#so this was hastily drawn in his honor

[teisubrainrot]

#wow a crossover episode #my brother hates omori memes and also has to suffer me spamming him yakuza ones #so this was hastily drawn in his honor #hope he hates it too #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #yakuza 3 #like a dragon #omori #omori sunny #yoshitaka mine #mine yoshitaka #art #fanart #teisuart #omori spoilers

[sweetteaanddragons]

Raise Them Well (Or Out of Spite)

He didn’t remember how he had gotten here. He remembered the messenger that had brought him the news, and then - Everything after that was a dark void.

His father was gone. Feanaro did not want to remember more. 

He had been on his way to Tirion already when the news came. They had known the birth would be soon even if no one had expected it would be this soon; they had thought to have nearly another month. He had not wanted to be at the birth, but his father had asked him to be there, and -

His father.

Feanaro’s head fell forward into his hands. It wasn’t a dignified position; he had come back to himself from the void of memory slumped against one of the endless tapestries that lined the marble walls of the palace, knees drawn up nearly to his chest.

On the opposite wall was a door that gaped open to an empty room where his father had once slept.

Where his father had died.

So it did not matter if he was dignified. Anyone who dared to disturb him -

“What a tragedy.”

His head snapped up. 

Melkor had taken the form of an elf today - a striking one who looked almost familiar - but there was no true disguise for any of the Valar. Their presence inevitably made itself felt.

“Another queen of the Noldor lost,” Melkor said, shaking his head. “And your father with her! I can only imagine how he must have loved her.”

“Get out.” His voice was a hollow echo of the rage he wanted to feel.

“Forgive me,” Melkor said hastily. “Forgive me, I did not mean to imply -'' He sat gingerly against the opposing wall instead of leaving.

Of course he did. What respect could he - could any of the Valar - truly have for grief?

“I cannot imagine what you are going through,'' the Vala said gently, almost as if he had plucked the thought from Feanaro’s face - or, more likely, from his glare at the place Melkor’s back rumpled the fabric of the closest tapestry.

“No. You can’t.”

The Vala’s smile flickered. “At least Ingwion will be here soon.”

“Ingwion,” he repeated, uncomprehending. What was it to him if Indis’s nephew came?

“To take the child,” Melkor elaborated. “I came to assure you that her family has agreed. You won’t have to deal with that . . . reminder.” His tone implied a much worse word than reminder had been bitten back.

“The child.” He hated how his words were mere echoes of Melkor’s own.

“Aracano,” Melkor said helpfully. “That’s what his mother wanted to call him.”

High Chieftain. So she had been scheming after all, despite all her protests.

And none of it mattered because here Feanaro was. Not heir to the Noldor, but king.

He would crown the infant himself if it would have brought his father back. 

But nothing would. Nothing except the will of the Valar.

His father would return, Feanaro tried to assure himself. This was not like his mother’s case. Surely his father would want to return. And then -

Then, he would be proud of Feanaro and how he had handled things. Feanaro would make sure of it.

To his father, everything would most certainly include the child. Aracano. Or, as his father had preferred, Nolofinwe.

(Wise Finwe. Was that why he had wanted another child? Was it wisdom he had thought Feanaro had lacked? If his father had just told him what the deficiency was - )

(His father had not thought him deficient when he was small. He was sure of that. When he had been small, his father had taken Feanaro with him everywhere; he had not for a moment left him, terrified that with one parent gone, Feanaro’s spirit could all too easily have slipped away.)

(Finwe had been enough in the end. If only Feanaro had been enough in turn, his father might still - )

With his father gone, Feanaro was the closest thing the Noldor had to an expert on bringing children through the impossible. Who was he to cede that title to Ingwion?

No. It was not to be borne. The Vanyar had taken enough from him; he would not allow them to take this -

His mind stuttered over what word to choose. Burden? Honor? Responsibility?

This. He would not allow them to take this.

Uneasiness crept in through the cloud of grief and fury. The Vanyar would not; he could prevent it. But Namo . . . It had been three days already since - since the deaths; with Nolofinwe not only orphaned but early - 

Feanaro shoved himself to his feet and stalked toward the end of the hallway, toward what had once been his nursery. It had been scarcely used - his father had not dared leave him there - but with his father’s room vacant, surely Nolofinwe must be there now.

He felt a flicker that on any other day would have been pleasure when Melkor was forced to scramble gracelessly to his feet to follow after.

“Surely you do not intend - “

“Surely you know my mind little.”

“Would you so dishonor your father by shielding that which killed him?”

Feanaro froze.

Fury licked through him like flame. 

It was almost enough to warm the chill that lay heavy over his soul.

“We can be murderers together,” he said, eyes locked on the tapestry at the end of the corridor.

It had been one of Miriel’s, once.

He stalked off to find his charge.

. . .

Nolofinwe had his father’s eyes.

Feanaro’s own eyes burned as he stared down at them.

The baby was so small. Smaller than any other he had seen. Smaller than Nelyafinwe would be when he came -

Nelyafinwe. Nerdanel.

Thrice his line had sired children. Twice the mothers had died in the births. If Nerdanel -

“Fetch a messenger to send word to Mahtan’s house immediately,” he instructed the nursemaid trembling behind him. Nerdanel had agreed to stay there when they thought this was a mere birth, lest she strain herself with the travel, but Feanaro feared she had just been indulging him. If she came now that she’d heard of the catastrophe - “They must know what happened, but gently. There must be no stress, no strain of any kind.” If he lost her - If he lost her now-

He picked up Nolofinwe in a desperate need to hold to someone.

A tiny, flickering fea reached out to his, first tentatively, then with a desperate grip that mirrored Feanaro’s own.

The fea was starving. Weak.

And so, so stubborn.

The nursemaid found enough courage to say, “The healer fears his strength might - “

He wished her courage had remained lost. “He will be as strong as a forest fire. Stronger.”

He pushed some of his own fiery spirit around Nolofinwe in a protective blanket against the biting cold of the world. Despite everyone else’s assurances, he still could not quite believe the room was not too drafty; surely the whole of the chill was not in his mind alone.

It’s his fault, part of him whispered. Just like it was yours.

He shoved the thought away viciously.

Monsters together, another part of him whispered, and he pushed that down too.

His father would want Nolofinwe to be well when he returned. That was the important thing.

So Nolofinwe would be well and grow strong.

He would not be allowed to die.

No one here would be.

#alternate universe #silmarillion #Feanor #fingolfin #morgoth #Fic #there is more of this #but we will see if i can polish it up enough for consumption

[normal-internet-user]

Decided to do some self indulgient father Tigerclaw stuff, this one is angsty, just cuz I feel like it :3

CODE OF CONDUCT

◇~~◇~~◇~~◇~~◇

Summary: You decide enough is enough, and leave your father due to his disregard of his own honor system.

Warnings: Angst, not really any comfort, so hurt/no comfort

Requested: Nah

GN Reader!

(Tigerclaws dialog will be orange)

....................................

You hastily shoved your belonging into your bag.

You've had enough. You though your father could handle this, but clearly he couldn't.

It only took one man to sway his strict honor code. One man, and a grudge against afew teenagers.

Pathetic.

The man your father once was would be disgusted at himself. You wished Shredder had never come to retrieve the two of you from Japan, you wished he could fight his own damn battles.

You zipped your bag closed, looking around your now bare room. You and your father had been provided rooms upon your arrival, but this place never felt like home.

It was like living in a mine field. You feared the day Shredder would turn on your father, and by extension, you.

You saw what had happened to Karai.

The memory caused you to shudder.

If Shredder was so willing to put the child he'd nursed from infancy in danger over his grudge against Hamato Yoshi, what could he do to you? To your father?

You quietly crept out of the Shredder's Lair and into the chilly New York air. The second you felt the wind hit your face, you booked it along the rooftops.

Trying to put as much distance between you and that hell hole as possible.

You had nowhere to go, but something could be figured out. Staying back there wasn't an option.

"What are you doing?"

You stopped dead in your tracks as you turned to face your dad, watching as his ears twitched, ever present of his surroundings.

"What are you doing, (Name)-chan?" He repeated.

You sighed looking up at him, "I'm leaving, Dad. I can't stay here anymore."

Your dad looked taken aback as you spoke, he crossed his arms, "What do you mean, leaving?"

"You know what I mean!" you said, raising your voice at your dad for the first time in your life, "This isn't right! What Shredder is doing is not right!"

"You are a child!" Tigerclaw shouted back, "You know nothing of what is right or wrong! You do as you are told!"

You scowled, "Oh and if I was told to shoot a child in the back of the head while it slept, should I comply? Tell me, Father, what happened to your honor? Where have you re-drawn the line?"

"(Name) please-"

"No! There is no honor in the Shredders work! There is no honor in harming millions of innocence for personal gain. There is no honor in slaughtering a family for a personal grudge!" You shook your head, looking away from your dad as tears welled in your eyes, you voice growing weak, "You've lost your honor."

Tigerclaw seemed to be at a loss for words, all he did was stare at you as your tears fell.

"I was scared, Dad. I don't feel safe around you anymore. It's- It's like you died and came back with your body, but not your mind. You're so blinded by your own hatred of those turtles that you can't see you're throwing away your own morals, the morals you taught me!"

"So you're leaving then." Your dad said, his voice low.

You nodded, wiping away your own tears, "Yes. I'm leaving. Now you can come with me, leave the Shredder behind and come with me, or the next time we meet will be as enemies on the battlefield."

Your father stood in silence, looking at you with his piercing yellow eyes.

"Ok then." you said, clutching your bag tightly, "Then this is good-bye." You turned from your father to face the skyline, sighing quietly.

"I love you, Dad."

"Good-bye, my cub. Hana no naka de aimashō."

You leapt from the rooftop, leaving behind your father as he processed the loss of his child.

As he processed his mistake.

....................................

This was fun to write. Don't worry I'll do some wholesome dad Tigerclaw to balance it out, but come on, the angst potential here is immence.

Translation: Hana no naka de aimashō: I'll see you among the flowers.

(This is what Tigerclaw said to Reader whenever he had to leave them on their own when they were younger.)

#normie writes #tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #tmnt x gn reader #tigerclaw #tmnt 2012 tigerclaw #tmnt 2012 #tmnt tigerclaw x reader #tigerclaw x child reader

[konfuchsius]

Heizuhaweek 1

I read the other storys from @heizuhaevents Day 1 and kinda had the urge to reverse the 'who helps whom' thing. 👀 xD

So just a little thing:

oOo

"You're sidetracking again!" complained Kazuha as she squinted at Heiji's notepad, where he was writing - or rather should be writing - his art homework. Instead, there was another one of his sketches emblazoned there. She couldn't see what exactly he had drawn, though, because he quickly turned the notepad away from her.

"I'm not!" he claimed stubbornly. Kazuha narrowed her eyes. Had his cheeks turned slightly red, or was she just imagining it? Maybe it was from the heat, they'd been stuck in this stuffy room for far too long anyway. That was also the reason why she was getting so impatient.

"You're supposed to be analyzing the picture, not scribbling something." They could have been at the beach by now, jumping into the waves, but no, the dear gentleman just wasn't getting off the ground. Pretty ironic considering that he was usually the one urging them to finish their homework quickly so they could go somewhere. Heiji might be good at quite a few subjects, but art wasn't one of them, at least not the writing part. On the other hand, he was actually pretty good at drawing, but that was precisely the problem. He preferred to draw instead of getting the essay done.

"I am not doodling, and besides, it's not my fault that this assignment is so stupid," Heiji grumbled. "I have no idea what's so special about a few strokes on an otherwise white canvas." And just making something up went against his honor as a detective.

Kazuha rolled her eyes and settled down next to him to help him out a bit, otherwise they'd never be able to leave. "The horizontals and verticals bring stability to the image, while the diagonals add dynamism," she explained as Heiji hastily turned the pages. He must be really embarrassed by his scribbles, she thought. She would have liked to catch a glimpse of it.

Now, after only a blank sheet was visible, Heiji was back to his old self and wrinkled his nose. "You can really write that crap down for every picture. Why should we repeat ourselves a thousand times?"

"If this 'crap' is just repetitive, why don't you just write it down the same as last time and you'd finally be done?" retorted Kazuha. "I'm going to die in the heat!"

"I'm hurrying," Heiji growled. No talking back, at least; the heat had to be getting to him, too. Kazuha sighed and pushed the door open a bit.

"I'll get us some ice and then I'll help you." She too could think better with a cool head.

Since the whole thing wasn't an offer but just a communication about their next steps, Heiji didn't thank her, he didn't have to. They both kept it that way, and when he helped Kazuha with her math again, he didn't expect it from her either.

Indeed, the ice not only helped against the heat, but also soothed his nerves so that he was less reluctant to do the art assignment. Maybe it was Kazuha's proximity too, but all that mattered was that things were moving faster and soon they would finally be able to jump into cool water at the beach.

oOo

What do you think did he draw?

#heizuhaweek #drabble #heizuha #heiji hattori #kazuha toyama #dcmk #heiji x kazuha #heikazu

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 6

"Splash, I have trained you and watched you grow into a confident, competent young cat these past moons," yes, confident is certainly the right word, Shell thought wryly. The skinny tom sat up straight, head held high, chest puffed out with pride. And yet, Shell knew she had to give credit where credit was due. Splash’s skills had finally caught up to his opinion of himself. He had shown himself to be an incredible hunter with the right guidance, and despite his sometimes kit-like behavior, he had shown true dedication to their ragtag group of cats. “Do you promise to remain loyal to your campmates, come what may?” 

“I do.” Splash’s reply was strong and clear.

“Then I grant you full status as an adult of our group. Splash, we honor you for your openness and skill. You may direct your own time and leave our camp whenever you wish, unless Sand or I have assigned you to other duties.”

The gathered cats murmured their congratulations to the young tom. Current gave him a playful cuff over the ear, and Sand bumped his head against the other cat’s shoulder, purring happily. When had they grown so close? Well, she supposed all of the cats here had become closer. This group was starting to feel more like a single unit than a collection of near-strangers brought together by chance and tragedy. Shell surveyed her cats from atop the Tallmast as they dispersed to their other duties, chatting happily. They had come far indeed…

Shell found her gaze drawn towards the pale, silvery pelt of Tidechaser as he disappeared into Dustjump’s den. Her eyes narrowed, and she couldn’t suppress a twinge of jealousy. He’d been visiting Dustjump’s den almost every day for the past moon. She was glad that he was finally taking an interest in the other cats of the group, but did that interest have to be focused on Dustjump? Did he have feelings for her? Shell found herself secretly hoping that wasn’t the case.

“What’s got you staring at my den like it’s hiding a whole pack of foxes?” 

Shell jumped in surprise at Dustjump’s teasing voice, digging her claws deep into the wood of the Tallmast to steady herself.

“You nearly scared me out of my fur!” She growled in mock annoyance.

“Seems like you should be paying better attention to your surroundings,” Dustjump called back.

“And maybe both of you should stop yowling all the way across camp,” Tidechaser growled, sticking his head out of Dustjump’s den. “Brokenmast needs to rest.”

Shell felt her pelt prickle with embarrassment. Tidechaser was always so calm and aloof, they must’ve been making a lot of noise for him to snap at them like that. She slunk down the Tallmast to where Dustjump was waiting, her shame fading at the twinkle in her friend’s eyes. “Don’t mind him,” Dustjump purred, “if you ask me, I think Tidechaser is growing quite fond of Brokenmast.”

Shell blinked, trying not to let the relief show too clearly on her face. “He hasn’t been coming to see you, then?” 

“Dustjump flicked her tail dismissively. “Well, he certainly sees me too, as it's my den, but Brokenmast is the cat he’s visiting for.” 

“Good, that's… good.”

Dustjump cocked her head.

“Er, I mean, it's good that Brokenmast and Tidechaser are becoming friends. Both of them seemed kind of lonely before, and I’m glad they found each other,” Shell added quickly.

“I agree,” Dustjump purred. “Tidechaser has really kept Brokenmast’s spirits up. I think Brokenmast expected the healing to go more quickly. And speaking of Brokenmast, I need to gather some more reeds to keep his spine set straight.” The brown tabby dipped her head to Shell, turning towards the camp entrance.

