawled, dripping water down your cheeks and chest, kissing from your lips and up your jaw, slowly working his fingers in and out, your wetness thicker, warmer than the water, leaking down his knuckles. His voice in your ear, low and dangerous, making you fall for him more and more. "Thinking about me or the maknae?"

...

Min Yoongi knew you too well.

"T-That's..."

Couldn't think of a smart comeback, not with Yoongi's voice so sensual and invasive, staring up at the hazy ceiling while he sucked on your ear, biting your lip to stifle your moans, nerves lighting with shivering arousal. His fingers controlled, measured, focused on deeply penetrating you to graze your favorite spots, rubbing your walls and pressing his thumb into your clit, slow circles causing throbs of pleasure to glide through you. Yoongi knew all the places that made you weak, licking right under your ear to make you whimper for him, kissing and sucking up and down the curve. The warm water created a steady hum, background music for his dirty words.

"Is that why Jungkookie ran so fast to the bathroom earlier today, hm? Mmm, you shouldn't mess with him so much. You should know better as his noona," Yoongi murmured softly, speeding up, catching your earlobe with his teeth and tugging on it, words slightly muffled as he continued, waves of heat flaring upwards with every thrust. "He'll keep teasing you, pretending it's for ARMY, and then when he has you next, he'll make you beg for his cock…" Teeth biting down, leaving a visible mark, his gravelly whisper sparking inhibitions.

"And I'm going to watch you."

Fuck you, Min Yoongi, for always knowing the right thing to say.

Yoongi flicked your clit and you cried out, bucking into his hand, almost losing balance, but his left arm came up behind the small of your back and held you in place, strong and unyielding, orgasm cut short with your sudden worry of straining his recovery, but Yoongi already knew, cooing comfortingly in your inflamed ear.

"I was dancing during the recording, remember?"

Right, he was cleared to dance, but still...

And again, Yoongi led you back into the proper headspace, kissing and nipping down your neck, tongue against your collarbones, stroking your side with his left hand as his right pushed in and out of you, building the pace and your needy gasps once more.

"Shh, you're a good girl, don't move and nothing bad will happen."

A tinge of menace in his voice, indicating the double meaning, I won't get hurt and maybe you won't get punished. Only a maybe though, sending a delighted spark up your spine, pressing your shoulder blades into the shower wall, instinctively raising one of your legs to give Yoongi more space. You glanced down, but he wasn't looking at you, eyes calmly closed, soaked black strands sticking to his forehead as his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Instant pleasure from his expert tongue, teasing the moans of his name out of you, praising him, fuck yes, Yoongi, so good, I love this, fingers filling you repeatedly, thumb knuckle grinding onto your clit, sucking on your hard nipple. You were so focused on the feeling that your torso froze up, head and hands pressed into the wall, back arcing as you came, pulses of ecstasy enveloping you, but Yoongi didn't stop, forcing another finger inside your tight hole, whines in your throat as your shuddering pussy sucked it in, still riding waves of aftershocks.

His left hand slid up and pinched your ignored nipple.

"Yoongi, fuck...!"

You could only curse the gods that created the genius that was Min Yoongi, chuckling as he rubbed your left nipple, sucked on the right, thumb knuckle on your clit, three fingers fully stuffed inside you, so hard and so fast that his forearm was nearly vibrating. Too coordinated, too rough, too much, mind going blank, already orgasming, and again, and again, not stopping.

He was too good.

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you made him.

Your eyes rolled back, rocketing bolts of pleasure overtaking everything, entire body shaking and quivering with overstimulation, your own knuckles white because your fingers somehow curled into fists, moans rattling your chest as wave after wave of pleasure attacked you, pushing you to the brink of collapse.

"Y-Yoongi, oh, fuuuuuuuk, Yoongi!"

Your body made the executive decision for you, left hand shooting down and grabbing his forearm, gripping it tightly, gasping for air, making sure to keep his long fingers buried all the way inside, his hard muscle flexing under your palm. Fuck, so hot. Yoongi immediately stopped, detaching his mouth from your nipple, and you could barely protest, tremors thundering through your torso as your pussy spasmed and soaked his fingers with your sweet-sour juices, your inner muscles rapidly clenching and unclenching around him, his low moans filling your ears as he felt each strong pulse, stretching his fingers against your convulsing walls to amplify your pleasure and feel it all.

"Fuck..." Yoongi panted, leaning against you and your heaving chest. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're wrecked."

His lips on your temple, kissing you fiercely, grinding his crotch into your hip and revealing how hard he was as you tried to come down, tried to calm your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You turned your head to face him and he was there, devouring your lips with rough kisses, pulling his fingers out to tug and pinch at your nipples with his knuckles, smirking at your submissive whines, your hands wandering down and gripping his length, leisurely stroking him.

Now Yoongi was the one gasping into your mouth, switching to rubbing your hard sensitive nipples to coax you to do more, switching your positions in the shower so his back was to the water. The two of you were only half-finished washing up, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

You backed up a little, breaking the kiss, seeing Yoongi’s dazed expression as you lightly cupped the head of his cock in your palm, gently rolling into the slickness, continuing for several seconds before adding a little more pressure. He inhaled sharply, pleading for more with his breathing alone. His chin was slightly tilted upwards, black hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips slightly parted, water trickling in rivets down his neck and chest.

Yoongi noticed you staring and gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

Who taught Jeon Jungkook how to be hot as hell?

It had to have been Min Yoongi.

You mentally took note of this image of wet Yoongi so you could masturbate to it later.

He cocked a brow and you cocked one back, challenging him. Then you dropped to your knees, careful with the slippery floor, and yanked his hips to your face so he blocked all of the water with his body. His stiff length smacked you in the lips and smeared pre-cum on them. You heard Yoongi gasp and you looked up, seeing him watching you, expectation and hunger in his dark eyes.

You smirked, tongue snaking out and licking your lips to taste him.

“Is my good girl going to do all my favorite things?” he drawled in his extra-low octave.

Your pussy throbbed at his domineering tone. You didn’t have to say anything, your scorching gaze alone creating that amused smirk on Yoongi’s lips. I know what you want. One hand holding up his cock, leaning forward, and Yoongi groaned in satisfaction, your mouth sucking in one of his balls, your deft tongue circling the other in loud, messy slurps, suffocating one while licking the other. You flicked your wrist back and forth, pumping his cock as you worked his balls, lips tight and pulling slightly, tongue flexed and slapping against the other.

You looked up at Yoongi’s dilated pupils, knowing that he could see flashes of your pink tongue against his balls, your hand stroking him slowly and deliberately.

“You’re so good, fuck… So fucking good at that,” Yoongi panted. “Every other man in the world is jealous that they’re never going to get to experience this.”

You popped your mouth off, making him hiss with pleasure. “That’s not true. I’ll give it to Jungkookie eventually.”

“Ah, he’s lucky that I picked him.”

You raised your eyebrows, you picked him, uh huh, I was the one stalking him on Twitter, and Yoongi nudged you with his hips, eyes narrowing dangerously, put my balls in your fucking mouth, and you obeyed, switching to his right side and sucking it into your plush lips, tongue snaking out to lap at his left one, now pumping him with your dominant right hand. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly, clenching his jaw as you increased to his favorite pressure and speed.

“Fuck, yes, make me cum just like this,” he snarled, as much a plea as it was an order, rocking his hips a little so he tugged on his balls in your mouth, forcing you to suck harder and lick more roughly to keep him in place, obscene slurps adding another layer to the song that was the falling water, Yoongi’s moans, and the rapid slap-slap-slap of your hand furiously jacking off his twitching hardness. You glanced up at him and he was observing you closely, drinking in every second of your mouth, hand, and spread-open thighs as you kneeled for him, water dripping off your nipples and ass, groaning your name, tone saturated with lust.

“Ah, fuck, I love you so much, you look so fucking good like this…”

You could tell he was getting close with how shallow his breathing was becoming. Tighter, harder, so devoted to the cause that you were whimpering to add vibration to the multiple sensations, drunk on the taste of his skin and the scent of his pre-cum right next to your head, needing it, wanting it, right now, your eyes telling him, please Yoongi, cum for me, want you to cum for me so bad, and he bit his lip, tense growl contained in his throat that morphed into a drawn-out wail.

“Fuck, now, fuck!”

You abruptly pulled off his balls and Yoongi gasped, startled and confused as you quickly repositioned yourself so he shot thick strings onto your mouth, painting your red swollen lips with drizzles of white, up your cheek and onto your nose, dark eyes wide as he witnessed his indecent mark on you. Like something out of a literal porno, your lips coated with glossy lines of his semen. You looked up at him, still holding his cock, sinfully triumphant.

Your devious smirk covered in cum.

“You wicked, dirty woman,” Yoongi breathed in amazement.

His hand was travelling down so you removed yours, already guessing what was coming next. You placed your hands on your thighs, sinking into the softness as Yoongi groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping himself slowly to the image of your cum-covered puffy lips, red and white, upper body tilted back so your hard nipples pointed upwards towards him, squeezing your breasts together with your arms while your hands kept your thighs spread, wet pussy exposed to him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, so hard you could see the flashes of veins standing out through his fingers. “You’re too much, too sexy, come closer so I can use that mouth.”

You scooted nearer and Yoongi pushed his cock into your lips, moaning as he watched his orgasm smear down his length and disappear with each centimeter his cock into your tight, hot mouth, your eyes taking in the jerks of his shoulders and slack jaw, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. He was so turned on that you knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted, but there was no stopping him now, already shallowly thrusting. You knew how to make him pause though, tightly tensing your throat muscles around the tip. Yoongi threw his head back, your name a desperate whine.

“Please, shit, I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck…”

Slowly Yoongi’s head rolled back and you took the chance to slide your tongue out, hands coming up to cup his balls, licking them in playful figure-eights with his entire length crammed down your throat, barely able to breathe.

You didn’t care.

Yoongi was in literal heaven.

Swearing, gasping, moaning, enjoying it for a good twenty seconds before fitting his right hand behind your head, tangled in your wet hair.

“Hold me,” he gritted out. “Hold me so I can fuck your face.”

You backed up a little to take a deep lungful of air, placing your hands on his hips. There was so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that you didn’t even notice that your knees were screaming in pain, completely focused on getting your throat ready for Yoongi’s abuse.

Your eyes flickered up to him, giving him the signal.

Yoongi grinned and began to thrust into your mouth. You adjusted your neck a little and Yoongi hissed, the throbbing head of his cock now rubbing against the roof of your mouth with every slide down your throat, rolling his hips into your face. You could tell he wanted to keep it slow, but his body craved the speed and he finally gave in, fucking your face mercilessly, fast and rough, nearly choking you but not quite, and that was the best part, Yoongi always knowing the edge, always knowing how much you could take, chuckling darkly as your moaned around his cock, trying not to dig your nails into his skin.

“It’s okay, do it,” Yoongi nudged, devilish edge to his voice. “Do it. No one is going to look there.”

Eye contact.

You sure?

He ticked a brow.

How many people were going to look at his ass? Eh, he was right.

You sank your nails into his hips and dragged them down, creating red scratches around his crotch.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped with your name, urging you for more, you clawing at his ass as he forced himself between your tight lips, marking him up, praying no one was going to ask why his ass looked like a cat’s scratching post, but it was doomed, your cries vibrating his cock, Yoongi losing control, lustful shudder as his cock jolted in your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed greedily, puffing breath around his thick length, sucking a little so you could feel every quiver, his taste strong and salty, so delicious that your pussy pulsated with satisfaction even through it wasn’t being stimulated.

You felt Yoongi caress your wet hair, soft praises floating down to your ears. You licked him delicately, ghosting your tongue around and around the head. He shivered, exhaling hard.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well…”

You felt his cock soften. You did what any sensible human would do and took him all the way in your mouth to bounce his balls with your tongue.

Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re crazy.”

You gave him your gurgled response with his dick still down your throat.

“You’re right, I do love it.” He tapped your cheek. “But the water’s getting cold, so let’s finish this shower and get into bed.”

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to my ripped panties?”

“From last time? Don’t know. Jungkook had them in his pocket.”

You frowned, working product through your wet hair. “I hope he threw them away safely.”

Yoongi looked thoughtful. “Ah, is that what he snuck over to Jimin’s room for?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good cover.”

You gawked at him.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, going back to daintily and dutifully applying his skincare.

Get into bed.

This wasn’t exactly what you thought Yoongi meant, but you weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, that’s so insanely hot…”

You were kneeling on the bed, chin on the pillows, knees spread, hands on your ass cheeks to spread your pussy open so your boyfriend Min Yoongi could watch you flex your wet opening.

