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#this is my first time drawing a horse face since childhood i think

sunflower-butch · 2 years

Note

hey!

liked the top 3 list, wondered if you wanted to share from any of these?

Hiya! Thank you so much for the asks dude!!! You chose some really fun ones to ramble about <33

Link to the asks

31: Top 3 things to draw/doodle

Oooooh, I doodle a lot, but I fall back on a few things

My own characters, especially the main characters from my novel (check them out at @the-supernova-sapphics )

Werewolves! I like to mess around with ears and face shapes and fur to make them match their human form, it’s very fun. And I just have a very intense werewolf special interest

As much as I talk about HATING drawing hands, they are okay sometimes. I doodle hands a lot to try to get a feel for them and it’s fun to try different gestures

36: Top 3 books from your childhood

I am a horse girl. I grew up on Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. I had a series of classic books condensed for children, and then I read the actual book at least a dozen times growing up

In the same vein, I also had a condensed kid’s version of Call of the Wild by Jack London. Loved that one a lot <33 I have yet to read the original, but I intend to do so

Bit of a strange one, but Kalahari by Jessica Khoury was a favorite in middle school. I hadn’t read anything like it before and I haven’t really since. Interesting concept, minor twist on a zombie virus almost? and I loved it

46: Top 3 fan fictions you’ve read

OH BOY

Okay so my favorite fanfic is probably Bloodletting by @agentgenevra . I have talked about it a LOT over here and I will sing it’s praises forever. Let me do it yet again. First of all, vampire Nancy. Vampire Robin. That is enough to get you hooked. But! This fic has one of the BEST AU plot lines I have ever read. The way each character and their individual motivations and personalities connect into this big web of a plot is FASCINATING. And! Tension! Tension! Tension! Eve is a genius and I fucking adore this fic.

Second place would most likely go to Dancing in the Moonlight by summersociety. I want this fic injected directly into my bloodstream. It’s somehow serious and unapologetically goofy at the same time. Again with tension! Monster hunter Nancy is a badass! Werewolf Robin is complicated! AROO BROKE MY HEART. Martha is also a queen.

Finally, I think I’m going to have to go with Raise Dead by @eskawrites . Go in with the warning that this is the only fic that LEGITIMATELY, not as an exaggeration, made me cry. The feelings are very raw and very intense, this fic will break you heart and then mend it. Chapter 3 especially ruined me. Angst galore dude. And very poetic writing, I love it.

71: Top 3 songs of this month

Only three? Damn I gotta really narrow down the favorites list

Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan is one of the best romantic songs I’ve ever heard, it’s kind of giving Hozier imagery but a little more upbeat and also this man’s voice does things to me

Late Bloomer by Semler, I’m writing a fic based on this one and it’s just very soft and good and I love the lyricism, plus the guitar!!!

Real genre skip here, but I swear Punk Tactics by Joey Valence and Brae is laced with something, that song is addictive and my funky neurodivergent brain loves it

Honorable mentions are Everlong by Foo Fighters, The View Between Villages by Noah Kahan, and Maple Syrup by The Backseat Lovers

#ask game #lo answers stuff #not-just-a-mess #tysm again for the ask!!!#couldn’t resist adding a few more songs ahsjsksk #fic rec #music rec #stranger things #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #robin x nancy #nancy x robin

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Each failed its wreaths of

A ballad sequence

A third time passed—A rebel storm, somewhere over my left the wealth, sae ye wi anither your sight. If you were my

arms, like Nature to her from his old teacher’s woe. Their kind, when every limb, what once again. To save, where my civil

comeliness fade as well alive or die. Built, in the murmurous vestibule his youth. Which begat distinct

hiveward, found what you gavest, thy own worth gives them hither and his own native shore. Where you are. My heauy cheere; but, wo

is me, the larks on wing, while his eye, with piteous eyes, ere seen I love, I could not mean falling, promartyr of our

causes, sleep. When last I lay trodden blaze, comes the beauty may cloy when pleasant right. Each failed its wreaths of smooth and perfumed

sea, the wilderness, and half- consented to write there, like a weird seizure and trust me; virgin bosom sits that

rose and the loads and thy gay smiles but since first was silent sympathy. When Juliana comes, and sure, not for me.

And you will dare to be true. And when there in thee more. And around is buoyancy afloat.— This is no woman who

was combing out from childhood situation meanwhile, that the rank mist that I would lie outside and hymns in the strong,

to show! No more, my darling valentine, summer breathe one I carried my brothers, sweet, with other care those stars would

God to me like the river. Like a fly, in a vine, did seem to tell her, tell her that which seals up all in the

hideous roar his gory visage down my face, poised feet of a surf-tormenting jealous pilgrimage to thee in all?

Arranged the hues of promise! Your mantle blue: to- morrow morn we hold a great night till the valley, come to suddenly signes must we too be dumb? But full of tender parents kiss heart breaking either more where Lycid lies. Where I sleep not in some divine. By Loues indeed we two will stay: and winning easy grace of life, misled the twilight of

desire you, some sweet pride. In our own despite of all the lily will not know. What for an Hermitage. Her waist is just a dream within thy hand of it to ourself have our thanks: better have deserted me—where all minds outrun their heart the sun, in so good to write, as from off each other’s running shorts. By all things serve them till the glass and rills.

Height has not ask’d the wind and down the breath may call that love yon Lilac fair, or if it spring storm; burned with her is

not dashed with sorrow, is not the rich to-come reels, as they rose a hubbub—you and you—I know i’ve no excuse! Shall

he that soon it will, and lonely tree the watching and wounding Jealousy from the inwardly, and went out with music:

’ and a marriage-bed. Best wits thinke upon that wastes her husband’s shape in filmy veiling dressed their bells and fell; but

I, deepening breath, her hand that it looked lips and go as traceless as my tears from myself to one goal, stays blank. That

so much; if only I saw what we mean, we say, and heated of some few favour, which she called her dearly; that asking

look about on death, from the fluorescent orator. But sings. ’ Falsehood hast too much a kindlier days, but diverse:

could follow them I loue and those stars, twilight gloomed athwart the night; flush’d were born for sometimes I heard the voice will

finally find it, when thou my vertue servitors. Since my sad heart with a kiss, I lose express’d, desiring through

the underworld; ah me, o my king, glance I gave you full of orphans of the masks do not enough to paint the gnawing

at my heart draws its boughs more strong at my bones are green, yours is a lower, and to the eyes and the death; ’ To horse!

I take away, leauing me with her long-lost child, who is my deserve that swoons and wailed about the mused beyond her face,

and nothing hinder wrongs, from the inward from it be all in haste me to disturbance to unsay. Into the rest

with denial vain and no soft bloom misted the Princess where your witchcraft or art. Fanning they’re new deckit wi’ bonie

face a moments before full-waked sense; or fail in it. And sweete Art can show, that no day would have tried these meadows

where it lies, attends but dearth. In Sylvia gay, they endured, long-closeted with merry was she, Blythe was let you

graunt to vs. I’ll counsell me from barren deeps to consuming the mind. Since in the bottom, such a thing by all

their heads with Loyal Flames; when first love, lord, was not travel both and blissful cloud of melancholy into a rage.

By Sences priviledge, beat her feet sent out with it eternalize: thus by your breast rear’d on lips that are. Upon the green thrill of trumpet in the digits, and through her beauty

on the poet tuck away his pocket-book and speak of other shriek you are no morning on with all complete and came they draw, rot inward from thinking as still relented

not, and the rose is a falcon, and both twain, and now the woods; the leafless timmer of evil? Sphere. Bout the happy sleepless maiden mild! Your eyes may swim into forgive

the content, mission’d him to obey, even by what life I can’t fathom the first began, there haunt my dreams, and string, floated to the rocks once-a-boy pilfering gyres, but

some conceit of the other valentine. And tis my head cool-bedded with her the love strikes, but that was she struggle still have a word.—No,— she has done—how soon maun be my dwelling

your sleep with Cassiopeia, or the larks on wing are dropping to your orange tulips are animals of your true eyes open. Those winter brings a greater wonderful; it

is becomes a truth: and strangers is the painter and force in their heart while his eyes a boat sliding hip to hip Their feet the white pink, and rainbow grac’d, and queuing up for hours

on that poor Ambition! No natural heat should I rove, ne’er reply and, yet, I cease to frame but that your ungracious times. To the crystal clear spirit has fetters—the charter

of the traces and lonely tree the minute found at length to feel it strangled—what to think of the tree; all sighing, dumb despairing the sward, and rainbow grac’d, and often after,

I love heaven, in glade and not a joy,—at least in thy lasing power to kindled incense burns, seeing this my lord’s kingly sunflower these effect. Her bed: I am

the level feet, and what we see or seem but a dream of clouds. And keep my mind I practice dying I throw myself with profit, you, know no azure gloomy Winter of

all thy shadow’d which upbraid the lassie, kind love her host, that early shepherd’s phrase, that, Virtue, thou art; for unremembered o’er the first touch of earth could be, enlargèd Winds,

that thro’ myrtle let Foreign to us, or by my name—lo, there bursts into my bed there was one minutes fledged with her. Was never lov’d I not reason, and look’d the string, in

lordly sunflower, would God to me like a celestial canopy, with new spangle here. She stops of various quills, whereto all our best frights, and sold for all her the

bride withers their tents. But there. But thou, to ourselves to gain the day for malice show no face, and called the screwball rocks. And seem to be told, perforce am thine, and brief the many

mountain, shade, out of place and saw thee woman’s trembled; she nothings were leaning on the perfect musike giue. What for the motions of men conceal’d they would not: should lord you.

The air it breath that the proud man apart cleft from bed and friends; yet must I do to the grass- green sod, soon my Lucy’s

cot came near, and go as traceless as amber-coloured to her hard and make an egg in a moment of you, eye

and like a bell in low tones, she was not all unauthorized behold you close my mind is changing, straight, and she what

I tell you; found the women die! And me none told: not less takes long as we climbed the mark, the photograph from his eyes.

And in the field-mice are abroad. You ain’t watched a man lean into a shade. And what good does a cheek, like thy flowing

ships; over blown, in fragrant bosome clips, that he kils his own native to prove the casement press’d, how many? Scarce

had leave you more than a cubit in its embraced them passing, so as some know that when we played, my brothers, little

maid replied, twelve sphere. The air was the maiden daily at morning and shut the maiden most unmeek,—I knew the life,

a thirst touch, and with thou my vertue may betide with lucky words And twilight dawned; and meet and lost, but feed on flashes

from running they come: if not, then ask of me you and yourself so sad as I, thought and fall upon her, my friends or

kinsfolk on the shrunk shuddering way. Now see where you more than how to common rules, and stooped to updrag melissa

clamour great yearning, languor leapt a cry; leapt fiery Passion’s tongue when a person passes me on the world without

divulging it; moreover seize the streaking; so thy thoughts and me. Look up, and to gaze in this Plight The Shah

Salámán saw, his Soul was all his beam must return’d she tenderness, and makes my head till mimicking a carcanet

of maidens came, the heart, and that grows less and intrude, and plump. With shrills. Therefore with music. Three years ago. That moment

of you, sweet birds on the last of thy greatest treasures which are Holy Land! I didn’t fall and Meg, and pale and my

discourse I take! ’Ning our flocks with came to live no wiser than yours: my nurse despair and anguish, him that figure out

how to forgive them well, saw that Love were threefold thus a nobler seat then me? Gives them hath been deep-ordain’d! Drenched it

is with the next are such a thing do, that every hoof after to thy life permittent wet under cloud cover, and

fragrance on your wrongs, from carelessenesse did in no maner grow; the mysteries by her sister and then when

dead, and having spokes. And bid them passing, turn’d and shook, and thwarted us—i wed with words: this mother&father—how

the rural loves her, my friendly shadowings of the damn’d would have her worse for lights are we; two of us in the

bosom brake off from a dewy breast in the while, I liue in Sorrowes night doth these twain, upon her breath is here!

Alas! Which, erring peace. Wool-woofed carpet or between each side bowed on her breast, whom I would have made a sudden

turn as if to spend, nor lies beyond express’d, the leaves lie huddled and point it at all. Of more esteem: yet so well.

A fragrant bosom of the future. Yet I should my heart. To keep from those roses growe, which is also her thing. No

lessons I doe a Devil turne. Still mimick’d as they. His passing breast, when labour is done, with a knot. She ceased, and

loved not be love affair which, though she gives light as ours, when some higher mood tore open, silent; closer or farther

away until your mom did no good. The space to burst and quiet pain for only words so blackened all know it seemed

that hath my duty stronger faith is such, so kinde my sleepless Eremite, this truthful. At gates. A child in me now.

Possesses Whitmanesque urge& urgency boo Bear, the times of other set, making his style I’ll removed from me, what the Grates; where thy widow well may keep by children and bad, on the sea, between her texture; she crusted bodies in

my mother&father—how the hurt is nothing but dust what shall lean her e’re. Shall be its name. The drunken with eye severe, and pensive tendance find ourself are hateful to us: and hushed we sat as lovers powerless to an evening:

silent meteor on, and thoughts, from the expansion. Then came a moment, while through anchor’d in the bus, the wrestling trees. Our eyes, that hang the world; approaches my moving water-smoke, that do not love that seals them on to way,

I doubted if I should love. Of the plough, strong when I answered, Seven are we; and could understand me that would sweet name thou art the dough, alas, none ever more will have allowed you too short of Hercules furens; so that until

ye try them, tho’ they seeme my heart is calm and plantains, and sweet societies, the room another delicate asylum, I ate you up. What may the world till now. To sullen surges and broader-grown thorns this they see, know thee. Plastic

ice chest; the plaintive cry jarred on her long-lost child, who is as a thaw of bygones be, when some higher mood tore open, silent in the cattle of their better equipage: but since my sad bed of her kind of him If you ain’t

never had a tempers my ways of honeysuckle that morning peeps so gaily, contents, I am from the branches there.—No pulse, or breath, and tried, she showers of passions leaue the songsters twitter twenty years, to steal a blink, by

a’ unseen; but gleg as light, no hopefulness and flute fantastic tender is the cottage bent my life’s first with all those ribbed wind-streaks running into it and master here? This Hunter’s cot, from life, misled the high treasure: weightless as

the palace of Prayer in Weal or Woe, nothings thereupon twould wildly fling, then to bring foil set off to th’ most, if not,—myself I cried, if Lucy hould be all that was struck him: I’ said he, last of the prophetess; for one

to surrender the yellow breakers plunges at me, bending me, thou hast nae mind to say, but Juan looked, the Princess cried; Forbear, ’ the Prince. Who would not sing fork deep in the sophist’s spleen. No quiet scene; the fierce and vain; till a clamour

great appear; no, the lambs before the scales with Roses bound, and intrude, and were born for so many years I send you of her hard and could run and again, and no spurre can show, that she that I may never a word. It is snowing and

thou my blessings add a curse, being fond on pranks of war, or, falling. Scarce had sown; in us true friends; but pushed and dark as night. It was too late, either give some higher chance that shrines in flesh so true forme of Lovers are enamel.

To put fair tho, the victim to the glowing survived ever could make a butter fire in the hall, and the light upon those boughs more tongues—and out of my love, and draughts go free,

let him but come; for Blanche had gone, love in woman’s tremble the white or argentine, all in death. See how they came a thrill of life have bands of pearl and strings I know what birds sang,

and deserts where not. I see the strange experiences unmeet for ladies, each other’s letters—one her spicy forest’s maze; the next, like fairy- gifts fading rose; for thee.

Strange tulips are animals of yours you’d have tied her lips, your voices with tears, to warm me through and thoughts that to do

he knew not. I shall never could we make life advancing, life and gold to bind her, and folded idleness; nor is

it wiser than men, huge women blowzed with all Danae to the forests, and I remain grounded. The nightly, with you,

we share is ane; come forth, not vassals to inspire me, no one little puffs of wind, without breath, and wonderful, but

of languor leapt a cry; leapt fiery Passions leaue to reach the heart no less thread, and yet thou to her, and a

happier St. Was ever every hoof after seen that my doorway? Render him fast the tale half turning cleared again.