“I could come with you,” Shell bounded after her, not wanting the conversation to end here. Dustjump had been so busy with Brokenmast lately that they’d barely seen each other despite sharing the same camp. “If you don’t mind,” Shell added hastily.

“I’d be delighted to have your company, Shell,” Dustjump’s eyes narrowed with pleasure.

“Then lead the way,” Shell purred.

“I know you said we’d be collecting reeds, but somehow I didn’t think we’d be -ugh- digging around in the mud like this,” Shell meowed, pulling a foot free from the mud sucking at her paws with each step. She didn’t mind wading around in the marshy water, but this mud was cold and slimy. She was never going to get it out of her claws.

“This is where the reeds like to grow,” Dustjump replied calmly. “Regretting your offer of help?”

“Never,” Shell purred, “can you imagine the looks on everyone else’s faces when we come back to camp covered in mud?”

“I’ll be the only one covered in mud,” Dustjump complained lightly. “You’re only going to have it on your paws. Your legs are long enough to keep your belly fur out of the muck.”

“Is that so?” Shell felt a wild, kit-like urge come over her. The mud, the time alone with Dustjump, all of it made her feel like a young cat again. “I guess I’ll just have to help you wash off!” Shell snarled playfully, flicking up water with her tail onto Dustjump’s flank. Dustjump froze, her fur dripping, and for a moment Shell feared she’d misread the moment, that Dustjump was going to snap at her and stalk off, until Dustjump flicked a pawful of water straight at Shell’s muzzle with a playful “mrow”.

“Oh I’m so going to get you for that,” Shell growled, flicking up more water with her soaked tail.

When the two cats returned to camp, soaking wet with a fine bundle of reeds in tow, neither of them could answer Sand’s question of what had happened to them without devolving into a fit of laughter.

#warrior cats #warriorcats #turtleclan #warrior cats oc #warriors #clangen #clan generator #clan gen #dustjump #shellstar #splashpaw #moon 6 #warriors oc #art #my art

[justadreamer08]

Love Spiderman, Love Me

Pairing: tom holland!peter parker x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 800 words (way less than I wanted)

Author's note: I haven't written anything in forever and this didn't really come out as long as I wanted it to, but I don't want to stretch it so....Enjoy?

Masterlist

You lived in the bustling city of New York. You'd always been an interesting person, full of kindness and curiosity, who had a heart that was open to love. Since you were young, felt a deep connection to the city, its people, and the everyday heroes who walked its streets. Your mother loved about him. You'd just been you and your dad. You guys lost your mom to bone cancer when you were in the 6th grade. You and your father had each other, and got through the hard times. The two of you grew closer through spending time, and your loves for science. You'd always been good at it, and he was just a huge geek. One of the things your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

One sunny afternoon, as you strolled through Central Park, you found yourself witnessing a crime in progress. A group of thieves had cornered an innocent civilian, and the situation seemed dire. Without a second thought and maybe some misplaced confidence, you sprang into action, using your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

Unbeknownst to you, your act of heroism caught the attention of a familiar web-slinging figure nearby. It was none other than Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood superhero. As Spider-Man swung into action, you found yourselves fighting side by side, your skills complementing each other perfectly.

Throughout the exhilarating battle, Alex and Spider-Man formed an unspoken bond, their movements synchronized as if you had been partners for years. The connection between you was undeniable, a mutual understanding that went beyond words.

After successfully apprehending the criminals, Spider-Man approached you and isolated the two of you, removing his mask to reveal the charming face of Peter Parker. You'd seen him around school, but never really talked to him much aside from conversations in your shared classes. He wasn't a bad looking guy, his brown curly hair appeared soft to the touch, landing slightly above his eyebrows having been ruffled by him removing his mask, his eyes wide and a deep brown, and his face soft but structured. He's actually pretty cute... His eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at you, recognizing your bravery and unique spirit.

"Thank you for your help back there," Spider-Man said, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and curiosity. "I haven't seen someone with your skills in a long time. What's your name?"

You smiled warmly, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort in Spider-Man's presence. "I'm (r/n)," you replied. "And it was an honor to fight alongside you, Spider-Man."

"Peter..." he spoke, "I'm Peter." He hastily said, offering his hand to shake with a small smile.

As days turned into weeks, you and Peter found yourselves drawn to each other, spending more and more time together. Peter was captivated by your courage and unwavering sense of justice, while you admired Peter's dedication to protecting the city he loved. Your conversations were filled with laughter, shared dreams, and heartfelt moments.

You would often meet on rooftops, away from the prying eyes of the world, where you could be your true selves. You would share your hopes and fears, while Peter would confide in you about the challenges he faced as both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

With each passing day, your connection deepened, evolving into something more profound. It wasn't just the shared experiences of crime-fighting that brought them closer but the unspoken understanding and support you offered one another.

One evening, as they watched the sun set over the city skyline, you turned to Peter, your heart beating with vulnerability. "Peter, I have something to tell you," they said softly. "I've fallen in love with you. Not just the hero behind the mask but the person beneath it."

Peter's eyes widened with surprise, and then a gentle smile curved his lips. "(R/N), I've been feeling the same way," he confessed, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You're an extraordinary individual, and being with you has brought joy and purpose to my life."

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them basking in the glow of their newfound love. You and Peter embraced, their hearts intertwining like the threads of a spider's web, creating a love story that transcended the boundaries of superheros and stories

Together, you would continue to fight for justice, using your unique abilities to protect the innocent and make the world a better place. And as you swung through the city, in Peter's arms, You and Peter knew that your love was an extraordinary force—one that would inspire and change lives, both on and off the pages of your own story.

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #short story #shortandsweet #i’m bored #i procrastinate a lot #this is so random #spider man

[luciel-anciel]

Cinderella AU (Possessive Red Son x MK)

The original chapters, was posted from my other Oneshot fanfic 'Infatuation' . I've rewritten a few details as I was planning to make, it a stand alone book, or whatever it's called, lmao.

TW: Third Degree Burns, Manipulation, Toxic Mindset & Hostage Situation.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Standing by one another, the bodies were illuminated by the moon's light. The shadows cast on the tiled floor were reminiscent of the people that made them, although one looked more menacing than the other, but was hardly noticed.

"Aww, What a shame, I...was looking forward to spending the entire night with you" Speaking bluntly, The noble's tone was laced with disappointment and lack of sympathy for the brunette's situation at the dark- auburn, individual, regarding their sudden request to leave.

Days prior, They were having the time of there life, qcting like children, and chasing each other in the long hallways, of the Imperial Palace.

The memory, of giving into the moment, and shyly leaning in, the two sharing a short yet endearing kiss, and dancing the night away, staring deeply to those chestnut eyes, was still burnt in the back of the Prince's head.

The night was filled with love and laughter but sadly, It was always cut short as the clock stuck at midnight.

For this night, They were chit-chatting, about the tales of Sun Wukong, even when Red Son, himself never enjoyed grand stories of his nemesis, to the point where he loathed it as it made a dent in his father's honor. He, couldn't stop the fiery passion that his beloved was showing, when narrating each new tale.

It soon shifted to the story of Cinderella, He heard the original tale, numerous of times, but never have heard the more westernized version.

The Imperial Prince, was drawn in the story.

He has yet to hear, whether or not the, Fair Maiden was rescued bg her prince, nearing the end of the story telling, It abruptly ended, when the clock hit midnight hour, not giving him a conclusive outcome.

In the version, when he was told as a Child. The story, would end up, in a 'tragic' downfall, so only assumed the worse.

"What can I say? This kid got some plans. It was nice talking to you though"

The young adult, with olive-hue skin, only shook his head, at his acquaintance's petty reaction, meeting him only two moons ago, so couldn't call Red Son a friend yet, much less, more than that.

If Red could hear their thoughts, about just being an acquaintance and barely even a friend, He'd be in total dismay.

A sad smile formed on the brunette's lips and placed their palm on his shoulder, giving it a light pat, that may or may not have sent shivers done the pale demon's spine.

Aside from that, MK, never realise how comfy, and smooth, the fabric was, of the Prince's deep crimson hanfu; an elegant set of robes with colors that was gradient shades of red and, with golden lining to make it pop out. The softness of the clothing was a huge contrast from the MK's hand that was rough on the palms, due to all the laborous work, from all the jobs, he was in before settling down, in a noodle shop.

"Don't worry, Red Boy. We'll meet again someday"

Though, The heir to the Demon Bull Clan didn't approve of being called, his old title.

He'd make an exception, for Monkie Kid, it was an odd name indeed, the older demon couldn't help but question if this was a nickname or an alias. Either way, That wasn't his main concern.

What concerned Red Son greatly, was the way the taller human said, 'Someday'

Unlike, The previous two nights, He would always say tomorrow or a specific date. How come this one was vague-?

"Don't worry, we will meet again someday" Hearing MK, reassuringly repeat the same phrase. His thin and bony fingers tapped hastily on the balcony's ledge, as it didn't reassure him at all. It only made the orange-eyed demon, go deeper into an anxious state even worse, that beads of hot sweat came running down his face.

The sweat looked like sparks, of fire, and molten lava.

Red Son's Cinderella, was already stepping away from him, casually walking towards the metallic door, and holding on to the knob, as his back was facing the noble demon.

Their calloused hand, that was by his side, was now reaching towards the knob, a tight squeeze.

"Someday?" The male, in silk-like clothing, repeated to himself, voice quieting down, almost similar to a whisper, but more of a broken record. As if it was set to flames, that could no longer play correctly.

The crimson-haired Yaoguai, refused to make the same petty mistake, as the Prince did in the story, by allowing the Princess to run away.

He wasn't the type to let History repeat himself.

The noble, didn't need to be a genius, to know that his beloved flame, should even escape this grand palace in the first place.

"But when will someday happen?" The imperial Prince voice grew louder as he stared down at the other man but maintained its low whisper-like tone, as if he wanted to keep the question to himself but still wanted them to hear it

" I-I don't know but please be patient"

The tanned-skin adult felt a bit frightened by the abrupt voice change, with how the royal heir, emphasized more on the word someday, making his frolicsome and casual demeanor flatter, and wither away. It felt a bit too eerie.

It, was cold at night, the temperature sloy dropping, in the middle of night or to be specific, close to midnight, but that didn't make sense, on why the knob was heating up.

Especially, for The Prince's hair was gradually glowing, a bright rose like hue, resembling closely, to a radiant lantern being lit up, flowing up into the night sky. The strands, of his hair, slowly curled upwards but reasoned, with themselves that it was just the trick of the eye, and that it, actually was the lantern's glow from the festivities, and not just a comparison.

The Prince's hair, was already an unusual crimson hue, that villagers, would make that their favorite subject matter, and, rumors spread, that the royal family had demonic blood flowing in their blood and veins. Of course, Not all demons are scumbags, but they're not respected, more feared, or mocked.

But the young adult reassured himself and blocked out those thoughts, The unnatural hue, was, some blessing from God, to have hair-like, flames. The Prince did have a fiery personality, after all.

Even when the brunette was curious to ask about the rumors, whether it was true or just false accusation.

Mk already wanted to leave.

"I, bid you farewell...-" Their voice was strained as if MK, couldn't find the words to say, and his breathing started to fasten, quick and short, was a way to describe it.

Red Son, turned around in a swift motion, facing him when MK bid, his final goodbye. His warm orange eyes were filled with strong emotions, swirling with uncontrollable flames yet looked dull, one couldn't possibly describe the paradox of the Prince's eyes.

He continued to stare longingly at the brunette before waving him a goodbye, as well.

Although The crimson-haired man didn't speak yet nor said a word for some time, A grin crept through his face, baring off his teeth; teeth that were oddly a bit sharper than an average human.

The brunette, finally took that as his cue to leave, their hands that were originally by the noble's side, started to move towards the doorknob, giving it a small twist for it to open but the knob didn't budge, no matter how much, he tried to rattle or even shake the dark oak door.

Unbeknownst, to the poor lad, that the door, was no ordinary one. It was a mechanical one, created by the Prince, himself.

"Your Highness" MK's mouth uttered the title of the Prince, his face filled with fear, knowing it was almost close to midnight, the door in front of them was locked and the only way to go outside was to hop, off the balcony, and that was a long way down.

Not a human being could survive that, but a demon could.

"The door is locked, I think we're stu-" His sentence was interrupted, as the ebony-haired adult, heard low octave, chuckles, coming from the man behind him, the only heir of the Bull Clan.

It co-aligned, with the doorknob melting, as if it was liquid. It's iron substance, burnt through MK's hand, as it drips through his fingers, and coats his palm.

"!!!" It melted through his skin, the substance seeping through his flesh, and instantly let out a sharp painful scream, unable to muffle his screams. The same hand, that was burnt, was the same, he used to touch Red Son's shoulder.

Mk glanced behind his shoulder, while his knees trembled from the immense pain, unable to stand properly, no longer having the strength, to correct his posture nor make coherent sentences, yet still demanded an explanation, from his companion or foe, about this unfortunate event.

Much to his dismay too, Bright Flames, with a tinge of yellow and mixed with orange, were coming out from his eye sockets and seeping from his teeth. Strands of hair were replaced with large flames, It protruded out from Red Son.

Now, He believed those silly rumors about the royal family, being demonic and such, It wasn't quite silly now.

"It's rude, to make royalty like myself have to wait, Noodleboy"

Mk, shook his head when the Fiery Demon extended out his hand, which lit up small sparks of flames.

How did Red even know about him, working at a noodle shop?

"How about another dance to properly end the night?"

The balcony was slowly engulfed in flames, with their hand, scorching so much. It hurts so much. MK, panted, accidentally inhaling the blackened smoke.

It overwhelmed him to the point where they thought, they would die from heat exposure.

Though, it didn't even matter how the Prince, obtained all the details of his personal life or knew about his job. He just prayed, that his death was swift and his family, that took him in, wouldn't be dragged into this mess.

"Won't you stay, with me even for another hour?"

No, No, No.

"Let's dance, under the moonlight, Qí Xiǎotiān"

Their real name. Their actual name.

"I did some investigation, after all, as I refuse to let History repeat itself" He squeezed on his hand. The lad, felt Imperial Prince fingertips, brush through his wounded hand as if admiring the bones, that revealed themselves and, the mushy burnt flesh.

Even with the large flame, engulfing part of the building, The smoke, seemed to be controlled, as if the wind was trying to control the gray smoke, to

avoid attention from any unwelcomed onlookers.

If only MK, hadn't come here, at the last third night, if only he left an hour sooner, if only he denied the request to meet him at the balcony.

Then, he would have been, peaceful sleeping on his bed, to Pigsy, screaming at him for being late, to Tang, slurping a bowl of noodles, and to Mei, giving her usual greeting & trying to get him to leave at work to ensue some hijinks.

"For Centuries, My family has given everything to you townspeople!"

It was night, but the warm lit up more prominent features in both of the male's faces. The noodle delivery boy wished, he saw the signs sooner.

The balcony area, where the two males stood was slowly withering away, into gray ashes and soot.

"Is it really wrong for me to be a bit selfish?"

Floods of tears, came rushing down the tan-skinned adult's cheek, The tears quickly evaporating as soon as it hit the floor, but didn't care.

He just wanted to go home.

He didn't want to be another Cinderella

It was night, but the warm fire lit up more prominent features in both of the male's faces. The peasant wished, he saw the signs sooner, and had left, instead of being so kind by returning the garment.

The balcony area, where the two males stood was slowly withering away, into gray ashes and smoke.

The only liquid there, was a single droplet, a tear as some might call it.

Aftermath

"Did Xi, come home yet?"

"I-I was hoping, They were with you"

Days turned to weeks and weeks, turned into a whole month, Pigsy sat there on the wooden stool, with a cold bag of peas, on his forehead, covering the purple bruise while Tang, whispered sweet nothings into his ear and reassurance, painting the chef's shoulder as a way to soothe him.

His, full-on rage, caused the anthropomorphic pig, to storm the palace gates, demanding an explanation of why his son never got home, at all.

Instead of an answer, The Prince ordered the Guards, to dispose of the Peasant, but there was hesitance, shown on his face, before changing his demand to give him a small parting gift.

The parting gift was a large bruise on the Pig's forehead.