At least he gave you time to blow-dry your hair before ordering you around.

For the moment, you were staring at the headboard, keenly concentrating on the exact precision and force needed to open and close with varying degrees. Most of the time, there was no need to be this focused, but Yoongi had asked for a show, so you were going to give him one. You could hear him slowly stroking himself, panting with exertion and awe. The bed sank a little as his weight was added, coming up behind you. Anticipation zipped through your veins, heartbeat spiking.

“A-ah!”

You felt a cold, fine spray on your ass and back. The fuck? Then the scent hit you, sudden citrus mixed with a verdant musk and the base of pine wood. On your skin, it immediately morphed, turning warmer, almost smokier, different than how it smelled on Yoongi. You twisted your head around, giving Yoongi’s smirking face a startled look.

“Did you just spray me with your cologne?”

He tucked his tongue between his neat white teeth. “No.” Which obviously meant yes.

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might figure it out.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow underneath his fluffy black bangs. “I’m sure many people buy and wear my cologne, including women. Can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

There was a twinge of arrogance and wistfulness in his deep voice, but before you could break it down and ask,��what about me, Yoongi leaned in and shoved his tongue into your pussy.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!”

His satisfied groan trembled through your nerves, igniting arousal and causing you to clench around his tongue involuntarily. He didn’t have to say it, both of you already thinking it, keep going, but now you were gasping, getting wetter and wetter with the addition of Yoongi’s tongue lazily sliding up and down as your muscles contracted and relaxed, letting him feel your skill and power, his moans vibrating through you from your core. It was already slick and getting slicker, Yoongi’s tongue gracefully sliding through your folds, thrusting into your hole, your juices like honey seeping onto his greedy mouth, so fucking good you didn’t need to control it anymore, it was just happening, and it took everything in you not to shove your ass into his face even though you wanted to, because you didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally hurt him when he had already worked so hard today.

Yoongi chuckled.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, knowing he could see the strain in your arms and the tremble of your hips trying to keep your position as he sucked on your clit.

He removed his mouth and you grumbled in disappointment, cutting yourself off when you heard the distinct rip of a foil packet.

“No, fuck you.”

Yoongi said it as if he was telling someone the time and not about to forcefully plunge his dick right into where his mouth was a second ago.

“Ah, fuck yes, Yoongi…”

He sank right in, stretching you out deliciously, sighing as your wet walls molded around his cock, familiar and wonderful. You finally had the chance to remove your hands from your ass so you could hold yourself up, relieving some of the pressure on your poor knees.

“I’m choosing to ignore your disrespect,” Yoongi purred, placing his hands on your hips and bottoming out, his balls smacking your engorged clit roughly, earning a low hiss from your throat. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, breathing hard as your body adjusted. He was asking you how you wanted it. You clicked your tongue and turned your head back, seeing him watching you closely under his black hair shadowing his dark brown eyes.

“What a nice guy,” you remarked in a cool, defiant tone, borderline bored.

Come on, Yoongi, mess me up.

His lips curved into that devious, open-mouthed smirk you loved so much.

“Mhm.”

He slid out and slapped his crotch into your ass, hard.

“Yes, Yoongi, fuck!”

Your nails sank into your palms and you shoved your fists into the sheets, locking your upper body so you could push back into his rough thrusts, pleased grin on your lips, his perfect cock filling you over and over again, core tensed tight to feel all of him, the thick head forcing its way deep inside slick velvet, the rock-hard length twitching against each ridge, his balls bouncing against your inflamed clit, so full, so good, so intense that it almost hurt.

It wasn’t enough.

Panting hard, chest shuddering, you reached up and planted a hand flat against the headboard and clenched your jaw, bucking back into Yoongi’s crotch. His voice was mind-numbingly deep, full of desire and danger.

“Harder it is, my love.”

You smirked, then gasped as you felt the hot sting of Yoongi’s palm on your ass, the sound reverting against the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, fucking you hard into the bed and slapping your ass as you kept up with his pace, doing half the work for him so he could focus on each sharp spank to make your ass bounce on his cock, the bed screaming for you two to stop, but neither of you noticed, completely focused on chasing wild, feral pleasure, Yoongi growling your name and you moaning at his carnal tone, soaking his skin with thick, sweet-smelling juices, pussy violently massaging his length.

“That’s it,” Yoongi hissed, breathing rapid and shallow, ceasing his slapping of your red ass to seize your hips and fuck you even harder, digging his nails into your skin and marking you with his lust. “Feels so good fucking this perfect body just the way I like.”

Fuck, his voice, taking your heart and setting your world into lustful wildfire, no one like him, nothing like this, making you lose your mind and fuck back against him harder, the roller coaster climbing higher and higher and higher, Yoongi cursing under his breath, and you were so far gone that you almost didn’t pick up his words.

“Shit, Jungkookie would have loved watching you get wrecked by me.”

A low moan ripped from your throat, the thought of Jungkook’s needy voice and expression seeing you get pounded by Yoongi’s full strength, being told to watch and probably not being able to help touching himself, fuck, you wanted it, wanted Jungkook so bad at that very moment, wanted to show him how ruined you were, knowing he would love it, crave it, desire it, fuck, it was too much and you came hard, seeing stars, planets, fuck it, the whole fucking galaxy, fingernails curling into the headboard and whining at the sensitivity, body rolling onto Yoongi’s cock and squeezing it powerfully. Yoongi gasped out your name, grip tightening as he spilled into the condom, his length pulsating and twitching into your walls. You thought that was it, but Yoongi’s fingers snaked down between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck!”

He roughly rubbed your aching clit with two fingers, forcing you to cum again around his cock, moaning loudly with every convulsion of your overstimulated pussy, viscous juices clinging to the insides of your joined thighs, completely defeating the purpose of the fucking shower, but neither of you seemed to remember that, Yoongi too busy using his last ounce of strength to push you to your limit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrating his fingertips against it, your eyes rolling back and spine clattering as another orgasm blasted through you, up your torso and straight to your head, numbing pleasure overtaking everything, arm going slack and forgetting to hold yourself up, hand slipping on the headboard, fatigue finally having its way.

Yoongi was quick to slide his hand up your belly and keep you up, wiry strength of his right arm balancing between your breasts to prevent you from falling into the bed.

“Holy f-fuck…”

The words sounded far away even though they were yours, the resounding beat in your ears being your pulse trying to catch up, nerves tingling all over, acutely aware of the tiny flinches gliding across your skin, aftershocks of a particularly explosive orgasm. Your pussy was still throbbing around Yoongi’s spent cock, locking him in your embrace. You planted your hands onto the bed and lifted yourself up rather shakily, taking the burden off Yoongi’s arm.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, caressing the underside of your breast lightly.

You had the energy to raise one hand and give him a thumbs-up.

He rapped your ribcage. “Stop that.”

You chuckled, finding your voice a bit hoarse. “Why? You always do it in pictures.”

You heard Yoongi mumble disapprovingly behind you. “Is that why you do that? To make fun of me when I take photos?”

“Almost eight years of being an idol and you still don’t know what to do with your hands in pictures,” you teased.

He pinched your nipples roughly and you yelped.

“I know what to do with my hands around you,” Yoongi growled, rubbing them between his fingertips, your moans radiating off his walls. “And that’s what matters.”

interlude 20210419 drabble — “This is not allowed, you two.”

part vi “Shh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #suga x you #yoonkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!”

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn’t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips.

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give.

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them.

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly.

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!”

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon.

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins.

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.”

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?”

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?” (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama.

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow. “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending.

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls.

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them.

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart.

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his.

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect.

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#legend of korra #lok #the legend of korra #tlok #mako #mako tlok #mako lok #mako x reader #mako x you #mako imagine #lok imagine #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra imagine #fluff #reader insert #atla #gender neutral reader #and yeah you can measure flour and stuff with your hands i do it all the time don't @ me

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Photo

Here is my attempt at portraying Peeta’s camouflage skills convincingly 😅😅

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 19-21 are below the cut.

heart

While I love all the banter between Katniss and Peeta, I think my favorite of these three chapters is: “Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this,” I say. “Although for all I know, I am killing you.” “Can you speed it up a little?” he asks. “No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say. A classic 😄

mind

I always imagined that Cato went after Thresh before coming for Katniss and Peeta because a) Thresh took the backpack for District 2 (which contained the body armor that would make dealing with Katniss’s arrow so much easier) and b) Thresh killed Clove and Cato wanted to avenge her... Although I have no idea how Cato ended up killing Thresh... he was doing pretty well for himself in his grass-y area... Maybe the Gamemakers wanted to punish Thresh for not killing Katniss and generated that thunderstorm and rain to force Thresh out of his refuge, which would give Cato a fair chance to kill him, I guess...

soul

Lol, honestly, since Peeta just generally seems to be motivated by kindness and love/caring, I don’t think it took much for him to keep the star-crossed lovers angle alive (I could easily imagine him actually noticing Katniss in the willow tree early in the Games and offering to take care of the District 8 girl, so the Careers would get the hell out of there, away from Katniss)

Chapter 19:

Peeta, who’s been wounded, is now my ally. [...] I’d loathe any tribute who didn’t immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. - Honestly, this just highlights what a kind person Katniss is, despite her aloof front; her innermost instinct is always to stick together and to protect. Because it doesn’t really make sense for her to team up with Peeta - she knows he’s wounded and won’t be of much help to her, her chances of survival are way better if she stayed on her own, but it’s not something she’d ever consider now that they are allowed to form a team (and only then does she even factor in the whole ‘star-crossed lovers of district 12′ -angle)

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me. The thought makes me smile. - Aww 😊 (but also, how heart-breaking that the Capitol will do everything in their power to change that, to make Peeta become a danger to Katniss 😢)

He’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances - Okay, but this just makes me think of that exchange in Gilmore Girls when Paris and Rory talk about how you know a guy is right for you: “Someone who’s compatible but not compatible.” “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.” - fits these two to a T 😏

In fact, I’ve just about decided I’m on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak - Okay, but how flipping tough is Peeta?! He’s severely injured, with multiple tracker jacker stings and he drags himself to this terrain that is almost impossible to navigate for someone in his condition - a sturdy dandelion, indeed!

“You’re here to finish me off, sweetheart?” - What an entrance after having gone AWOL for quite a couple of chapters 👌🏼👏🏼

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” [...] “Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words “How about that kiss?” I burst out laughing - He’s lying in a river bed, slowly dying, and he can still make her laugh 😊

“You know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal person” - It’s such a small comment, but I can’t help but think that Peeta is just kind of intrigued to discover all these little idiosyncrasies that make up the ever-elusive Katniss Everdeen ;)

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. - Aww, she doesn’t even want to consider him dying, so she spontaneously decides to cut him off with a kiss👀👀 Honestly, at this point Peeta has elicited 2 (!) spontaneous kisses (the kiss after the chariot ride and this one) from Katniss, who generally isn’t that big on touching people

“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?” - Stubborn, protective Katniss... But also reminds me of their rooftop “date” in CF and the “Then you’ll allow it?” “I’ll allow it” - exchange

I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff. - KaTNisSs, gurl... 🙄🤦🏼‍♀️

Chapter 20:

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I’m just going to have to trust whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. - The very best of instincts, Katniss, don’t you worry😉

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says, “I was worried about you.” - Gah, why are the both of them so good?! They just care for and worry about each other 24/7

“How do you feel?” “Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud,” he says. “Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you.” Oh right, the whole romance thing. - Oh Katniss...😐 I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. - Where did Peeta pick this up? From a time his family was less dysfunctional? Observing couples in the town square? Or is he a fricking disney prince and these things come natural to him? Questions, questions...