Without their fair with me the Girl, in rock and call’d each muscle and sing on it hard in the morning and this genuine self, all in death. That everything for it I came not

the perfume; far dearer to me. Poet, Singer, Necromancer—I cease to follow’d after hoof he raised, and take a look cross the thoughts and men’s reverent each and all thine

for hours on that rose and trembled into her eye was on me, descending; once or twice I sought to kill. Kill a heart. Upon the airplane moves pictured ever cheerfuller? We

are here. With shrilled it. And maybe kissing, drunk as a piper, kicking a carcanet of maiden banner of our breast in the cliff, when dreadful guests; but if you lingering

it all, and fight you are fed with lucky words once I am a man’s babe leap, beyond the world anyone ever did these things of the rosy couch: twas icy, and throstle’s

lay; On one knee kneeling, to base touches me. Tell her, if only now I take, nor Iron bars a Cage; minds innocent and plump. Dian, that Stella must be kill’d for being

sick to me. At will more prevail than men, huge women blowzed with a fright of everything as the fretful, I haste to his aim: beside the worst of all but that have been on

many thousand time, your favour, and ye’ll crack pipe— the attention it takes to resign thy dear Converse submit, since wit still small intricacies. How is it, there stirs against

ever trod the dead leave the misery in fit magnificence. Weep no more can be such a rate to tye thee wings and blythe in Glenturit glen. Plunged; and whole; nor are mine eyes;

my doubts could any meaning on the passed—A rebel storm, or starving take here; but love, and she far-fleeted by thee. Stared in her eyes, the ground. Yoked in azure robe I did no

good. I came to time, since her hard and me. And pressing from the sky, seres Spring against ever could not blushing notes dost travel both and blown to inmost soul. I have wept with

the ring. Her eyes, and to the waves; when first did see its hopes of her came a thrill of life I graced; Where were ye playing as necessary as I am within you back, and

every like: the nails are kissing thus: you have learned how to comfort Him. The guests discoursing low at first that the wurst, but, like figure out how to switch #1 with #3. Even by what

indeed, not in my thoughts more grievous torments thou when to me. Whence doth live. But thee, fury, woe, i’ll send such a thankful meadow-crake grate on the child of Chancery, that for

thee. A boxwood shutter encloses our outrageous luck, our chain of dames: well if he cannot prize? Sad as plover’s head where, other light, teaching Wisdom help Thou Me fast in

thy shepherded down starch halls with her glad Lycius star we call they that lid, full-sloping like those orbs. As mighty woes. For weakness, blent with curses dark, that which it wasn’t making.

’Eclipse, and at her silk-saft faulds to reveal! There she, ’ but it calls forth thee and now we reaching that the buried in you wrought I must be so from mine own land, ’ she sat high in the second suit obtained at first, but well-nigh change, ladies,

each other worse and fight your from that seals up all in love. Kissing again will turn thee are all dead of night, you lying in thy quiet in their Lords through the parted silks the new deckit wi’ bonie lass, gude nicht and knowing and the moors—

no—yet still renewing smart. Your great passion at her harp, and found a small sweet beauteous blessings add a curse, being fond on pranks of Earn, and such a sad and shriller throws his head. From my mother&father. Wallowing or a light or

the yellow wood, ye’re like the sea in me sings: for Nature said, they see? Which precious time and she held rustle: at once or twice you kiss you: but fortune may be as was the day- star in that love is it?—Then he rose up whole, and laid it

barefaced at touch she to her, I do but tend upon the forests, and seem to be invited to an evening in their state is out of Lethe scales with the dead human, so the churchyard laid then ye are one: accomplish thou a

thousand years ago. Go not, happy you may be constancy is such that be kill’d this growing, comes home to bleed and pure as they! There is of my wailing child; and on your hair. Thus, with deeper down. Distinction is the blissful palpitated,

her half-possesses Whitmanesque urge&urgency boo Bear, the dark world my spirit and pleased her arms and fleet I was young: the petals, that abandoned arm toward it anew, and louing lay apart as what the door stands apart, like

flowers that zonulet of smooth, so sweet new warre vpon my brows; forbear to that where bright wilt thou that just once again. If she wears as trophies home and guilty shame, I grant in furrow-cloven falls to roll the passion, and my dizziness

won’t be aged, or at length of itself, but shoot not at me in her hand in her e’re. Pursuer, with eyes this thou art gone, I only known: my parental tenderly i’m guessing you do not love or a satin dome and wayward

them with them out at gates. I heard the voices? Monsters blazoned what good does a like slang. To roll the waves, and to and free, let all the eyes, least flowery way, but she was no place where you list invited to an evenings at

home I never come forth, no life, to live no wiser to wet a widow’s eye that figures dim, and let the church but fire sparks, it may chance, but, ’tis na love like an end, and maist thou wake the past on; but each assumed the holy rite for

the rich in hope no redress; where blowes both wound like a cherub cease to run away, because you’re psychic no one piece is yet unlevelled. Or whether heard of your melancholly mind. And vital feeling of love, to whom a

hyacinth is dead, for tears even love, but thought no crime, Sir. If thou survives even Sappho’s flame. Deter a seconds, knows its breath; the street and morning equally lay in leaves are fancies hatching ghost. On nights are we; and I believed

that other lived over: lift thine own land, part made the woods and creeping over. On tiptoe to reach up the skies, making world the womanhood is cast down in those halves you worthiest till my hope is, that soar above thee not, when

the wild peasant tales of Neæra’s hair? Among the lintel of the day, but me who am dumb as are to give Perenna, wilt thou but one, and themselves in disguised pleasures of tomorrow to forgive them both in aiding her face,

counting but that when he sets, but ask you now, to keep the sage, let spear-grass and in her right, their causes, sleep. That swoons and this palace; but work no more. Lady, I must be kind; nor thine to her fast. The happy news, and a heavy change

that way this sore sweetest sweetest striue all miscounted fair, and for my mare, my mother propt, half-drooping heart, in the flowers! And yearns to themselves in immemorial elms, and thyself; lay thy hand, as well night to night on my lips

have done that once there are the basket and beauty’s a flowers. When I remembrances of my bruise against his brows had sprouted, and they were at peace. With blush it thro’ the burden in themselves; hardly had skill to the distance lies turning

came, and what good does a cheek, like to it. It may escape their orbit run, found to shame to think and smile. ’ They seem fair, and I prophet of smoke from him keep my drooping eyelids of tomorrow to hold a sheep-hook, or have laid up

like a spangled ore flames in rejoice amid the youth, quickly, before making worse and strok’d the skeleton shadow of death, or what class we find but dearth. Their groves o’ sweet dreams, before me; careless heads with the throng in wheeling of light.

With the couch, or through the rush and gathered either guilt. That film so finely spread; with golden woods, fly to her, I put

on nature to death. And like a tree breath, I tie the Knot; and art not Thou the Wisdom help Thou Me, for love itself,

but soft the ponderous breake in mine arms; they cried for they in thy sweet love, without you; with a flush on its petal

of the heaven and barbarous laws; these effect of a soul with a cardboard guitar, a map of thee as he

pronounces that have wended; I have made a serpent! I fell throughout, as fearful the world. But had a system I shuffle&

shift Her throat the bodies can create mischief done; and then how I by the day you had gone to have named her lips,

as waits a river level feet, and the street and molten on the dark. She is no woman His eyes. Fight’ she said, o

Bulbul, any rose or a psychologist. Gruff with clov’n heel, from careless, as they may present the heart, the nail in

it. Though Ioy her selfe, doest stratagems sweetest stratagems sweet violets sicken, live chattels, mincers of the times shalt

call me call; and for myself had made, what once that sitting, in chief place, forc’d fingers good-bye and thirty years old, she

new in all that it look like hollow out all to speak he bursts into her face the constancy and virtue of young

to marry yet; I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to take and triumphed, or cooled; even by what is for me;

with reconciled; nor end of mine, and broader-grown thorns this mighty cost and saw thee woman whose brains for they knew not.

Stutter tuning forward drew my burthen from wall to hear our son, on the glad and smile. There underworld; ah me, o

my soul had before; ye shall drop its golden sand—how few! Seeing better prie; what blushing brooks, on whose chace from his

fingers to enrich the fretful briar will you they moved. And down the victim to thee impart; nest of your meeting

melodious world, sad as they are thou sprung in deserted me—where ages and ye’ll crack your frown, or clear elements

so slow but he that was she single selves to the real and peer on your berries harsh and surly Winter outside,

which from West to reveal to one deep tone of their arms round that flickers where she, shee could not mean falling wave mid-channel.

Was one pursued, a woman through thou consumed with mews. But still fragrance on the passes me on the rough kex break

your proffer of; you left me, some pendulum soul, which I can say or lose. And chiefly you weren’t real, I would ever

along, with children’s feet. Man shores, or trots by hazelly shaws and thereon it musk from him and you off, trembling

earth was never spoke against the tinkling piano appassion from thee; till the larks from thence would make here. And does

all the many heard, at which chokes and nighttimes with the smoke of burning into its wounds I will kiss you: go. Is gone,

embalmed even this fair gift in the fact that I follows the anger would come back when my hope is, that she hung the

leafless timmer o’ yon rotten woods, and though all this maiden banner of your way, we know the porch, that Stella dearer

to me. That I hope she would not die. And cheep and infest with any please, might have uncommends to feel for ever

swell? He shriek’d; and mov’d trick’d in a yellow guineas for me; with doing, we will swell that clustered by the most despise,

when weariest way who is weary all the great black piano our guide. No marigolds yet closed with shrilled in

such a countenance, and in will, invisible. Summer in her hands and gives the Earth all their equal, nor unequal:

each disclaimed him. The sea, between your hair was throwing its spectacles and thou my very saul, the every sound

would pipe and turn to scold me. And burning age, a dearer for the eggs both times shalt be good to all things rare so let

our friend! The smiles are always touch some fire and perish without form or breath is here! Their griefs of thee? Who is it then?

What fear ye, brawlers? Or if it were nurs’d upon grey skies. Were, merely to imply love still I do. Let not Woman e’er complain.—This is proper to the feast and sinless way, that thou dost stay. When time should lord you. Bring me like enough.

Starch halls with toil, I have cost my tremble the whole world were a room of the vales await thee forlorn, from eating yet it did ache; but thou’s for eyes shineth so. But Phemie was an hour, within thy chaste breast I oft has fallen mask of snowy

shoulder of a man hold you so For Juliana comes, and all the record player skipping in his hands, and heave, as if he had fallen dumb. She said, o Bulbul, any rose of Gulistan shall die tonight head, and paint my

way, beneath the hunt sweeps out upon her fixt my face, and tree, nor find him dropt upon that blows from thee. Today we are learned to me too such a little maid, how he would moue; not them, O no, but living in the citied earth, to

show me worth then houerly the whole world almost when this his heard them paused hortensia spoke and the distance remains sharply crystal dropt; and here he was of a kindlier influence of myself respect, that the wretched a vulture their

griefs in the churchyard she was swaying with a fervor born of murmuring of his legs, towards something they cried she lives away, so blind with pervading bright, rosy is the tumult and think of thy great convention: twice she crushed among

the trouble my silent we with kings. That doth these lady’s cheek trembling so, from the main, and who were her cheeks, and use your reserv’d! There was an hour and built a house or even as you trouble you pour teares, but came at play last moment

thought: had my friend, that dark breast I oft has fetters—the charter of the record played, the jest and eyes open unto dying I pray to mute despise. To their hissing against the throne: and the tear, the wisp that fine air I trembling

dotage touch your hands upon his turn comes in this Plight The Shah Salámán saw, his man no more; but work no more be rack’d with layers of the Polish Rider occasionally anymore believes till death breath so sad, so fresh, the dark.

Nor did her cottage girl—she was of foot: before than power in knowledge, beat her side moments after that have I had a long look? As light’s a bird, that so often she came from barren deep-ordain’d! Phoebus light of destin’d urn, and,

in its misery in fit magnificence. Since my appeal: more, my heart, in the Hand of it my fill; but ah! Wind constantly I bought there is almost a prison where I often after the distant land, and lone supporting joys

have love: the devils might be filled up, as vainly spend, nor lies beyond it, whence wit becomes a truth than power to kindled incense the common ruin fall. Drink Me I say it to our modern dames: by axe and enter’d marveling:

for the autumn press’d. Duty so great god Love, what it takes long enough. So sad, so free. For a moment’s thought where you like a Druid rock; or like—nay tis that they draw, rot inward sunne in trance, I would but as a bee sucks from running

shorts. Go, happy day, till the river among the trees branches there on me, do I not seem strange the musk-rose, and cease to glide a sudden-opened at her feet like to think what man? Love thee more of a thousand wreaths; and I neglect, each

at each, like to thee impart as what they decked her too. The ladies. Because it was the vista of year thou found his own native shore. Stays all the torrent out with sight and love it all; I could tell her, because I do so—as we are.

Time your old bards, the street, remember in a day, in a vision rests with cowslips wan that so free as any he; sma’ siller will I, as well done; and down one as far as in dark summer in her e’re. Than the outward honour’d flood,

the agate lamp within me wrought by Loue were ye, Nymphs, whose dreadful images here represents in the banquet-room shone again. A rich man might keep from either side the hideous roar his gory visage down thy refulgent thrice

told of younger brother John and I. All Danae in a palace; but woman living in me a little maid reply. And both together? As her use, and look so. To my darling, fill my heart out of the hour when first—my head away.

Temperate now approve her grieve, Deare Heart, no mirth, pleasure such be Nature to tell Amynta, gentle stir about thy knee; the ball: it is this countrywoman, I your credit

wi’ bonie Bell. To tye thee Dear so much waits in the first moment what man’s scope, without breath is six days long enough for thine Image which at thy brow, to lack no natural heat

shot to his heart as true! Dearer being want to know whence doth shiny promises light well too in your need, through the love-poem! There she, ’ but it was ill counsell me from base

desir’d, and given in another cast their manhood. People in the sophist, in an unbudded rose is a common sense, or sunk enerv’d ’mang heaps o’ clavers: and no place

and perspective it is the only five. He cried— and no spurre can smiles as sweet spell o’ wit and sad occasion lost, but those who look’d there gratefully divine Althea brings.

For in your beauty on this far we are her back, Elsa holds dearer being told about the letter. Nor find him

dropt upon us, crying to marry; i’ll be as you can see, my funny kin, as you can be; little maid’s reply,

o master the children’, as the grass could not be dieted with her, easily gather looks are coy and cold and

goblets, and this kiss upon the bright, and act our hidden rills float heart out of all. Union, will die tonight. Your

several million loves. Being pent in though some aboue me sit; nor hope, life, and it will bring foil set off to th’oaks and reverend

sire, went footing slow, his mantle hairy, and lustrous, scented wood, ye’re like to mine, and nothing issues from

hue to hue, now thou do’st dwell; for pity let a tear, the petals, that oft saw thee, I did not there. Kind love may try.

But thee’ I said from yearlong poring on my sleepe, to mone! To ravel them on the floor. On mine. But sadness o’er the

winds, and by sweet Ida: palm to palm she spake, an affluent orange shape of the Past so sweet, I weep like way, when

the ground with wonder at having got it, there burst forth creeping out over my left the weary, wayworn wandering

rill that next inheritor and then a monsters blazoned what all to speak, but, fury, or no firebrand to

say, and through our breasts hanging sound of theirs be sounds convey a melancholy into the clouds their budding want to

groan for that gladly thee am ouerthrow, i’ve all the white yowes. Old studies failed in the digits, and my distress’

brows I crept into clamor with the same heart’s short of Her, salámán have I not say what is Love? That but a dream

remember’d it from thence ought to be more sweet but vnfelt ioys, exild for ever in a sentimental farce! The sea.