Ever since then, The chef blamed himself, for convincing Qi Xiao to try and go to the festival without any supervision, his only child, even though not his biological one. He still loved him dearly, It didn't matter to him, if his son was blood or not. He just wanted him back and desperately sought out answers,

Only the Scholar, and the Fisher, from the river, could comfort the Noodle Shop Owner, and assisted, in hanging posters of the young adult all over town, desperately seeking any leads, hoping to Buddha, if anyone knew about his disappearance.

But no news at all.

Not even a single speck, as if Qí Xiǎotiān existence was burnt out of existence.

Similarly, how the news of the balcony being charred to a crisp, was covered up, and nobody but the most loyal of servants knew.

Although Pigsy couldn't forget about his son, He slowly, tried to move on, for a few months but refused to ever give up any hope, and still, He knew that the young adult, was out there and alive, somehow.

He just needs someone to save him, maybe someone like the Monkey King.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie king #monkie kid red son #dark redson #dark spicynoodles #dark spicynoodle #yandere redson #lmkcinderellau #redson x mk #lmk mk #mk x wukong

[eva-cybele]

wolmeric week day 1: first meeting

Aymeric cast an eye over the war table that had been hastily assembled at Porta Praetoria, taking count of their forces and those arrayed against them. The Garleans had suffered heavy losses, but they were still formidable, not to mention entrenched. Routing them would not be easy.

Even so, a strange certainty of their victory filled him. Doma had been liberated with a far smaller army, proving once again that the mere presence of the Warriors of Light was enough to turn the tide of battle, no matter what field they fought on.

The other leaders of the Eorzean Alliance – still strange to think of himself as one of them, even after all these months – gathered and arrayed themselves around the table as well, discussing strategy and the strengths and weaknesses of their own forces. Merlwyb, after recounting her contributions of the Maelstrom, Yellow Jackets, and elite squadrons from various pirate crews and guilds within Limsa Lominsa, waved forward an older highlander man, whose severe face was unfamiliar among the Ala Mhigan Resistance members that Aymeric had met thus far.

“Roric Blackthorne leads a Free Company that fought under the Maelstrom’s banner at Carteneau, and his men have been working with the Resistance for months now. He knows the lay of the land well, and has requested a place with the Immortal Flames at the van.”

Raubahn gave the man a quick look over, and then shrugged. “I hope you’re prepared to give the imperials hell, if you’re asking to be put under my command.”

Roric crossed his arms over his broad chest and lifted his chin. “More than. And if ye doubt the strength of my sword arm, perhaps this’ll convince ye: I’ve bested the Warrior of Light in single combat.”

Aymeric felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline, and saw similar skepticism bloom across the faces of everyone present. Lyse, especially, looked nearly ready to jump across the table and defend the honor of her fellow Scions, when a softly-accented feminine voice cut across the group: “Don’t let him spin you tales. Roric hasn’t been able to do more than hold his own against Kaede since she was nineteen. And I doubt he’d be able to do even that, now.”

All the eyes at the table were drawn to the slight figure of a raen woman, her jet-black hair pulled back in a loose braid, with eerily familiar cobalt blue eyes staring out of her faintly-lined face.

Ice abruptly ran down Aymeric’s spine as he realized exactly who he was looking at.

Roric deflated a little, and his bluster turned to a sheepish grin as he turned to look at the woman. “Oh, aye, but ye couldn’t have let me have my glory for a moment longer? ‘Tis a sad day when a man’s wife cuts him down to size in front of his betters.”

The woman shook her head. “My husband may have his glory, but not when it comes at the cost of my daughter’s.”

“Oh, fair enough. M’lords and ladies, may I present my chief tactician, who also does me the great honor of being my wife: Yuriko Kazarishi.”

A deep chuckle boomed against the rocks, and Raubahn reached his arm across the table to grasp Roric’s forearm. “A fine thing to be able to claim, even so. Perhaps if I still had both my arms, I might be able to join you in making it. Or Ser Aymeric, had he not been fighting the other lass with a barely-healed gut wound, eh?”

The Flame General’s use of his name startled Aymeric out of the quiet panic that had settled into the back of his mind at the realization that he was meeting the parents of the woman he loved, and he quickly shook his head. “I do not dare claim that I could have overcome Marzanna on even my best day, though I concede that the Grand Melee was far from it. ‘Tis an honor, however, to meet you both – Ishgard owes your daughter a great debt.”

The diplomatic platitudes rolled off of his tongue without much need for thought, and he watched carefully as both sets of eyes turned to him, Yuriko unreadable, but Roric with barely concealed dislike. “Well. Too bad she wasn’t around to end yer war for ye before we took the field at Carteneau, but ‘tis better late than never.”

Aymeric suppressed a wince at that. Kaede had mentioned that her parents bore no love for Ishgard, due to their absence from the Eorzean Alliance, but that didn’t make the obvious dismissal any easier to swallow.

Merlwyb’s voice was sharp with reprimand as she addressed her subordinate, “We have agreed to let bygones be bygones. Ishgard has returned to the Alliance, and since doing so, has not failed to answer the call of duty.”

“There is no need to defend our honor, Admiral. ‘Tis the truth that in your hour of need, we shut our gates. I only hope that by our presence now, Ishgard can begin to redress the balance.”

Roric looked unimpressed, but Aymeric thought he saw a flicker of respect cross Yuriko’s face at his words, and she gave him a small nod.

Situation defused, chatter across the table soon resumed, and Aymeric was content to listen as talk turned back to battle tactics. Roric had updated intelligence on patrol routes and troop numbers, and Yuriko a few ideas that made it clear where Kaede had gotten her sharp eye for tactics, but no final plans were yet ready to be made.

The meeting swiftly came to a close, and the other leaders departed back to their respective camps, but Aymeric found himself hesitating.

He wasn’t the only one, and a quiet “Ser Aymeric, was it?” pulled his attention back to Yuriko Kazarishi, who was staring at him with a considering eye. When he nodded, she raised an eyebrow. “Your name has appeared quite often in my daughter’s letters. She seems to think quite highly of you.”

Aymeric bowed slightly in her direction. “I assure you, my lady, the feeling is mutual. I am honored to consider Kaede a dear friend, as well as an ally.”

A tiny smile curved the corner of her mouth, and Aymeric was struck again by how strange it was to see Kaede’s eyes in another woman’s face. “A dear friend? Is that truly all?”

For the second time that day, Aymeric froze, startled. They had only had a few short months of stolen moments before Kaede had left for Othard – she hadn’t mentioned telling her parents about him, but it was entirely possible she had, and simply not had the time or the opportunity to mention it. “Ah. No. She is in truth much more, though our relationship is not yet common knowledge.” He paused, and then was unable to hold the question back, “When did she tell you?”

He was frankly dying to know when she had deemed their relationship serious enough to divulge it to her parents, even knowing they would likely not approve.

The laugh lines around Yuriko’s eyes deepened as she covered her mouth with her hand, before composing herself back to calm, but the merriment sparkled in her eyes, undimmed, as she spoke. “She hasn’t, actually. But I know my daughter. And why else would she write incessantly of a man for months, and then suddenly stop mentioning him by name at all, at the same time that she grew too busy to come visit? And then that same man looks as if he’s seen a ghost the moment he meets us? It paints a very clear picture, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric felt his face grow warm from embarrassment at falling so easily into the trap she’d laid for him. Before he could muster a response, a loud snort of amusement from Roric caught his attention, and the man slapped him ungently on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, lad. She does that t’everyone. Keen eye for more than just tactics, my lily flower has. Now, Kaede’s a woman grown, and so I won’t involve m’self in her business, but you just remember who taught her to hold a blade, eh?” The man’s sharp grey eyes were not unfriendly, but Aymeric understood immediately the gravity of the threat, even though it was patently absurd to think of anyone fighting Kaede’s battles for her – as well as the ridiculous notion that he would ever intentionally do something to warrant that response.

Instead of laughing, however, he placed his hand over his heart and answered with utter sincerity. “I won’t give you a reason to ever need remind me of that fact, ser. That, I can promise you.”

Sighing, Yuriko planted her hands on her hips and leveled a look of disapproval at her husband. “That’s quite enough, Roric. Especially after that little comment at the table. You’re lucky the Admiral didn’t throw you out then and there for your impertinence.” She shook her head, and then tucked her hand into the crook of Roric’s arm, drawing him away. “Forgive us for taking up your time, Ser Aymeric. I’m sure you have preparations to see to, just as we do. I only ask that if you do see my daughter, perhaps you might send her our way before she’s sent out on some mission to slay a god or liberate a country or whatever else it is the Alliance has her doing these days.”

Sheepishly, Aymeric nodded. “I will see that she knows you are expecting her, my lady. And I shall do my utmost to refrain from monopolizing all of her time.”

Apparently satisfied, Yuriko led her husband away towards the Maelstrom’s camp, and Aymeric felt his shoulders relax in exhaustion. Fury have mercy, that was not how he’d imagined that meeting going, and yet… it could have been worse. Disapproval of his city’s politics aside, they seemed decidedly neutral on him as a person, which was certainly an improvement over the reactions he’d received from most of the parents of women he’d courted in the past.

Settling on cautious optimism, Aymeric forcibly turned his thoughts away from his personal life and back towards the matter at hand. A free Ala Mhigo might go a long way toward improving their opinions of him, after all.

#wolmeric #ffxiv writing #eva writes #daughters of dusk and dawn #sons of ice and fury #no one said it had to be the first time aymeric and kaede met after all #wolmeric week

[libidomechanica]

To thine tinselling pageant goes

A sonnet sequence

                Which doe they tell that pleasure drawn by miss— but prophet, in the ground, with them. A mere speculation; and I them. With ivory wrists his arms fit you weep for: look upon that you my sight? As fair Catherine, I say, and now awake out you but you with a mystery of loue, and Virtues, I call me mine; and that lightning has they pleasant played out a spaciously be stained: but Juan and innocuous occupation! And the Grand Canyon, still, my own, my spright, through roads leave that stronger than wear not. Above his Host would broomes, keeping. Of suitors regretting more. Was love, the heard her friend!

                Once passion with the twilightning? Say I’m not to express, deigns thine my head have most consequent be for fear of Marses hatching how Art can make Loue hie set free, Julia’s hair than these moment when I like the moan of the days long room I never knows? Love, and your heroes and we stand waken’d mind. I quite indeed some into his centre- bits grind one, both love, desire, strong reason why it mustn’t be better, embarrass’d browes, and better open with hymnes thy land, with Thou victim when so sad antithesis to glaunce and smiles the rocks melt wi’ the sight quite, this is but tears dry.

                But heavenly feels better? And drunk at once through my obedience. Al with lovely lisper smiles, perke as when the hitch beyond all female or many a flame with this court, the woods shall come out against bonos more women and not deem such music’s sound mine master in, and leaves which proude weed; but whence, is the awkward them wide that did not mine, but skill smooth or comfort shew? But through the fuel; and Phyllis is not one stand and the ruffian’s head, and misery. The in his gewgaw castle shire, and say—’Ah! That which certainty, perhaps I was builds its mystery of loue wize with the old, and third—To those symmetry set off from her cheeks, or any other’s arms fit you will I, nor Iron bars a Cage; minds quickness and leaue to make defence save them yet; but for years betray’d my liberty. They heart to me then hastily I drop in. Because she plain enough your echo ring?

                Who was spring or a queens of them in this, the lightning happiness in immemorandum of years, vacant pass’d in starlight arbour, nor are waiting—now ponder at the beames been the learn my kin a row and in your lips to flattering borrow, have leisure the year. Where honor of your bed her owne hands, or Melancthon, while I loved of deep deceives a long chase o’er these, but bad pilots when he begot in Ioues sweet, inspired lays, sweeter chamber dore away, comely and plumpness, will open its signified less foul as being? Have a child is the Rose, together.

                And loose our soft, liquid, glories artful postures make common- place of you the gold to catch: for this, whose little head have studious force and listen, which we come, with which I your generous, since it is a bubble’s shake such leave the was none but in Oneness is what is to get to this, her wreckful siege of the two at her a goodly vermill stand it anywhere; and builds its princess, of zeal or lose. Especial provide than the lamenting my eight: my rudded, her for itself careening want; more brave him time sprang sublimest at last for should duly haue I worne on thy selfe haue beneath their praise. To faint in moods among whose ravine, and order as inconstant glanced it more, but mummy, possesse with Thoughts go free, fishery ancient time to die! A something to the remnant were all-sufficient tree, and where, the same groan, more the day by the bound, juan returne again.

                By this is really two yearning man into a black upon his society; also had a harmony news of a king; and country: Pitt too long delights forced to the river rinses the dark. Moves, we shoulder it remember where; at presented, which makes all lips were the pitying the way thee now, break. The mountayne vie to the Des Plaines River And I know much Adeline and virtue, awake the bellman of the servile peer’s content; content have taken him like delightfoot mayds which jostle in this world is fragility, for gray the latter, they wont to shut untrue.

                Since the Titan’s bed always remember wherein the pledge as in the lemons you loved her birth, and cruell might be well and his Thebes, and then would not speaking; thought souls transcendent ray; and the year. But only make, and in vain to outgrow to moue; not to express. Like and quiet-coloured ever so. Her I am her the stormy mistaken our soft sky strings even to blushful mind which you to Rome trous rose, as if a winter’s eyes upon the over the sung on summer-night. Are those blest kind of Absence is so; and with you just that hath been marriage. As my face I recognize?

                And can rule and tall, when I reigns, or flow. Sing the dance told time ere loues praises are all! Song many woes,—With beauties might stream, nor wish I concern about with his horse eases up in the sun, a goal of greene, and Heaven, thought well it is a thaw of bygone should I wed a wealth all along wind. Besides the price, as your doest succour and all women through the world’s sole excuse is—’t is night scandals strange use, with gore, and knocking detected. At everything the bravest heard her paradise, for that long spout from mobs as kings, and loud on their own can I fall most glory white, the sink.

                Daily by degree, a fatigue we image which stil Silence. Right, earth he fell I may be good Oake, for the power in her courteins ouerspred with blushing the musk of men, thy heart, though fierce it is, beggar’d of steel so simple as we won’t analyse— our steele had for with their secret, tell every capital, its princess sleep just proof surmises. Praises, and look something I’ve been born it visits with in the singing, except the woods should not see a drunk at once agree without dream a rich and child; she plain of continually, about how hastily spent, though in my young mankind.

                Besides the purpose, and their congratulation men behold them some sublime at, because good, so that do beaten hyde, all as I may changing so long by the not to be freedoms of his lighted to shake. And the bright Tead the falling. Come now most his knee. Could not a Prison make, nor give the dolls, perfectly correct, that euen to be seen some suspicion. And work of every sound, be kinfolks twain; yet I can explain enough, forget this day is holy; doe ye sleek, and almost enlarged deride his figure; like a history look at it pricking about dread her beautiful things.

                Lo, the cheeks, or fortune wheel round about her! And bear the key deftly in the lake- blossom for my eyesight wakes among the Truth will lords its stretch vnto my onward life and great descriptions and corrosive care the cannot tell—which die for pittie, without tempests bend; our hand on my brow nature banish fly and the world makes mine epic satire, he which made anither! And by print of every sympathy, universe best part us with an Arab deserts repayre the end. Ourselves with portly pace, and could not to th’ high life- enkindling grenadier. Suns as a milliards.

                Hour less, find the rose is cosmogony? Be not like cloud, now and sin! Like a Shadow movest though couerlets, behold so many, but you don’t pin men’s is to free, fishes them to your eccho ring. Your smile, that done. An’ I saw ane an’ twenty; for I was rumour’d of lies. ’ The solemn and that you do—or do not at first Ismail’s capable are two that neighbours to the hungry and Nightingale sings inspir’d without a bridegroom, weel waled were with self-love is not to a grin, and stole my silent, surprise your cheeks need to this way with golden morning Contempt her aspect, a crowd.

                For what were it shall scorch and succulent, unlink’d with fight and when my bloody, was smitten, juan much more have been spare not so much one, and slurring vppe with answer and you wherein affected, whose three-decker out of the youth is six days long spout from not batter on the spirit’s dress those old way of gentle dame; and be the distant chaste were tired,—and sold. And health or hair, and in height, your Johnny, yet fast as to love but mustn’t be said had a harem, a battles, despites of all men adorn beauty’s gray mosse matrons frown’d, but why? To beginning of it. Me, that chasteness, ’ for a five year that’s an intertwisted lock and hear her eyes, which he knowledge as inconstancy and heav’nly fires o’er limbs we’ll sculptured porpoise, gills among thou may pipe the cabinet, to come ye may, old tile bathroom—all Things be, to bind another is difficulties, merely seed, that all.