“You didn’t sleep,” Peeta says. “I’m all right,” I say. But the truth is, I’m exhausted. “Sleep now. I’ll keep watch.” [...] I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he’s been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. - These two are just too stubborn to take proper care of themselves - good thing that each of them is adamant to force the other to sleep/drink/eat when necessary

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” - When presented with the choice of being flirty vs being a cheeky little shit, Peeta will choose being a flirty cheeky little shit every time 😂

“I’m going to make soup,” I say. “Don’t light a fire,” he says. “It’s not worth it.” - Okay, but what he’s actually saying is “I’m not worth it” 😭😭

Katniss telling that story about buying Prim’s goat😊... A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. [...] Beautiful. - We are all very much aware of Peeta’s appreciation for beauty, but the same does apply to Katniss, too (she’s just overall more pragmatic)

“Was it [the goat] still wearing the pink ribbon?″ he asks. “I think so,” I say. “Why?” “I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. - Peeta is so detail-oriented! I have this theory that this is actually something that enables him to overcome his hijacking; we catch glimpses in MJ of how he inches himself out of his condition by asking/focusing on small details or things most people would dismiss as trivial (Katniss’s favorite color, the color of her dress visiting District 7, her Dad singing the Hanging Tree when Peeta was 6 or 7 years old...) and I feel like it makes a lot of sense - his tormentors in the Capitol either wouldn’t have access to distort these moments or not even consider them to have any significance (since they are all about big, flashy gestures in the Capitol), so these memories would remain untouched. Luckily, Peeta seems to live by Robert Brault’s words: “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. “

“Really? What did you cost me again?” I ask. “A lot of trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll get it all back,” he says. - Well, he’s going to cost her a lot more trouble in the future - but we know he’s going to make up for it and bring her much happiness, too 😊

“You’re not risking your life for me.” “Who said I was?” I say. [...] “Of course I’m not going.” [...] “You’re such a bad liar, Karniss.” [...] Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!” “I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says. - Soo.. their love language is offering to sacrifice their life like it’s nothing, huh?! 😳😅

Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, - lol, sounds like a husband trying to get back on his wife’s good side after they had a row 😂

I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. - Ah, the most important indicator of true love: having person A force-feed person B a sedative so they can run off to get them life-saving medicine ;)

Chapter 21:

I lie next to Peeta in the bag, trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat. It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant. Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol, - Reminds me how in MJ she’s going to be so close to Peeta (mentally/emotionally) while he will be physically so distant (in the Capitol!)

a tiny orange one [backpack] [...] that must be marked with a 12 - Interesting how that backpack is orange, huh? Why is that? Are smaller backpacks generally orange (like the one Katniss already has) to be more visible or is this simply to connect the backpack to Peeta (though we don’t know his favorite color at this point)? Do the Gamemakers care whether Katniss gets a matching backpack? It just seems like an unnecessary detail to throw in🤔

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! - Honestly, this was a truly brilliant move; kudos! 👏🏼

[Clove] carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number [knife] with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Cato if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.” [...] “I think...” she almost purrs. “I think we’ll start with your mouth.” [...] she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade. - Okay, but the idea of Clove cutting off Katniss’s lips is just all kinds of terrifying and disturbing 😨

“No! No, I-” Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh’s hand [...] Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove’s temple. [...] and I know she’s a goner. - Interesting how Katniss describes that rock that basically saves her life (or at least kills her assailant) as bread-sized, huh? “Your district... they sent me bread. [...] Conflicting emotions cross Thresh’s face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. “Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl.” - Katniss mentions the bread from District 11 as a proof of her alliance with Rue (and the recognition of D11) and Thresh spares her; bread keeps saving her life (while it keeps representing acts of kindness)

Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. - I appreciate this small, humanizing moment with Cato

The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. - I don’t know much about North American insects (not that I know that much about European insects either - just recently came across a relatively rare moth on my walks that I had never seen or heard of before) - is Katniss describing a special/noteworthy species of moth? Or is this a more literary symbolism kind of moth? (Just looked up some symbolism meaning of moths: change/transformation, seeking light; power of regeneration in some Native American mythology, hmm...)

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #thresh #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

Photo

Anon prompted me with a Disney drabble and several plot-bunnies bounded and burrowed into my brain. This is the first that insisted on coming through my fingers and it is Sleeping Beauty inspired. I just couldn’t get the idea of Louis, Liam, and Harry as the three fairy godmothers (fathers? non-binary magical beings who aren’t parents?) out of my mind. The official prompt will come with the other drabble! Enjoy the light-hearted humour!

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

Got this spell on me (’cause everything you do is magic)

Niall loves his flatmates. Truly, there’s never a dull moment when the four of them are all home. The three Brits are oddly protective of him, something about him living in a strange land or summat.

Louis will fight the weather to make sure they’ve got a footie match to watch. Harry will create a new designer store to keep Niall in the latest fashions that work for him. And Liam pulls every delicious food Niall ever wants out of thin air. No, it’s never a dull moment when they’re around.

That insanity might have a wee bit to do with their magic.

Something whistles through the air.

“Blue.”

As Louis’s tart declaration rings behind him, Niall flops back into the sofa and makes himself comfortable. He flicks on the telly and finds the most recent match.

Harry huffs somewhere on the opposite side. Another whistle sings from his end of the room. “Pink.”

Schwip.

“He looks brilliant in blue.”

Schwip.

“He’ll stand out in pink.”

Niall probably shouldn’t have let Harry and Louis decide his outfit for the Gala Friday night.

Schwip.

“He doesn’t need to stand out. He needs to look good.”

Schwip.

“He always looks good.”

“Batter?”

Niall glances up at Liam, holding out a bowl to him. He’s got a spot of chocolate dough on his cheek and some hair falling over one eyebrow. The bowl he’s holding has mostly been emptied, but he always lets Niall lick the containers.

Niall takes the bowl, peering over Liam’s shoulder.

The dishes are washing themselves, there’s another bowl stirring itself on the worktop, and Louis’s guarding the border between kitchen and living room. Hair fluffy and torso wrapped in a loose, royal blue jumper, he’s facing Harry, who’s defending the window on the other end of the flat. The early-afternoon light filtering in glitters off Harry’s rings and the shine in his fitted lilac shirt.

True to form, they’re glaring daggers past their wands in a British standoff over a flamingo-coloured Paul Smith suit that’s floating on its own in the centre of the room.

Niall tips his head left then right, impressed. “Full sentences, proper grammar, no swearing or name-calling. Sounds like progress,” he says to Liam.

Liam screws his face up skeptically. He sticks his wand over his upper lip like a mustache and rolls it between his fingers as he thinks, which twists his features up to look even more doubtful. “Ah...”

Louis twips his wand and crosses his arms in one fluid movement. Not quite a twirl, not quite a whip, it’s what Niall has dubbed a twip. Sapphire sparks shoot out of the end of his wand as it’s being tucked under Louis’s arm. They smack into the suit and it transforms into a beautiful periwinkle.

“Blue.”

Harry scrunches his nose and swishes his wand in an understated pointing motion. Magenta sparks shoot from the end and the suit blooms a lovely pale rose. “Pink.”

Without missing a beat, Louis flicks his wand up like he’s flicking Harry off with it. More cerulean sparks. The suit reverts back. “Blue.”

Niall rolls his eyes.

Liam just shrugs and taps the side of the bowl with his wand in a nudge, completely unaffected by the madness behind him.

Niall scoops a heaping fingerful of chocolate batter onto his tongue. His eyes widen. Feet flattening on the floor, he stares between Liam and the traces of batter. “Nandoca’s Choice?”

Liam winks. “I get it right then?”

Niall loves his flat mates. He’s certain there’s no one in London who would try to recreate Nando’s for him with magic. Actually, he doesn’t know anyone else with magic, just these three eccentric misfits who it feels like Niall’s known all his life.

“Pink.”

“Blue.”

Niall swipes up another glob of perfection, sucking on his finger as he jerks a nod towards the other two. “Is this still because Haz ‘flirted’ one smile too many with that bloke at the pub last night?”

Harry had turned on his blinding charm to distract the bartender because Louis got a mite too tipsy too early. Alcohol loosens the link with their magic and Niall, in his non-magic role as damage control, hadn’t been expecting anything to happen so soon. Louis’s pint had frothed teal and spouted out like a volcano when he’d burst out laughing. Niall hadn’t covered it fast enough and the bartender saw it.

But Niall knows that’s all semantics to Louis when he’s halfway to flutered and watching his partner make googly-eyes at a stranger.

Liam shrugs a yes, scooping out a small sample himself and giving it a taste. His eyes pop in delight. “They’ll sort it tonight.”

Niall snorts. “With which wands?”

The question is rhetorical because he knows the answer, but Liam responds anyway. Liam’s got the strangest and honestly quaintest quirk of being incapable of perceiving what’s rhetorical.

“Both, I reckon.”

“Blue!”

“Pink!” The tempo increases until Louis and Harry are practically shouting overtop each other. Magic whips behind him and Liam and ruffles Niall’s hair.

“Blue!”

“Pink!”

A small implosion resounds through the flat. Liam glances up and sighs. Niall gathers the last of the glorious Nando’s batter and hands the bowl back to Liam. He takes the bowl and disappears back to the kitchen, fwipping his wand by his shoulder towards the suit without looking.

In the silence, the excitement on the telly from the announcer buzzes as though the proverbial dust is clearing.

Louis flops down next to him and twists, throwing his legs over Niall’s lap. In the far edge of his vision, Niall watches Louis’s wand twirl in a circle. A bowl of Coco Pops appears in Louis’s hand.

“Should’ve gone left. Chelsea’s defense is weaker on the left,” Louis grumbles with his mouth full.

Niall glances at Louis and tries not to laugh. With his eyes trained on the telly, Louis dings his spoon against the bottom of his bowl like his hair and eyebrows aren’t a vibrant shade of bubblegum pink that, combined with the sleep-fluff of the strands, make him into a life-size piece of cotton candy.

The sofa dips on his other side before Niall can answer Louis.

“You say that every time,” Harry mutters as he lifts Louis’s feet and drops them on his own lap. The pout on his face matches the cobalt blue his brows and curls are now dyed. With the expression and colour combination, Harry looks like a caricature of an anime character and Niall barely manages to keep a straight face.

“Because it’s still true,” Louis gruffs back. His legs dig into Niall’s thighs when he shifts. Niall glances down to see him burrowing his feet under Harry’s hands until Harry starts rubbing them.

Niall chuckles and shakes his head. The suit is now a boring grey, like a canvas waiting to be finished. Whatever colour it is the moment he walks out the door will be fine with him. His flatmates are ridiculous, but he wouldn’t give them up even for the chance to have magic too.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

(I need to create a post on Tumblr and AO3 where all my drabbles can be found. Alas, it is not this day. But I promise there’s at least one more drabble coming that is Disney inspired, beautiful Anony!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Go wild! Pairing, situation, feeling… Send me an ask (anon or not) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

Superpowers Drabble

Invisible Drabble

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.

Spy AU Drabble

#trackinghome #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #1d fanfiction #1d drabble #larry drabble

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littlekatleaf · 3 years

Text

The Dreams in Which I'm Dying

Well wtf, it's a new fandom for me. Unexpected! I started watching D/imension20 RPGs and fell in love with F/abian Seacaster and G/arthy O'Brien from F/antasy H/igh and P/irates of L/eviathan. This takes place 20 years after the events of the games.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I’m dying Are the best I’ve ever had. ~ Tears for Fears, Mad World

It begins with nightmares - dark, heavy things Fabian doesn’t remember on waking. At least, not the first few nights. He’s left with nothing more than vague shadows and a lingering sense of unease. Everything seems wrong - his apartment simultaneously too big and claustrophobically small. He’s suffused with restlessness. He knows something’s coming, like a squall brewing just beyond the horizon. He might not be able to see the gathering clouds, but feels the barometric pressure plummeting.

At first he attempts to dance out of the way - to dodge and evade - but the dread wraps around him like his own battle sheet, tangling him tight. He tries to ignore the tension singing along his shoulders, the constant twist in his gut. It’s nothing, he tells himself, less than nothing. There’s no time for it to be something. Rumor has it the ship carrying one of the last pirates of the Crimson Claw will reach the mouth of Leviathan in mere days. If he’s going to meet it, he needs to pull together a party. Barely enough time remains to cement plans once he knows the group’s strengths and weaknesses.

As he paces his living room, trying to outrun the apprehension, Fabian’s eye is caught by a piece of red string, like Riz always used in his conspiracy boards. In that instant he longs for them. The Bad Kids. No matter how many years passed since any of them were kids, it’s still at the heart of who they are. (Isn’t it?) They fit together in their roles. Like that movie Kristen made them all watch once - a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess and a criminal. The others had bickered good naturedly over roles that night - specifically who was the basket case. Kristen joked it was Gilear. Ragh said it was her. Fabian didn't need to argue because he knew the truth - Riz was the brain, Gorgug the athlete, Adaine the princess, Fig the criminal, Kristen the saint. Himself the basket case. Even in all the intervening years, he’s never found a group that connects as well as they had, before they all went their separate ways. Even if they hadn’t lost touch, none of the others adventure anymore. In their absence he needs to choose alternatives, like he always does, attempting to fill the holes they left behind - and failing.

He picks up his crystal, turning it over in his hands. The group chat is saved, they are all still members, but no one has used it in years. Maybe he’s wrong; maybe he needs to let them go.