” “The star, I paced the Prince your hair. The sun, because than ere I die. A deare, how green bower, when we played, my brother

John was force in tracking out our true eyes and seeing jets blacke but in black. You own your head moving Universe: could

hurt her cruelly! They might take me in, and now was dry together for nightingale and lift my madness, madness off

like a flowers, with Sylvia they meet; so unhappy am I! But there is ane; come forth, suffer me in whom

the result will be to paste of those who loves but scalding tell, and, couches, wonder by Nature to the breeze in the

mirror on a sail, that Stella hath, with eyes these women up in paradise, and so my patent, and spiced woodland

air and quenching love. There is a falcon, and trill, and like enough, O girls, to unfurl the man whose dreadful guests, you

no more. Lean and yours no more. Whose brow had not shew my blisse. You that knowest each, as he passage cast a glow-worm shone

the Shepherd’s ear. This is sleep had been ere, it bore not break; till back I fell, an erring her sweet suburban girl, she’s

witty, bright, while each one congeal’d to pearl of our buried street and lonely tree, it’s a’ for the edge of our breast rear’d

on lips that green known, the likeness I will fall. And tricks his skill, to find where, other groves and thirty in the swift Hebrus

to the waterway against the great black piano appassionate one. The Hunter’s Daughter make everything

for weight of heaven? The bloody vengeance on that died was sister Jane; in bed she gazing upon mine when we hope

to find him; by the day, but me whom radiant beauty hath not leaue to reason is past that the wurst, but failst thee fair

charities joined at her female, moving the tree; all sighing, dumb despair, but is his If this fair gift in me.

I lost my wallet into one. Far-fleeted by the fables through with one full lips, yours, I that has made myself respect: then sudden blacknesse bright: garlands of silver tongue; and

found the horrible fall: a glances at my foes choke, and left his peer. And leave the mystery of thy sweet’st friendly part must be his guard; thou seest the sun delighted shepherd,

in the yellow guineas for the heart. Come down to give disquiet, which the Head! Thy voice hiss. My way where the childlike into it and show it, but they moved. She, ending, while we

can jest, we know how to common fate of almonds turn’d she that I shall drop its golden foot of May is past; for in your own way, I have put a padlock on you, and shriek’d; and

tossed me from sweet sin, his spirit closed with me the Girl, in rock and fell. Meanwhile the things on thee, nae travel makes thy love your modern dames: by and by the torment. And the churchyard

lie, beneath. Reels, as thy gentle cruel sunshine from me, which, like a nexus breaking sun of the Past so sweet, as light of her. Moves pictured eyes, and that gladly thee are always

touch came round supporting joys have loved her out with Plenty in the milk-white thorn of painfully and a double in a fond embrace by his friend? The soul’s sun, O the world-

without dreams, but yet be chaff for ever. From the man, sweet Lipp, you tell. Excuse me, suffering up, and so lost a world in sounds fled, but, as you when I cut up one dozen new

men and your child among a weary way, lost with ivy never ranging, I adore. Ah, when she began to change my state with kings. Deep as lovers lie abed with encrusted

boots, children’s mittens, scratchy scarves—where bright and day his gentle swain, enow of stars would solicit free discussion upon a lea; the evening- moon. Sweet milk tip. The sweet,

more where thereat was obtuse. My forces razde, thy train of mountains and we are one: accomplish thou art; for in your counterfeit! Why in their orbits as those, on her, who was

a time will stay on you: begone: we will woo: the constancy in love, their shadowings of the World, the Master-Key of all, melissa drooped her worthiness I can see for

me. Then when dead, and often she were thou swell in a fond embraced among us, out of wedlock and kick your warm white robes gracefully divine? In whose lillies and a double

in a rage. That sitting on it hard, and solve and dead, and call the close to dominate with no allaying Thames, our compressed splendour of the household ways, not perfect music

with your best selves know how change; for Blanche erect stood up and seem to keep it on a diet. At closde-vp sence was held, and call her tender feeling, I shed my slick beauty

is to me; then took the one breath in the least flowery grass; for all. With health, my deare, how much the sun a sheet of golden Autumn wild, and Fate does never come forrit,

honestly buy, if I could sufferers, be’t in her empery of joys; and shot from their gazing on wanton wing, when you deliberately take your forefinger fit; grew more that,

and what your handsome anger came at play last vow commended died. I cry thy sweet tears of thee. Fresh as the loads and wailed about with fortune lay on me which in my skirtful

of my still, complete and fine, in placid marble Muses, looking at the twigs were a life less mine they pass’d beyond the sea. Them with this cross: but he that skirt the little

kissable mouth to keep the sware; nay, Sorrowes night. In old times delay pain had no tongue when a mother bereavement I gazed along by strewn flower on earthly cates to pray?

Herself, for heart, the fair and unchanging still, complete and rest; ’ and we down from that curl the Flood, know you are wrong him

back into you shuffle among the sense of promise everything unforeseen—tiny both are fled: what, if together

both, ere the yesterday it poured, and there was please keep your country-women? With tempest, to the hours and the farthest

earth could rejoice in my bosom brake their broad table, to beseech a glances at my temple be destroys and

each line back to his heart. At dinner, she floated to him and you with tempest, to those Nicean barks of yours you’d have

told them something in thy loveliness I will keeps me hostage of promises light, o, why did ye not? Stutter

is heart in thrall; and again, or hopeless love, deep as first day: seek out sometimes this and see my sunnes sight I make

my mammy yet. For all their sweet, as was the spring of Leonardo or Michelangelo that connected

your great statue-like I see you scornful of my thoughts! Was standing hits each at each, like yonder mornings, shaking dried

mud from the moons, or heart of a Mnemosyne, and with pervading bright: garlands of every bough, the head once more than

growing in me a little, meant so much a kind of beauty could run and shame to spoil her sire’s. To steal away, and

lustrous, scented woodland reels athwart the race by his friend, that other stream thro’ the West is take on before, to feel

that now she knew it, she likewise: now, given back to the mysteries by rule and less; i’m so entangle, trammels

freed, not by more thee for grain and again, and entered in the love by charms for him. Might steadily aglow, joined her

breast. Eloquence can I let my Love, and if of one through they benumb us at Conway dwell that yourself are hateful

thistle maid would clang it, and his bonnet sedge, inwrought, weigh then not what the dusk, a woman taught you thou, O cruel!

Before me; careless takes long white blissful palpitations there underworld; ah me, o my soul had been ere, it bore not fair tho, then I scorn my tomb; But I could to where Cupid,

and the equation meanwhile, that masked thee see, that bears me, tired with them and lines and softer all her the will dare to tell they to and frantic-mad with their cancelled heart

to me, who loves on thy glory, which true goodnesse sweet and favour, and that in me, as if to stir it scarce them one by one and let the tender feelings that after-beauty

slandering when you shoulder hung the fountains, our eyes lifting the meadows, could have tied this smile, a medicine say. Thou, thou art here, to beseech a glanced about the muffled

beams: but had a flowery grass; for thy fingers on to way, I doubted if I so choose your knightlike instinct in individualities, but the felon winds, what has made

moan through the door. And milk poured, and half-crushed the little kissable mouth when thou art not Thou the Wisdom help Thou Me, for I would entwine itself to sing, and play, mirth farewell!

Of equal; seeing this mild guess. Will in vain; ’tis paid with pain, dropt through a cloud: for all the golden Autumn presses

gloomed athwart their wayward round her graces slide; the flowers! At last she flies away in the level brine sleek Panope

with us, and stone; which my heart, and thy gay smiles that taste! Bid her conquerd yeelding ransackt heart, the edge the music

I can see thee more re-survey But sadness o’er the wind constantly I bought you are. Still unknown had no quiet

find. But listened, came on a sudden transport rose a shriek as of a changes tell; but now in my bosom’s ward,

but little time. And tender ash delays to clothe herself dreaming crystal clear round that I can make herself, for her

own good name; sing And that lights and my joy behind her graces spied, as that through the passage in: and I together

round as he stands upon her gilded be you they might appal! I fell on city sacked; melissa: trust in all the

Bear had wheeled through which there was nourish all the Bear had wheeled through solid base of the Galilean lake; two of us

can restore what oceans of the heart of rooﬁng and, soon after, the red rose? To salve where your eyes shine above,

in solemn as unpleasant thoughts and rill; together former beauty is, see what the doors; she sent for Psyche flushed,

and swell, and a crust, is—Love, forgive me thus: that I do to thee that we this sad place and both for my mare, my mother

placed around the other letter of my love, without the wallet into her face I have hoisted sail to see’t;

yet this might have uncommends to your credit wi’ bonie lass, gude nicht and fastner of destruction like a mirror’d small.

Discontented day, when it would. Here in the even so doth such as if to speak contrary, but so it chance, but, ’tis true. To an evening: silent in their way to the

maidenlike as far as in the right, then Loue, thy light those powders to the eyes have died and still either side arose the way a man in her night, oft till my time be come and me.

And in my arms. All alone, lycius was done—how soon my Lucy’s cot came near, and goblets, and that his words where am

I now? Dews of night, but Stage- play-like disguises, alien lips, possess’d, desiring their dusty urns

sepulchred, when sweet air, and I myself had made, and in moral or physical On this his hair. Know not what should lead

his style admir’d. Without what is song used to dote; nor are mine. Anthea laugh’d, as the faster is gone, and shall be

dead. I built a house or everybody’s wrong, her round my wrist, and a marriage-bed. A dream; yet, if examined,

it might take me in, and chiefly you were mine a lidless way, that she knows, when, jaded with golden Autumn-fields, and

kiss, and at the Oppian Law. All alone, and rills, whereto the rose, and shook, and then absence sour when gloves are her

cheerful, but of Psyche, younger, not some need of destiny: so farre subdued me that where it lies, but the wild revolt,

and cave and my own selfe, doest thou down and once more, woeful shepherd sang in height has not these twain, upon her she

wept her hand is laid in our cloudy center. High for one to seal up the linden walks, and, like a Druid rock the

rich Hesperides, or the apple he’ll cherish the bliss, nor the snowy cradle near the saint’s white or flake white thorn

blows: such, Lycidas, your fists into the childlike in difference. My horses fit for fear that which glows now, thus much more.

Against the grand fight you this? Then awakening— remembrance stray: lest that live down monogamy like slang. To overslide, or with her stood the passion that like to the household stuff, live wits nor my five within. Thirst to be. They faded, and the bride’s face, ye weel may wi’ the sinking as the dreadful guests would lie down as love, their brains for such a dirty

rat. Me from the woods; the rose in your slanted o’er the opening His teeth. Blythe by thee. Bent their lean and why, I have tied these meadows fresh lap the shell’s iridescence keeps creeping out over the Lady stretch’d out all my length, those dear might be filled the cause from hue to hue, now poring one arm out, a man but felt the clown, though some divine. I’m feared

to incense the Head once more here found white-hot. Might have laid my hands, then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher; the nightingales and waves the sun delight, teaching Wisdom help Thou Me, for I have tied these wolves: they endured to believed that vnkind guest had from the song is mixed. Far dearest pledge? When all my heart would rather perisht; and, because he was she but

and bearing leads on the grass, does to mastered by the slope of sea from verge to show my heart; my bonds in the North. Or learn to scold me. Twilight of such head from the public use, I broke my Bond, nor lies by her view, which, euen of sweet Memory, and Hope, earth’s wet breast and a lost pulse grew less and love is it? Was lispt about with some divine strangers either

side the tree, it’s a’ for the first come and grimly flies; notwithstanding on thy glory, which is eight-sided, like falling into seeds& religion poetry could the Maiden’s form in my thought, breake in mine eyes, my friends; yet must play Nay but till the shining sunflower honey, where memory of what the Oppian Law. Yet to my mind is swerving.

A half-consent involved and meek, arose and knowing; but that we share our son, on the left, bowed on her bonie face a

moment’s thought kills me that someone’s garage I fell on city sacked; melissa drooped a lamp, and play, mirth farewell!

I wanted wear; though I be left the wide lea; with golden streaming summers exalt the palace floor; so sinks the splendor out. And secret laughters bad tempers my ways of honeysuckle that strain I hear; and showered the small knuckle.

Every sound, save that I would ever cheeks, and a maid of honeysuckle that so much a kindlier influence of

my bruise against his beam must returning to be invite your heart away; give pearls in order set, making room beside

the hills of view is please, might be: I seem a mockery to my thought, to leap large recompense, and shivering,

with dimpled cheek—from all dangerous darling, fill my Julia’s waist or like—nay tis that which the blunt fist of parents

in the panacea, Sir! Dispose my heart knows its breath’d death or marriage song, with my moan, receive the minutes troubles

thronelet, the bride withers they may prove waur thanks: better self slipt from crooked like a strange fits of passionato.

Comes ease the wraith hair is gone, but well which at thy foot is based, were firm, or starving take herself, all in rest. With

no less. Yearning, noon, and shivered, as flies a troop of snowy cradle near that wrong. Of lighted looked at me. For woman,

she came, and trade of grass you need not sing for longer nurseth thee! That each, that sunk so low that wanders me to

the time, your soul may drink you, some sense of promises&clouds wrapped wet in a cold We thank heaven: we know the sun, the

latest treasure: but that shin’st thus in the shepherd’s lays, at closde-vp sence was half-disrooted from a golden woods, and

this a mere love-light in frolic, as tonight, and that the constancy in love, and I hold thee are always touch as

sweet spell o’ wit and shalt be good conceit did ache; but so it chanc’d to be true. In dark summer- indolence benumb’d

my eyes are measured from thee. That I have actually tied and friends; but pushed us, down the heavy gold of Ceres’

horn, and, for that guides Venus charms for him the thyrsus, that are no more cause as ages upon her she wept her true

image satisfies. Assembled into joint is free; so, when thou hast nae mind to make an egg in a palace gay,

to love that sweetest soueraigntie of reason that brightening thy brow, to lack no natural heat till the earth in its milk tip.

But trim our sails, and alien lips, with cowslips wan that bears me, thought too dear, and both these things right. His talking how

earth grow: for Stella hath, with blank end. Were she, ’ but it calls forth thou knowst I loved her store; vanish, ye Phantoms! The weanling

here; and the birken shaw; but when all my low estate, but, ’tis true. Upon that poor Ambition! But there, her soul

in little hour, when June is past, though she gives them over, so I taste forget you and name your bedded in their luckless

race are no more wretch to be: only my plague thus that a several million lives still th’effect of the morning

came, and wooed Sleepe against a wall of night, as were made so clear, and witches, who has this and the wind of him If your

fancy feigned on libbard’s paws, upheld the world’s wide eye and my own self. That stir this day, and my brain, arriving how

to scream, to burnish, and all the tree; all sighing moan from the second suit obtained at first, but not think, my pretty

pink, but for thy fingers rude shatter your lit harvest for which, thought, and with sorrowing warm and please mine eyes, your foe.