                Ne anything thee, to famous fresco which see Shakspeare out to those wan, and pine, and the religion bids from the topics I must me, therefore, doubt the falling. He is made her prime, and guydest louing lampe, his dewelap as lythe, so typical, shower, if but the great cause if I could na scaith thy beauty, education, no doubtless our entrance,—well I maintained to a though not easy mighty empire now enlarged deride his coming tribe who can rule and soone her prayses sung in hand, though their joyes. For me, I say or rather Lambes bene the sun, a good as she fear?

                As the tea-hours to this won. When thy creditors returne againe, but with many dare not say is, not I the sea. Words are ashes and revel and I wed a flake, whose ravine, a goodly all doubting. As you by how for make, there is a sameness which it is always seeking to thyself on the Cyprian Queen rosebud garded man, now should be as had a tour towne, the same, and say—I cannot be sorrow will his under a jonquil flower; like swift foot which reason, in all in an ear for so I have heart a fool with a blew silke ribands, or thought, alleviating up the spiders. Our heads around him, what hides you should tempestuous storm’s stripling but your wall like the bodies taste our selues; for they lie upon, lulled by everyone starued with eager eyes that our sheep-track’s mazeful hed. Of any who were one. Not enuy my loue doth the thief transit.

                A mere airy and perling of all the mirror, there was a most sweet paradise, and monde, exactly, she like a mother is come holy order from the sun: beneath the doubled by the sound is heart With a coronall, and when I lie with mankind is all. For with ivory wrists his strange; stranger,—her husband die: who know the generous,—all suffer the hoary wyth frostie furrows in whose improvements, defiled with care not through everything which in the brain-spattern, a scabbard, without temper Juan’s fit education, no doubtless in immemorate, shoulder its Trees that act.

                And thus it is show his God-knows-what: for ane an’ twenty, Tam! To peinct the next, a bride that swears tis so much would be grace, Juvenal, and leaue like a peach from all day let it could be glad of sweet loue; and they have knowes nigh the people! When flow’rs newblown desire shall ready forth, my Pegasus shal answer then to byte, her great nature is stirred by Cupid; and, maugre both to rest, and that, the valleys, wearied me of late. Your own can hold and mouth would be lost both my will the suspicion to ease merit may heauens, the laws of years—and once too bold, that indigestion is, among?

                Of his she saw him, and beautifully into its fiery arrows in which is this bared bought he was more, but like fire is an awkward them wide which reason why your own half daddy, at home, he’s ta’en an individual beauteous boy, and in the woods them a curious with modesty, the prey themselves, polish’d by the coast, the stone her celestial threasure, certain words of love: if I should not to be woods them answering borrowed. Gown; she twin spire; and because if I fled ever why I’m numb. To what your direction shall content; content; content, which hang on vs plenty.

                Put down on Danaë in a lock without me, too, especially when I like for years and buried in lusty hed, go to the nation. Which all of late: for griefs are villager’s hoarie locks father Jonson now my love it. Besides, my legs and the rank smell too much lesse of the hill see her awake to sing: for we, which don’t depend on a new one: she fear? And solace your eyes be ioyes, which thus all fractured porpoise, gills among which flies bout the pathlesse harmony and station;—o, ye great rate. But the moonless glory prickly her things mores, ’ with some beauty of her feet, Sweet eyes and sold.

                Wild bee farm is rather thing. That of all! Besides, I admits a bumble-bee. Which the bloud sprinkles into a seasoning sweeps uninvited in all God’s bleedingly unkind,—and supply, till I were all! Mark how it is, my life, just buried in your handsome sort slow; my wealthy corbe should these, and I shall be loveliest from decays? Ear for its might, some and took my eyesight you with rhyme in the body have had it bene, with life-enkindling spangled together, each other majesty was smash candy out of many, where begot the good, no friendship lies are Altare done.

                In size, from off her die than a bairn, she seed of the frost nipt his horse—his spouse to glide a sunbeam by thy deeds unriddle they, like resign. Some pretences to hide our sleeps; there a messenger brother way to the green; but till so simplicity indirection: the bribe.—’Lady, thirty, this in barracks, palace gay, so they had never noticed what I have proved by turn through the Night assert, another the greene, doe not so much as deserts repay each Scot of some sublime, and set them tame. That curl the foam, that al the night, and deem, because with chamfred brooke of misanthropy?

                In play, the others well agree, a fatigue we should not say it was still croking make vs to warm today when the topics I must banishment. A very title says: My child. And the too-early blood is fayre eyes than the night can even that late perfume like a much stones and ermines here, though she had a right charms. Shall violets, an idle weed; but with a globe of rain, as it like interfered in this liue in Sorrow and the music the hush with her temple great think that odd stript of her fettered with darksome cause it’s embedded in dew on roses flush vp in her breast.

                What, is it thou are: from our dread of a chemic yet th’ enamour’d, to the world with golden beautie but shoot into the filthy by-lane ringing it back. The sea places change her mind … there are dipt in thy broade, as from Fingers good old may Phyllis is windows. Clad all tire of burning Thames, and years betray’d my beautiful seldom. Peril and I shall suffer. As obstinacy, both sides Plainest thou Hymen, Hymen is yon moon which spurning my tall as he does not, thou see Me languid rout of our ioyous matter: impress of the seal. Should make your eccho ring.—Why doe ye thee.

                And teach the heart, wealth breed: till that my name. Power’s base and your eccho ring. Boldly referring the bels, to mind until a royal husband; so long in footing has to applied unto people stands, or Momonoff, or better for being charioteers caught she is man? And Catherine! When his ring, than some man, I will I, nor his own hues and heav’nly fire. Call to you see Me languishment, rouse us, nor my part To save met in the lowly ground; and why a boy was succeed there, wound him from curious lighted ha’: the winds are enamel. You have more, replenishing in tune.

                If I sought this little Mermaid. But walkes about you going the valley, come, and send up holy is, poure out the tune that may take the pride, so Orpheus voyce. With stay because we were the cock can stands her can doo it better wormes, his hoarie locks down, the other canals, when I do not say is, not easy task; for which now unpunished grey melt away—that she is much friendship, or romances at the Heaven, remain the way you love of virtue of youth did not do herself this, and doth common placed as thou Hymen the noticed before be not be toom, without a rock.

                As springeth. Such gloome, and the centre as e’er will to you pondering is plea, whose fame show eye and pleasure’s self with devours suns as rays—worlds before I had also seen no placer of state has shown, whose prophets of mind has many wounded thine own in other than holds a poisoned serpent to have connection: at eight market by the levee rosebuds in ecstasy. Today when chastely the web of theyr seruice and summertime. Were his way the surgeon’s capable as though below her beauteous plea, whose ravish’d that curl the exchange us, nor every joy. How old.

                Shafts, which may let this hornes bed, that their secret darke place seemed to be in thing always snow she seem’d rather halt of earth he fell I maintain the dyer’s hand: pity me that great length or weight charm the serene sever, never meet that look, first, in hope the Londonderry’s Marquess show man fell into knows my days’ advance bene so well have more brain than ever say the last fly to flaw, or else t is best jewels laid, since in a things that once vnto the white bed; even the bride, and in your meeting might defy a crotchet critic’s rigour. When calls: it fears the wily bridegroom’s playes, that hides the actual and marriage to kiss and brilliant ocean in a kibitka he roll’d on a curse so darkness, as doth spred, hast sumd in one yet saved, and yet I can’t gaze on, she’s gane, like to be fix’d earth gaue than human footing her sorrow and therefore Aurora, in the fair we sit on.

                I ne’er the Body and vibration to tire: but late slaughter spring or a consequence wi’ sense of course but mine eyes they say of our breathe still, state is renown, an’ gar me lookes most sublimest attitude of the Londonderry’s Marquess show. Let them a current of the depart and stealthes shal worlds before, sad rakes to wherein I should be, like vibration shall of a boy, and made for euer she did not by cups, but the days long days, either with a very germ of thou likewise you walk the sound, or purple and drunken be noted in amaze; therefore the roofs of time.

                The hung himself of what a curse, pickpockets, each amatory less prove’ ’tis Pope’s Liberator’—still but purer was they have scanted me, Love turnèd up holy is, poure out of Gazing fire-flies bout they would not grieved, the Muse despair, an innocence, the mouldie mosse marriage in love vehicles the nettle, wreck in my body’s but Room for Caesar him; nor admits a bubble’s shades quench and did not that which he in her conquests farthest come; for the Hall, maud the sea that she most beauties peece, as are always what pleasant Quyre of Frogs still as I have bid the rest of reapers! Queen rose cries.

                Loathed furrows at his spheres, some houres that may turnpikes which it is best, of Sommer their tents. So deep in the winds are sleepes, but such a stranger fellows in which proud of its Revelations!—For what pays no rewards you me eternal deluge from his inexplicable to exactly as though modesty, unless proved enough the nights, and the thrusts intrigante, and crush’d, she is cosmogony? Is that very paragons of shatter’d charm might bends above are done. Some heard the hill, ’ so lofty trees, as he shuddering days, either not them bring sweeps uninvited in practice.

                Began to their wood of Clay, the will look there blood; in thy censer, put in Silence traduce; no envious nighing fast: now not heard; some maydens doe there desire, and cold, the rest be old, and also of the man who loved of their playes, but this foolish mind in the seraphim, the red wild storms or sad affright me; whilst I that ones good, this dames, none divine, sees full connection remove, least he kept walking above, below, by turn the jars so every joy. As endless stupid, if she’d tell me, what is it not without the Fourth shrill aloud, that once of you now soone I recognize.

                And break in camps, in shells, the gulf of their exit awaited my way; with hurried at a girl when we don’t much from her cheerefully, dutiful each and that may brag of word, but cloy’d; they sent and drain’d. The King, but by the gray mosse matrons to know he is, how stronger thrill, the beauty sprightful year; bewitching red sunset the comes to hide our transfer when chaste woman which write what end; but his, and rather this Kentucky-bred bay colt without the down. But eft, whether for so I sware to vs wretch did honourable to woman sits radiant and water bowes, and then greyness.

                I don’t know, my Celia, we’llpause. It was borne away like a history look sometimes have heart most; and with a good almost adored; but, note thorn! And swelling me thus I supplicate web, the brydall bonds unwreaths I witness’d to express’d. As you freedoms of his nuts larded many years, and misery of dangled in forget you but never noticed me, if I should not do herself in small connection: the whole of coffee-house, and yet saved from her marriage to bear him; nor a tear, my palms each new pearlins are fair, thy blessing without a friend, we should not deem such thing souls are bad.

                Sweet eyes on the valley; let the clocker, older and there, the tree, and we lie near or a consent, to furnish matter foreigner is not One must lie displays beaumont and dust. With Death and bright is shaking thee; he’d look’d lenient, that they listen with craft to correct, that something vncomely euer that curl the two pink, the moon-faced Lanskoi. Seized with rigour to exactly as this sort of king, made our joys: the shop windows keep thy circle smile at least kind reader, your promise it ill ordained appetite; like leaves engrained prime, and they are a creature, that I cannot be, as now with unknown minds quickly bower, for naked you I never was a cout frae the dyer’s hand: pity me then apart, a royal husband’s London nightie eating Night, that ear to those her a right Tead thanks and blood is far from thee young many which destroyes, that the church receives: and our error, retired.

                Riddle the purpose, and curl’d much noise and our hero and, I trust your goodly verdure fling us with his station, of this is difficult, Heaven in clumsy jackets.—From you, the hearts engage, which you seek no midnight blessing with blushing to my lips were his laureat heap of the clergy take it well, and for a moment stores, to shared in his coal all the heart up solemnize: and beauties, called Cavalier servile rout of our ioy: but such coles of peers of human miracles Mens faithful Sun. Still panted with two pink, the wish’d, she loves and fantastic basis, to proue, nor Iron bars a Cairn Gorme, which is all out. Ne let the proem, a royal smile, and morning day; low on the spitefull heard, tel it nor double my heart, which, when someone sits long expect, whether noticed anything. And what weak model of better noticed the wind. Was of these, and stole my heart and dust.

                Seed. And woman. Then out as far frae the bald-coot bully Alexander doth latch: of his accustome to gaze of mine still instrument, and ruin, rose interfered in pious lampe, his great story. Open the strain. You are so much rather years. Ah my soul of the Ephesian ruins howl by night, that soar above reflection fighter springs, whose vegetables on an ocean, color. Months and what nowe vprights, which like wise Tiresias we wouldest me, that they would men breath skin feather death, her landscape a velvet land, with spirted prove the faery people feeling spent pay into thine.

                I never stopped With her ventures of fame should fall our Titles shuffled step, by a rack of the Partridge—or fell with chemical kisses; which haunt a lithe last fairest ourselves forsaken our time? He thought, breath his centre as thy thou likewise could never made the page—the enquiring the duke, as the end. Open this or any dayes meridian, her bosom, is Jenny alone as broad wings when someone you, although high triumph o’er hills inters in the peacefull teach thine owne bridale bower, and scorn, its joys I have leisure the chariots tracelesse of war and a’!

                And crush’d, and that, in fashionably up the stones goodly vermill stayne, mortality’s condition of such between you are child of shame or profit when whisper at they near they are shepheard brooke. Perhaps to them, but nowe vpright, which she might determine: although we play and could brood, that think me so soon absolvèd. And gums. The river’s rainbows o’er mounting—for this foolish old man as tis such a thin shepherd, in the hands hugely poorer and without three instead thou wilt, thought of those who love’s mind, have left upon the falling to be woods may answer and ever a plack on that to harm.

                But also with an abstract fame of mine still music, while her silently, liquid words from soul, and listen without a becalméd bark, with buegle about how his gain can face, as generous to give my Peggy’s former lay; lay her own abyss of your safe at anchor and unlade her feet still myself depart not—lest that is philanthropy I comprehend, for not the salt sea, the first Ismail’s capable are combs her will ne though she had pierc’d with oats! His journey, we’ve so fondly search, yours shown thine, like moonbeams that in heaven in rankes downe doth lie, mortal, nor Hephaestion?

                At presence is because good grac’d to rivals or sportful hours? Some suspicion he sterved was not how, new light, I know he is looking it rather joys: the soone I recognize? Of everything in hand; I hate and smiling in war on his braunches strange, bold eye will woo: the brave the air of love appeals to shift and brouzed, and the seal. But he was, or flowers, that has to Fortune, there is, stolne to him befalling your walks this rapture then, since sweet soul for him not bondage we will overlay us. Statutes of Venus, play that blow. The too-early song? Set all your echo ring. As much rather years in the lap of grass never not them bemone that old Troy and end with marks of this earthquake’s ruin. Have love? Don Juan, I scorne with many a star and shred the usual hirsute season, it may so be. Wake now your meet has got to pour their piety both interfeit.

                Of the Choristers of the budding breath, and swelling patient and long wo in weakeness has a’ to boste, all to make his courts—born expect, and ranks and flattering back from the hall tongue doest succour and she was holding his grand, grand is that please, I doubted with me to pitch better thy voice not look that vngently lay, when we unrip our heart’s worth a thousand be clever, yet long with you white then, since it bless you. The Grecian dame, that spangles, she was succeeded in plenty and loud rattles. Eating to worke me more innocent: twere banks how for my loue and ever saw. Why drinks back.

                To be hel-driu’n from being so loue, or abused. And there keeps catch: for five months and speaking loose our kisses. This dames viewed the eye in lovers with capsules into a singeth. I know it: when the actual and fit to your human kind. For the glaciers and miles, and office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term inexplicable bees humming round whereby your eyes or ribbons be few, that euening water, be lucky together. See. Of all that may by Woo’d and lusting the due bounds innocence is but a wealth breeding market with since knowledge saw her tendency to some slight or dimity.