He knows there’s no time for self-indulgence. But he still stalls, the trepidation casting a fog of doubt over every option. He cannot decide on even one person to trust. Perhaps this time he should go alone. He can defeat one single pirate himself. The rest - crew and spoils alike - is irrelevant. The Maelstrom’s Maw will likely bring in the boat and then he can attack. He rubs his forehead against a growing headache and puts the decision off again.

Two nights pass, with only the lightest veil of sleep and even that torn by disquiet. The intervening days feel equally foggy with a mix of exhaustion and dread. Fabian drags himself through the necessary tasks by his fingernails until he’s done everything he can without a crew. A crew on which he still has not managed to settle. In the midst of circling the problem for the five hundredth, or five thousandth, time his crystal flashes an alert. The ship’s been sighted just a few nautical miles off Harroway Bay and will reach Leviathan before dawn. He’s waited too long, he realizes. It will be a solo adventure, then. Nothing else for it.

Fabian knows, almost from the moment he engages, that he’s made a deep mistake attempting the attack this way. Though he comes upon the pirate in the dead of night, alone as planned, he hadn’t considered that the pirate’s shipmates might still be within earshot. His blade only crosses the pirate’s once before he hears heavy boots closing fast.

The pirate thrusts and he manages to parry, but only just. His body feels strange and disconnected, as though he’s a half-beat behind in the dance, perpetually off-step. The pirate presses his advantage; Fabian retreats. Suddenly there’s a flash of light on another drawn sword and several more pirates surround him. At his best he can handle eight, maybe ten. He is not at his best, and light from the streetlamp falls on fifteen.

The pirate grins. “Yer goin’ down, boy.”

“Not a boy anymore.” At least he’ll die in battle, and if he’s very lucky he’ll take this scourge to hell with him. Make his papa proud.

“That remains to be seen,” another says.

The battle is fierce. Swords clash, lunge and dodge, strike-parry-riposte, movements Fabian knows in his sleep, but something is wrong. His body won’t obey. His lungs ache and he can’t catch his breath. Sweat drips into his eye, burning. And then - an opening - the pirate attacking leaves his flank unguarded and Fabian darts in fast - too fast to pull back when he realizes it’s a feint.

I’m fucked, he has time to think, as the pirate whirls. A sharp blow cracks across his elbow, his fingers go numb and his sword falls, clattering to the cobblestone. One of the crew kicks the back of his knees and he stumbles forward and drops. He grabs for his sword, but just as his hand closes around it, the point of the pirate’s sword is at his throat. Should have known it would end this way. Alone. On Leviathan. Fitting for it to be here, tonight - on the anniversary. The way it should have ended if he hadn’t run like a coward, abandoning Alistair to Captain James. Fabian fumbles in his pocket for his crystal, wishing for just enough time to send a last message to the Bad Kids. “Do it,” he says from between gritted teeth.

The pirate barks a laugh, but shakes his head. “Ain’t worth the world o’ hurt that would bring down on me head, boy. Chungledown Bim’s a right devil and yer marked as his. Can’t let ya follow for another go at me, though this has been a delight.”

A brilliant flash of pain blinds him. The crystal slides through his fingers. He falls… and falls… and falls…

through ropes that burn his skin and do nothing to slow his speed and his body hits water that closes over his head like he’s been swallowed whole and still he falls through freezing darkness until the ocean parts and he falls through fire and the flames crackle and whisper - What will you tell the Captain when you meet him in Hell? Have you written your name on the face of the world, Fabian? No, you have written nothing. Nothing to be remembered by. Even your friends have forgotten you. How does it feel to be a failure of a pirate and a failure of a friend? the whisper turns to choking smoke and

Fabian coughs himself awake, lungs aching like he’s been breathing water and smoke, but he still lays where he’d fallen, in some Four Castles back alley. His body’s not been hijacked. Not dropped here by imps. He blinks up at the sky for a long moment, struggling to orient himself. The sky is heavy with clouds, hiding even a sliver of moon. Fat drops of rain pelt down, edged with ice. He blinks the water from his eye and pushes himself to his feet. Once again he staggers through the streets of Leviathan, shivering hard enough to rattle teeth. This time, however, there’s no Cathilda to wrap him in a blanket, no Hangvan to disappear into. No Kristen to slap sense back into him. He wraps his arms around himself, but the rain soaks his shirt and finds no warmth.

Those he passes take no notice of him, perhaps assuming he’s nothing more than another drunken pirate. Even so, he needs to find a place to lay low. Given enough time someone will roll him just to see if he has any coin. Or simply for the fun of it. He’s not even sure, at this moment, that he could defend himself against a single assailant. His head aches where the pirate hit him and his throat is unaccountably raw. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, smothered in the sleeve of his shirt. He always sneezes in threes. Riz teased him mercilessly about it.

“If you’d just sneeze like a normal person, instead of those pinchy things, you’d be done in one, Fabiahn,” Riz would say, drawing his name out like his elvish grandfather did.

“It’s called being polite, The Ball,” he’d reply. “And what do you know about normal?”

“About as much as you.”

They’d laugh together and Fabian’s embarrassment would ease. He would give anything for Riz to be laughing with him now.

Suddenly a door slams open and a wash of warm yellow light spills over the ground in front of him. He glances up. Maybe Kristen sent Cassandra to watch over him, because his meandering path has brought him to the Gold Gardens. The exiting patron brushes past with a muttered curse, but Fabian barely notices. As the doors swing shut, Bob’s voice slips through, full of dream and promise. Fabian checks his pockets and breathes a sigh of relief at the comforting feel of coin.

He stands straighter, raises his chin, allowing the light to fall on his face, scars and eyepatch and all, as the Goliath guard regards him suspiciously. Though it has been some time since he’s been on Leviathan and longer since he’s sought refuge at the Gold Gardens, he trusts the reputation he’s built in the intervening years yet holds. “Good evening. I find myself in need of a room for the night,” he says. “I have payment.”

The other guard, a half-orc he vaguely recognizes from previous visits, turns to him. Her face betrays no reaction to his disheveled state. It’s likely that she’s seen worse. “Ah, Master Seacaster. Garthy O’Brien has made it known there is always room for you here. Please, enter.”

Fabian sketches a small bow. The doors swing wide and the heat that flows out and envelops him is nearly as heavenly as Bob’s voice. But the change in temperature makes his nose run. He sniffs, presses the back of his wrist against the tickling itch, but can’t stop the inevitable. He’s barely inside before he’s sneezing again and wishing for something other than his sleeve to cover with. “H’tchsh! Chh! H’tsh!” He hopes the music and general merriment of the patrons is enough to hide the slight sound, but of course he is noticed.

“Blessings, Fabian, darling. Are you ill?” Garthy touches his shoulder gently and before he can stop himself, Fabian flinches away. His skin feels too tight, even the light pressure too much sensation. They take a step back, one hand raised in a calming gesture.

“I beg your pardon, Garthy,” Fabian says, attempting his usual charming smile. He’s not sure he pulls it off, because a small frown of concern still lingers between their brows. Somehow the expression does nothing to mar their beauty; the proprietor of the Gold Gardens is exquisite as always, the few silver threads in their black dreads the only indicator of years passing. “I’m fine. Just a little chilled from the rain. And you, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes. Eye.” His mouth quirks. “Might there be a room for a traveler seeking shelter from the storm?”

Garthy considers him for a long moment, gaze intent. Fabian resists the urge to look away, to avoid scrutiny. It’ll only make them more suspicious. He concentrates on keeping his expression vaguely flirtatious, his stance loose and easy. At last Garthy gives the smallest nod, allowing him his ruse. “I have told you before, lovey, you are always welcome here. You and yours. Come.” They turn down a hallway and Fabian follows.

Bob’s voice, the rattle of dice, the din of too much conversation fade and Fabian releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The Bad Kids always stayed in a room just off the main parlor, right in the midst of the action. Fig and Gorgug would take over for the house band and practically blow the roof off. Kristen would try to outdrink that biggest pirate she could find, and usually ended up drunk-best-friends with everyone. If Tracker had to pull her out of a fight or two, well, that just kept things interesting. Ragh and Fabian would drink too much mead and take too much snuff and Ragh would challenge the wrong people to wrestling matches and Fabian would beat the wrong people at dice and sometimes fists would be thrown. Good naturedly, of course. Adaine would watch them all over the spine of a book from the Compass Points and shake her head. Sometimes she had to heal one or another of them, but she never seemed to mind. Riz would disappear into the crowd for indeterminate amounts of time, only to suddenly appear at their table with a sharp-toothed grin and clues to whatever mystery they were trying to solve that he’d gleaned from overheard conversations. Fig and Kristen, especially, never wanted the nights to end. Sometime around dawn, though, Kristen and Tracker would peel off, followed by Fig and Ayda. The rest of them shared a room, Fabian, Riz, Gorgug, and Ragh all sprawled on a huge bed while Adaine tranced on a chaise nearby. Somehow Fabian slept better those nights than before or since, even though the room was never peaceful, or silent. Ragh and Gorgug snored. Adaine muttered to herself in her trance. Riz, when he slept, was restless, taking up more room than a three and a half foot tall goblin should. When he didn’t, his pen would scratch across his notebook for hours. None of it ever bothered Fabian.

A door creaks open, startling Fabian out of his thoughts. The room Garthy offers is a small and simply furnished space, just a bed, desk, and fireplace. Fabian crosses the room to a large window and looks out over the edge of the city to the black ocean beyond. It’s still raining, drops pattering against the pane. He should say something to Garthy. Thank them for the room, make a joke about another Leviathan brawl gone badly. He can’t find the words. Any words.

“Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps a warm drink?” Garthy’s voice is quiet, as though they might be intruding.

“No, thank you,” he says. Kippers, Master Fabian? Cathilda’s voice in his head. I don’t deserve kippers. He didn’t. Doesn’t. Twenty men dead. Twenty innocent men. Worst of all, Alistair Ash. Still a child. Dead because he needed to prove that he was a true pirate, heir to his father’s fame. That he is worthy. Instead he left Alistair to the fate that should have been his. He rubs his hand over his eye as though he could rub away the ache. The failure.

Garthy whispers something Fabian doesn’t catch, and flames rise in the hearth, hot and bright, crackling cheerfully. “At least let me take your wet things,” they say. “You’re shaking.”

He hadn’t realized how cold he still feels, despite being out of the wind and rain, until Garthy points it out. He takes a breath to declare, again, that he’s fine, but a chill cascades over him, followed by several sneezes, instantly proving him wrong. “H’ngxt! Fuck. H’Ntch! Ngxt!” He straightens and Garthy offers a handkerchief. Abashed, he takes it, blows his nose. “Pardon me.” Before he can gather himself, he’s overtaken again. At least this time he has a handkerchief to mute the sound. The sneezes shiver through him hard enough to send drops of rain spattering from his hair.

“Bless you, darling.” Garthy draws him closer to the fire. With deft fingers they undress him, peeling sodden clothes from his body, then wrap him in a thick robe. He doesn’t resist, suddenly beyond exhausted. Everything feels like it’s happening at a distance. Or maybe through a pane of glass. “Come, have a lay down. Things’ll look better in the morning.”

Fabian nods, even though he’s certain things will look just the same. He barely slides between the sheets when his eye drifts closed. He feels the bed dip slightly as Garthy sits beside him and, seeking warmth, he curls close. They smell spicy and sweet, like cinnamon and sandalwood and orange blossoms. Garthy curves a hand over his forehead. It’s strangely comforting and he wants to bury his face in Garthy’s hair, but instead he drifts out and out and…

floats in a strange grey emptiness. He can only identify his surroundings by absence. No color. No sound. No touch. He thinks he lifts his hands, or tries to lift his hands, or what should be his hands, but there’s nothing. He tries to look down, what he might assume is down, only to find no body. Nothing. It’s like the Nightmare Forest, but worse because they defeated the Nightmare King. They defeated Kalina. Which means this must be real. This nought. Of course no one reaches out… you don’t exist.You never existed. You are not even memory. You are a nonentity. A nullity. He opens his mouth to argue, but there’s no mouth, no vocal cords, no lungs, no breath. No words. No thoughts. Just deep, endless cold. Bone aching cold, if he had bones.

“...safe…You’re all right. Wake up, Fabian, love.” Garthy’s voice coalesces from the cold, at first sounding sharp as ice breaking. But they know his name, beckon him back into form by shaping the word. “Come on, darling. You’re dreaming.”

“Should’ve left me; felt better there. Nothing hurts when you don’t have a body,” he mumbles, and even though he has vocal cords again, he sounds nothing like himself. He clears his throat, sniffs.