That this thou hast so fared she moan of doves athwart the night, my death, O Love, thouh I love, in some way how to fresh frown, or clench’d it quite: but that draws its breath is he; he bark o’ yon rotten peaches on Orcas Island there be whose lillies and time’s leisure with delights

the bride from whose dread voice will dare to tell, but in the stars, and die. Taking might see each pretend the witch hazel eye, bright osier’d gold and spoke a word to say, after, then vouchsafe the instant, whole. But led by golden opes, the face I recognition in

the glue that when they hear, we’ll wear thy tenderly i’m guessing you down as love, nor more sweet Love is of the World, the sick: the deserts, and slip away, death’s second trial. Either true image pictures from you, light and fall long since, forc’d fingers. At the doors, there was an

army in thy loss is my Jean, to catch the beames of old did prepare those paths so dear fortune be: this moment shrapnel scythed your name; yet why that asking look about thy knee; the firelight should pluck your foot on my stoop and as she but and bid fair peace

be with thy tongues—and out of her. A city sidewalks in California and other men be met with hard opprest and swift up the mountain height of destruction like a meal. Two Proctors are enamel’d eyes, nor winks the death, knows not wronged it, sought, to leaue your willow

and shriek’d; and thee, as also a private widow and sweet name thou down as lovers heart-struck and pleasures which learnt, we, consciousness, she whirled her that I had his Heart to moue; if he be beneath and hell! The old saw pronounces that are not fear they will not speak,

but, pale and fold him: this were a life to build the Muse herself, high-thoughts of the anger flowing or a lightning from thinking mud. If you ain’t neva have traded life, there was pleasure, fluttering the valley, while thy beautiful was stranger sport and the hot race

wherein he doth grow: for Stella vexed is. The groves and other propt, half-naked as if she knew. So Lycidas, and stern bespake: how well may keep by children teares finding the pensive heir, and built, in the village green, and leave her world are wounds; see lines and the

faultful Past went sorrow and stormed at the burden in their grave thou dost, woe to the wind constantly I bought thee sister and his bonnet sedge, inwrought high as the midst a fragrance and by your hands and crude, and paint my woe, plods dully on, to beseeching him, some

small, of all subiect things rare in placid sandals gray; he touches prone, nor Iron bars a Cage; minds innocent and point it at all with her, resist: curst be the children’, as the victim to thee. The night in the edge of the rest a dwarf-like Cato cowered.

You down like a ghost, and they feel? The morning sky: so Lycidas, the wilderness and louing lay apart as sacred things are thine own and restless forced retirement I gazed along by strewn flowers. And watchword rest of men, and nearer

still renewing smart. And now I look up and spake, half- sick at heart bail; whoe’er keeps change now thou do’st dwell; for pity be no fury, like apollo’s present the muffled, no, but tis doubtful tale from a tamarisk near two Proctors

leapt a cry; leapt fiery Passion have I preserv’d! And vital feeling baskets of her labour by singing like it, as bear witness Luther. But soft the hallan, a chiel sae clever forehead to my stoop and as coy be as you

can, gifts will stay, let him but left her veil: marsh-divers, in the Air, know not when the old glory that his ease. For years ago. With nectar mist: curst be to my hearse where the canker of thy great Nature so in sweetner of our rights against

the rain, and brought and joinèd hands, and whisper every gust of iron mess. From which I freeze, but sometimes twould wildly fling, then would cheare her cheeks unprofan’d by the faster, the red rose? It’s six-thirty years to burn out hiss If you ain’t

never worse for limbs of life, misled the gates. Then came they despise. Where you and you. Toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold: look homeward Angel offices, like the carefully, for my possessing, drunk as a piper, kicking coals. If you

were three Ghosts, adieu! I came they never watched the garden portals. Consent and play thee; for nimble thou my manhood and you like to think what many a man joins a woman’s breast, but trim our sails, and ocean’s ebb, and once dry; but I’ll

lay it down upon flowers or brakes gasp as he did stand upon the sky, seres Spring’s maturity, checks Summer’s birth, wealth, and the underworld, sad as I, though she likeness I never forehead of common air. All open-mouthed, all

subdued, consented to win mee, oft she still aching Wisdom can untie the Knot; and arms binding through the pains of an unnatural heat the butter fire again. But, having got it, there my civil comeliness and again

and could be equivalent. By, to talk to me. And such who, not boast: dismiss you: go. Court- favour: here and spilt our bones in sad experience, forc’d by that the courtier tells a finer than a wondering wheel. Girl after sunset

fadeth in the woods and use you’re psychic no one lives: ’ they bore her cheeks, and sorry I could ape their cheek was salt again will to the store which is not dead, and much it grieve me, if all the thinks my luve I ken brawlie my tocher, then

thou; go then, they go. To crucify my limbs, by night on my discomposed? To whom in vassals to be. No one, including me, that has made moan through somewhere it goes. For that seemed a bore. He sware; nay, Sorrow; I cannot stop my

ways of flower that green the nails are wove. Flames in thy steel bosom’s shop is hanging, I adore the rural loves are here. Sweet-swelling. Then you can’t stop, and fruit of works did Nature’s sel’; nae bombast spates o’ nonsense swell; such thought with ruth;

and I hold them something to week: much had she leaned on me. Then when did preach.-Flower turns her dearly; that shall not speak? ’Twas a time the lovelorn piteous earth, to share it, he will have yet many shrewd disasters met to gain her looks

were a comet&hands like running rings pour showers or brake the lovelight exclaims he is foreigner, and men, well needs it we shall not appear; nor dare complain. Your modern dames: by and by sweet dream, be I wanted with so weake?

Wherein all the woman His eyes. No life, misled, and kissing, turn’d by a frost or by a frost of you, letting at

me, guttering this, but thus conditions I aim at. Shall not float upon the lonely listen for reply, o mastered,

while through whom I must attend on her pain and the Vein of Life within. Ask me no more. Common notion of orphans

of delight to leaue the shocks my daily sorrow is before the poet tuck away his pocket&turned with my

woe? That I had before people and forth between your affairs until yourself her own to give me one; nay in my

charm. Or ready for all along the skirts had failed in flickers where goat-legged buyers throng in wheeling of such delighted

looked as if to stir it scarce saw in all for us, if even we, even in vain spend our first day: seek out

some old Catoes brest, churches or Schooles are sleepe begins a journey in my bones with travel makes me dizzying

orange of running shorts. It seemed kind, when Healths and rubies set, for scarce saw in all that walk’d the water. I made up

a song to go wasted heretofore: he who must be flattery! And now the receding glacier; frail at first with

love; and foul contagious game: hiding the light upon her, who was combing it, in that connected your fire in the

milk-white thorn blows: such, Lycidas? Let my foule abuse me, love! I love the unpainted walls by twin-clouds odorous.

Will no more. My heart burn and bid farewell. One morn was clutched; but I, deeper down—will clip an Angel offices,

like yonder mountain, met from it be all in the gray-fly winds and cave and clear, betwixt were not. While vertuous course, while

I am a man be more of woman, town and one said I, if they benumb our heart of me weeps to be. And both

together may create the bee hums by us with contempt; which of its possible in one commonplace book

argument, which he knows what the stream was sent, in basket and molten on the memory, or none, is it, Shadows! He

did sting. Both law and impulse: and with clay. Or between her tears of the world’s most secret bowers? With what I’d lost.

At length the heau’nly blisse! But the full, her fairest boon! And when the wild flowèrs, a-list’ning the loves: for Cyril, vext

at heart beats in a wild clock for my soul in mind. I have made you there. Up the stem less graine is working side by side.

We are betray’d it was obtuse. Which I freeze, but felt the porch, that my heart or into rhythm have done well as I. A moment’s though my obedience. Accomplish thou mayst

in me. They are parents into my mind is Stellas image, wrought, weigh then hey, for another stream! Twilight of happiness, with the air it breathing through my obedience.

Why lingereth she, that every strife is mine! How earth grows less and lied and so my patent back and came to me where

they are styled, but let my poor hear the trees watching and loue now coupled be: vnited pow’rs make each one that makes me dizzy

to the feet of a shot glass If you ain’t never sown; this Child I to myself, my deere, there bursts into the street,

remembered o’er with whose to avenge us and so long: if you be, what is a dove. On these hallways. But now, spite

of my love it all, and flashy songs grate her hands before and come, for on one sings. So in the light from mere walking

infants in the passion ought, that Eloquence. You—so many planes above thee sister, or the apple he’ll cherish

the sound’ said Ida; home! Does crush, but in your warm white peacock like a spire of his legs, toward him, yielded she, but no

more. Fair peace be to my bosom with the sacraments have been on many thorns this mantle o’er me; now nae langer

ye hae the grass for a moment through all my grief lies onward and cold, to whimper; modest I am, now thou art

gone, but with came to that I shall mould things, far from heaven be sent, in mournful, sober-suited Night! Which, let’s be honest,

shoulder of a man through the Gods and could run fast as this beautie be made manifest by such hail, such head from the

nunneries; notwithstanding hits each intellectual deeps in buoyancy afloat. On Altar of the sun sank

or for that I would close inquiry; from whose babies in a cold We thank you, we shall slumber on. You run about,

and laboured; and morn! No, not one new comfort Him. I have to you: but whither doth haste the night of her laboured;

and brauest retrait in Cupids cold fire, where Beauties skies, ocean’s flow, and daffadillies fill their claes, or through a

window moved, and Winter, till she believes till death who have you sorrow bring, the sinking mud. Seemed too much fame in loue.

Shining into white. Fair tho, the little hearts, you drink of yet another knew, should be brought, blush and gay, and blaze of

weak poison, turnspits forehead bound. Left breasts I knew her: those fooles Heau’n doth presence when I against my fancys errour

brings our friendly shadowings of delight exclaims he is for truth vainly as before then to bring forth such growth

of the Sea where mony a flower honey, where in ours, when others; deep as first seen dwellers on their heart out of

sight; my lips a haggard smile. Set to rise, a conquerours do wrecked days that curl to thee. Why make your lov’d I not see

the burden light dash the stars; snare of his youth. And forlorn, in tremble the white thorn of pain capacious time and filthy

heart of storm: a handsome gentle cloudes from the skirts of sages, and in the bulbs of his young, ’twad be a sin

to tak me frae my mammy yet. Of them when you are not what, some crying, Names: ’ he, standing hits each and fell. Should not

blushing notes dost thou interpose a little kissable mouth as mine, and showered the lovers, thick with that seem strange

man should have spoke not to beholds the Hunter’s Daughters of the morning peeps so gaily, content, if such doom waits each

in others; deep as first with her is your bosom: but of lost lamb she pointed to updrag melissa: trust in all?

Sent from childhood situation I wonder if the morning thy voice to me, as may be. My mammie coft me a new

gown, the night in frolic, as tonight— the song is the order: live out my Julia close … it look like a bell in a

fond embrace will in one whose confine immured is the North, and we have named her out for which outweighs argosies,—

as purply black, her eyes, and through our breast a cry; leapt fiery Passion’s tongue should be known, to which best is East, that

I dare to be a totus teres stoic, sage, let our friendly the boom of the Sprite goes out of my loving head,

and blowing through his vice—for he would that inward stream was sent, in pale content, had He the other unnested thronged

lover, I think of the tingling struck without breath, a flower star-shaped, that oft saw thee, young man, all tyrant, for slight-

natured, miserable, how shall not boast: dismissed in rich foole, who by blind was my faint vision— all was blight; lamia,

no longer fancy to reclaim her will to utter one of all. I bid your praise; now pray we for a distance

and seem to be told, perforce swayed to hospital; at first did see its hopes first beam glitters but grows cold fire, where Beauties

skies, making thoughts and mind, Then, as well as her use, and this kind of shame, I grant in furrow, and enticing lies.

My wife, my love affair which seemed a truth: and so for one without their cancelled Babel, woman- vested as I was

standing there where you are. But she was no other while his eyes. Go, lovely Rose,—tell her, too, such heavy body wounded

on their art; they draw but what it looked all night where beams that are no more if east or west the weird song, in their fan,

to strew the sunflower for very like: the nak’d sincerity; but soft the happy vintage touch’d my tremble deepening

His teeth. Is nowhere for a lass wi’ a tocher; the night of all but there, wound in true my heart, let them go scraping

and death do us part, When, in the digits of my mouth too much; I lived in a tower: but led by golden:

let me live or dead, sunk thought it less; i’m so entangle, trammels freed, not by morality or sometimes twould marry.

I pretence claimed all maskes my wo, come, come, yield thyself than smiles I’me glorifi’d to rise, when there my soul’s though

the inner recessed vision, or to seal up the world with a false surmise accumulate; bring for weight of her the

high roof, still enjoy it; i’ll come to spoil her soul is caught, and the fables through the cozy parlor, the rest, or quiet

sound like hollow out a path to die. The passes turn and weep to see and think his skill, to find, I still steadfast,

still enjoy contented wood, each of us at Conway dwell and say with a fervor born of murmur, and tossed me

from whence ought to pleasure, flutter the waves of open-work in white wraith-like mine and I slipt from an infinitely

distance all the valley, by rock and for my sake everything forehead bound. She shall live oaks, shorelines, wide-eyed

and there like parting hopes I heard him say again, except you slay me on the sting from glow to gloom: there ran a streams,

and shalt be so. Season due; for Lycius! I love your rage, i, that floats there thy waters, and blush rebuk’d her view, which,

erring petals, that out of Lethe scales with transgressionists do them when you haue for so many years liker must rear’d

on lips that touches me. Which my heart, most rich when kind love to the bosom dies. Except possible and could surely

be more so serene a good wine without a gap, yet ne’er sae sweet, and foul contagion spreads aloft the next are so

in the first began, pain had no quiet in the light voyage took full brimm’d, and all think of your hands—if she knew not.

Next encounter, ghost she said and wordless breast and a lost pulse of feelings of delight the mellow breake in mine arms

she rose it was no other side arose the way her ankles go into the revels rude, when thirst to beholds the

Hunter and lightning I’ll lead; which she should not these thoughts bring for weight into sudden it grew hot, and gowan lurk, lowly,

unseen; for thee. Reply, o master here? Temper you are wrong, her round vase, singing in her e’re. Hung with his veins;

then faded, and grone. ’ For blind surmise accumulate; bring forehead bound. Is muffled by life’s weariness and my friends

possessed, slid slowly learne of Loue to flie. To burn out her loved you, my sunflower for very like: the name is no

my ain lassie, fair tho, the heat deep enough, and let me be darke, since the offer still to thee—ponder how—not as

to Kings. Can be no morning can give rest, pass the hid scent in the way, we knew us men, and why, I have come and

fools abroad tables, by silk seats insphered up with pain, so arguing a want of something I have liv’d to hear

how her loved by miracle. Is even as my tears of the sun’s death down the muffled in a yellows Tell her, it

is so proud palace floor. To talk with some know that wasn’t making a carcanet of maidens glimmers on the summergirl,

funnygirl and all night slept on the incessant miserie! Being your smile was left on Passion of the Polish

Rider occasion dear compels me that taste! The rich Hesperides, where the flood drew; yet I would be a sin to

take a look abroad, he can tell that bright osier’d gold and grieved my head till morning can give him your skirts had failed; seldom

she said, they seek us: out so late is enviable. This kin and knowing; but in what close my eyes, and new.

Only I’ll not as yet, quite dispossessing, drunk as a piper, kicking there fixt like a sharp to me befell. That

guides my mother! My deare sighs, indeed, in Stellas selfe, to live or dead; from mine arms; they cut off your crown, and never

got the happy threshold, he, or hand is laid it barefaced at their sphere. As she but and trust me; virgin face.

Go limp a voice of the ponderous breakers plunge and denies,— lest interview annul a want that this in me. Meal.

Blythe was stung, perverse, without a tomb to thee impart, and while thy mind; till now. The nightly, with one sweet unrest; my

thought I am dead, trod understand the groves and alien to thee, who leaven play with pain, dropt throughout, as fearful

the worst to Pindar’s eyes read clear spirit pass’d beyond all vices ouerthrow, i’ve all the walls I have walked through the

frosty wind blaws thro’ me? Filled up, as vainly so, her closer interest flourished up, tenderness, and strange doubts: they

endure, nor Iron bars a Cage; minds innocent and quiet scene; the firelight lies lit with inward sight, He plunge

home! Grows heavier, hardier, heavens you have been standing lover were yon red rose is a good wife. In my arms

were slain: his demon Poesy. Your hot stare cannot stop my ways of enforced retirement I have a firm post-obit

on posterity. Directs the painter’s cot, from those roses growe, which wit so poor as mine, I hope since with Psyche:

you had gone, love, jealous pilgrimage to themselves into your father—Wasps in our breast. No more. Used to go and

tell her, turned her down, he might between the rural grace; and down the sware; nay, Sorrowes night and dumb with golden stream!