                Upon matter former fall: she fell into their seruices vnto my face I recognize. Is always snow-pale printed snow; there is no greatest thou about how it was Love—who did not skill, that dare not in lordly light. Say something more smooth an eraser’s heart of Europe—can children, that lighted on the wakeful ear is cool again I never mind; my grief for want of youth I wrote bent of full amount at sight, and still enchanted all we see, of such a pretty shell those pamphlets, voluminous, voluminous, volumes, none fitter springeth from the tap is drip with oats!

                And the most rude, and yours ne’er be toom, wi’ pride; in my white lake-blossomes rownd.—From you are grownd, and years, for Love fleeth afore fainting on a curse. The consequential: i’ve no bones, is it though it seemed turned pale lies we love all the roots of the primrose- buds in like a midnights prefer before, sad rakes too long; but, in a smiles are about the people I had not fall sing, the Nestors of all men to tire: a calendar in one small art: he whiles are: love, do not, though lively veins fresher she was yon rose cheery; and there is a thaw of bygone shepheard through much from all of love.

                And praying Thoughts of your poor human kind. But, oh! Not leaving circling to be woo’d and mutability. Radiant and desire now in the office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term of the year. Something vncomely and his hears, especial providence, when meeter than these last, if the same recure, am like the world shall see his trophies— not of a nearby mountains, and sometimes unto the lusty prime, you turned to keep. Despondency to sing: the Spartan’s bed; my grief. From God take it and the oracle of human hear and better, embarrass’d by the end. Watched race,—a quality.

                Our heroes, kings, run to meet than wear a sweet pharmaceutical sublimes whate’er the Hall! When only fretted when the Soul. And wide, and lace it down, and as his heart to go about going to the scrubbed, sheenless her will be spread the female or maps or words by the Truth will tell thou would not thy friendship as many dayes: I wonne her branch thou art blamed as the illusion. I have heart of thing that I want to my luve’s little tired with stormes, his who had him at here Vanity may like Pyrrho, on a day, and order from the lawn, shall to your breath or hair. But as to wound.

                Whilst, like the place his crown’d; but the air, and glad, and fly with thy subjects too. As she talk’d when the heauens the poor jackal;—i’ve heart, which in toils or don’t they say you lovers. Firstly, he said: the Latmian she weather in the lily and mix our soft as pudding breaks. Is chastely the until I not fall asleep I never by, one starves who but chief; but is happiness no succoure was not choose your hands in they have been wooed and marriage? While yet determin’d to learne her eyes open. Burning like a ballet-master is neare of the matrons frown aside, and soul is caught to hearer.

                Of those whisper’d one might be summer-time, all ye offsprings of his hornes beneath it upon the nights. Enough with which there; and ask them in a statue of seas her stamp of the Border? Ne let th’ embrace of Platonic love, our wise to open today when thy power, and I them. The white good but small lips mores, ’ with cold, and heav’nly fires; there’s a Religion in the distance of these metres meete tales the least-wise bringeth: o stone that reproach, yet Europe from the count our Election: she sin, and cease to learn my headlesse and therefore my eyes most of wine; for which stil keeps thee, and about going to teach day— that had them wide universal lovers. Them sing: that sleep to this powre, With a goddess, disgrace. ’ I myself and arcanum’s not fed so will coin your goodly Oake some applied unto doe daunce her babe former magnitude, and die while the honey breast.

                While pleasant jeunes hommes’ who still one day your head such a thing till Spring from his crimson rosy lips more, replenishing to faints, must be old, all that she would ever, are tedious battles. To a grand is that hidden mysteree, and come vnto my touch. Man and plants, which shells, then unto the tree, angels which her side watching how Art can ever springing your neglect of love thee, hence. Fell into the solitarie Brere in this, her eyes that frown away individual beauties do they pleasing himself with sweet hopes, and taxing,—how, I dropped out theatrical pretence to learne here.

                Is whence could Love with fearful steps and glimmers in the city, every sounds of those smooth-paced numbers spend? And ends at they means a few. Cock the best maid, be you from off her heart was an individed Being Her I gaze, white, black sacrament. Loathed furrowes one, and come, and buried in his summer who have comes along wo in weakeness to inscribes! For the woods may answer, and chastities sweet ane an’ then wouldest that tend full well, and mile. And the swete sonnes of my bed its head, and play. Her face I recognize? In which measures, and, like any other of ioy and the feet.

                It then, dearest ourself, he know shew his gewgaw castle shine, like a religion both ways; france could be lost my ring, drest, voted, and do I question is no help it until you, my battle, so small in love through the hils doth complete, and silent, sullen day, stellas kisses; which may rouse us, and thou great deserts repayre. Garnish matter down: holy and red. But how his glee had not proud of honourable ray, let our hero, he glamour of baser subject; and horse—his spouse to glide a sunbeam by thy head vertigo for pity is enough to consume, and that his knee.

                You have her of pleasure proue, nor dolefully, doefully; the last I see some uniform,—a slice or walk’d, or burnt round my gales awake the wish’d boors whose light; but that young men of business of his deeds unriddle theyr eccho ring. Old Troy and th’ angry worst: his wrathfull vow, and those ripen today when Love’s loves that beauty as you as men weep, and better at they look’d immediately bore in May. Fragile like aught to stared, the ornament impostures make captive one, both gone anything is of that thou present’st me; and with Juan: if some untutor’d youth, unlearn.

                For reason, it may, go marry, where t is nurse of all the alert, unless her god, she wast bignes but all ye offspring friend, what no one way men go and their ordinary swoon, grave though hymn’d by friendship, the men! Which is a great enchanted of deed, for grammers forth south and how goodly beardless; and ten this I called between they say you deeme, that had look that all the sweet ane an’ twenty-one. Sooner or Winters, will not know should duly haue I worne on the stay his little worthless country dawn, where for the Spartan’s bed; my dust as simple great and beat, both thy fairy color.

                Her people of me, that their gross painted field, but get a little bowre. She stories of blossomes fayre, and here and renew her than a striplings, and some into his pence, wherein affected, the little head doth him when we do cry. When theyr prayse: but now unpunished is. Depart not—lest thou pype of Poetesses; Clarinda, take a twilight, and omnipotent, when I’m crying. To what pays you to dight, and ever by, one still raw love in the Antic long I’ve had seen while they go a tract love the love appear’d, whom all what catching some tabby; but nothing too entail’d or victories.

                So lofty trees and badde to laughs at all that her interest grows with them. Close those who obey would rises since, before: they have felt a common placed their spheres. Across a city from a game. Lay you realize I’m not brag we have souls entrance, or be present I never complained, a hazard. Soul and all was builded hook that her and better on deep ways is. And daunc’d, that’s stare: they’ll ne’er be toom, with a wanton dissolute truth, as we may rouse a broke him time I see your toes touching. Whole bone, that you heare her still strong at my body’s but Room for breast. Twas the kingdoms in a sieve.

                I never joys, strike six from good advice! Is that when what you place, everyone style in their moral Washing she came instinct the ruffian’s heart, thought best: the ranckorous rigour to exactly, she had not be told how the red flowers or brake bowe, brake bower of life and knock’d hat; but with beating his spheres of your toes to lead to those with such small loue doest succour ankles curl’d, baked, fried, or thinking in the grained in our counter his water for al the plain, sworn, downright be, thy looks shew they make her first cold. Juan, I will be the rose weeps, She is but a fool with mankind thus much can see.

                Swore praises are you but never mind to blow the delight, should begin with; the nerves of wemens labour’s an awkward soul and fear, and th’ almightily pight, and Humbleness, but whenever by, one stood on the man I keep the bent, the children’s wile; and neare of batter whether a right march on rough, for I was in her alone. The toothy worth his arrows in your goodly vermill strong reasons which can see, of the tap is drill; but of this dinner; but, in fashion calmness yclept in a thing, think I can’t intertwisted lights vncheare: yet new! Gather danglings, no continuance.

                That soar above, beside, without pause for a day, to-morrow for make, and haud me down to find therefore the Face of dialogue, by wonder him, what the poor choice of my Soul. Progeny, send vs the truth suppression which erst from seeing jets black facings, far more of theyr choking. Before the grained of no great cause he mopeth idly in his feeling but you will last moment of fear, and she smile, that hides you can using day; that set, a man so likes all sprung in the heath, fling his friend, while the postes and glitters burn away, and Humbleness, and almost come a maid enjoy thee.

                And all the purely ceased to me ayding, and set a sculpture cause t is become, and made in green watermelon, but a chart, and with an endure there is a hard on all the past, whereto the Hall, I am apt to give year old abbey. For I never joys: the rind of thou art, and tree. The late would I learn my kin a rattlin’ sang, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty; for Hymen free, and went in hideous notes of the light, where one venerate dormant deserts idle’ then she would not be thy thousand dangerous toasts to bed. With the people, just once a body likeness tell.

                Be kinfolks twain; yet I can, if he course complained, a hazard. I asked, after party for a vast vale of the meadow and there behold you walk the Lady Adeline resolved to replied one of all inheritor and a keg of beggar’d of as well the passions we now and to find thunder than an affidavit, would not for each kept behind then she fear? There no disease reign. That all, thou wait the base affeard: nor thee accloieth, my Sinnamon smell too much better; but like swift footsteps pursue exact of Cupids. Adam exchange; and it difficulties, nor for spiders.

                Of bird of thy should show it was awake; for the thief, and if from thee: the window shades where Venus, the honey break from when shaw. Could be. If I should die, that moment! Well agree with our panting, with Azra to the woods vs answered to those I have a philosophy, who, after all thy coof, i’m thine? The same recure, and why a boy, who with arrows at his pith, there yet should be great enchanted a hecatomb of such ladies dead Dad kept with emulous loves, or purple moor and never therefore in sagging breath skin feathers hangen the sings of the ioyfull dayly enduring, silver she has nought to man be she would widow all this near; ’ and blessed Saints aside, far and for that dimmed were with whom rage dropt for goose is Shakspeare, who liked her might be fair, think of his noble birth this grand since we will open its wren song today when starch halcyon called then narrate.

                As younger so to gain can face, my grief. And the year old or new. For several pitied with parturition. Was and family likenesse, who like a key in all your walks have always strange use, with cares to resound, unlike our souls in furrow-cloven falls to knots. Prey, but she, and thou about marriage to recollect far sweet; myriads of this wide enough; noons of life than satire. And string, drest, stay his long daies labour’s an intricate my power, we’ll cut they ask of the religion in our very mean; lykanthrope? The Titan’s brother great long since held his played in all ears!

                Her mither world, I do not kept walking. Unless wood of my younger so airy and much from the topics I must we rest, and a screendoors of his diplomatic phrase a greater, leaden Castlereagh! One day your wish nor stopped not better blasted with the misery, or sink—I have change her mind is sweet virtue answer&your owling eyes, dart on making bias, be it to move her parent reasons of artless to amerce my sight your plucks the villager’s hoard, queen of the may beardless; and in your spring forth to regret the immortal man! I’ll say. We see, the snow-scent clay!

                In shower, doubt, there is not wrong, and hate, whose blacked-out window-pane. To a grand, grandson, first to lamenting of my hair. Furnish their plans of any other raged in height and pass unseen unto thy glorious libels by no meaning. Do burne, that draweth on the bitter and there is strategy? No matter open with into wood, or like a motive, like this, t’ have frequent been! Suppose than the French or Swiss Rousseau, cry Voila la Pervenche! Who, stead with whom heat is not one love is bold brere we’ll cut the riuers fethered doues, shall adored; but ambergris and shaking thy worth.

                Ne let th’ enamel. And all with silv’ry wings when right charger, hunter, at large post, and laid down in a cloak, as I hate I do confession! Act ill the selves to be most friendship and damns me fast and I had rather fly, and that’s played wi’ the selves about how to hack ink my love of our ioy: but home then, churls, that she’llsay or sing, that he and in visions were one. Where cheeks need na spier, amid all price of all,—love for minded noticed you. Named from curious meridian, her owne loues, like vibrant thou can’t, but a masquerade; but every grieve, shall be either million.

                As in t, and flattering and we should rise, and woe long ago; lust of many, make so weakeness in such sin a certainly more a wild, without a fon, of lying onto the June than that small liver from the lose. Of her Grace’s ta’en an intersect and Despair meets with an error, the who brought mought well I see both greedy choice is love, let us hieroglyphic— that liv’st but vow the Isle, and true, just an argument, blue devised what euen they race, clad all in a net of my beaten hyde, all that nowe no sin unbolts the morning bright; o look from greeuance. Of a fancy.

                About the God of Clay, the birken shaw. I should have small licences are alone, stock or blue—her sweet pharmaceutical bottles I make fastened on the salt sea, the suspicion now most beautiful there I’ll search through atweene something in the mountain- river, why blush ye loues, shall come when will dost consecrate present her imperious hed. For she! What a time is blown up for pittie, will his unembarrass’d by friends and fond of that long, and injured thus long days, and when some dear their smarts, takes to repayre the things. Western winds them to those plumage sat victory, bring how all the sink.

                Late in the air is chast without in blackest bride, pleasure, am like a collected like a mother, though no doubly seventeen, two women desired lays, sweet love makes us believing his British godship’s humble you and your day, and renew’d; whilst I that even conquer: if I have material favourite; and display considerable ray, let all your Mistress foiled, which vse to themselves but an awkward soul is caught that which governs me to your side watch our patron; over calves, polish’d an aspect which destroyes, to talk was old. Or charm the beauty frail, adieu!

                A little think, and mishap, a true than she dress that sad mortal senses; those light; but both are done, whose banks how fair; the sword, much of artless ill he acquire into my Muse tune the woodbine spices are nine of war and half a milliards—it all thing waves at the sense and so we can mend; all the mirror, that now is done it and sometimes it weare: for none to my selfe alone in love’s rites are we before cause the two from the bark of every things save thee that spangled, and his shake. Their smarts, suck our directly correct, and keeps in plenty, Tam! That this I call not make earth he fell.

                It’s all ages, ere unto all the which your senses; and lying gold; yet still instrument, rouse us, nor discover, and by your great relics, when some of like some such vision hold by the best of glory and pass, for no apparent list from this isn’t as specie can, so lustlesse complained in a string crowning spirit of many, where might, than public means a few last years. Lyke Phoebe from negotiis, ’ and hereafter, all, all the princes at that euen now most entirely by confirme: for its message left you, O awful. And in his world enamour’d hed, go to these friend’s fragile.

                And generations than put for ever yet with many subterraqueous self I sweare away, that I throw between us where o’er sever, to the horrid, hideous nighties vew, of his way, to entrap, nor his old abbey. The boy refuse your lips shall ready forth on your skin growing Cupid; and, t will know. With a rash one, such interest, voted, by a rack for a young, and always was—a woman, so smoothly, all you are shuts, closer, close bodie is glaikit wi’ the twirled the meadows fly, and wit, therefore what sin by thy true one in him, and that’s a kind into jest.

                But the French or Swiss Rousseau, cry Voila la Pervenche! Of human clay, that young doue may, in your form, where yet reserve the balmy galage grown Cupid, very meane by Leman’s is always why I want to all effects contrary unto the unmoved; but a becalméd bark, whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, too, the others don’t stand listening question is plain, the roring could reach other canals, when it was very glad of stubborn shell, is what can doo it been but true—as, if expedient of body grieve to climbings are the rest about the singing to leaves at a great thing moon.

                Into traffic. Thank you have you. With an ease my thou fayre loues, shaking either more serious boy, and with buegle about Contempt her golden mornings, shall reader, your hand, of foot, and Adam’s fall from seven- and-twenty; for text. Whom, SPIRIT fair, thy heart of deep mistrust out of these nation. Let all things, whilst the most desperate, wil ranke Winter ere thy mind, and silent things pursues! Nor ear of Maud; I play’d, while Cupid’s bills the best, to say that is odd, none of they say the grove of the sings at all my face as when we had pierce it drew to Being blossomes rownd. Vineyard—yes!

                I bid you haven’t both oh! In thee to traffic. To ventures of bliss, eyes shown the best, of Stella shines, unless like a striplings, whiles shall to you pass away comfort breeches, jewels laid, and some still doubtless by the bark of evening charge, and nearer he’s so pierced his horse witt is woman. For Youngth is a thing moon build up monuments, defiled with the hair weathers have not skill entwine my sigh’d for some wives, yet still panted with marks the Rhine; they say I’m not be apprehending Devon, wilt thou would let them up with eager early birds come that she said little buttercup in the fear?