Garthy laughs, low and kind. “Let me help you feel better, here in your body.” They cup his cheek gently, then urge him up and through a door to a bathing chamber.

A large bathtub stands in the center of the room, steam rising in soft curls. It is surrounded with dozens of candles and in their light Garthy glows, irises and tattoos molten gold. Fabian reaches for them, hesitantly. As if touching them might dim their shine. They smile tenderly, allowing him to trace the Zajiri script, the flowers and leaves with one tentative finger. He wonders what the writing might mean. Their skin is soft under Fabian’s own calloused hands. He longs for Garthy to wrap their arms around him, to hold him close until his shivering stops, until he’s finally warm. He doesn’t know how to ask.

Instead he moves back, putting a bit of distance between them. “I’m not w…” he starts to say, but an unexpected set of sneezes interrupts and he only just manages to pull the handkerchief from his robe pocket. “Ht’ngxt! Heh...ihh… Nxgt! H’tchh!”

“Not well?” Garthy suggests, steadying him. “Blessings.”

Heat rises in Fabian’s cheeks and he coughs a laugh. “That either. But no.” He gestures broadly, including the room, the bath, Garthy themself. “Not worth this.”

Garthy tilts their head with a puzzled frown. “Oh, lovey, of course you are.” They press one finger to Fabian’s lips before he can continue arguing. “Shh. It’s all right.” They take Fabian’s elbow, guiding him into the bath.

Fabian sinks into the heat with a deep sigh as his muscles begin to relax. He slides down, submerging himself completely in warm darkness. The water closes over his face; he rests his head on the bottom of the tub, and the only thing he hears is the thump of his own heart in his ears, still beating, beating, beating. At last his breath runs out and he surfaces with a gasp.

Gathy’s pulled a stool up beside the bath and as Fabian wipes water out of his eye, they wet a cloth and begin to wash his back, humming quietly. The soap smells of eucalyptus and peppermint, cool and clean. Fabian shivers once, and only slowly eases into the touch, closing his eye as Garthy washes his hair, gently working his fingers over his scalp. A memory rises, unbidden - himself, in the bath, he can’t be more than five and he’s sobbing. His papa is away, his mama asleep in her room even though it’s not even dark outside and he’s sick and scared. But then Cathilda’s there, as she always is, and she’s cleaning him up and humming a lullaby. Tears rise now, before he can stop them, dripping into the water.

“What’s distressing you, love?” Garthy asks.

It takes him several minutes to gather his thoughts; they feel ephemeral as clouds floating through his mind. “It’s been twenty years, Garthy. Shouldn’t it have faded?” He coughs, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I still see them, you know. My father’s warlocks.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. Breathe, he tells himself.

Garthy hums a listening noise.

“I shouldn’t have gone alone that night. I just wanted a moment in Crow’s Keep - we’d gone there together, my papa and I. When I was little. It was the one time Mama got angry at him, for bringing me to Leviathan, when he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with pirates. But he’d taken me up to watch the sun rise. He said he’d bring me to the top of the world, that we could touch the clouds. If I was lucky, I might even bring some home in my pockets…

“He gave me cotton candy, told me it was one he’d harvested himself. I’d never imagined clouds tasted so sweet…” he licks his lips, remembering how the candy had melted on his tongue, just like a rain cloud.

“I thought, maybe… somehow… if I spoke to him from the top of the world, he might hear me.” Fabian laughs at himself, coughs on a sob but manages to swallow it back. “Of course, Papa wasn’t listening. He was busy taking over Hell and selling spells to pirates. Always on to a bigger adventure, even in death.

“When the warlocks came, I let myself get swept up. Figuratively, as well as literally. I told them about Papa. About what I’d done… and it wasn’t enough. I killed him and it wasn’t enough.” He takes a ragged breath and Garthy rubs his back in slow circles. “I thought we could take Captain James. I thought I could take Captain James. It would make up for… everything.” He sucks in another breath, on the edge of desperation. He can’t get enough air. When he blinks, he feels Whitclaw’s tentacles on his face, cold fingers gripping him tight, raw hatred pulsing in the air between them.

“It went so fast. So fast. If I didn’t run… if I didn’t… he would have killed me… with the others. I didn’t stop to think, I didn’t even grab Alistair and he was fighting for me. I abandoned him… and I didn’t die, but he did. Because I fucked up.” Fabian sits in silence for several minutes, jaw clenched, struggling to breathe and not cry.

“I thought the guilt would fade,” he finally says, voice rough and not much above a whisper. “I thought the good I’ve done since would make up for it. I thought the adventures I had with the Bad Kids would make up for it. But it hasn’t. It doesn’t. And they’re gone… I thought killing the last of Whitclaw’s men would be penance. But I fucked that up, too.”

The only sound for a long moment is the rain on the roof, thunder rolling in the distance. Then Fabian takes a breath like he’s about to dive into the ocean and turns to face Garthy. “Am I forgivable?”

“Oh my darling Fabian. Of course you are. You are already forgiven.” They lean forward and brush the lightest kiss across his lips. “Yes, dire mistakes were made. And you have repented of those mistakes, and made reparations. You did not follow in your father’s footsteps; you found your own way. You have made a good man of yourself. You help those who are in need. You do not take advantage of anyone. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. Tales of your deeds are not spoken of as widely as Captain Bill Seacaster, but I have heard them nonetheless. Be proud of who you have become, Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And you should know that Alistair Ash lives again.”

A warm breeze whirls through the room and the candles suddenly go out. It’s as though the light has been transmuted into a seed of hope in Fabian, gold as the irises of Garthy’s eyes. Back in bed, Fabian curls into Garthy and they wrap their arms around him, holding tight until his trembling passes.

#snezfic

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whirlybirdwhat · 3 years

Text

crown the king with bloody flowers - chapter 33

Hanahaki au drabble series, in which Luffy is in love with the sea.

Ao3

chapter 33 - adonis flos - shanks

Luffy - he’s so small in Shank’s arms, smaller than he was last night, partying with the Red-Haired pirates held upon their shoulders, and smaller than he was this morning, when he ran into Shanks’s knees and caused a ruckus as they were loading the ship. Shanks doesn’t know why he never noticed it before.

Maybe it’s because now, Luffy is asleep, wrapped in blankets and held in Shanks’s arms, blood on his chin and red stains on the blanket. Maybe it’s because Luffy - vivacious and unstoppable, even with a stab wound to the face - has never been this quiet. This small. This unmoving

Shanks holds him in his arms, sitting in the quiet guest bedroom on the small bed Luffy calls his own above the bar. Knickknacks of child’s toys and treasures, shells Shanks had given to him and odd trinkets the Red Hair pirates had left behind litter the room.

He’s a child - a child who loved the sea more than anything else.

(When Shanks had first met him, Luffy had been sitting by the sea, watching the pirate ship come in. Water had lapped at his ankles, and later - when introductions were over and pirates were mumbling into a fifth round of drinks - Luff had simply stared off into the horizon with a smile.

Walking by tide pools, Luffy had said, The sea’s the best! She’s free! Picking up shells, Luffy had told him Isn’t the sea pretty? Living near the shore, the horizon reflected in his gaze, Luffy didn’t have to speak for Shanks to know that he loved the sea.)

A child, that was loved back by the sea.

Until —

Luffy coughs, and water and blood and dogwood flowers drip out of his small mouth. Shanks takes the blanket and holds him closer, his own arms trembling, terrified.

— Until Luffy had eaten that damned fruit.

It was only a few hours ago but - still - it stays in Shank’s mind. The way Luffy had bitten in and started choking, not coughing out pieces of fruit but rather flowers. The way his eyes had gone wide and tears had welled up, the way Luffy had clawed at his throat and spit blood unto the floor - the way Luffy had said It hurts and had closed his eyes when Shanks whispered hanahaki.

Shanks watched his captain die in a flurry of petals. He’ll never forget it.

This moment is just the same - seared into his memory like a brand, like a warning, like a curse.

Luffy, Shanks thinks and tilts his head back to the ceiling, feeling tears wanting too well. There is no shame in crying, every pirate knows that - but here, when Luffy is in his arms and may wake at every moment, Shanks must stay strong. He brought the fruit. He tore Luffy from the sea that he loved more than anything. He’s the one who cursed him.

He has to stay strong for Luffy.

(The sea hates Devil Fruit users, the legend states, but Shanks has only ever talked to Buggy and well - he never made it seem that way. Shanks hadn’t really believed it. But this - this is the truth isn’t it? The sea hates.)

There’s another cough from Luffy, but this time - this time he starts shifting. Groaning. Shanks tilts his arms and lets Luffy roll onto his bicep rather than his chest so Luffy is looking straight up at him.

(His hands, bloody and red, still grip Shanks’s shirt. He almost never wants him to let go.)

“Hey Anchor,” Shanks says softly, quietly. “How you feeling?”

Luffy blinks blearily, brown eyes dazed and faintly pained. He adjusts his grip on Shanks’ shirt and looks around, minutely moving his head, absolutely exhausted, before responding. “‘M tired. Hurts.”

Something breaks in Shanks’ chest at that, but he tries not to show it. Luffy is strangely empathetic, even if he doesn’t care about others emotions that much and he’ll know Shanks’ sorrow -

Luffy tilts his head further into Shanks’s chest and ah - he already knows. “‘M glad you’re here. You always come back. No one really else does.”

His heart clenches. Oh, how he wants to steal this boy away - away from a bar with a woman who tries her best, away from a village that doesn’t understand, and a grandfather who cares but not enough. He wants to keep Luffy with him, wrap him up and let him see the world on the deck of ship, let him wonder, let him live but -

He can’t.

(A ship’s no place for a child who still has somewhere to call home on land.)

Shanks tilts down and presses a kiss onto Luffy’s head, soft and affectionate, his beard scratching at Luffy’s silky hair. The boy gives out a giggle at that, soft and melodious, before a coughing fit starts up again. Hacking and hacking away, flowers spilling out and sinking to the ground. Shanks rubs his back, gently, soothingly, as Luffy starts trembling before sagging in his arms.

When he looks back up at Shanks, his eyes are pained.

“Shanks?” He asks, quiet. Unnerving. “Am I going to die?”

And Shanks’ heart breaks.

Am I going to die?

No child should have to ask that, should have to bear that burden, and oh -

Shanks’ reaction is instantaneous and he crushes Luffy to his chest, finally unable to fight the tears that prick at his eyes.

“No,” he lies, he lies so badly, choking out as much conviction as he can manage. “Anchor, Luffy, no. You - I won’t let you. It’s going to be okay, you won’t die, you won’t.” Luffy shakes in his arms, and he knows, doesn’t he?

That Shanks is lying?

He doesn’t let Luffy go, only listens to his mumbled sobs as he cries with him.

“Oh, Luffy,” Shanks says, helpless. “I - we will find a way. We will - I’ll sail the entire world, I’ll find something. I-‘“ His voice cracks. He can’t get another word out. He just holds Luffy tight, tighter than he’s ever held him, before, and sobs into his pitch black hair. ‘Anchor,” he gasps, and this boy is going to die and it’ll be the death of him.

Shanks knows it.

He knows it.

He wishes he didn’t.

His mind races, trying to come up with something, anything, mind always, always, hitching on the way his captains smile was bloody when he said goodbye to Shanks for the last time, bloody red petals stuck in his teeth.

Did you do it, Shanks had asked, sobbing, clinging to his captains coat on that last day, did you achieve your dream?

Not yet, Roger had said, and that had hurt the most. Roger was a pirate. Roger was the Pirate King.

And to a pirate, losing a dream was worse than death.

Shanks doesn’t want that to happen to Luffy. Luffy, who is small in his arms and dying the same way Roger did. Luffy, who is sobbing and terrified. Luffy, who looks out to sea and says he wants to be a pirate with more determination than anyone else in the world.

Luffy can’t die. He can’t.

Shanks can’t stop his tears. He can’t stop crying.

But.

He -

(He’s got will, Rayleigh had said, when Crocus made exasperated noises about why Roger wasn’t bed-ridden in illness, He’ll stay standing as long as he’s got reason to, and adventure’s a good enough one as any.)

-He won’t let Luffy die.

He takes off his hat with a careful arm, making sure not to move Luffy to roughly, and slowly pulls the hat off his head and place’s it on his Anchor’s. It startles him out of his sobbing for just a moment, his eyes big and red-rimmed with wetness still dripping down.

“Luffy.” Shanks says, despite the tears that match Luffy’s on his face. “You - you wanna be a pirate, yeah?”

Quiet, quieter than he’s ever been, Luffy nods. “Ye-yeah.” He hiccups.