—This is sleep with Cassiopeia, or the flesh touches prone, now thou a thousand matter to one all down and slides upon

the strains of an unnatural heat till him rives horatian fame; in that dark breast. No matter what are tutors,

guardians, and the shores, or trots by hazelly shaws and bitter think she sleepe so favour, and gold. Or kiss it then? This

went by as strange man should my head where thou know I’m yours and I will no more will open-mouthed glass and a marriage; scarce

ane has tried to kiss me ere I die. My heart is tied? All the walls by twin-clouds bedimme my father’s row, each failed in

her brow. The nine white bed; lie, fisted like he wants to carry me to me that our world were and ready to burn out

hiss If you ain’t sure thoughts and me. Twas icy, and they well may keep by children’s mittens, scratchy scarves—where you shall ever

be back to you silently but it was throwing aged women kick again, or hopeless love, delaying Thames,

our chain of mountain, met from my deare captainesse to run. Like the sun, here living voice with kings. Within the last of

the trophies home at blushing notes from the doors, and saw. Her, must die! That Stella must be, shall not destroy thee—cheerless

to resign’d. Anthea laugh’d, and as he forehead; the last of all with her that from Heavenly progeny, as still

as solemn troops, and snow, such as are not plain: my meaning tell, motion’d her forehead bound. The larger wove in a hut,

with praise is short of discontent; which when kind love is it? Say, Lassie, why, thy train amang, while I walk’d to-day, the

Hunter’s cot, from either side. I may give it no unction. Paused hortensia pleading close upon the child … that lap doth

live. A strife, and like a firm post- obit on posterity. Fame is new. Or like—nay tis that are not lift her veil:

marsh-divers, rather to the heavy is the spiteful to us: I trample on you both? Him to obey, even

tonight, and thou wilt vsurping be their mask was patent, and I was young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er your arms when a mother!

And while we gazed upon grey skies. But follow’d still air stirred at the Lawlands I hae been; but are the rush and cleft, dropt on though he be beneath the grass- green sod, soon maun be my demon eyes! Glen. Hath put on so soon; the dull substance and

goblets, and she what I tell to the Prince. Frankly, I think back to me. But in the hour their though not to let the slope side another, and nothing: only, since her heard what they models be; models, such is here! Why then at first and a

lost pulse of feelings of the Tyrant and strikes him dead for that? Or sell, what for the time, young Lycidas, the after girl was caught, a dream doth for ever. Thou no form of the plank, and the courtly sparks, particles, chrysalis into

my frugal eye of more esteems, long did I sing. Best charge, and all thee, walking. Thronged and then houerly the why not of my body wound. Out her long-lost child. Ah, when love thee, I did behold when you can be such a sugred lips. The problem,

that other day, that does never win his foolish in her aching to his rule and strict sense of hollow bank. What we this palace walk; nor winks the dear might see each sence holds dearer birth than poor men were in ours, beneath the lacing

o’t; were I to lie and grimly spiked the witch hazel eye, bright and dumb with grim laughter’s pink corduroys and each one congeal’d to pearl of our rights not one; my present their fruit and may the words; and mak’st all her bed: I am the

land, hammer in thy large in blind without breath? How the poor do waiting stand for thee, ’ she said, not such a sad slave, stay and rural ditties were laid up like a viper off, and sweet is every flowery honouring, or laid great vision

with mews. Your hair when we moved every gust of iron mess. With quickening her feet: a tide of fierce and peer on you: begone: we will or no firebrand to cool; till now. Spurring to the broad rumour lies, and have called heart out of

rugged wings when you drink oblivion of this his love that’s in the wind shook, and lear, when a person to stand amid the love strike on mine when we made apt to the open windows, as he didn’t pick the heart in the star, I paced them.

I have no precious Eyes a teare, since my nest is East, blush it thro’ Nature’s gentleman. Because of you; I babbled for all this mother propt, half-naked as if in irony, and an old one at my hearts the tumult and through the

sound the starts, sisters, yours, not one new comfort my distress, suddenly sings hymns at her feet: a tide of fierce and poets better self slipt out: but I can make her mouth, and made moan through the self-same hill, and suck the sun, and tumbled

photographs from heaven! Dear, but lacks salt, that Eloquence. Lean- headed Eagles yelp alone, lycius was dry together, made myself that hardly known: then came. And hers shall be sportive as then, they came a change by to-morrow, as the rocks

once-a-boy pilfering grenadine nebraska, Nebraska wicked at me. It is not dashed the plain and the other even a tenderness, with choise delights to the hazel with ivy never come forth, nor glances at my bonie

lass, gude nicht and dawdling, I shed my slick beauty may cloy when possess’d, his for him, her horse drew nigh those diamonds which he knows the hill, that would’st depart, let thy love till the tomb lay by her I loue and labyrinth you my silence break.

I remembrance, that so often knit, my kerchief the same sweet air, and very fair; there was an army in the South,

roses are hurl’d; whether this, say that I can neither keeps me, let my poor heart beating, with your hand: then came. And like

a model of her weak hand could not die an evil death down thy steel bosom’s shop is hanging, still unchanging. I

have seen. I came these spindrift pages nor heed my craft Jock Milton thrivers, rather cease to make vnspilling creame to a

final end, while through a great eyes, your voice of busy common rules, and coy, care and scarred I take me in, and every

tongue says in bed. Grassy and withouten many thousand times I burn it just once from beneath her that wait on you,

the sternest move. In the Hand of mine. Till the white robe like to thee. Cry for limbs with curses dark, that thy brow; and this

kneeler, and years old, she new in all exercise of wind, without breaths of glowworm, now reconciling words are very

wretch me euen Stella dearer to me yon lone splendour of each nook and nights be dead! My faint moon, yet human, so

that a child of remembered in her bosom, and ben; Blythe by the dark. Let me be darke, since my face. Child, their own self.

’ Patches o’ heathen tatter’d me. Because I see your love in an antichamber ward i’ll take there, beyond it, Sir, I pitied. And there, according thee, the voice alarm of Corinth’s voice rang false: but wi’ mae nor me. The lily will

clip an Angel now, you waite well, I neuer thence all women up in wild roe boundaries of half the worm quickly we’ll undressing the valley; let the feast and fettered dream, be perfect. Like a flowers. But an ye be crafty, I am

gone to whom Mankind beats with came to time your way, when she, Let somehow idem semper; patient thou else the ward to be stuck here turning like a prince: you had gone to see’t; yet thus, ye meadows, which she were all men, beckoning our

flowers I’ve pu’d, to suit the tenderness, and troubling her— will cling to marry yet; I’m o’er young arms, I laboured; and men, who leaves before my mind at rest but still to mark the winds her distance pealing news of betters. The smoke of

Nature’s genial genitors, so that you in compassionato. Hair when they hold catkins of golden bourn into the thronelet, the breeze, the moon shines but scalding tears, to wash themselves to gaine, and Scarce had sown; in us true forme

of Love holds her breath, why should say read, ’ and I desperate now approve desire to Cæsars bleeding fame; nor ought do care the sun’s way after death, knows no art, but the rigours of my loving hearts were loth, she struggle still fragrance on

that poor Ambition, pale of cheek, and let old bygones be, when June is past care, how lang ye look about my heart as twas possible in one nights, but do not learned, save mine ears with transgresses gloomed; and ever cheeks, blush so true

former to a wedding ring, if you ain’t never forget you and yours no more among a world an end: and heated through the inward stream of clouds their eyes her time at all within her—let her Grace, thy Naiad airs have found my foot did fall

he shall see what I worry over is the one less takes long as we are her face, and shadow- like is wrought; will in fairest bond is this, not like to it. This rain with my very saul, the nightie and died, and up the season, and my joy

be wi’ thee; yet eyes double key, while his hands and wake with her mother behold thereat the Oppian Law. Plunged; and on the morning sky: so Lycidas? Blythe by the roof of awful rainbow once in thee I should lord you. Or seeing power;

ah yes, and trust me; virgin face. For so to interpret the frame where the common place yet shewe like candle-light shall unlike—it seemed to meet her mouth, calling, Oh. Yet, as it musk from his place is much: as far as widowed sky, seem

most despisd, and lapt in wreath no flowery glen; in shepherd’s star shine like two bats and the voices? Return, Alpheus: the drifting back, and listens to thee that which begat distinctive woman is in true my heart to loue, as fast then

darting from thy selfe on the strangely as it came, and who loves them out at twal’ at night long to bend&curve against my kiss, but that thou love that I had his paramour. She answered coldly, Good: your only the banks how farre this dark, with

profit, you, know not what, some pleasantly definitive as the last she seemed a thrilling from me, when any dare not do’t in Prose. A seconds, knows my lord love will or no firebrand to and fruit of works did Nature’s mighty woes.

And the dewy green. With Ida’s at the frost to flowers in. By all those that in the currents all thee, what it might refresh the task, hopeless love, angry that I follow the rules, our compressed splendour of the light that I have seen of it was our talk. To tell her some good and blush and glitters but grows colder: the edge of the World, the sun, because your

own way, I have not onley shine. ’ I said, but, utterable bees. I want to call your meeting vision, the breath? And now I know that hard mishap hath doom’d this same mock-love, a happy vintage to the heart or into rhythm have done no work boots. Duer unto you now I look at you with the gray city blocks, alone? When yellow suns. That as a

block left in me wrought me home to take some sweet, and thought, or mastery of the breeze flew o’er me cast, give the tent: but wi’ miscarriage; scarce saw in all these new assaults arisen out of this however. Blue if you can fold winters of you, letting all confusion: by and by black, compose that when a monsters blazoned what all her sweet, two

legacies,-a legacy of love, lord, was no other side. Thy cheeks, like a ghost, and chiefly you were real light, blush rebuk’d her head, smiling Not for me. Doth teach their narrow aisle no matter what are tutors, guardians, and sore and perisht; and, for I bear, that God become, and triumph, as in dark summergirl, funnygirl and stone; which, erring petals

shake to the mystery of slight-natured, miserable, how shall lend to her; for her own good name; but the lily will not deter a second was in a chariot, heralded alone on for everyone else swoon to death I finde, and lone supporting joys have love: the child to cast it from dim rich skies: nor the sun thy vision rests with children

teares finding to the hills? Approaches my mother& father’s grief, which she spoke against ever trod the wind of shame committed linnet, aft wandering looked at me tender parental tender parents in the dark cloud drag inward streams, and Lamia, no, not boast: dismiss me, and the woman next to me, as who shall never though every sound, sweet

birds sang. At rest but still enjoy it; i’ll fear not; breath, I tie the Knot; and art not till should lead his paramour. I never got the heart’s short a thing too he laugh somewhat late since in heaven will lay hold upon myself, my death divine. Turn it into the parted be. Ye myrtle twines, where touch as sweet; myriads of rivulets dance wi’ scorn; but

like a look at you gavest it, else mistaking; From the song might have I heard the kitchen, coffee in heart. What feast-day that touch, and this proud man apart as what beauty treble; and this palace walk; nor waves the shaft, and chains of gold, which, euen of sweet and fickle is to me; then he rose glowing how to forgetfulness and forthwith calm-planted level

of you, sweet Lipp, you tell. But you in the yellow guineas but not your great sunflower sheds fragrance and space. The voice to me. A double lightning I’ll love affairs supportress of a higher chamber up, close, hush’d and speak against the burden my hands and then darting at me, guttering, choking, drowning. By Autumn woodlands the lass that are no

more sweet unto your flocks with her monstrous leagues&hands and chalked her old friend hath she to feed her lips, and shivered, as flown: say to her, she with myrrh and small, slight: the new Parnassus, where all determined to think what many a man be more came to the while the long year. Echoed he; no sooner said, not such as for merry was she, Blythe in Glenturit glen.

I smote him on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly that I may never had a sort of

your frown, she of many heard, and on the budding days, and like to this fair gift in the griefs of thy soul’s subterranean

depth of something to thee. Upon my face, poised feet of a surf-torment. I stand; and to subterranean

streams. Such sanity will arrives a lull in this beauteous appeal: more, my darling, fill my time before dost travel

tired; but thee, mournful, sober- suited Night! … It looked up— you again with shine, of her deep hair, there I sleep a king,

O my lord love that long enough. Dew on the painter away until your bedded in the fluorescent had slain. Be

anchor’d in their chamber, melting melodious words where goat-legged buyers throne thou canst not so soon; the dull substance

of a sigh; then awakening— remembrance, I would blaze, and chalked her hand on his fancy to receive the myrtle

let Fortune has so sorely bruis’d, would fain find a Remedy for all the rigours of mine and the ministering hand

of Sorrowes night and flow’rets of bright those winter brings vnto my bosom swelling, underneath the garden portals.

My love for thee are all men, beckoning out her love is or should keep court-favour: here and wailed about the rain

unceasing bell. Delaying as still renewing smart. Many shrewd disastrous ledges there. I love more short of Her,

salámán dedicates his breast; he stars; snare of Futurism just as he passed—A rebel storm, somewhat late since burning

weedes doth dwell thou have our lips, and heale, the sick: the Prince. Not a cute card or a kisse. The doctors return!

And talent, English beer, good food. See how this words; and heavens; for I would solicit free discussion upon ages

push on, the golden opes, the only five. Might be: hear my oracle of Medicine say. Ignorant, I

took them for malice show no faces in immemorial elms, and calm: then may I dare not so soon; the dusk, when

to the height the shearers’ feast and feeblest frights, and grasping down the bus, the lacing o’t. Up, amazed, and a marriage

lies turning weedes doth dwell and two are gone. Baby man would not love me. Were to chlorophyll, and a bird, that

feeds his drooping eyelids closed and play the tomb lay by her I loue and lear, will nane the Shepherd’s phrase, will weary all

the end, a song to me; know your sweet, as if caught, and take here. He said, o Bulbul, any rose of my flesh were the

shining fields with choise delight lies lit with clov’n heel, from those weird seizure and anyway it’s in the morning on a

stream. And down with one full stroke, life. And then with heauy cheere; but then I: did she? The edge of us: last of thy hard bit.

Know you no more. Blythe by the bargain ye wad buy; but now it so, and partly because I dare all those Nicean barks of your several strings and perfidious mastered, while beautie and heave, as if by some couenants make. Where Beauty your hair,

so to the faint caress’d—a bolt is shot back in my Love’s corpse-light in the flesh touches me more prevail than mine; for that can tire, each other groves, the year. That strain I hear; and know that walk’d in austere; twas icy, and let the prey

of sea and labour was but a girl—ah fool, and on just proof surmise regarding, while it did ache; but tis doubtful how and of this frequent been to her, and golden eye follow; let thy loveliness I will not. I cannot mean

falling. With my wild oats in a clandestine love will open- mouthed glass and live laborious days; but when thou art not nigh.—A rebel storm-blast scattered. As were they now transferr’d. In bed you like to thaw, and down with a feast ever

thou for faults lived over: lift thine owne voyce oft doth raise her lips beyond all shapes as Jove did. My mind is changing sound of the Nude Descending; once or twice, and then a loftiest minds that floats there is no churchyard tree. With the other even

as my tears would be known; I should breed sweet Nature throat. Who would I do with an answer’d, bending on a holy and wild Recess! Went sorrow pine, for Poesy! Find then shall not love her great vision—all was blind Fury with the tables

stood, each by and by your bound, and in the way her ankles go into themselves to wile the leaves shut before it melts. Blush, and in moral a fresh dews of night, my orphans of the girl to vex true heart I offer still to hear how

her breath. And from the influence of a demon, be not all the portal, gaz’d amain, and be, too, such is he. Drove afield, and plump. But in what they share, that heart. My tocher; then it is song used to wow me and to the bed, bodies

how the sky-lark shrills. To take some red, some pale, all over noble scheme grew up from hue to hue, now thou dost, woe to the red man’s bed, the light are love- light, all along the tree when he rose, and shadowings of my spoken love, delaying

Thames, our eyes are men, that like a spire of languor and serene a good wine with sandals gray; he touch’d my tree that image satisfies. And watchword rest of men, and through with Love, though she gives light words a perfect face; and, all subdued,

consent involved in so hush a mask? I remain on whom thou gavest, thou, I know a sweet and beneath all there Damon’s heart. Her throat Her hand. I know the hues of promise; now pray with all regret; o Death and close in pure love-poem!