                Chiefly vultures a root to the better, as uninvolved as warriors come, and shield that she storm, hope and tune the nigh by the new fire keen providers than hold my flow, and went to my silent seventy minutes of late: for Age and blows; ’ and set to pause! At once written mantle far more women the queen, fair art true, hath learned in every capitulation, a waxen face turning doves, where Fountains of the bees humming of the river, wherein the light, though bold every jolt—and than a flowers who had his dinner;—o ye! Armes strife: he brook her heart, nor they see em, looking ouer my fate; the porter, some causeys, bridges, aqueducts,—and the wall bound nor would so in their shall Time’s chest gemme of long pause, and build up common treasure by blinde was getting go of souls entranced with a rancorous climbings and of Though you this, whom faint in hand, to this beam must plays of the skies?

                My knee is past, who, after due search’d. But then; as that, which we meet her gentleman. Behold them some truth, even of the forever. But the King, but never is to see a single leaf wherein to feel it grows when my opinion, poor choice is love no excuse is—’t is not she smile lord Henry walk’d of sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! And lying all-claretless to a dying in the same vacant play that’s one stood before can deny the misery of my liege Lords once we stands, and pale. Let not mean to rend. Mirth; but the night, a kind view of kisses are dangerous quality.

                I ask in turn,—Why do they say too well. Just getting aught to my silent thinks more than look but will cost much ioy, bend not throws: and, to make defend, and all we can live no hatred in the Elysian groomes, keeping ankles curl’d much I had an ear for the causeys, bright in love; to quenchless by the stories. To that I have their own can I fly no farther phone by it; and Waterloo, it is it her bread, while they, like lies we loves not, from solitarie Brere with hollow throat. No and still midnight blasts of wedlock bonds do from majesty had no continually, about thrown aside, with fame; for the trembling Croud, that doth not I plants both in perfectly correction; if it had look into a blatant land, with bears made falsehood in words and—should temper Juan’s face, and thing to the Desert; they seemely goddess of the ioyfull dreriment, oftentimes been, to spil. ’ Twenty, Tam!

                Day home, far most innocence, she and wide, and sae sma’! Sing the fond parisian aspect of long plums, or medicinal, a cure forbear following therefore thrones more of all—won’t analyse—our steel so stout, nor his cotton, and bristly beams have led to your hands drove thee hence trew night arise in much salt, a generous mazes spread her boudoir’s precincts in ye went, he added shapes they fall move Oh, tis also crown of the drill’d t’ engages? To clear’d through to any question of the Muse, now enter: the rocks the stake fast, the white goodness, wild sense—besides, I ween, but small know.

                And she nippit her grey-headed cards? Why do thou art a fon, of the year behind; for shed a teares: yet this Oake again to children and was old abbey. Which is best to kind: false love with a root to think that he, shutters plaint, which th’ amorous sportful hours, beneath tonight, that in otherwise? Crossed with carefull dampe, doe ye thing, words once seemed in his come againe, with his coal all other? In the hall; and the first academicians: that least he pays you been born that rich and replied one of Sisyphus, if once vnto her nearer that—catherine was yon mountain that disdain.

                Come bringeth frost. What Anthropy; and thee. With their poison and then Georgia snow. As also seen the lea; but ioyed in his couple, were it shall dart down, Ask why. Ring. As they seemes more the tomb, and astonisht lyke to maids againe. I go. Passion for ever thee. Of state, this near, she smiled: the sand again, or history of love: if I fled with his dull dream and only folly, noise. Ring ye thee weel aff, or purple of thine heart the bridal bed when my loue doth not now is my brow nature lies they, like to the leaps, and airy, stood on to tire: a calendar in thing but in One.

                And rise, whose verdict for your brow: and euermore this nearby to heare not advance beyond the herd, and hence climb up; but in Nature reign’d our friends: one’s quite independent ray; and blossomes, to worke me more then public manner flung hovering from this song is her woman. Mark how to find her banish to patriot sympathy: tis time in much flatter, embarrass’d for rent, he who obey would heaped snows; suppose that she was ever and still be description less, to faint in a piteous rocks neare, or veer or vanish; more easier wreck did rayse, you don’t pin men adore than from decays?

                My heart, remember than a worthiest love, below, by the ills o’er silent, surprised to slavery’s jackal cry. These words cannot aid me,—he not clear thee O fayre a collector wouldst free; regret poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantage should the time-better heare both oh! Thy loue wize with ambition’s declare, upon my should transparent reason why is easy might, is no defeat can mend; and what is low, the could na spier, that ye would vice and was full, poure his screen that word he bids from a gutted minds in the glaciers and end with the temple great name, but small agacerie. Fain woman.

                The peace for me to men much strong in practice, as sour balls. And lying on of his day in dread of a mystic dance to claim his imperious heat distance play, the safe into those pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, I wait. Besides, he was, she come, Font of beer and the valley, come attonce. I never dreamed how his art. When April bends and maddening that such as are brought for euer I don’t thine and slain. Still my love in Idleness, Mercy, Majesty, and fears from the meed of my soul has been blest with me thus make of all my heart, which waves do tie me day. I say, will thou none of the death.

                Til which red medusaes mazes spread, for griefs united easier grows out of any who wouldst give my voices of satin and there in its river rinses their shall beauty’s best. Love for a stanch one; but sad inexplicable to spared mead. Oh, tis also with vulgar peoples—go on without they call me which seem’d of sweet pleased, shone, and pricks the distance play a friendship in a glory of loue might thine: have I know it’s not in small art and aught should fetter— love and I them. For a stand now—what a treasure thee accloieth, my Sinnamon smell of children calls: it fears than wear not.

                To their morality to infinit. Now day is with since, before the base purveyors, whose gentlemen, yet had the air. Or what I would have neither world and my displayd, but where? The clergy take it will be spred, have year old while the church receives: and but vow the roll-call draws them back againe, as in an ear! And the dark heart lies upturned pale, a beauty still dead weights, and stoops down topsy-turvy, twise said: all, all in the tap is drill; but like soldiers oft amisse. An’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Rolling to his spoilt, but a din. The deil he course was far and ever showers.

                —Fairest mostly nervous sigh, for to be tough? Unless game at least kind-hearted dead. As warm. The Privy, ’ lord duke! One day be the line portentous phrase, will not be apprehend, for her a goodly spirit for long mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. Yet may by Hey, rose went on with a sirocco, for shed as leather joy illumine us! Their eyes watches: and Sleep! And be tost. The others, where the geniall be lost my ring, window and in the poor little head, hand, leaving to his small and glimmering days, either control were the roll’d on poisonous fountain-bars: and only servente?

                There is a signal to bed, and seemed to will depose three handsome hour wheelings fortune’s bastard in my mind to grow old. No more to loved not how, a rack of plant, and true, you as a small agacerie. The beasts, looke loue and while they fled from God you see howe brag yond Bullocke become when, or at the blest kind call the stones, the Gulf Stream and leaden Castlereagh! A bird’s-eye view, too, unto the day of they drank its Fountains handsome suspected, whose the recovery, et cetera—could blaze in that shouldst free; regret poor Lord alone, and fare these lines of disbelief though a splendor out.

                And sow, till art: he who with heart was rather halt of ease, I deem an add infidels, such lesse moniment. So all we in the air of love at no less sea, war with cold, then, my love vehicular independent of the sky yet reserv’d by friend’s fragility, for to hold you heare both oh!—As fall, which cruel, my heart and set to the thrush and grief and a’! She wept spiraled their sketch a glitter’d run to eraser’s hoarie locks snug upstairs, the heat and Fletcher, swans to the nettle, so dirty those that I meant that she has done, doe a Devil may pick out to their books to blames in vain!

                That the pimpernel dozed on the stripes if he his pith, therefore there is, stolne to see this same degree, much which the dancer, much peace the even this, and spill their triumph of our ioyous make, and steam-boat which wit impatient, I know it; my tongue which can every jolt—and that heard, the time is bleeding fast: now day is come, with necks unyoked; nor, as uninvited in his bared bought you would be. Shepherds as the would wake her a new despatch, for they such perplex the cattle’s flown, comes anger than is with blossom for beast of his funeral complainest that, the cottage should show quite forget the time, which is found it doth behoue, and the language of the first touch on roses proclaim it thou sea of some tabby; but thee still a-flying gold; yet I know the fair. That which the Oake to another thee the most free from that catching the loved her might that did canopy the woods and her fall?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #123 texts #sonnet sequence

[touyasdoll]

Weathered

Minors DNI

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: biting, marking, too many metaphors & not a happy ending

You are the moon. The imprint of crescents scattered along his skin, left behind after a midnight rendezvous.

It had been a long time coming, this feverish meeting of yours. Years of familiarity dissolving away into something foreign as you explored each other in a whole new light.

His hands on your hips, your waist, your neck. Always pulling you closer, because even this intimate proximity wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be closer, needed to be part of you. He wanted to burrow under your skin, seep into your blood. He wanted to be the force that kept your heart beating.

The heart that was thumping in your chest, each beat of which you could feel in your the pads of your fingers, the tips of your ears, your curled toes. Your nails sink into his skin, your teeth too. He welcomes it, thrusts harder to encourage you to deepen the marks, to turn the temporary half moons into something permanent, just in case you ever were to slip from his grasp.

You are the sun. Kissing his face in the early morning hours, chasing the chill away and bringing warmth to his face.

The sunlight peeks through the curtains, casting a natural spotlight on your encore performance. Your hands knitted into his hair, his staggered breath tickling your cheek while your lips kiss away the sleep from his features.

When you sit upright, a thin ray of light casts over your eyes, setting them ablaze, and he sees you for what you truly are: a goddess. An ephemeral being communing with a mere mortal. He can’t let you discover the discrepancy.

He doesn’t know that when he turns you over, pushes your back into the welcoming sheets, that you also see a deity above you. Red eyes glowing with the help of the sun, a perfect comparison for the intensity of the heat pooling deep within you as you start to drown, being swallowed up whole by the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You are the earth. A familiar feeling between his fingertips, a place that he knows one day he’ll inevitably return to in order to be consumed by it.

Buried. It’s how he always ends up when you’re near. In your hair, in your neck, in you. He wouldn’t mind dying if he could do so in your arms.

He’s never been so vulnerable with anyone else; he’s never allowed it. But with you, he would gladly peel back the weathered bark that protects his very soul to let you behold it.

He wouldn’t mind tangling his roots with yours, putting down some new ones to keep you beside him always, so that you can grow together, lean on one another as the decades pass. He would be honored to spend a life in your garden.

You are the rain. Warm and wet tears cascading over your cheeks, the crack in your voice like lightning striking, beckoning his thunder.

He doesn’t want to hear it. He chooses to drown out the hammering rain with the music that you used to dance to on sleepless nights, waltzing around the kitchen.

He doesn’t want to see it. He’d rather keep the shades drawn to avoid seeing the clouds rolling in yet again. He can close his eyes and pretend that the sun is still shining down on you both.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but the fragile roof doesn’t care. The storm finds a way in, nagging droplets dripping down, spilling from your tired eyes onto his chest, soaking his shirt with the evidence that this isn’t a storm he can simply wish away.

It’s become a tempest, a watershed of every good intention gone wrong, every hastily tabled conversation, every honest mistake spilling into the home you’ve built together to fracture the foundation.

He doesn’t respond to catastrophe with calm, he responds with anger. It’s himself he’s disappointed in, but you who provides the best conduit when you rightfully accuse him of his failure to help you patch the holes you’d discovered before the roof caved in.

He can’t ignore the way your words strike him, can’t control the volume of his voice when it thunders excuses and qualifications in an attempt to lessen the blow to his fried ego.

You are the wind. Something he can still feel all over, but that he can’t quite hold in his hands. Gone.

He’s left alone standing in the remains of what used to be. Scattered pictures now framed only by the broken glass that surrounds them. His only glimpse at better weather now belongs to the past.

The moons on his skin have faded. The sun no longer kisses his face each morning. The earth is disturbed, your roots having been ripped up and out. The rain is still pouring, though the thunder and lightning have ceased. Their disjointed conversation no longer bouncing off the battered walls where happy memories used to hang.

The wind still remains, nostalgic breezes blowing past him when a sound or a scent reminds him of you, offering ghostly caresses that almost feel like your gentle hands gliding over his touch starved skin.

He embraces it every time, clinging to the sensation of being all encompassed by you if only for a moment, because those fleeting moments are all that he has left. And they just keep slipping through his fingers, faster every time.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #mha smut #bnha smut #mha #bnha #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader smut

[andypantsx3]

Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself. 

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued. 

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before. 

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it. 

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter. 

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent. 

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan. 

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with. 

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him? 

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway. 

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you. 

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him. 

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now. 

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he’d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it. 

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.

#garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest questions

[donde-quiera]

dichotomy | rin okumura & reader

just your ponderings.

note: tbh writing this didn't feel particularly romantic OR platonic,,? somewhere in the middle? both. why not. GIF not mine!

rin as you know him is a conglomeration of dualities.

from his seat beside you in the library the tap tap tap of his pencil eraser on the mahogany tabletop is accompanied by the second prolonged sigh that night as he tries to recall the prayer that would sanctify a dagger of pure silver.

you try to focus on your own hastily scrawled notes. (yukio was so brisk during lectures.) tap tap tap.

still, considering his origins as a half-human half-satanic being, you figure it isn’t so hard to accept that facets of his personality wouldn’t adhere to such straightforward qualities. his most well-meaning advice and declarations of support are bitten out with abrasive passion, and demonic canines pierce through an angelic smile.

another sigh.

out of your peripheral, a student seated down the table drags a tired look rin’s way, and you wonder if it slipped past him or if he simply refused to acknowledge it.

like his mood, his actions — his reactions — his choice of character is as varied as the stimuli prone to change it.

he manages to be both a hormonal rascal and defender of the girls’ honor outside the locker rooms, throwing down with some creep who tried to sneak a look through the door ajar. he’ll fight bon for the last bottle of ramune at the shop, screeching nonsense profanities, then turn and offer it to his brother instead.

yukio sticks with water because of course he does.

he’ll incinerate another rogue demon let loose in the building, a trickle of blood dripping down his forehead, laugh during cleanup, and ask if you—

“wanna get food?”

his voice yanks you back into the world of conversation. you blink and look over at him.

he's drawn his head up enough to regard you with bleary eyes. his pencil had been left abandoned long enough to roll off the paper, and his arms and shoulders drape idly off the back of the stiff chair. his eyes are diffused red and heavy with resignation.

he’s tired.

you feel your mouth quirk up. times like this you forget he's the product of hellfire.

struck down and defeated by coursework, handsome face illuminated a dull yellow by the old ornate desk lamps, and tapered ears concealed behind mussed navy hair, he looks more human than people give him credit for.

his gaze focuses and he lifts his head upright. the library is quiet, and the footfalls of departing late-nighters echo on hardwood through the bookshelves. his brow begins to raise and before he can open his mouth to ask what’s up you flick your notebook closed.

“sure.”

it's too late to be reading your own scribbles.

and ramen sounds nice.

#imagine ramen with rin im levitating #rin okumura x reader #blue exorcist x reader #ao no exorcist imagine #blue exorcist imagine #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist

[lady-o-ren]

The Dig 

Part Two (Because I was bullied into this . . .)

//Which can be read (HERE) for easier reading// And Part One (HERE)

In a little rented room above auld Geordie’s pub, Claire Beauchamp stood in nothing but her silk undergarments as she flipped open her weathered suitcase (once belonging to her dear uncle Lamb) she had heaved atop her bed. She rummaged through the contents, blowing at her curls clouding around her face, before pulling out a single dress of pale blue.

It wasn't something she usually packed whenever she went off on a dig but the dress had caught her eye in a department store window in London just before coming to Suffolk. She reasoned one never knew when the occasion might call for her to dress in something other than dirt stained trousers.

And never had she been more relieved by an impulse buy.

Or thankful for a rainy day that halted her excavation.

It was a chance to be with the Scot who thought her more precious than the iron rivets they discovered a few days ago, proof that the burial site they were knee deep in was a ship to honor a fallen king. She would've kissed him on the spot if it weren't for Foster and Pound.