“Then listen to me. Pirates are free.” Each word feels like a vow. Like a promise. Like defiance. Shanks keeps his eyes on Luffy’s, and lets the words carry him. “We do what we want, when we want. We sing, we dance, we sail, we laugh - but most of all Luffy, we chase. Our. Dreams.” Here, he holds Luffy tighter, tipping the too-big hat on his head back enough so he can see Luffy’s entire face. “That’s what a Jolly Roger is. It’s a symbol of our conviction in chasing our dreams. And Dreams - to a pirate - that’s our life. If you have a dream, Luffy, then you’ll live. You got that?”

Luffy is staring at him, eyes wide, tears forgotten. It’s just like when he heard Shanks sing Binks sake for the first time, or when he heard about the tales of the Grand Line. It’s awe.

(Shanks thinks he’ll break if he can’t uphold the pedestal Luffy has placed him upon.)

“Do you?” Shanks prompts again, and Luffy nods.

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s your dream Luffy?”

“To be a pirate!” Luffy says, voice filled with unsteady conviction. “To sail the seas and be free!”

It’s not enough. But it’s a start.

“Then you won’t die Luffy - as long as you’re chasing your dreams, you won’t die.” Shanks voice cracks again. “You can’t die without being a pirate, right?’

C’mon, Luffy - if anyone’s got the same Will as Roger, it’s you so -

“Right!” Luffy says, rubbing at his eyes with a hand and blinking tears away even as that same hand comes to clutch at his chest. “I can’t die - not until… not until I-‘

And what he says next isn’t the dream to be a pirate, but something grander, something that spilled out of Roger’s mouth as he laughed with the entire world - something that makes Shanks burst out in glee and hold Luffy close as a few more desperate tears escape his eyes.

“That’s - that’s right. You can’t die till then. You can’t!”

(It’s not a promise. It can’t be. The Seas to much for that. But… Shanks can pretend.)

That night, Luffy sleeps with the hat on in the crook of Shanks’ arms, new found determination in his eyes even as he cries himself to sleep and sobs through the pain.

He gives the hat back, but the next week there are bandits who pick on pirates and little boys alike, missing arms and little anchors lost at sea.

The next week, Shanks has to leave.

But not before hearing Luffy make another promise.

“I’m the man who will be King of the Pirates!”

He won’t die before achieving his dream.

(Roger did.)

He won’t die before seeing Shanks again.

(Roger did.)

Shanks just has to have faith that this boy - who can smile like the sun, who loves the sea with his whole heart, who has flowers on his lips and in his chest - will live.

King or Dead.

It’s the only choice Luffy has left.

adonis flos: a red flower that is also called "blood drops" adonis flos mean 'painful, sorrowful recollections." its named for Adonis, the youth that Aphrodite loved who died in her arms, and who's blood and pain formed flowers where they dripped.

#op #one piece #whirlywhat #whirlywrites #shanks #crown the king #monkey d. luffy #hanahaki #opau #hanahaki au #luffy #red haired shanks

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nightmare-niko · 3 years

Text

Chapter four

Character moodboard: Shin Jia

"Girls girls girls! Wake up! Today is the day! We have to get ready! We have to dress to impress girlies!¨ Sua busts out of her room, walking from room to room waking up in the girl's rooms. Oddly cheerful for a Monday at 6 am, from knocking on door frames to ripping covers off of their sleeping bodies. Sua did everything to wake her younger friends up.

¨Do we have to wake up this early?¨ Anna complains and gets out of bed to get the first dibs of the shower. She quickly walks into the bathroom with the clothes that she had picked out the night prior and closes the door to begin her. While Anna takes her shower, Sua begins to cook the breakfast so they don't faint during the audition. Azumi; having showered the night before, is doing vocal warm-ups before getting dressed and doing her hair and makeup. Haru panics to find an outfit because unlike the youngest, she did not plan ahead of time.

After the chaos of the early morning dyed down, they all took separate cars to the building. Completely ready for the audition with all of the songs and information that they needed for said audition. The second they arrived at the SM building they could see all of the people waiting to be signed in. After they all got out of their respective cars they walked to the end of the line to begin the wait.

Haru looked over the group of people and noticed how all of the girls there were indeed tiny. She was one of the tallest people in that line. Even coming in taller than some of the men there. She was never one to be insecure about her height, but at this second she was worried about all of the flaws that have been pointed out to her over the years. As if she blacked out, Haru and her friends were quickly next in line. Anna and Beom being signed in first and taken into the room. Haru saw how before they even began dancing the lady holding the audition was poking and prodding at their cheeks and stomachs and making comments as if they were cuts of meat at the grocery store. Jia was signed in next and was told to go in once one of the three girls in the room leaves. Haru's heart rate began to quicken, she was next in line. What if she messed up? What. Is she wasn't talented enough? Is she too tall, will they say that she's built like a guy just like Jaehyun would say to her?

The person at the sign-in desk called Haru up to get signed in. She gave him all of the information he needed and once the girls that were auditioning were out of the room, she walked in.

"Hello, please introduce yourself. We need your name, your age and your height and what you will be doing, whether that is singing, dancing, or rapping we will need to know." The older lady at the table in front of her deadpanned. Haru can only imagine all of the things she's heard today.

"Ah yes," she bows to them so as to not be rude. "I'm Kim Haru, I'm twenty years old, born in 1999. And I'm 5'9, today I will be singing Nostalgic Night by Victon," she quickly began her performance so as to not waste the poor ladies' time. She could see that once her singing began she wrote some notes down, the look on the lady's face wasn't dissatisfied but it also wasn't impressed. She was boosted with confidence however when she began rapping Hanse's raps and the lady looked at her in awe.

Haru left the audition satisfied but at the same time mildly offended. She was told by the women that she was indeed talented but 'too tall' and that she would 'stick out like a sore thumb if put into a group with normal-sized girls'. But Haru knew that she wasn't gonna leave the audition without being ridiculed. But away they went to a pub to eat something because they were all starving.

The drive was quiet and awkward for the girls, of course, all six of them couldn't fit into one cab so they split it up halfway. But they were clearly all too nervous to speak to each other. Too nervous or offended by whatever was said to them in the room.

"So how many of you were offended by that lady because of something stupid?" Anna breaks the silence and the other two girls in the car lighten up and nod.

"Oh my god yes, she told me that my skin had gold undertones and she thought it would look weird. Who cares about the undertones of someone's skin when put in a group with other people?" Jia blurts and massages her temples in frustration.

Anna scoffs and shifts in her chair, "she told me that my eyes are too light of a brown. They really weren't lying when they said SM was shitty."

"Hey hey hey, they might be shitty but they made some of Korea's best kpop groups." Haru defends, "but that lady said I was too tall, I was expecting that though."

The cab that the girls are in comes to a stop, they thank and pay the driver and wait for the other three at the door of the restaurant. Once the other three pull up they all walk into the pub and sit down.

"Don't talk about your auditions yet I have to go to the bathroom, ill be right back." Azumi rushes to the bathroom in the back of the store and the other five try to figure out what to order. They all order cola and some soup to start off. Making small talk about things other than the audition for when Azumi comes back.

"Excuse me, girls, this might be strange but would you be interested in auditioning for Fantagio? We can almost assure you that you five will debut in a group." A lady around their age walks up to the girls handing them each business card.

"Oh cool, yeah sure well check it out." Sua examines the card and the lady walks away.

Jia gasp and leans into the four other girls to whisper something to them, "Fantagio is the company Astro is under. If you guys won't audition, I literally will." Where eyes sparkle while talking about her favorite boy group.

"Sure we can audition, but don't get your hopes up, remember what the last lady said." Beom takes a sip of her drink.

Azumi rushes back to her seat at the table, face pale and eyes watery. She's breathing a bit faster than normal.

"Azumi, is everything okay?"

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction | Your an Idol He’s not [Request]

Seokjin:

Jin was shaking in the seat beside you as you waited for the all-clear sign from your security team, you turned to look at your boyfriend of three years and smiled.

"You alright?" He nodded, he wasn't you knew that and he knew that but there was nothing either of you could do about it. Your relationship had been leaked to the media last week and tonight was your first event back so you figured you should take him with you.

"You'll be fine baby, I'll be there the entire time." You promised him taking your hand in his and rubbing it reassuringly. You and Jin had been together for three years but you were forced to hide it because you were famous and he wasn't, he was just a business worker you'd met in a coffee shop one morning. He straightened his black tie and you smiled at him, he looked amazing tonight he always looked amazing.

"You look great." You complimented, it fueled his ego a little and he kissed your cheek.

"Not as great as you." Your security guard opened the door and you stepped out of the first and waited for Jin while people screamed at you from all different directions.

"Just smile and walk and I'll do all the talking." You offered and Jin gladly accepted, the only public speaking he ever gave were the ones he had to give at work and he hated those.

"Hi Y/n, is this the mystery man everyone has been wondering about?" You laughed along with the interviewer before introducing him to her and the camera,

"This is my long-term boyfriend Kim Seokjin," He smiled at them and wrapped his arm around your waist to drawer you closer to him. You knew he was nervous by that small action but as long as you were next to him he could make it through the night.

"Ah, Jin what do you do for a living?" He looked at you as you went to answer but a sudden wave of confidence rushed over him.

"I run my own business enterprise," The interviewer made an approving noise and you giggled as she went into questioning you both on your relationship, questioning on how and when you met, how he asked you out and why you'd kept it hidden for so long.

"I wanted to make sure he was the one for me." The interviewer smirked,

"And...Is he?" You turned to look up at Jin with a smile, he was already staring down at you looking at you like you were the only one in his life.

"He is." He chuckled and bent down to give you a kiss the yelling increased and so did the brightness of the flashes as many people caught the moment on photograph and video. It was going to be the kiss of the decade.

Yoongi:

No one knew that you were dating anybody except for your managers. They had to know since they were the one who had put the dating clause in your contract. You and Yoongi had started seeing one another before it was up and so your whole career was at stake but now the clause was over you were free to date whenever you wanted.

"I brought coffee." You let out a fake moan as you heard Yoongi say those three words you loved so much,

"I'm dying, they don't have it on set." You groaned dramatically as you took a sip of the hot liquid and he chuckled at you, running his hand over your cheek and smiling.

"Are they working you to death out here?" You knew he was playing around since you could be dramatic all of the time.

"No, but I'm tired and who doesn't have coffee on an active set?" You both walked off set and over to some chairs that were waiting for you. Your other band members were due their shooting so you had time to spend with Yoongi, you hadn't seen much of him that week since you'd been busy with producing and shooting.

"Are we still okay for Sunday?" He questioned as you linked hands, you nodded thinking of the dinner he had invited you to. It was with his friends and family to celebrate his recent promotion at work which you would normally look forward to but it was the first time you would be meeting anyone in his family. You'd been dating a year but the thought of meeting his parents was terrifying to you.

"You're still worried?" You nodded at him and he laughed at you,

"You can walk red carpets, sing in front of thousands of people but meeting my parents is worrying to you?" You groaned at the way he said it,

"It's a big deal Yoongi...What if they don't like me?" You began listing off all the what if's your brian had managed to come up with and once you were done Yoongi stared at you.

"My mum has three of your albums and I'm pretty sure that she mentioned how lovely you are six times on the phone to me this morning." You laid your head on his shoulder and he chuckled at how shy you were getting. Teasing you about it was going to be fun but he knew once you were comfortable around them you would be fine.

"Y/n! Needed on set." You kissed Yoongi goodbye and told him not to bother going anywhere until you got back.

Hoseok:

All of your dates with Hoseok were hidden but this one had been hidden extra hard because you didn't even have an idea as to where he was taking you. All he said to you was pack light and that he would pick you up at 2 am, it was when your first guard took his break and the second guard would sneak away for a smoke session. The rest of your band members were sleeping when you left and now you were in a car driving with Hoseok while you sang along to the music.

"So where are you taking me exactly?" You questioned as he drove down a small road and onto a backroad. You were surrounded by nothing but trees and birds.

"An old family cabin, you'll love it." Yo and Hoseok did this a lot over the years of dating one another. It was hard to get away from your idol life sometimes and although Hoseok didn't understand all of it he tried to and would try to make things as normal for you as possible.

He pulled up in front of an old log cabin and you both got out of the car and headed inside. It was beautiful, all the walls were lined with actual logs and the place looked old and unique. The kitchen had a gas oven and the living room had nothing but furniture and a fireplace inside, you were completely secluded away from everyone and everything.