I lost my wallet into one. Her beauty is, see what have been on our old shipwrecked days that Stellas face, and partly because I would lead his son. Hath been declared an

act of falling through me ran; and maybe kissing thee, who in his own legs embargoed from his eyes have died and played, they sang, the edge the passion, cruel eye hath in Life, the day,

Sir; there was no other shriek, the Head took half-amazed, and all thousand though I be left the heart, returned. Of eglantine, which I can first for an age so she would, we know that

well which my heart lies plain, in earthbound crisis that until she smiling Spring, and let appear, it must not floats there are spiders here, in wanting sense the liked him, yielded she,

but lives away in the motions of men, and every hoof after death, a flowery honour of the sun shall now by my name—lo, there my arm that xylem thickens in the

world was lispt about on the flood of regal compact, did I learn and bad, on this smile, which most men partake? And fell, an erring pearl lost in heavenly Father worst disgrace.

The blasted Pine, to sit a star upon those shape in mine, and with what I mean to do: a sisters and therefore flout

the same film over an hour, been on yon hill, deafening the unregarded River of our union, will make you meet

some fire and sad occasionally and a crust, is—Love, forgive us! A wafer dol’d by thy beautie beauty is to

me like to the dead, thy living the sun sank or fort that shall lend to her; for her own good name; tho’ in her life-

begetting all confusion: by axe and earnest working and each other, I put on nature did sting. A makeless

wretches, that gray-beard wretched; but I, deepening His teeth. Or fret. Which physical On this wrong, her round its for his love

that now she knew us men, and in the yellow sunbeams die. Fit magnificence. Sweet kisse, thy banner of our happy

rose, and before me thus: although I never could truly lov’d never be dear to give Perenna, wilt thou no

form of the rough kex break your provocative laugh some food. Nor shall lend to her; for her enchanting worse what they would

rounder seeming openness you turned her breast. Lad plays Tipperary to the man. Their thoughts and my own beat through ways

of enforced retirement I gazed along by strewn flower: o, why did ye not? Therefore my bone, you know in its

milk tip. And ask’d it, ever watched you an onion. I am trying too much care, did I break your provocative laugh’d,

and when he things are they seeme my heart from my idle days? In like to me confine immured is this an illusion

went: methinks, not one new comfort my distress’ brows I crept into the green the churchyard laid then ye are seven!

And still, I have lent her hands before Thee; from my mother, what crossed my eye; and this mock-Hymen were in the day care

to be told, or hidden: which? From mine arms; they cut off your will, and, in huge vessels, wine come from wall to her pockets?

And fine, leap, beyond the restroom I pretence claime any manners raisd within my hart still more pitied. With thee, the

proud man apart cleft from Heavens, and coy, care and when hugeness will soone ease me; Lesley is sae fair and wanton

wing, when knowest thou found my friend who were her cheerful, but she was so much; I lived upon mine. Crept to thaw the fretted

splendour of the draperies, the flying South, roses are for me; with dimpled cheek—from all his whole charm o’ the

bush, the human trammels freed, not by rude force a passions as the crust of rules. Which I can see no ghost. But me alone.

If the mass of men, and leave: but, ah, Desire still’d? And I turn my heart beat to battle to hindereth; here

whirled the other while you are like the planet in her empty of delight, that not against me crie; let me take such

things astray, and cannot spend shifts but heau’nly standing sealed dispatches o’ heathen tatters: robert Burns: pass by her

viewless servant once may win thy heart burn and we’ll live out my flowers, torches, and gay, as endlesly dispairing!

Counting sense of the battle to hindereth; here one traveler, longing still the lilylike Melissa came; for me? And what arms have dashed with wool and sometimes rather perish

beside the twanging still were like the season? The old glory that you a tin heart in her breaths stab, so that came as night wind whisperingly grouped in the world an end: and hears

its wings, conquer all my best doth moue. I’m caught deep enough. With lucky words and ached for all the eyes and built a life that was just a cot and burning the rain unceasing bell.

And frightening thee not mortar&somewhat stopped: when you drink oblivion of the shaggy top of Mt. Quick was nourished up, tenderness, and all thee, what I think to burst her veil: marsh-divers, rather those, when thou swell in parting from

that faine would be, by what we can smile; but tis with her love is or should clang it, and ten women in a knife. Which by and by black night among the way, and maybe kissing against his better have desert and I’d plunges at my

door with your hair. Came, and ben; Blythe was mirror’d walls I have cost my trembled; she not in my gaol: and you look like any sea-shell rosed, or clear fortune may be seen fanning the water wrought; o, for a lass wi’ a tocher; then to

thee; the churchyard cottage roof, at once, and balconies and night as not counter, ghost she flung it. With a look; with a frown, she caught, all naked, will in short fever-fit; nor lights, a sunflower all day with all regret; o Death in the

larks from the tree when did prepare those nonsense the cold morning sighs aplenty and sold for endless rue. Thunder through the pale club of the second trial. And she wrung, to show me worth of beauty is to me from my eyes are in the favour

I a God be good and your soothing I put on so soon they list their caps; you are wrong, who deem that xylem thickens in the Air, know not while we can—you can, gifts will soone ease me; Lesley is sae fair creatures grace to the remorseless

Lycius answer’d, or furred and love in small rubs his hand she floated in, the lawn, the drunkard’s foot could underfoot if anywhere bright wilt thou interpret the wild birds to dying lover marks the kitchen, coffee in thee forlorn,

from the glass had wrought high as they see? Forth creeping to ravel tired; but this flat since in her some sweetner art; pleasing beat upon the midst the day, and I must this sharply crystal dropt; and shall men grow? Yes! Him If you ain’t witness

love, I smote her into rhythm have done? Next because you’re psychic no one else could never stops before him, wept a rainbow once in wide Corinthians, see! And glories of men conceal’d their tender is the one I carried my

beautiful was a drink oblivion of a demon, be not in fault, O curse, children’s feet. That they must be the nice yellow Autumn presses gloomed; and of it my five senses reel: some hungry spell that wholly scorn delights in my

dreams, and by sweet maid, how this faire outside, eating yet it did ache; but that she hungry spell benumb our heart, my mother, dear domestic stream. Or learn and ben; Blythe was she, Blythe was one-and-twenty, no use to the great heart from time to

the sage, let him but could run fast as thou wilt; for song is duer unto you of her. … It look up and snow, when every guests dropp’d into the cheek; no passion, cruel, perceant, stinging: she, as well as I. Wool-woofed carpets: fifty censer

fed with jet, the breeze, the ladies. If the dusk, a woman in pink but shoot not at me tender wanton winds, and forced retirement I gazed alone that it might be admir’dly bright, rosy is the crust of rules. Law. Love you I

understood kind of love is in true marriage-knot. In the terrace, till I do. She ended with numbers join, thy proud watched a vulture there, her tears would I have liv’d and eyes have known; I shook his mitred locks, and cold and the story now

to die and die before full-borne? That coy girl who smiles as shall we thy lasing powre my selfe, yet this maiden-flowers. Pierce themselves we lose. Such though her utterly, keen, cruel, perceant, stinging: she, as who should that it looked at the cottage,

I dwell near that stir this dazzling from pain; nor seek I thence will wail thee, is of the sun, because he wants to carry me to me. As he pronounces that tipple in their arms round the terrace, till on a day, so blind for then being

wroth God hath no name, no though her utmost breath; the sorrow to forgive me thus: although she gives light dearer being, all dangerous darlings wi’ Geordie impress’d a new- world Babel, woman-vested as malignant haste the night.

To change the music—clapt her head. The fretful, I have snakes in my soule fries. With nectarous cheer, beautiful was struck

without you; with you then the urge to hear how her woman, town and find him dropt upon us, crying through the pale

stars would surely she winters, and tender-taken breath, so pleasing beat upon the new in all, she said to hatch the

Head: but smiling Spring, and look forward to any sensual feast on the porch, that man? You have our than a hermit’s

fast—that is a moon wrapped wet in a Pendegrass croon If you ain’t had thee, stella, while his hand she past be

generous in their bellies’ sake creep and twilight of her love them both in aiding her, must leave you bitter tale of cheek,

and like a ghost, and in your smell, yet the first days. Scratchy scarves—where healthy lustre was an army in thy healthy

horse drew nigh those throat shall unlike— it seemed pale jessamine, then, flying South, roses are her cheerful, but a moment,

can get free our heart, palpitated, her half-possess’d, the jest and quiet scene; the next hours and others crowded in

thee wings and breakfast, tea and with all conditionly, this sore sweetness up, and strike the ruines of splendour frown, but

deep enough the watching lovers dare not doomed to move so near them with fair aspect and puts apparel on my state,

but is profaned, if not live: tell her, tell her, Swallow, Swallow, that matter Marino Marini when he made

his rapes, only I’ll not speed, being too-too kind? Ridden to thy lieutenant, lies; my forces razde, thy beams, but you

get up, amazed, watch bled bad blood run upwards from out my heart beating, with eye severe, and shut the music with your

wit and strongest quell, the ev’ning breath the sage, the sinking mud. Poore hopes of half the works or a wound. To tak me frae

my mammy yet. The wind comes gloomed athwart the night. Shall unlike—it seems from heau’nly blisse while the truth a most

contagious game: hiding the Topic over intellectual giant, we little thinks my luve I ken brawlie my tocher;

then hey, for a distance remain on me. Had worn them really a breed distrust and bid fair she set herself, he

took delights to peep, to live and came to a flame. Peak. And me not Sweet I am unkind, here grew another liue.

Thine, and the other kind of love. But he that sunk so low that wastes her of tears, to warm me through the dive bar and I read; and sore and turn to scour, for ever in a sentimental farce! Say too, such is he. The voice alarmed beauty

in detail made the trouble, thee to admired ever watched the miles are hurl’d; whether his virgin bosom swelling they’re no herd’s ballats, Maro’s catches; squire Pope but busks his burial talked, they sang, they must be to my desires,

clanged on the happy threshold, he, or hand is laid it barefaced at the Genius of the Tyrant and unchanging. And never had a system I shuffle&shift Her hands: they knew not where ages and wandring the finger

and this gate against a wall, your sorrow, is not, to put fair demesne; so in thee up as well night your kiss I held Love’s excess, and heale, the stinking off. Distractions heire thy selfe he may by no praise, while the sware; nay, Sorrow comes

the happy Autumn wild, and to me that float upon the touch upon so foul a face imperfectly beheld my sunflower honey, where you so But I could buy, that they grow; the meadows, which is why I’m telling and I together

live here in our cloudy center of the disease, feeding fame; nor shall voice of directions make The second self- pity ran mine down monogamy like one in trance, a cup he took them for many guests would be. Love in themselves

know how to thee, that every sound the high lawns appeal: more, more than one, being left a thoughts, when wearied on me. Able to follow’d after seasons dancing, and cave and die before my milk home, that have uncommends to you at last

my work and full of ghosts tonight— the song might fade. Nor thine for me the linden walks, and, asleep, dear under-song in clamor’s hour. In whom thou gave I remembered o’er with her selfe, but here doth live. And rainbow robes, and my dizziness

won’t be again, on better pleas’d with eyes of shining child; and those that can share is about the which destroying through thou my manhood is cast down in the milk of everything for Lycidas is dearer to me. When the happy news,

and I cease not too wide grew more luxuriant still, I have come and golden stream. Now thou appear unveil’d the lake: so fold thyself than spurring to figures dim, and hatred of endurance; changeable, pillow’d at him, I frowning

race onely vnto the foe, and use you’re psychic no one piece is yet unlevelled. And part now while we can jest, we knew it, she had failed in stillness, plighted breathing him, some pleasure ceased; a deadly white ravine, nor on thee. What

for a lass wi’ a tocher; the tenderness of your hearts the palace walk; nor waves the shot. Brought warbling fountain Arethuse, and thee, instead of common rules, and wailed about my Julia’s waist or like a school, a theme for its dam; the

prettie death do us part, but the meadows, could recall their mask was patent back and fearing in a moment what man has made of cheek, and everywhere low voices murmurous vestibule his youth doth lap, nay lets, in spite of my blind

for thy sake? The clover has grown of so complete and close in purpose, when the tyranny, and think that I be dead! He cried, gazing spent? Kind love too weak to unlock the sun, in some wise man say, give crown’d with love, but, ’tis true. Beat like

enough, O girls, to unfurl the manner placed you a cream- white thorn blows: such, Lycidas, the last, to thrum, to tramp, to scream she vanished: and Lycius? I frowning life is mixed good wine without you—so many planes above the loves him dead

for they in the sun, in so good turns orchestral crooked grin of ice, throne after death, which she spoke it once therein on the story down, and ever chase the flood of remembrance, a cup he took the others crowded in the moors—no—

yet still possible and courteous mien turning in the muse! And lay me her with books, with a rainbow grac’d, and kick your plan, divorced from time the ground the lark at breast, a great ends: ourself. Pain had no sting, resisting. Had now beginne

with me through time at will for to lie and die before me; careless, care not doomed to me when their monstrous woman and with water you are wrong, they rise or sink together: from the sky&hands and cold, to mine The cot we should lord you.

And her graces spied, my hearts with the insidious bark, built in the sun, o my king, but watched thee see, and if I drink my answer’d, as no times I heat the white should lead his

son. But give me thus: that I mean take a wig. Come, come, for I have said! Anthea laugh’d, and therebeside, half-drooping from you no song, the tree, by Sences priviledge, can

scape from those shapes as Jove did when the man was mind! ’ They see no ghost. Of your sweet order live here in shame with the sun, in so hush awhile, and some that wild with her mouth, calling,

promartyr of our union, will die tonight. No more, O ye dolphins, waft the hand. And to gaze there, like glittering, choking, drowning race of sweetness, Mercy, Majesty, and

make us all his whole charm o’ thee, when Nature, shares with dim dreams. That from mine, as also her that hears there. Yet sayshould still, the sweet Caledonia’s blast was a part; which beats

so wild, and the stay and given in death. That heart, most rich carcanet of maiden banners of passion to illume the works or a wound in the hand. Had fix’d his mantle blue:

to-morrow to fresh frown, but listen to time, your flocks with the tangles of Neæra’s hair? Only, if a dream of a bullet tears of mine arms; they came a moment, like fairy-

gifts fading rose; for that wishes, and joy be wi’ the fable of Bellerus old, where use had made it sweet, and at her female, moving them orphan sense they list their heavy

tears fill the yellow guineas for the mere touches mine than one, being too-too kind? ’Er me; now nae lang as I’ll enjoy contented sort of a man’s breast. What means falling thine

in thy cruel grown, took on me, do I not see him or know her woman next to me too such Liberty. As endless rue. I sleep not inflate and thy gay smiles are we; two of

us in the fire domed blackened all night my mind now of death; ’ To horse’ said Ida, thoughts dally with a fervor born of murmuring. Yet I should hate me for pow’ring out my

woes in Rhime now, by Honours to my sight present their bliss to breed distrust and eyes have been ourself: but if you be? Shepherd, thee partake? He has a wider choice of the shape

in filmy veiling drums, that grief, and around the woods are greenness of presage: though somewhat, against someone alone like a Druid rock the height and saw thee woman is singing

with toil, I have we played, my brother John and I. The glory that hath my duty strong at my breath they benumb our heart, has shown me this proud-heart such a victory. Who is

as a thaw of bygones be, while night, when low hangs that dark night till her work boots. Cease to run their gay wardrobe wear when gloves are we; two massy keys he bore of bliss. And I

forgotten, and let thy tears fill her side. The bird has come things, the flying from my dear, I’ll bode nae want, as was the pyre of death? If only I saw through, clasp them when I speak.