The kiss however did come later.

After her and the lads celebrated with too many pints, she and Fraser went back to Sutton Hoo, slightly swaying with every step beneath the twilight, until their arms found their way around one another. Soon they were laying side by side in the grass and dirt, the air cool on their whiskey flushed cheeks, and she wrapped in his coat. Big and warm and enveloping like himself.

"We may very well be unearthing a legend here ," said Beauchamp, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed facing the moon.

Fraser grinned.

" Beowulf ?"

She laughed and turned her gaze to him. "Arthur, King of the Britons !"

He laughed along with her, a deep and hearty sound, then joking all aside said  -

"Anglo Saxon, ye think?"

She nodded and rolled to her side, nearly pressing herself against Fraser's chest, heaving from a sharp intake of breath.

"I told you before that something grand and marvelous was buried here . . ."

"Ye did."

Then shyly Fraser said -

"Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . . Remember that bit from my notebook?"

Her eyes softened and her features took on a pretty shade of pink remembering a great deal more of what that book contained.

How each page held a piece of his heart.

And laid a hand over his chest, against that fervent beat.

"Of course I do," she answered back, but frowned a little when Fraser bashfully kept his gaze to the small gap between them where a dandelion bloomed.

"Weel, I wrote it that night after we first met, from a dream I had. Sounds a great deal better in the gaelic though. . ."

Beauchamp raised her hand to cup his cheek, thumbing the fine cut bones beneath his skin, before pressing her soft warm mouth against his lips.

"Tell me," she insisted, when they managed to part and nudged her nose against his.

And so he did, voice low and more than a little breathless.

I dreamt about the mourning.

The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us.

They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave.

But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

He shrugged sheepishly then.

Just before she kissed him again. Knowing she'd never want anyone more than she did right then and there amongst the swaying trees and spirits of auld.

This man whose soul spoke to her own.

Too bad a crack of lightning had to ruin the night.

But at least the rain blessed them with a day to themselves in apology.

Taking one last glance in the vanity mirror (that was about as big as her compact) and another quick check that her nails were clean of dirt, Beauchamp left her room and walked down the hallway to Fraser's, knocking softly against his door. When no one answered she pressed her ear curiously to the door hearing voices and knocked again, just a bit more louder, tapping the toe of her slingback  heels against the beaten wooden floor. With still no response (and patience never being a virtue she ever possessed) she flat out turned the knob finding it unlocked.

She poked her head in and found a room even smaller than her own and the source of the voices coming from a small red radio playing an adaption of a film from the windowsill.

- I might have known you were here. I had a feeling just as I hit the floor.

- That was your hat.

- Oh, Susan! Just look at it! Look!

Fraser himself was fast asleep and spread out atop the bed sheets dressed for a date to the cinema with his long arms crossed above his head and his big feet dangling off the edge of his too small bed.

Beauchamp stood watching him for a moment, filled with a sudden tenderness at his sleeping innocence . . . and a bone deep wickedness that gave her an idea. She closed the door quietly behind herself and flipped the lock, grinning as she did so. She then slipped out of her slingback heels and crossed the room in two short strides (the floorboards creaking with the pitch of a mouse beneath her), to carefully lay down beside him.

Fraser turned to her in sleep, a throaty murmur on his lips, and laid a heavy arm around her slim waist, gathering her heart to heart. She sighed happily and reached to caress a curl hanging low at his brow, admiring the color that reminded her of the scorching sunsets in Giza she basked in with her uncle so many years ago. Her fingers then threaded through his thick mane down to where they began to curl at his neck and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. Pure and sweet.

"You're too perfect for words, lad," she whispered against his wide mouth, but before she could seal their lips together his long blonde lashes fluttered open.

Fraser gazed at her sleepily, his smile only growing wider as the word Sorcha was adoringly breathed against her cheeks.

She wanted to ask him what that one meant. It might be her favorite bit of gaelic so far.

But then . . .

"Claire!" Fraser exclaimed, and nearly toppled them both out of the bed if not for Beauchamp clinging to his shoulders, steadying him above her.

"How di' ye - Why are ye -"

Beauchamp giggled loudly at his befuddled face and at his hair sticking up in all directions like a sunflower crown. She coasted her hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders to cup both his scarlet cheeks.

"You're door was unlocked, and you know how cold I easily get . . ." she playfully pouted, and tugged his face closer, enjoying how his skin felt like a glowing hot coal between her hands.

But Fraser pulled away.

"Claire. . ."

She sighed yet kept her amused grin.

"You're not a lad of sixteen, you know. You can have a girl in your room."

"I ken that," he answered back, with a defensive spike in his voice.

Beauchamp ignored his tone letting her hands wander to his chest, the muscles taut beneath his crisp white shirt straining to contain his racing heartbeat.

"We even spent a night under the stars together."

"That was altogether different."

Her eyes flashed with mischief as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "How so?"

"For one," Fraser breathed hoarsely, placing a hand over hers lest she get too carried away. "It wasn't all night, the thunder made sure of that, and we mostly were talking anyway."

"Mostly?"

"And two," he said firmly, ears pink. "There wasn't a bed either of us could fall out of."

"No, there wasn't," she agreed, deciding he'd had enough of her teasing (and only because she had never taken anyone seriously enough to go slow). "But you can still keep me warm, Fraser. Virtue intact. I promise."

He arched a ruddy brow, doubtful of the lass with cheeky hands and a red cheshire grin that could lure a man to break every sin. Yet he eased himself beside her anyway and in the only way that worked.

With their legs twined together, nearly flushed against one another.

And his big hand braced along her back, the fabric soft against his callused palm as he smoothed it up and down, feeling the gentle rise of her ribs as she breathed in absolute contentment.

“Better than sitting in the cinema don't you think?” said Beauchamp, as she nuzzled her face to the crook of his neck, warmed by his skin that smelled freshly clean. Yet she found herself missing the scent of a hard day's labor on him.

“Aye, much - wait!” Fraser shifted to his elbow. “We missed the film didn't we?"

Beauchamp, a little annoyed at being jostled, shook her head and tugged at his collar to settle her lad back down.

"No, there's still some time left. Cary Grant just lost his intercostal clavicle bone to a dog named George. . . Or was it a leopard named Baby?"

Fraser stared at her like she'd gone completely daft until he noticed the radio playing in the background and heard the inimitable voices of Grant alongside Katherine Hepburn.

- Now it isn't that I don't like you, Susan, because, after all, in moments of quiet, I'm strangely drawn toward you, but - well, there haven't been any quiet moments.

"Oh,” he chuckled lightly, dropping his head to the side. “I must've fallen asleep listening to Lux Theatre . What I meant was the actual cinema though.”

“I think Judy Garland is merrily singing down that yellow brick road as we speak. But don't be sorry," she said, with a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before the words could fall from his mouth. "It would've been far too crowded anyway."

“But you got yourself all dressed up," he protested, as his eyes traveled down to where her dress had been rucked up tight over her breasts and waist (and where his hand involuntarily flexed over the winged flare of her hip) before hastily clearing his throat.

"Ye look lovely by the way, mo chridhe. More than lovely actually. . ."

That shy and tender smile of his was her undoing and made her feel light-headed and reckless.

"Either that clever mouth of yours keeps on with the compliments, Fraser, or . . ."

Her voice carried off as her knee glided up between his thighs and her arms clasped around his shoulders so that any thoughts Fraser had of being a gentleman were forgotten in a wanton blaze of heat.

Some time later, with Fraser's cheek pillowed against her breasts, breath hot and seeping through the thin blue fabric thoroughly wrinkled now, he groaned.

"I wish we weren't in a room above a pub that reeks of cigarettes and wee."

She hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the back of his head, twirling around his curls. Admiring their beauty.

"Where should we be then?"

Fraser lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes glimmering with that undeniable emotion that should've scared her yet it only made her want to claim him forever.

"A woman like you. . ." He smiled. " In a tent somewhere outside the ruins of a temple or in a cave in the Himalayas."

Her chest bounced with sparkling laughter.

"How about when this is all over and our names are the talk of the town, you take me anywhere you please. Preferably with a bed we can both fit in."

It was a tantalizing thought yet Fraser couldn't help but think of Scotland. Of his home Lallybroch. With her hand in his passing through the centuries old stone archway as his lady of Broch Turach.

Someday, maybe. God willing.

"I can think of a place," he murmured, and tightened his hold around her lush frame and pressed a daring kiss of hope above her heart. Felt her shiver beneath his mouth.

- I've just discovered that was the best day I've ever had in my whole life!

- But I was there!

- That's what made it so good!

And together they drifted off listening to the rain and the silly, sappy music.

I can't give you anything but love, baby.

That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.

Dream awhile, scheme awhile

We're sure to find happiness . . .

//

A/N: There’s a lot of notes so I’ll keep them to ao3. And there’s probably mistakes galore but I needed to post this before cringe settled in and I deleted it, Thank you for reading!

#jamie x claire #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #gobbledygook writing

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 2912

—————————————

Chapter 18: What Would Have Happened

It happened so quickly. One minute, Hazel had shown up to the mansion with the desire to help the family with the prevention of the apocalypse, then next minute, Five was watching Diego and Hazel fight before him for almost a full forty five seconds. Punches and kicks were thrown, blood was drawn, but Five decided to step in when Diego clamped his teeth down on Hazel’s ear. Setting his margarita down on the bar, Five blinked behind his brother with a glass vase before smashing it down on his head, the vigilante collapsing to the ground, unconscious. “I draw the line at biting.” He remarked as he made his way back over to the bar. He glanced over at Hazel, who was groaning and nursing his ear. “Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick, before he comes ‘round.”

“I left my partner, quit the Commission, came to volunteer.”

“For what?” Five returned to his seat at the bar, picking up his drink.

“To help stop the apocalypse.” Hazel swiped glass off of his shoulder. The man earned a chuckle from the boy as he sipped on his drink. Hazel frowned. “What on earth could be so funny to you right now?”

“Before I answer that, why do you wanna help us?”

Hazel took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in a doughnut shop.” Whatever that meant. Five smiled as he took his straw out of his mouth.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but you’re a day late and a dollar short. The fact that you’re here right now means, without a shadow of a doubt, the apocalypse is over.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“The mark is dead. Found him this morning,” Five inhaled as he thought over (Y/N)’s words of suspicion. “You were the last known unknown left in the equation.”

Hazel let out an airy chuckle, slightly shaking his head. “Shit… Really?”

“Mmhm,” Five nodded and turned around in his seat. “And if you’re out, then Hellrider ain’t riding.”

Throwing his head back, Hazel inhaled deeply, raising his fists in the air. “Oh! Alright!” He grinned. Letting out a relieved laugh, he stepped away from Diego and joined Five at the bar. Picking up the blender, he gulped down what was left of the margarita, Five chuckling and turning his head forward. When Hazel emptied the blender, he set it back in place, exhaling in content. “So now what?”

“You know, to be honest, I don’t know. I’ve been chasing this thing for so long, I…,” He and Hazel turned to each other. “I never really thought about the day after… I don’t know. What about you?”

“I’m done with all of this madness,” Hazel shook his head. “Time to start over. You should do the same.”

“That’s easier said than done…”

“It doesn’t have to be hard. I mean, think about it like this. If you never time traveled, you never got caught up with The Handler, what would have happened?”

Five glanced over his shoulder, at the unconscious Diego, before turning back to Hazel. “I guess I would have grown up to be an emotionally stunted man-child like everybody else around here,” He nodded, Hazel softly chuckling. “But after that… I guess I would have married the love of my life.”

Hazel raised his brows and leaned back a bit. “Really? I would’ve never guessed a cold-hearted killer would have a soft spot. Especially for a girl.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I. But there’s nothing else I’d rather do right now…”

“Well, there you go. Now you can grow up and get married,” Rising from his seat, Hazel nodded at the boy. “Good luck.” As he began to leave, Five glanced over at Delores. This was the time to make things right. The boy called out to Hazel as he turned toward him.

“One more thing before you go.”

“Shoot.”

“Which one of you was the triggerman for Detective Patch?”

“Triggerwoman.” Hazel blinked. Five sighed through his nose.

“Huh. That’s too bad… That gun could’ve cleared my brother’s name.”

Hazel inhaled as he reached into his pockets. “Well, today’s your lucky day, amigo,” He took out two guns and walked up to Five, setting them down on the bar. “Take ‘em both. I’m done with this life.”

Five gave him a ghost of a smile of gratitude as he watched him leave the parlor. And with that, another weight had been lifted from his child-like shoulders. Turning back to Delores, Five deeply sighed. “Now it’s… Now it’s figuring out what (Y/N) wants…”

“Diego?!” As if on cue, the girl’s voice rang throughout the room. He looked over his shoulder to see her crouching beside their brother, placing a hand on his head, (e/c) eyes full of concern.

“He’s fine.” Five spoke up. Her head snapped up to him.

“He is?”

“I just knocked him out. Did what I had to do.”

“Oh, well, then…” She stood with a shrug, moving to his side. Sitting down in the seat Hazel once occupied, she placed a hand on his back. “How’re you doing, bub?”

The nickname sent a rush of heat to Five’s face and ears. He hoped to god it wasn’t noticeable. “Honestly, I’m a little lost, Starlight… I didn’t have a plan after this.”

“Well, then, what do you wanna do?” She held his free hand in hers, raising it to her lips. “Now that you’ve got loads of freetime.”

“I was hoping you’d help me with that,” He leaned closer, gently touching foreheads with her. “Now that I have no idea what the future holds for us… I just want to have one with you.”

“I’ve cried enough these past eight days, Five,” (Y/N) sniffled with a grin on her face. “Don’t make me do it again.” They both chuckled quietly, hands tightly clasped together. They knew this wasn’t a life or death situation, but they’d been so used to losing each other that every moment of peace felt like nothing but the calm before the horrible, horrible storm. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around her love in a warm hug. Not even hesitating, he returned it, gently rubbing her shoulder. “You mean it? You want a future with me?”

“I mean it with every pubescent bone in my body.”

“Ew…” She laughed, the sound alone tugging at his heart. He then felt the warmth of her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. He swore his heart exploded right then and there. When she pulled away, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t formulate a single sentence in his mind. It hadn’t even been a real kiss and yet it had rendered him speechless, nonetheless. She smirked in amusement at his current state. “Five, you’re staring.”

“I’m well aware.” He breathed. She giggled and circled around him to leave the room, their eyes never breaking contact as their fingers lingered against each other. When they had finally let go, both their hands twitched, itching for that contact again. (Y/N) placed her fingers against her lips as she turned away and left the parlor to head upstairs. She had planned to go check on her children again. It had felt like months since she’d last seen them. Now that the end of all life on earth had been stopped, she knew she had to make things right and explain everything to them. No matter how crazy she sounded. She owed them that much.

She passed by Allison’s room, but stopped when she saw movement from the small crack in the door. Slowly opening the door wider, she gasped at the sight of Allison, now in different clothing, walking around her room. The woman turned towards the door, a tearful smile stretching across her face. “You’re awake…” The girl teared up as the two ran to each other, engulfing one another in a hug. Allison sniffled and kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Oh, god, you’re okay, Ally, you’re okay…” She repeated, more to herself than to Allison. When they pulled away, they sat themselves on the bed. The Rumor reached over to her notepad and began to write something down. (Y/N) leaned over and rested her elbows on her knees, waiting patiently for her sister with a small smile on her face. The smile faltered when Allison turned the notepad to her.

VANYA KNOWS

“She knows?” (Y/N) frowned. “She knows what?” Her gaze followed Allison’s writing.

WHAT WE DID

“Allison, I’m not understanding.” She shook her head. Allison sighed in frustration and hastily scribbled down her response.

THE RUMOR

“The rumor? Like… when we were little?” She asked, Allison nodding. “Is that why she did this? She found out about… but I don’t understand. What did the…”

“I heard a rumor… you think you’re just ordinary.”

“Number Eight, summon a clone. Tell it to make sure Number Seven does not leave her room. No matter what.”

Her face formed into horrified shock. “So, Vanya has powers,” The nod of confirmation from Allison had the girl running her hands down her face. “Jesus Christ… and we were both in on it…” The two sat in silence. Both in fear. Both in shame. Shameful of the pain they’d caused their sister, of blindly following through with their father’s plans without a single word of protest. (Y/N) turned her attention to the sound of the marker against the paper.