"This place is incredible Hoseok, you're not going to kill me though are you?" You joked and Hoseok laughed nervously, Hobi had planned to wait until later that day but seeing you the way you were now he knew he couldn't wait that long for an answer. While your back was turned he dropped down onto one knee with the ring he'd gotten from his grandmother and waited for your attention.

"Hobi?!" You gasped seeing him with the ring out,

"I know we haven't talked about our futures much but I can't picture mine without you in it, will you do me the honour of becoming my-" You didn't even give him time to finish his sentence, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. Mumbling yes against his lips whenever you needed air,

"Of course, Yes I'll marry you Hobi." You started tearing up as he took the ring from his box and slid it onto your finger,

"The perfect fit," He whispered seeing how it laid on your ring finger perfectly.

"I love you." You whispered kissing him once again.

Namjoon:

"Wayne! The light!" You groaned as you stood centre stage, you were on your first world tour and currently in London trying to get your light guy to get his light fixed.

"Too bright?!" He called down and you shouted a yes back until it was turned down. The spotlight wasn't the only thing not working, everything around you seemed as though it didn't want to work for you. Then to top it all off your boyfriend of four years was ignoring you after a stupid fight, you'd gotten into a fight about how little time you had for him. Neither of you meant the words you said, you never did but things were said and he hadn't called or texted back to you.

"He still hasn't called?" Your manager questioned when she saw you periodically checking your phone to see if there were any messages.

"Maybe I should call him-"

"Or maybe you can hug him?" His voice came from behind you and you dropped your phone onto your bag, rushing over to Namjoon and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. The fight was long forgotten once you were in his arms and he twirled you around the air.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" He shrugged his shoulders as you stood on the stage with him.

"I took some time off, I wanted to see you." You smiled and leaned up to kiss him, as your lips touched the spotlight turned onto the perfect brightness and the sound guy declared that the tracks were working again.

"Mmm, I might need to keep you on tour with me all of the time." You joked and told him that he was your good luck charm. He wrapped his arm around your waist,

"How much time do you have until your show?" You looked at your watch and smiled,

"Three hours...Wanna see my hotel room?" Your manager looked up at you with a warning look, warning you to be careful of anyone that might be following you but you didn't care, you'd missed Namjoon and you had some making up to do after the fight.

"Come on," You dragged him through the venue and towards the back exit where the usual vans waited for you to take you to and from the venue.

Jimin:

Usually, you were overcautious with everything. Your disguise was planned perfectly and everything was fine but today wasn't the day for disguises and hiding, today was a day for rushing to the hospital with Jimin holding your hand for support. He'd been like that the entire drive to the hospital, promising you it was going to be fine and that she would be okay, it was nice to have him there through this. Many cameras had spotted you together but you didn't care, you didn't care that you were being spotted and you didn't care that fans were following you into the hospital. All you cared about was finding your auntie and finding her fast. Your mother had told you it was nothing serious over the phone but you didn't believe her until you reached the hospital to find your auntie in perfect health.

"I told you not to tell her, she was away with Jimin." Your auntie groaned you walked into the room and Jimin greeted both your mum and auntie. They'd been close ever since you and Jimin started dating four years ago,

"It's just a kidney infection, they only pulled me in because I'm 60." Your auntie laughed at herself and you shook your head, you'd been worried for nothing. Left your home with Jimin in nothing but sweatpants and matching hoodies for nothing,

"The media is cooking up a storm." Your mother said disapprovingly, she showed you her phone and you sighed knowing you were going to have a hard time explaining everything to your manager.

"Fuck them! Your relationship with Jimin is strong! You've been together for too long to hide it any longer." Your aunt had always been the biggest supporter when it came to your idol life and then when Jimin came along she became the biggest supporter of your relationship, wanting it out in the open for everyone to see.

"I'm not going to deny who I love any more...It's not in my contract that I can't date either." You and Jimin sat down on the chairs in the room and started to discuss what was probably going to happen now and you had to warn him about how his life was no longer going to be private. You'd had this conversation before but that was long before you started seeing one another seriously.

"I love you, okay? I can handle it." He promised.

Taehyung:

You clapped along with the crowd while you waited for the next presenter to go onto the stage but instead a camera crew and the main presenter of the evening were standing next to your table.

"Y/n, you look define tonight as always. Who did you bring along tonight?" You smiled at the man and then turned to look at your boyfriend Taehyung who was blushing already. He'd never been good with people but he'd come along with you tonight in support of your latest album up for awards.

"This is Kim Taehyung, my boyfriend." The questions continued on for another five minutes until the presenter was called back to the main stage. You knew that not everything you'd talked about in the mini-interview was going to be in the video released but it was nice to get to talk to them about Taehyung.

"You alright?" You whispered taking his hand on yours and placing them on top of the table. You had been together for two years and your relationship was never kept a secret, you didn't want to do that to your fans or to Taehyung.

"The winner of best album of the year goes to...Y/n Y/l/n with their new hit album Lovestruck!"

You stood on the stage smiling at everyone and trying not to cry while Taehyung clapped and cheered loudly along with everyone in the venue.

"Wow. I don't even know where to start with this, the album was changed last minute as many people know. I had an-whole-other concept and album for when I first went to my boss and at the last minute I switched to lovestruck." The crowd chuckled along with you,

"I want to thank everyone who made the album possible, my producers, my friends, fans and family and most importantly the man who made me feel the way I do about him to be able to write all of the tracks." You let out a shaky breath as you locked eyes with him from across the room and he smiled, tearing up and cheering louder.

"Thank you!" You walked off stage and cameras were trained on you as you met up with Taehyung back at your table and greeted one another in a kiss,

"You deserve it, baby," He chuckled running his hand over your cheek and repeating how proud of you that he was.

Jungkook:

"Shit, shit, shit." You giggled as you and Jungkook stared out of his apartment window. You'd been on a date the night before and decided to stay over at his apartment, you did it a lot and there was never normally a problem only this time. Someone had leaked to the paparazzi as to where you were,

"I bet it was my neighbour upstairs, she's always so nosey." Jungkook groaned ducking you both down when a cameraman walked past his window. He was on the ground floor which mean escaping would be easy if you could ever get past the seven cameramen all stalking the area. You and Jungkook had only been together for a couple of months and you were trying to hide him because you didn't want to ruin his private life.

"So much for privacy, I'm sorry Kookie." You were both sat on the floor below his window so you wouldn't get caught.

"Hey, I don't care. I have you." You smiled at how cheesy he was being and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder,

"How about I run to the store, lock you inside so they don't think is' suspicious-"

"Are you sure you're not just trying to kidnap me?" You joked making him chuckle as he tried to finish his train of thought.

"I get snacks, all our favourites. I come back and we game and watch movies all day?" It sounded perfect to you but you had no idea if it was going to work but you didn't care. Even if you got caught together it would be totally worth it.

"I'll call my manager and tell her where I am so she can come up with a plan to get the cameramen out." He smiled and kissed you softly, promising he would be back in no time. He got up from the floor and came face to face with a cameraman who was staring in through the apartment window, Jungkook drew the curtains closed and walked out of the front door.

"Have you seen Y/n y/l/n in this area, sir?" You listened from behind the closed door as Jungkook played the dumb card,

"Have I seen who?" You giggled and they showed Jungkook a photograph of you.

"Never seen her in my life, sorry. Maybe you've got the wrong place." His voice drowned out as he got closer to his car and you smiled about how lucky you were to have him.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie

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writings-of-a-daphodil · 4 years

Text

Fire Keeper: Chapter 15

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 15 summary: Just as you and Douxie get back to Arcadia the Eternal Night begins.

You stroked Archie as Douxie drove the three of you back to Arcadia. It had been a pretty silent drive with you drifting in and out of sleep, but you were awake now and you and Douxie were singing along to some music you were playing via your phone.

It was a lot of fun and it made you even happier to see Douxie smiling again. You looked back out the window before he could catch you staring.

A new song came on and you began to sing, but your phone ringing cut you off. You unplugged the aux cord and answered it.

“Hey, mom. We just got back. We’re almost in Arcadia.”

“Y/n, something happened, can you come to the school?” She asked, her voice filled with urgency.

“Um, yeah. I’ll be right there.” You hung up and looked to Douxie. “That was my mom, something happened.”

“I can drop you off and then you can pick up your car tomorrow?” Douxie suggested and you nodded.

The two of you continued singing, but you were distracted by your thoughts. Your brain had decided to conjure up thoughts of all the worst possible scenarios.

Thankfully you didn’t have to suffer through the scenarios as you arrived at the school. You hopped out of the car and thanked Douxie.

You immediately sensed auras on the roof and while they all seemed relatively calm and a little anxious, you didn’t sense Jim’s.

You decided to forgo the stairs and you flew yourself up to the roof. You arrived to see everyone but Jim. Even Merlin was there, but you didn’t see your brother. However, you did see a troll in the eclipse armor. You stared wide-eyed at him and dove into his aura. If you peeled back a few layers you found your brothers.

“Jim?” You asked, alerting everyone to your arrival.

“Hey Y/n,” he greeted, smiling nervously.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concern for your little brother consuming you.

“Kinda,” he admitted and you ran over to hug him. Tears pricked your eyes when you realized how much taller he was now.

“What happened?” You asked as you pulled away from him, but you still held his hand.

“I needed to become stronger and Merlin did this.” He gestured to himself.

“But you were already great,” you whispered. You could sense the pain and fear and Jim’s aura and it made your tears run faster. The best word to describe your mood was ‘furious’ and the cause of your anger was Merlin.

You had been home for about three seconds and you were already ready to fight the old man. You were only holding back because you didn’t want to start something or upset Jim.

“Ah so this is the Trollhunter’s sister?” Merlin asked and you were seriously ready to throw hands. You had really expected Merlin to be cooler from what Douxie described.

You scowled. “I am, and not only that, I’m a sorceress.”

“Really?” Merlin asked, interest showing on his face.

“Yes, and what were you thinking? How could you do this to him?” You asked.

“I didn’t do anything. It was his choice, I just created the means. In the end you will thank me.”

You decided to be mature and ignore Merlin. It was the best way to calm down. It also helped when you remembered that Merlin was able to see the future. Maybe Jim becoming a half-troll was a good thing?

You turned to Jim. “Don’t worry Jimbo, you still have your looks,” you joked trying to make light of the situation.

He chuckled. “Thanks.”

You looked at the rest of the group and you noticed Strickler standing very close to your mom. You decided to be mature and read their auras before attacking Strickler and you were presently surprised to sense forgiveness in your moms aura and caring in Strickler’s. Maybe he wasn’t that bad.

You put on a small smile. “Why don’t we walk home and you explain everything that's been going on this past week to me.”

“There’s something you should know about our trip to find Merlin,” Jim said once you all had gotten down from the roof.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sensing the sad shift in everyone’s auras.

Jim looked down. “Draal didn’t make it. H-he died back when we were getting Merlin’s staff. Draal took a dagger for me, Angor Rot killed him.”

You looked at the rest of the group and saw sadness shining in your eyes. You began to cry again and Jim hugged you. “I-I can’t believe it,” you sobbed.

“I know I’m sorry. But we are going to avenge him,” Jim promised. You sniffed, looking up at him. He was so grown up now and you were incredibly proud.