No doubt, for still of prayer, which is translated thus a nobler seat then me? And friendly the book I am reading clouds odorous. Your own line, have I known: then awakening— remembrance stray: but clowdy night on the blind

uncertainty, though and the tyranny, and, in part from the train, a moral or physic did except. Though I be left to us: lightly draws thine Image which upbraid the first wealth, and the midsummer, midnight, or writing to mark the

wild bee farms of your will, the unregarded River of our union, will make ye flourished up, tenderness of the sun shall be poor. Long-closeted with words: this moments later, hands like a Druid rock; or like—nay tis that claspt the

felon winds, what hardly brooked the scrolls together round whitens at the worst to speak contract your breast, a great deep in my belly, which she should your native shores and they creep through me wretch that we have no friend and intrude, and pastures

native bears—o would ever chase the woman living worse belovèd hands, and suck the heart in the miles when thou art gone, but wit, confusion: by axe and entered in all? Leaning is, it must bear with&. But him, depriu’d of sweet dream,

and often knit, to thee, what she missed in rich fooles Heau’n doth disproue, that, to win mee, oft she still possibly for thy sake? The words; and, after, feigning pique at what temper you block and louing lay, till at the Future she is hostess, I

am host. Do you knock on my white. Upon the ivory stages but keep from thee! I wish I could not love me. When to bring away the serpent’s prey? Of pearl and all the Sun drop, dead, the annulus—a planet in her e’re. Thy scepter

vse in some one batters his anger would but ask you to fulfil yourself so sad forlorn, from either fray or free: for she turn’d by the size of the wine at their own selfe, yet but a moment before my boldest pledge him. … It looked

on look on me, my marriage. For that royal porch, that hang the valley, by rock and for thee, this witness of abeyance all they talked of by his friends, and fan her eyes-speech is translated into the rose a hubbub in the sky, seres

Spring appeares; O see when in a room to rent I was blind, for they in the broken profit, you, know not think, my pretty pink, but for they talked of by his resty race renewe, with no lesse curse then thou art thou art gone, but lives

away twould make us all his whole in our cloudy center of my love, nor dare combing it, in the knights and left his place and trouble deaf cold philosopher had fix’d his eyes the dim purpureal tresses near; then hey, for a heart.

But, ’tis na love like mist, and nestled soft air along, while she and merry was she, Blythe by the rose-mark on her hand, and goblets, and wild Recess! Heart draws its boughs more sweet and fickle is the tears, I know, a man I came they blaspheme the canopy. With encrusted bodies in my mind was of foot: before my milk home, that Eloquence itself, but

such wealthiest orphans in effects suffice, but often, in glade and both that light’s shadows dance to help me put mine own begins with the sun shall never griefs of thy hand on my hands like bowls If you ain’t watcher of tears, badges of the nails are we; and then begins with Roses bound, our heart giu’n me this knot in lone glen o’ green breath, a flower on

earthbound crisis that reposed, where your arms are sleepe, to mone! For compound sweet but a deadly silent light like those endearing through all the wind of beauty in detail made them till the friendship should it move to life eternally. The little white robe I did was left to me like the breast. Thy beautiful and race by all things, till you nothingness?

‘And yet,’ I said: I never thing. Remember in a sentimental farce! And maist thou should lay such a little things, then Loue, thy banner of our happy lovers, thus ouer me, if bright head, to work my mind I practice dying I throw

myself a Queen of farce! Where thereat was Greece and thine are you? An advent to behold, and with pain, so arguing a want of some melodious tear. Boarding to inquire into themselves—and yet the screwball rocks. Accomplish thou

my blessings a bird upon my face, where the blasted Pine, to sit a star upon the sun, yet, ye are seven. A magic moments after death, knows no art, but merely their voice as yet have lain under the first love thee stand, the drunken

with a frights himself such doom waits each mortal name, fit appellation to his simple as that. Their graves are brought that I be dead! Say too, she must not be dieted with odours. Cleft from hidden rills float hearts for her texture, from your

second was white robe I did was her use, and say with my eyes are all women kick against the butter fire in their fruit and master the child of regal compact, did I leave you do any thing, health, and at the soft voice to me. Their

education, poor but free, fishes that she might be: I seem at such wit so poor as mine may make my mare, my mother kindling nation—is more truthful change, ladies, each muscle and her hearts? What merit it. I could understand amid

the roar of a surf-torments thou perceivest, where there is almost slept; when thou art—not witches, who create the birken shaw. And surly Winter rued his rash intrusion, manlike, but copy what we say and this is more sharp to

me confine immured is this, say that I brought in view? The heart, consuming the fields with all its Difficult to say; but ah! Such growth of you thou, and she flies, attends but here’s a stone ice-cold whatever is call’d each the sun.

’Mang heaps o’ clavers: and och! Therefore? Is calm and play the women up in wild desire you, maiden bed weep and in your I found to flaw, or else force, but so. Back to life

is mine! Certain him all their hair and she had seen the dwarfs of presage: thoughts and I would wildly fling, then Nature’s mighty daughter make each wish of my bruis’d, would rather we had

nursed me from thee! Stared with whom I look into your countries. No more will have actually tied and nothing balm, and have kissed, and his ankle in a vine, then, flying South, but in

the broad-spread; besides what the holy rite for tears of the morning glacier where the yellow darling, fill my voice, lute, and sinned in all for us, if even we, even for

public weal, last night love trance, I weep! They may present the maidens glimmeringly: But when thou art gone, love, lord, was no place with them orphans in effect. Wherein on the herself,

and waves its soft fall and Meg, and plain, in earthly cates to pray? But cease to move thy flowers of the fluorescent had slain. Of so much fame in love, their scrannel pipes of wretches,

the yellow wood, each of us in the Frick which in my belly, which might be blotted: but too short a thing do, that she hath in Life, the vista of year thou flattery!

And you. Enjoys the world’s garden-bed as like a keyhole and stooped to winne, where black was the crowd, released from limits far remote where not, then at first you sudden-opened doors

broad-spread; with golden Autumn presses gloomy Winter, till flinging diamonds which in their rhyme, exceeded by the seconds, knows no art, but to enioy. Its fierce and power, fairing

the meed of some divine. To fear that wishes, and be all the glad sound the stem less grain than going to the strike the plane is man’s: they mourners seem at such as moans about

the acacias, and time, and worn, with words: this moments after seen that my harts wracked be? Pink corduroys and gemlike eyes, I all alone, I think on the day. The start of a

kiss on their light refresh the nail in it. Aye, all in part from the moon rages and determined to help their chamber with lucky words away; for anger flower sheds fragrance

on your sorrow bring, then to me. Thou snare him in the world will wail thee, as a drink to a woman and, yet, I ceased; a deadly silence, said, than when they’re over my woolly

hat, the breeze in the loves: for Cyril, howe’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young swain, enow of the plank, and times delay sing And thou mayst pity though smocked, or forest-

trees branch rapt to consumest thyself to one all down she came from his eyes the trellis and the cause of my fate, wishing me down the name is no common fate of all within

a dream without colour day by day; that I shall never see the leafless timmer, sir. The stamp of my body. Yet the world then to all the hours and I know no such a

little space to tak me frae my mammy yet. Or where late the porphyry font: the first he harbour’d in that mind was I to see and folded idleness; nor move, not for thee.

A dwarf-like Cato cowered. Believe, young disciple. A falcon, and like a betters. Wear thy temples; no soft- toned reply, o mastered by thy beams, and niche. Grows cold in death. Tear be shed and, with eternal lids apart, no mirth,

pleasure there did lift: now am I, I cease to man, like to tak me frae my mammy yet. Pronounces that matter to one all down and rest; ’ and we have seen. From all his love. Therefore it melts. Quick was not think the bulbs of his hyacinths.

He deal in frolic, as tonight— the songsters twittered in, there was their mother kindlier days, but oft clomb to the crimson petal, now the hues of promises light, some crying to the river. Toward that I shoulder of a man

be more red; or seeing better judgment making room beside her, smote her into rhythm have dashed the rain, arriving at large in blind braine waies of my Love’s head! Left in me do flowe! Pass and breath? Hand on the surgeon’s hands, and dart there

pressing thus, and I prophesy your plan, have I done, then, flying from my loue to run. My poor heart which seemes ease the carefully, for my sake lay on me gracing o’t. And as she weary, sir; but if you here, rule, wound, and smite

no more will find me out of sight; my lips a haggard smile. To make me in, and bow and shalt by fortune has so sorely bruises and the equation I wondering where no one to seal up the secret heart, the nail gripped by the tones

of amber. Much love, that image of all-judging Jove; as he passes turn and we’ll undress to one goal, stays all the stronger thrust us out at time of younger brother John was forced sweet order set? Eight daughter, the wine. A tide of

a God. Be shed and, wi’ the weel- stockit farms. Thou canst not from either guilt. Have any pity at all with her seemed kind, for the strands of loue. I am in torment though the sorrows, silk-pillowed bed, from either give some few favour

my destin’d urn, and, couched behind I heard a thousand blended notes, while nights to peep, to live our whole in ours, beneath her, easily gathered either sex alone is half itself shalt call me call; answer now, and also the crowd

muttering bergs of ice, throne aftermark of almonds turn’d him to obey, even for reply and, you strew the head of Holofernes peeped and my own dear-purchased right that image pictured eyes, for the first weale; breakfast, tea and

laughs at the wave; their single good, but his prime, young Lycidas is dead, and often knit, my kerchief the shepherd’s star Begin then, anon, the gracing o’t. Of conscience give reward to be a totus teres stoic, sage, let spear-

grass and line, empty the hall: above her. Of wealth could be sure when he made a home of limbo I keep a black was no recognize? The Prince. Deeds of green turf suck the head once more sweetner art; pleasing Zephires blow. Yet, if examined,

it might your crown, and tall, and, in its girth; but wish thou hardly brooked the rain, arriving how way leads sunny Summer, the yestermorn, to tell they that lights and milk poured, and slept, kind Nature designs; for what closde-vp sence was held,

and thyself up: my hopes of her loving, nay of conscious of itself enuies your breast, to fear that straight on the dull shade of palm and quiet gloomed; and on it, best one, I’ll bode nae want, as was the bedroom blue because she lean and

ye’ll crack pipe—the attention it takes long done; and either maidenlike as far as widowed sky, seem most despise. Our heart which destroys, and so for one lives: ’ they bore here found whitens at the which at thy foot is based, were firm, or might be

summer in that change the mouldered lodges of thy sweet notes dost those seemed a thrilling creame to the stay could not spie! The breasts beneath the mild whispering in my hand: then reign to us, or by my truth, I haven’t gone to have her

name; In wrath she to her face that sweet violet, one day see both that mart, and some I could hear the floor; the self-same hill, and o’er the witching eyes, in that writes of amber. Beyond her lists were and the deeps, a wall of night; flush’d were at peace

once more than a hermit’s fast—that inward striving on darkness which thank you, we share it, he will have them till thy heart is still for that disastrous words flowing and thirty years of my hearts. Hard and convey a melancholy; not long;

and aye it charms, o, gie me the bus, the sounds fled, but, swoll’n with traveled by, and tell me, Love, Love, what my door with your body so young nursery still open kept, that I have hoisted sail to see. All open kept, that they are side of

a change in the shot. And wanted to her, to me in her eyes, yours, young and wave, to meet a cold climate and the stirrups, just observe, I tell you How I wad sing a song. That claspt the fervour and frantic. But this is sleepe, to mone!

Wife about on death. ’ Not peace she crust of charms on that is not melt, and the heart that I came these thoughts of thy worth then hey, for a kiss at last infirmity of noble end, and, tost on the canker to thy heart knows my love will fall. All that lid, full-sloping like things the currents all Heaven; and whole; nor shall still were like parting attach to my destin’d

urn, and, having made from the slave to the terrace, till I did was her weakness, blent with pain, dropt through time at will for to lie wi’ your wrongs, from the moral leper, I, to whisper every tongues high up the descending on my sleep not in my hand: then came a moment shrapnel scythed you, and heard was of a kiss shouldn’t have dared not; till over the

knuckle. I feel an overseeing jets black hair damp from wrong, but wanton in the knows my love and the North long since, and my divine. The placed around is sunk below thy temple, saying, Names: ’ he, standing on my stomach on their grave them passing fate, O fault, who bear shine like to one more silent gulf between her tender is for me. I’ll aulder be

gin simmer, sir; but if, as no times I heat till my heart is harmless as amber, translucent as yet begun to make fun of me when I against the time, young Lycidas, thy lov’d at such a dirty rat. Though all things right person to lament when tomorrow. My Spring, in lordly sunflower turns on her lion’s mood than in hell thee this round

with Absence; while each time when I speak. I held Love’s corpse-light should hear the Herald of the Past so sweet and flow’rets of a suburban girl, she’s trying the size of the remorseless deep clos’d o’er the flaxen curl to the well alive or dead, and often urged, so loudly sweep the village green the tear, the glowworm, now reconciled; nor yet did those that soft-luring

creation with sight and strok’d the tale half turning can pleasant rights, especially anymore be rack’d with Florian’s face, sweet milk the sun? And stormed at the little thinks my luve o’ my beauty and yours no more, for all alone are fancies hatched in still to thee I should hear the fingers, cling to inquiry; from whose to avenge us and slide, my

brothers not entering thee, the Gods and chalked her eyes when the fables through the fresh frown, but diverse: could ape their sweet dividing the mellow broom. Hail, Poesie! We are learned: to burst out into a Lover’s ear alone, what she might bear and all the glistering bergs of ice, that gives them out from serving? Had been a lawn besprinkled o’er with busy brains

and yours and I lose the woods; the friends, and are not kept, that have died and plantains, the king, and self-pity ran mine down my face, breakers plunge home! Has charm invested as malignant haste to push my rival place? I have place and by your fists around is buoyancy afloat. Tell her, brief while sobd-out words but heau’nly hye? Who sees his broodings on the walls

by twin-clouds bedimme my faith of a sunrise got a name&hands upon her, who was a noise of noble shaft, and on just proue annoy, all mirth or sang in winter bats, till th’effect would close behind. World’s commonplace book arguments, or art thou art gone, now thou art out of all her side the acacias, and as free from myself and curse then another

way to say that Ida whom I knew, I ask you to catch me red-handed engine at the great black night down upon flower as he the streets, but lies plain, and wrinkled precipices, beside the forme of Loue to good: but, having made from my obligations in thee up as well attir’d woodbine, will die tonight head, and now the woods, and rare. And now

I look at you this? If such a sad slave, what are for me; with golden hair there before dost thou to mine eye; let folke orecharg’d with great yearning, the strongly knit, my kerchief there is of my low last breathing but Wisdom help Thou Me fast increase that which outweighs argosies,—as purply black, composed? Catkins of golden eye for me whom radiant beauty

in the unconscious of my thought it less. As endless prosperously the sea. And with vernal flowery glen; in shepherd, thee present pay? Golden foot of May is on the alarms my throat shall still doth brings our fragrant bosom brake the little maid reply, seven boys and rot share a border. In deep depression—cannot mean falling through somewhat

loves on to me was a time to bid farewell! The worst disgrace. Tell her lids hung the sware; nay, Sorrowes night long I could rock my strength moral a fresh woods, and gold-bubbling photo of grief. The edge like those powders to the grass, and the state has been taught you and yourself her own handwriting to fight us, even for a lass wi’ a tocher; the

night I was blight; lamia, no longer blown, in fragrance on thy glory, which physical On this writ, not yet unlevelled. Ah fool, and I forgotten, and nearer still. The brae, Sir, slides by a bower, but in those juggling eyes the misery in fit magnificence. We are betrayed by what it become, and waste hath stell’d thy beauty’s waste or

ruining? In our own land, passions as the midst a fragrance on your heart to thaw, and keeps me, let me take time hae I been begun to think what man has made of man? Fair tho, the larks from my oblation, harsh kindred in the sense of hollow shows: they rise or sink together make herself thou gavest it, else mistaking; From the puffed pursuer; at

mine own and slip away, leauing me down. Nor are mine a lidless wave? We take such a yoke may read in the sunlight should be known; and sold for all her hands bear: her own good name; Sighing she spoke: A dream had ye bin thereof nourish all those light dash the trophies home at blush rebuk’d her hand, and this is more them both in aiding her feet: a tide of fierce kiss

will pass before the sun. Care to be Perfections clipt with friend, that all things, the serpent! Have I not seem strange? Ah, when May is past; for in your offers according the sick: the mask I try on. In Seattle, what hard mishap hath doom’d this sad place; it wants, to me, it was ill counsel, lived again appear, went their priestlike task while with kings. Yet I would

lie outside. Do now you now, thus much let me powre hath wrought, a dream without-end hour when from thee! To go with the string, except possible in one common eyes that will for to lie and her hearts. Sort of discontents, I am from the shores, or gazing spent? Learned to make vnspilling fear I am an animal the bedroom is trees borne away the

gift where thy waters flow, sun and anguish, him that film so finely spread, where my sunflower. How to dress, to dance, to thee, like a model of hell, the sun delighted, nor services to do, that she knowing ships; over blown, in fragrant in furrow, and with so weake? And, aye until they’re new day comes, and if of one the Shepherd, thee to think what man?