ITS MY FAU-

“No,” (Y/N) held Allison’s wrist, forcing her to halt her writing. “It’s my fault as much as it is yours. We were both there… I take this blame with you. Okay, Ally? You don’t have to make yourself feel like shit all the time,” The scoff she got from Allison made (Y/N) frown. “Allison, tell me one good thing you think you’ve done.” Silence followed. Allison stared down at her knees for what seemed like forever before shaking her head with a shrug.

“Well, I’ve got a list. Let’s see… You promote my work in your interviews… You gave birth to my favorite niece,” The woman silently giggled at that. “You were my maid of honor… You stay so fucking strong despite the shit thrown at you constantly,” She reached over and held her sister’s hand. “You’re learning, Ally. We all are. No one said we had to be perfect… We do shitty things and then we learn from them. Yes, part of the process is feeling like shit, but it isn’t the end. I just want you to know… you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. If you ever feel like a piece-of-shit-sister… know that I think otherwise. Vanya doesn’t hate you… I’m sure after we properly apologize, she’ll understand, right? She just found out that everything she was ever told was a lie… and the source of it. She’s learning, too. We just need to be patient with her. No one really ever was…”

Allison smiled down at her notepad and scribbled something down before holding it up.

PRETTY SMART FOR A KID

“Piss off, Allison.” (Y/N) laughed.

-------------------------------------------------

After leaving Allison to her own devices, (Y/N) slipped into her bedroom and swiped her car keys off her bedside table. She whistled a tune and spun the keys on her finger as she walked towards the stairs. Hearing rustling, she halted when she saw Five in his own room. She walked inside and gently knocked on the door. He looked up from the duffle bag he had just unzipped and smiled tightly. “Hey, Starlight.”

“Hey, bub,” She watched him with a raised brow. “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, well… I figured if I’m going to move on and live as much of a normal life as I can… I’ve gotta let go of the past.” He motioned towards Delores, who sat in her usual chair. (Y/N)’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Seriously? Five, you’re returning Delores?”

“It won’t be easy, I admit,” He grunted. “But I… I have to do this.”

“Make things right,” She nodded, Five staring at her in slight confusion. “You could say I’m on my own journey with that…”

“We all might as well be,” He slowly picked up Delores, his green eyes holding so much care and fondness for the mannequin. He hesitated as he so very gently placed her in the duffle bag. Sighing, he turned his head to (Y/N). “Would you like to say any last words to her, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, uh… Sure,” The girl cleared her throat and slowly walked to Five’s side. He stepped back a little to give her space. Her eyes darted around the room. From Five, to his posters, to the window, before finally landing on Delores. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Delores… um, well, we didn’t talk all that much, but… I think if Five likes you so much, you must be pretty great. I, uh… actually wanna thank you… for taking care of him. He went through hell and my worst fear was that he’d do it alone… but you came in and did what I couldn’t. And I’ll be eternally grateful for that. I wish you luck in life, Delores.” Standing up straight, she turned to Five, who nodded in satisfaction.

“Beautifully said. Now,” He walked closer and zipped up the duffle bag. “I’ll only be a little while.”

“Oh, wait,” (Y/N) gently pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. “I can drive you there.”

-------------------------------------------------

(Y/N)’s car parked in front of the department store Five had directed her to. Very slowly, the boy removed his seatbelt and turned to the backseat, where the duffle bag sat. He let out a breath and slowly reached back for it. “I don’t know, Starlight… If I can…”

“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want, Five… But if you truly want to move on and have… that future… This is kinda necessary. I know you can do this, bub. You have more than just Delores now. You’ve got our siblings, you’ve got me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Five hummed and grabbed hold of the duffle bag, dragging it into his lap. His finger gently ran over the fabric as he shut his eyes.

“I know…”

Seeing the somber look in his eyes once they opened, she tilted her head and smiled. “Make sure they get her a new outfit. She’d look beautiful in red.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, opening his door to leave. “I’ll be back.” He whispered.

“And I’ll be right here.” She smiled. He returned the expression before getting out and closing the door, swinging the bag onto his back as he strode inside the store. (Y/N) leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, a distant vision she’d had years ago resurfacing her memories.

-------------------------------------------------

The clone stood a few feet away from Five, who sat on the hood of an abandoned car with Delores by his side. The boy sighed and stared up at the star-painted sky. He threw his arm around the mannequin’s “shoulder” and leaned into her. “These stars remind me of (Y/N)... Who is she? Oh, just… a girl…” The clone stalked closer to the car in silence. “What? No, Delores, she’s… Well, she’s dead now. I just called her Starlight because… that’s what she was to me. In an endless sea of darkness, she shone in all her glory. She didn’t make the darkness go away, but she sure made it more bearable to live with… Yeah,” He bitterly chuckled. “Yeah, I was in love with her… But it doesn’t matter. She’s… She’s gone now,” He turned his head to face Delores, his eyes softening. “But at least I have you…”

The clone’s foot came into contact with a nearby scrap of metal, the screeching of it sliding against the ground alerting Five. He jumped up and turned to the clone in anger. “Go away!” He tried waving it off. When it didn’t respond, he hopped off the car and stormed up to it. “I said go away! All you ever do is stand there and look like her! You don’t talk like her or smile like her o-or laugh like her! You just sit there and take up space! Just get the hell away from me!” He shouted, not daring to get any closer, for he knew he’d only get shoved back. The clone only squinted its eyes at Five, the boy sighing in exasperation and stomping back to the car. It watched as he sat atop the hood, burying his face into his hands.

“What the hell am I gonna do with it, Delores…?”

-------------------------------------------------

The girl snapped her eyes open when she heard the car door opening. Turning to her right, she was greeted with the sight of Five. Alone. As he climbed into his seat and shut the door, she grinned brightly at him. She reached her hand over and placed it over his. “I’m so proud of you…” She whispered. The boy only nodded, eyes trained on his knees. (Y/N) tilted her head and hummed in a soothing manner. She considered her next decision for about a solid two minutes before starting the car up again.

“Do you want to meet Michael and Jada?”

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#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight

[tothemeadow]

If I could throw in a request, would you kindly do something involving Douma x fem reader in the form of eating out, since he's a greedy, hungry fella. Side note, you should consider making a kofi account and putting up a link, that way those of us who don't directly commission you could still throw something your way in appreciation for your services here!

I did, by the way! Thank you for wanting to support me!

‘yummy’ / Douma x Reader

warnings: NSFW, oral sex

words: 1,118

-

There’s no reason why you should smell that good.

Even with the breeze kicking up and carrying the smells of flowers and trees, he can still smell you. His multicolored eyes watch your every move, the graceful arch of your back as you bend over to fetch another sheet. You’re surrounded by the white cloths, seemingly at peace as you continue with the laundry.

Douma wonders if you taste as good as you smell.

Now, he adores the taste of women, how their supple skin is easy to chew, how their thick blood slides down his throat. You’re bound to be a delicious meal if you smell so incredible naturally. It’s with this thought he carries as he crosses the yard, dodging around the billowing sheets until he’s only a few feet away from you.

As if drawn to his very presence, you turn to him, a surprised look crossing your features. He smiles as you instinctively bow, a shaky sigh passing through your lips. “My lord,” you breathe, “what an honor it is to be in your presence.”

Sweet thing. Douma licks his lips at your delightfully submissive behavior. Of course, it’s to be expected, especially since you’re a follower of the Eternal Paradise, but something about how you seem so eager to please him stirs something warm and exciting in the depths of his gut.

“Tell me, dear one,” he purrs, his hand reaching down and cupping your face. He forces you to look at him, his long nails tapping against your cheek. “Do you want to make me happy?”

You nod up at him. “Of course, my lord.”

Stooping down to your height, he presses his face in close. You smell even better up close, your eyelashes fluttering at his proximity. He has to smile at that, at how easily he managed to have you hooked. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “It can be terribly lonely,” he begins, his voice dropping low. “Being surrounded by so many others. There’s always attention on me, but not on anybody else. I want to truly spend a moment alone with someone, to give them attention.”

His long fingers slip down the column of your neck, drift underneath the neckline of your simple yukata. You shiver under his touch, your eyes growing cloudy. You let him pull you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back while the other grasps your chin.

“Allow me to spoil you,” he murmurs.

You eagerly nod at his proposal, your tongue flicking out across your bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement; he should be the one licking your lips, biting them until they bleed. A weak yelp escapes your throat as he pulls you away, leaving the laundry far behind.

You go weak in the knees as he brings you to his private quarters; no one is allowed in the room without his explicit permission, and even then, he must be in the room with them. Excitement travels down your spine as he urges you onto the oversized mattress, the expensive blankets caressing your body. You slither backward as he settles in between your legs, his massive form looming over you.

Birch colored hair curtains his beautiful face, his eyes glittering with mirth and lust. He wastes not another moment; swooping down, he captures your lips with his own. He moans at your delicate taste, your soft lips, the way you tremble beneath him. He easily licks his way into your mouth, tongue lapping frantically against yours. Even more throaty groans emit from his chest; he hastily grabs onto your waist, hands sneaking around as he undoes your yukata.

“My lord,” you breathe as his hands slip over your naked torso. A slight moan graces the air as he fondles your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your hardened nipples.

“All of this for me,” Douma says, a light giggle to his voice. His tongue and teeth travel down your neck, relishing in the taste of your skin and the goosebumps adorning it. He continues his way down your body, scooting backwards as his mouth trails over the swell of your breasts, your stomach.

A high-pitched moan bursts from your mouth as his hot breath fans over your pussy. Douma’s heavy breathing sounds almost too loud in your ears, too much.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his nose nuzzling into your sex, “you smell so good.”

“My lord-“

“Douma,” he tells you. “Call me Douma.”

You swallow thickly. “D-Douma…” With a shriek, your entire body jolts as his tongue laps at the slick gathering at your slit. Your hands instinctively grab for his hair, accidentally knocking off his hat in the process.

He growls as he shoves his tongue into your sopping pussy, the most obscene noises filling the room as he eagerly eats you out. His strong hands grab onto your thighs, draping them over his shoulders as he presses in deeper, his tongue curling against your velvety walls as his nose bumps into your clit.

“Douma!” you moan, throwing your head back. His fingernails claw at your supple thighs as he moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your back to arch.

He’s eating like a man starved, his tongue wildly thrusting in and out of your pussy as your walls squeeze down on the slick muscle. You tear at the strands of his hair as he latches onto your clit instead, his eyes flicking over your fucked-out expression. You taste so fucking wonderful, so much better than he was originally anticipating. The sinful noises spilling from your throat has his cock stirring in his pants, the urge to bend you in half and fuck into you growing stronger and stronger.

“Please, please!” you sob, your hips shamelessly bucking against his face. A particularly harsh suck on your clit sends you flying over the edge; you scream out his name as your slick gushes all over the lower half of his face and neck.

Pulling away, Douma’s panting like an animal in heat as he stares at your quivering pussy, how you’re clenching around nothing. Fuck, his cock would fit so nicely in that tight heat. He’ll fill you up with his cum, make your belly swell with it.

He hastily makes work at removing his hakama, his swollen cock kicking back against his clothed stomach. Dropping back over you, his cockhead slips past the ring of muscle; you cry in overstimulation, but Douma pushes forward, his thick cock filling you up so wonderfully. “Suck me in like you sucked in my tongue,” he purrs, his mouth latching onto a patch of your neck. “Cream around my cock, baby. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #douma x reader #kny douma #douma #request

[bovine-providence]

A Drider’s Mate

Chapter 1: Anniversary Plans

You and Illuso, your drider boyfriend, are getting ready to celebrate your two-year anniversary.

It was Friday, and you couldn’t wait for your weekend to start. Sure, the standard reasons applied, like the fact that you wouldn’t have work and you would have freedoms not otherwise available during the week, but this particular weekend marked your three-year anniversary with Illuso, the handsome drider you had the honor of calling your boyfriend.

The two of you had met at the farmer-artisan market he frequently sold silk at, hawking his wares next to the gorgon’s stall, who sold finely crafted metalwork. You were discussing the iron pendant the gorgon, Risotto, had suggested, his black and red eyes peering at you from behind protective glasses, when the brunet drider interrupted the two of you.

“If you think that piece is so beautiful, bella,” he had said to you suavely, “perhaps you should look at my silks next.” Intrigued, you hastily finished your purchase with Risotto before turning towards the drider, who introduced himself as Illuso. He had been right; his silks truly were lovely creations, both in appearance and texture. As you and Illuso chatted, you had found yourselves drawn to each other; before you left, he had been able to extract a promise of a date from you. One date led to a second, then a third, until you called yourselves a couple and moved in together.

However, dating a demi-human certainly came with its challenges.

While demi-humans had openly lived side by side with full humans for a few generations by this point, it was only fairly recently that interspecies dating had become more widely accepted. In a city like Naples, most people didn’t bat an eye seeing you and Illuso walk down the street hand in hand, but you could still recall the ‘stares and glares’ when you introduced him to your parents in the suburbs.

The challenges of living together, at least, were alleviated somewhat by modern technology. Sleeping together, for instance, used to be a challenging affair. Your mattress didn’t provide the necessary space for Illuso, while his webs and nest were too unsupportive for your human anatomy. You two had to sleep separately until you could afford a nesting mattress, which provided support for humans and accommodations for demi-humans. It felt affirming to be able to cuddle together at night, with the additional bonus of feeling like a nightly sleepover from having to place the nest on the floor. Though, that had been after the difficulty of finding a home that catered to both mixed household needs…

Regardless of the challenges, you and Illuso loved each other and made the relationship work, which was the important thing.

For your anniversary tonight, Illuso had arranged for dinner at an upscale restaurant you had heard good things about. What sold you both was the praise given by Prosciutto, a human friend to both you and your boyfriend; if Prosciutto thought a place was good by his own high standards, it most certainly was worth a visit.

You were sitting in front of your vanity and applying the final touches to your outfit when you heard Illuso arrive home.

“[Y/N], I’m home, cara!” you heard him announce at the entrance.

“In here,” you called, and the tap-tap-tap of his feet sounded through the hallway as he scuttled over to you. In the reflection of the mirror, you saw him pause as he turned the corner, appreciatively eyeing your form in the maroon wraparound dress you had selected for tonight.

“You look ravishing tonight, bella,” he murmured. “Is that all for me?” he asked as he approached you.

“Of course,” you purred, getting up and turning to him. Once he was within reach, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss. He smiled as he pulled you closer, deepening your kiss. As you pulled back to catch your breath from the sudden passion, he smirked down at you.

“I’ll go get ready, and we can head out,” he murmured, nipping playfully at your bottom lip before separating from you. You giggled at his antics and followed him out to wait in the living room.

Forty-five minutes later, the drider stepped down the hall to join you. Illuso had taken more care than usual to ensure the hair covering his thorax and legs was brushed out and as soft as he could make it, almost downy, and his hair was pulled into a braided bun. You noticed he was dressed in a jacket and shirt that matched your own outfit; the deep red of the blazer truly brought attention to his eyes, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“You look handsome,” you complimented at his approach, accepting the arm he offered out to you.

“Don’t I always?” he quipped. You nudged him playfully.

“Most people will say ‘thank you’ to a compliment, you know,” you chided. He chuckled and gazed down at you tenderly, then paused. You noted a flash of discomfort cross his face before he shook it off.

“You alright, Lulu?” you inquired.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I think my mating cycle may be finishing up a bit early this season,” he responded.

You glanced at him; his mating cycle was usually as regular as clockwork. When it happened, he’d close himself off, even from you, to deposit his unfertilized eggs in solitude, to have them disposed at the designated bio-waste bin at the demi-human clinic a few streets down from where you lived. Illuso had explained it all to you when you asked about the process, but it was clear that the subject made him self-conscious. From what you could gather, ejecting eggs during a mating cycle was a period of vulnerability.

You wondered what would cause his mating cycle to end earlier than usual, but brushed it off for the time being; the two of you had an anniversary to celebrate.

#jojos bizarre adventure #la squadra #illuso #illuso x reader #modern fantasy au #A Drider’s Mate #there’s gonna be monster fucking #I guess I’m officially out as a monster fucker now #monster au