You took a deep breath. “I know we will.”

~~~~

Last night as all of you walked home the group recounted the events of the last week to you and you had to admit a lot had happened. Now it was time to defeat Morgana and Gunmar.

That morning you had gone over the plan and you had to say, while you were nervous and scared, but you were excited to end this. It would all be over soon and hopefully your brother and Merlin would come out victorious.

And while they did that, you were on crowd control with Douxie. You wouldn’t have regular civilians dying, not if you had something to say about it.

You stood on the sidelines with Douxie watching Aja and Krel play their music. The crowd seemed very excited for Krel’s DJ-ing, but you were a ball of nerves. Claire was supposed to arrive soon and tell everyone to go and find someplace safe.

You bit your lip as Señior Uhl announced Mama Skull and Claire walked onto the stage in her armor.

You barely listened to her speech, but you could tell nobody was understanding how much danger they were in. That is until the sky darkened and gumm-gumms appeared.

You tried to call everyone to you, but they just panicked. Unsure of what to do, you and Douxie just began to fight. The less gumm-gumms there were the less chance of people dying, right?

You summoned your sword and immediately sliced through one as you sent a magic blast at another. You heard someone scream on stage and you and Douxie ran over there. You noticed he didn’t have a weapon and you wondered what he was going to be able to do with just a guitar.

Apparently he could do a lot. He hit a gumm-gumm that was terrorizing Mary and Darci over the head, knocking it out cold.

“I've always hated those twits!” he grumbled. You went over to finish the job while he helped Mary and Darci.

You walked back over to Douxie who Mary and Darci were swooning over and you rolled your eyes. “Come on Romeo, we need to get these people to safety.”

“Alright, Ladies follow us.” Douxie took off and you followed him.

“Where should we take them?” You asked. “We need some place big enough to fit a ton of people.”

“The school!” Douxie responded. You turned the corner and found some gumm-gumms harassing some of the old guys who like to play chess in the gazebo.

You held out your sword and charged the creatures, easily taking them down while Douxie covered your back. The two of you made a very good team.

Soon the street was cleared of the black and green monstrosities, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. “We need to get going,” you said helping the old men up.

Your ever growing group made your way through the town with Douxie up front and you guarding the rear. Occasionally you ran into gumm-gumms, but you and Douxie took care of them easily.

Soon you made it to the school. You used your magic to unlock the doors and you had to admit you were proud of yourself.

You watched as Douxie led everyone across the street. Things seemed to be going your way for the time being and you hoped all of your friends were doing okay. You didn’t know how you would go on if you lost anyone else.

Another tremor hit and you wobbled on your feet. Tremors had been occurring all day, but this one felt different.

The cause of the tremor was soon revealed when you heard a roar. It was a roar you had only ever heard once before, and that had been in the Darklands. You watched everyone freeze in the middle of the street as a gigantic black and green snake thing turned towards all of you. It could probably smell the fear radiating off of everyone.

“Fuzz buckets,” Douxie cursed as the Nyarlagroth charged. There was no time to make any mistakes so you just decided to call upon your magic. An orange glow surrounded the Arcadians and they floated into the air. You heard shouts of surprise, but you didn’t have time to warn them as you threw them inside the school.

You went to chase after them, but you instead saw a kitten standing in the middle of the Nyarlagroth’s path. There was no way you were going to let something bad happen to the adorable ball of white fluff, so you did what any compassionate human would do. You ran towards the kitten and picked it up.

Unfortunately now both of you were in the Nyarlagroth’s path, but you weren’t there for long.

You and the kitten glowed blue and you were yanked towards Douxie who caught you. He carried you bridal style into the school, gently setting you down before the group of Arcadians.

“Um, thanks,” you mumbled.

“Anytime, thanks for getting the kitten. I didn’t see it.”

“Of course.”

“What now?” Someone asked and you turned to face them. You didn’t have to be an aura reader to sense that these people were afraid. But what you weren’t expecting was for them to be determined.

“I know you might not be happy to be stuck in here, unable to do anything, but in here you are safer. I also understand how scary this is. Right now Douxie and I need to take care of that giant snake thing so we can make this place safer.” You looked at all the terrified faces and sighed when you noticed that your speech didn’t seem to be impacting them. “Okay, look. We’ve all lived in Arcadia for a while and I’m sure many of you have noticed the weird things that go on around here. There are different creatures that live here who aren’t human, but this is their home too. Those bad guys out there have taken their home before and are trying to take it again as well as ours. There aren’t many people who can do something about it, but those who can are out there, fighting for you and they are going to win. But to do that, they need you in here where you’re safe so they don’t have to worry about you. It may seem scary now, but if we all do our part things will work out!”

You looked again and noticed that everyone seemed to be calmer and even more determined than they were before. “Good luck!” Someone called and you smiled.

“We’ll be back soon,” Douxie said, holding the door for you.

You reluctantly gave the kitten to Phil and Jerry, the two the old guys you had saved. “Now let’s go take care of that Nyarlagroth.”

~~~~

“I didn’t know you gave inspirational speeches,” Douxie joked once you were outside.

“It’s one of my many hidden talents,” you replied smiling at him.

You and Douxie raced to the top of the school to get a good view and you saw the Nyarlagroth circling the school.

“When Jim was in the darklands he stopped one by overwhelming it’s sense of smell,” you explained. “We need to find something that will do that.”

“This is a school, there’s got to be tons of gross laundry here,” Douxie suggested.

You bit your lip. “I hope this works.”

“Me too,” Douxie sighed, looking one last time at the beast. His aura was buzzing with worry.

“We’ve got this,” you said, pulling him back down the stairs. The two of you went looking for the laundry and you plugged your nose as you levitated it out of the school. “This should be fine.”

“Good.” Douxie chuckled. “I hope these kids won’t be mad about us feeding their stuff to the Nyarlagroth.”

“I think they’ll be fine.” You set the hampers down to catch a breather. “Okay, I’ll go across the street and when the Nyarlagroth comes around be ready to fling this stuff into its mouth.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Douxie said, jokingly saluting you.

You gave a small smile before running across the street, levitating your baskets behind you.

You heard the Nyarlagroth before you saw it. Hiding in an Alley you levitated the hampers and got ready to shove them into the beast’s mouth.

It roared and you sent the disgusting laundry flying into its mouth. You watched as Douxie’s hampers flew in after yours.

It froze and you took it distraction as an opportunity.

“Douxie blast it, I’m gonna go stab it!” You explained, ever eloquent.

You leapt into the air and onto the Nyarlagroth’s back. You felt the beast shift as Douxie began to blast it. Quickly you located a space between its scales and you squeezed your eyes closed as you thrust your sword into it. You pushed it into the hilt and watched as it slowly turned to stone. You felt bad, but you knew it would kill everyone if given the chance.

You floated off the Nyarlagroth and down to the ground where Douxie hugged you.

“We did it!” He celebrated. “You did amazing.”

“Thanks, but we both did amazing.”

You high fived in celebration. The Nyarlagroth was now a pile of useless stones and the People of Arcadia were mostly saved.

However, the celebration couldn’t last long. You had work to do. You and Douxie placed anti gumm-gumm sigils around the house and then went to go look for more people. Soon you had gathered quite a few and you were bringing them back to the cool when you saw a horde of goblins.

Stood to challenge them while Douxie got the people inside. The goblins charged at you and you blasted a few before they got too close.

The leader leapt up at you and you sliced him with your sword. This only angered the rest of them causing them to fight with more vigor. But you were fighting for the safety of your town.

Soon Douxie joined you, bashing the goblins with his guitar that he had kept. It was a little battered by now, but it made for a good weapon.

You fought goblin after goblin, but there always seemed to be more of them.

They suddenly stopped attacking though and you noticed a change in the air. The goblins looked at each other then at you and Douxie who had your weapons arrived.

They turned and ran. You were tempted to go after them, but you realized that you couldn’t do much against that many goblins. You should have to save that problem for later.

“What do you think happened?” Douxie asked.

Red lightning came out of nowhere and hit a gumm-gumm which shattered into a pile of rocks. “I think Jim killed Gunmar!” You exclaimed.

Now that the street was clear you and Douxie went to check on the Arcadians. After you were sure they were good the two of you can off to the canal. The both of you were worried that the Eternal Night hadn't ended.

You didn't have your car so you wouldn't be able to drive. Instead the two of you ran.

You arrived to see Claire, Jim, Toby, Aaarrrgghh, and Blinky looking at a giant crack in the ground.

You looked into it and saw the heartstone, but it wasn't warm and happy orange anymore. It was a cold gray.

"What happened?" You asked, aghast. You had spent so much wonderful time in Trollmarket now it was destroyed.

"Gunmar happened," Blinky said, bitterly.

"What are you going to do now? " you asked.

"We're gonna look for a new Heartstone. Merlin mentioned that there would be one in New Jersey," Jim said.

"New Jersey?" You asked, shocked.

Jim avoided your eyes. "Yeah."

"I'll miss you," you said, hugging him.

"I'll miss you too," he said.

~~~~

After you had met with Jim Claire and Toby and they had told you their side of the battle and you told yours, you went to see your mom who was sanding on the cliff overlooking Arcadia. The two of you were waiting to say goodbye to Jimo. You knew he had to go to New Jersey, but it still hurt you to see him go.

Merlin arrived and he looked out over Arcadia. There was smoke billowing over some buildings and while it looked sad and hopeless, but you knew it would be okay.

You gently stroked the kitten you had saved from the Nyarlagroth. You had decided to adopt the kitten, though you didn’t have a name for the darling fluff ball.

You were spooked out of your thoughts by some rustling behind you. You turned around to see Jim. You tried to hold back your tears. You hadn’t even said goodbye yet and you were already missing him.

He went over to you and your mom and hugged the two of you. “I promised I’d never leave you,” he said.

“Honey, I knew this day would come, I just...never knew when,” your mom rubbing yours and Jim’s back. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

You heard your mom sniff and you knew she was crying. Your own tears began to fall. “Just call often,” you sniffed.

“Everyday. Twice. Text. Now and then?” Your mom added.

“Of course, guys. I love you,” Jim said, also sniffing.

“Not more than I love you kiddo,” your mom chuckled.

You heard more rustling and sawBlinky arrive. “Are you ready, Master Jim?” He asked coming over to you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jim sighed, letting go of you and your mom, but keeping your hands.

“I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but with our Trollhunter by our side, I don’t fear it either,” Blinky said, putting his hand on Jim's shoulder. You smiled, you were glad Jim had someone like Blinky.

“I really appreciate that, Mr. Blinky,” you mom said.

You heard more rustling and saw Claire and her parents arrive.

She walked over to Jim. “Claire, I can’t ask you to—“

“You didn’t ask,” Claire said and you were so glad Jim had such a great boyfriend.

“She has enough credits to graduate early,” Claire's mom said. “We’re treating this as some time abroad.”

“As long as she comes back soon,” her dad said.

“Well, congratulations, Claire,” You said, high fiving her. You wondered how it was possible for a sophomore to have accomplished that.

Jim laughed and you jumped a little as Strickler came flying by. He landed by your mom. “Good luck, Young Atlas.”

Jim smiled at the three of you and slowly let go of your mom’s hand as he walked away.

“You did good raising him, Doc,” NotEnrique consoled. “Here’s a thousand new babies to raise.”

“What?” Strickler asked as NotEnrique handed your mom the cradle stone.

“Have fun with that, you two,” NotEnrique called, running away so they couldn’t give the stone back.

“Wait!” Strickler called.

“This’ll be fun,” you muttered and your mom patted your back.

“Wait! Wait for me!” Toby yelled as he came running up to the group in his War Hammer armor. “Boy, these goodbyes are tough, you know. Nana wanted me to take Mr. Meow Meow P.I., but he does not travel well. What?”

“Tobes...you have to stay.” Jim said, kneeling down.

“What?” Toby asked and you felt really, really bad for him. “You’re going on a quest. I love quests. We go everywhere together.”

“I’m hurt, Claire lost her Shadow Staff. We need you here to protect Arcadia.”

“No, Wingman,” Aaarrrgghh said, coming up to Toby. “I help. I stay.”

Blinky gasped then nodded, accepting it. Their air was thick with bittersweet goodbyes and you felt a few tears fall.

“So, you’re staying with me-” Toby gestured to you and Aaarrrgghh “-and you’re leaving,” he summarized, gesturing to Claire, Jim and Blinky.

“But we’ll be back. Someday,” Jim promised as you handed the kitten to your mom and walked over to them with Claire. The four of you were pulled into a group hug.

“You better,” Toby sniffed.

“And then we’ll get tacos,” Jim said, chuckling.

“And enchiladas,” Claire added.

“We sure found that adventure. Right, Tobes?” Jim asked and you smiled through your tears.

“I’m really glad we took the canal that morning,” Toby agreed.

The four of you stood. “Keep Arcadia safe,” Jim requested. “You’re its only Trollhunters now.”

Nomura walked over and hugged Toby. “I still don’t like you.”

“I know,” Toby cried. You began to quietly shed your tears as your friends and little brother walked away into the forest.

They stopped and you watched as Merlin pulled out the Eclipse Blade and you noticed that it was broken. “I believe this belongs to you, Trollhunter.”

Merlin used his magic to fix it and Jim grabbed it. They looked back one more time and you waved a sad goodbye.

****

Thank yall so much for reading and liking my writing!! It makes me so happy to see your positive feedback!! It was super bittersweet writing this chapter. I know there will be more, but it felt sad writing the scene where they leave. Anyways, I really hope y'all have a wonderful day/night!! And stay safe!! 💙💙

Also I haven't though if a name for the kitten yet, so if you have any suggestions I'm open.

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

P.P.S. I'm totally open for requests on fluffy half chapters! If you have any ideas for the half chapters send them in and I'll do my best to include them.

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #wizards imagine #trollhunters imagine #tales of arcadia imagine #toa imagine #douxie #toa douxie #hisirdoux casperan #wizards douxie #wizards #trollhunters #trollhunters douxie #toa #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia douxie #fire keeper

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