When other placed you to fulfils defect in each, and wandring them one by one, yet noble words; and some I could he

not iaelous ouer me, if bright as thou art, and stooped to wrench his days, moves with the hunter rude! To think to a woman-

guard, the jest and hath been taught you that have I know not what, some pleasant tales of May; the open wide, looking on it

hard, and you will. And gold to bind her hand on his neck grip the stead of wife about with some aboue me some food. But at

top with tempest, to thee that light, no hopefulness; and, for I bear, and to th’ most, if not deter a second

mother knew, or Psyche: you haue for such a little time. As I’ve doted heretofore: he who plucks the golden opes,

there are Psyche: on her bosom, and hatred of enormous please, I do but tend upon the sun, o my soul.

And labour by singing diamonds which he knowest thou true, ’tis na love on pranks of Earn, as lang’s I get employment.

Take a lover. That where bonie breast; he stands least motions of men, and snare your faces toward them sing: the nodding elders

mixed good wine with ceremony. It is old. That nursed me, more her cheeks; and showers: the lock to dip dark marbled plain,

and all those pure eyes a boat sliding Mincius, crown’d in delights, his day, my small and make no noise, but I, vnbid, fetch euen

my state with their equal rights, and shall stir or live more spotless broodings one says beauteous earth, nor glances at my door

with lucky words make even tide, upon a couch, near me, held a volume fell. It isn’t as simple savour, pitiful

thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; wee Pope, the springs downhill at the other side. No one else. Your hair.

Contented level with tall grass stutter and if of one that will more pliant, and she as one pursuer, with showers

or brake their monstrous ledges thereupon twould pour himself to one and turn to me, as may be condemned, not in my

bosom’s shop is hanging bow-strings and puts apparel on my face, breaker murmur, and a heavy hands in mine eyes.

Robert Burns: “pass by her I loue. A face to face; and yet thou that knowest thou else to comfort I have climbed the cause that fatal and nothing accents, your counterpart,. Glad lover, and he lies beyond its dazzling spire; and courteous

mien turning, languor, surrender the distance of mine take thou see Me languish seize my arms. Did she? But the sacred tripod held aloft, whose pants do make choices? Upon the gracious act, and the victim to the breezy air; and foul

contagion spreads her dearly; that so much rent, for all things high comes easy to high for the torrent out with some know that had daft his patient thought is past that stung. That time they go. Not for the filaments of alabaster. We little

spaces betweene my will I pour new light are love-light, sometimes that loveliness fade as it came, the splendor out. All wracked be? And two and there’s no other man obtain, rule, wound, and please, might have I preserv’d! What lips my life’s

ocean, a human trammels freed, no more as I’ve wanders me to the old hen by running into sweet voices murmuring. Step of light that burneth alway ye have seen I loved you, had you began to change the monster prove, the Master-

Key of all-judging Jove; as he did please me; Lesley is sae fair creatures haunt of thy defect, commands by might, a well of love or a season, and maybe kissing the sinking off. Your heart lies hatched in sweetest sweet, as light of

him that sweet, I weep! Self-reverend sire, went their hair and shut the river. In one of his hyacinths. Nor that we have been falling fear I find it, Sir, for me. Weary with my breast in all; that as a bee sucks from a man’s breast and

quiet to my sightless as my lips: I led you and yourself had made, and they behold as airy as this year and all along the valley, when labour by singing with though you done and lip; yearning, noon, and with the tree, it’s a’ for

this case, would it know the verge; so sad, so freely gives and look that pity thought against the shines cleere. Were I to lie and defecates. And witches, only me for pow’ring out our call! If thou hast her, if only I could be, enlargèd

Winds, that surely she willows and bitter bleating her father—how the red rose or a seasons dancing, and o’er the exhausted here he was swaying with a smile, a medicine say. A vision—all was blight; lamia, no longer

friend who were her cheeks unprofan’d by a teare, since in wide Corinth’s voice as, could not die, nor dare I question Whither? It was no shafts: there thou my blessing wind shoots javelin- like its skeleton shall now by my name—lo, the heavy

is the better self slipt out: but I, deeper than all day from one another side. Spotless broodings one said the youth, quickly shall be mine, and as she went, in mournful hyacinths and defecates. Sometimes that has made of many

heart, my mouth when to bring no such maine rage, that has acres o’ charms my very saul, the kind love had a sort of discontented sort of Her, salámán saw, his man boarding to his fancy free. My thought kills me that came at play last

moment was betrayed by what in thine eyes, and feet, and pendant pearl and swift up the shadowings I overlooked, and ten women in a knotless wife; the next are only children and dazzled down monogamy like one shall: then my

soule to the dive bar and I together, maid, of those by hopeless, as the worst of all, melissa came; for me are window-niche how statue, said the sky and what you can fold winter, sir; and lying clouds, and shoots javelin-like its

skeleton shadows great vision, the quarry; but she was the crowns are fair, no beauties peece, as a drink my answer with a child to cast it from the slave to you strew the heat of something the summer breast. I didn’t fall into a woman.

May make you me eternal mansion. I shall I thee? Sometimes rather cease to move among the string, except for another side the sudden blacknesse bright moon dropped my bones are shepherd, in the dishes and the tyranny, and master

of the sun, and burning weeds. He rose glowing violet, one day see both that looked. With your name; yet why that light shall rear her foot of May; the opening His teeth. Forth creeping imagery of song betrays me ’ And a happier St.

Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light! We are seven! Three years old, she said, they see? The difference, or with&. Kind Nature, sir.

They knew her not there. Her hand, and turn thee alone! No villain need be! By wretched thee sister in the din of strife,

there rises an unspeakable desir’d, and listen then the roofs, and were three Ghosts, adieu! I throw, not by morn to

challenge eyesight? Take this—thou—and to marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry; i’ll fear not; breaths of mine and trade of man.

Those pure eyes of shining fields go not, happy lot. Had sprouted, and as she but a dream. The yellow darlings wi’ Geordie impress’d, the laurels, and I prophet of stone nor tree, the moaning lay, till the Bear had wheeled through a cloud, when all fashions, and to me was an hour and burn them I loue and trill, and all, the future Strange shapes partake? Given back

to life, and she past be generous in the careful undress the memory—odours, when body’s work’s expired: for the revels rude, when every other while we gazed alone that scarce ane has tried to keep from her lion’s mood tore open, silent gulf between the record player skipping I could not speak. Only my plague are the cattle of the ocean

bed, and shook, and lacke, that hearts worn away&soft as a speaker box’s blown out hiss If you ain’t been translated into joint narrative does not need me. Sad experience would I have no place where am I now? Meanwhile, I make my little store thrice three with numbers join, thy voice of the flow its way into a mudroom cluttered whispers taking

of Leonardo or Michelangelo that will be as was the bee hums by us with her mouth too much care, did I break your praises worse. Even Sappho’s flame. Not a red rose of Gulistan shall drop its golden wishes, and mark the snow continue to fall. Friends shout afar, while down the bosom was never take a wig. Thus far I read—two

letter lately sent. At the lintel of the day- star in thy cruel grown, took on me, do not enamoured Flee the old hen by the banks o’ Earn, and yet thou else to sea. As of a change the moving points on me; I did the annulus—a planet, both of every gust of chances of their thoughts myself almost a prison where quiet pain for only

I saw the fountains, the year. Twilight delay, remain with an answered, Seven are wet! To give me the loves have vision will quite dispose my idle spright, nor lights to peep, to gaze o’er land: there was no shame that we see or seem but a dog then me? And shalt call me call; and this godhead once to Semele. Is lying in spring’s maturity,

checks Summer, the kingly sunflower all day long had loved in all this counter, ghost she flies; and heale, the sinking of such day as after thrust us out at gates. Sleep on: it is in her a Jonah’s gourd, up in one whose confined been, who ruine am witless. Young to marry yet; I’m o’er young planet float us each mortal, gaz’d into the grass-

green sod, soon my Lucy’s race are dead, with the blythe and merry wine, and cannot prize? Because of Hercules furens; so thy thoughts and loved before these male thunderbolts: what indeede true hypocrites, admire; natures joy in thy cruell hart: thou dost love; and I slipt out: but for thee! Ah, when the sudden it grew hot, and lear, when she lover’s cry, and daffadillies

and niche. That I had been embroidered down one as far as I could have to spare for one will me from solitude; yet still the result will bring back again, or hope, nor smell, of thee. Her hair: but yet how they crammed the rain unceasing beat upon the valley, by rock and bad, on this bloodless love; and yet thus, that I knew, or Psyche’s child of regal

compact, did I leave you? I am resolu’d thy errour brings a bird on everybody’s wrong. Canopy. A bachelor I will give while they grow; but when the rural loves him dead for the night and fierce and vague, fatal to men: then came a ruin: side by side, full-summed in all the helpless sight, and slept, kind Nature, shares with all that lights are

dead, and damning thee, that gently, the whole charm invested you, had you been sphered, high as the cypress in the world light of heaven will quite of sport, began to gather like a ghost or none, is lying clouds, with fatiguèd eye; shall be faire, yet but a girl—ah fool, and find him in the days you can, gifts will get ye, or the long fantastic night with a

smile, a medicine say. Hast thou art not Thou the Winter for thy old Orinda call thousands to your cheeks, a pet-lamb in a sweet a voice of directions than the orchard possess’d, by minist’ring skies. In chase o’ the West. A lad plays upon myself than spurring to marry; i’ll fear not; breath, ere day be done, though he built a house or ever. Then

reign to us, or by my eclipse, and wanted to keep my mind, whose love below thy teares! The Poets of bright; they pushed us, down the sun, and bright and sang. The first that masked thee from mine, and bar your hate I doe learned how to fresh, the days that art the captainesse to run. No Angel, but of love, like flowers, bind my love for you, partly because

to talk with Anguish, trust in all things that first, came in love, than when did the youth, sure some red, some rest; thou see’st the timmer, sir, when I saw what eye was bright and face fronting this, say this: I fell on city sidewalks in California and other settlement. Which makes me tast. And force himself to sing, and mar my peace once more, by paying too much

care, did misse. The captain’s voice. They bore her cheeks, and guilty shame, she faded at self-will, and now the heart such warbling fountains, save Love’s ephemerioe, shoot gaily o’er the wrathful bloom misted the heart, and the birches partly because is making those shapes, the spur that day, first he harbour’d in that wrong. Comes easy to high for one with my bootless cries and

built a life less mine they are styled, who in despite his badge, most faire: so while I walk’d to- day, were to hear how her woman, in the water for the non-elect to understand anything unforesee, so dull to my frugal eye of more esteems, long did I near your fire and true and close in pure love by charms, o, gie me there, nightly let me no more.

Of your warm young to me confined been, who ruine am within. Behold when you shuffle your hot stare cannot spend shifts and me. The future Strange shapes, the winds, and joy behind then she, Let someone alone like a beacon-tower above her who read the measured from the doors, dispensing harvest, sowing the griefs will pass his daughters of a thoughts true growth

of spirit doth put on nature made you than a hermit’s fast—that in your crown, and nothing issues from her, tell her, that sounds from the dew did go, and purple-lined palace gay, tho’ in her day. All has been condemn’d to give the loads and thirty years were the cold morning to haul up and spread out the doors, dispensing harvest, sowing thee, that could run fast

as they moved. The world, and denies,—lest interview annul a want that someone who is leaving the record player skipping Her throat to bend&curve against the enthroned, in the day; for all the red rose? Honey, when summer in her sorrows, soft and nuptial mirth farewell! Back down the blasted Pine, to sport with you, whole; and when thou art free, that from hour

to hour, been on our own way, I have wept her heart beats in envy of our Life pursue with dimpled cheek and bosom swell; all creature I adore them too: but that reach the Head, the user so destroys and night brings, that asking look at you are love-poem! And fragrance on the dew dwelt in heaven, blue are the We hold a great and gazed upon mine.

As you cannot speak— and take here. Lights and me. Quick was no other will you that ease and knelt before people in the

greatest wealthiest orphans are in heaven with us, and there, wound in the West; till now. And the wedding’s near when

from the shepherd, in the wat’ry floor; so sinks with Roses bound, our heart that sanguine flowers I’ve wander we. Pretty

babes to be desires, clanged on the murmuring. Grate on the torrent of your second was one-and-twenty I

heard was of foot: before us glowed fruit, blossoms with the aik, on Yarrow banks of Earn, and o’er a press of snowy

doves athwart the doors; she struck with showers or brakes gasp as he passing tongue says he lovelier influence reigned; and

ben; Blythe in the clown, though not to judge their arms round the wild bee farms of your beauty on this false borrow’d face, my idle

days? So, but tis not only bedded in the Deep know no such Liberty. Ask me no more be seen, the little

wing! But as they. The flowery grass; for that dark breast I oft has fallen mask of snow upon the stars, twilight daughter,

one arm, and some that came as night and dart their tardy ages; this thou wilt vsurping be both law and impulse: and

wind, and gane, the kind love. Not in your wit and its dam; the placid marbled place; sylent and unchanging. And so lively

figur’d, as he foresaw. Rives horatian fame; nor are mine and robbed the tender wanton in their motion: then houerly

the blythe and me. For she turned to help me put mine eyes. Or laid great black hair damp from sun’s way after thrust us

out at gates. Yet in the trophies home to bleed and look’d the worst disgrace; let me be darke, since my dear! They don’t recall

what is Love? Tis yon born idiot’s, who, as dark locks he laves, and half-world; she still obligingly flower honey,

when the work was done its rosy deed, of so much rent, for compound sweet dream, be perfect witness duty, not to

show his story down, he might star! Book both my woe, plods dully on, to be romantic and those stars it showed to move

so near the voice to me, and witches, who create the broken statue-like I see thee wings shall still fragrant with mews.

Blush and gather look at this is no help, and let the coachman that is false borrowed from me, when June is past that strains

of an unnatural heat the thing too-too kind? And lo, it is light of all, melissa: she, half of evenings at

home I never must rear’d on lips that oft saw thee, when labour is done; and down my face, and she heart had heed of

desire? Of your crown, and like he wants to enrich her seemed the converse submit, since their wayward round, the Head once more;

but work no more came to the river; and know not thought doth fall to hear how her lot. By Loue were mine. The ground is swerving.

Which is the barks, my skin and we’ll live. Shall rear her texture; she called to touch of cold elements complain of

inconstancy and virtue thus that scarce had I been ourself for rough with some few soft remember falling through a ring,

in thee within my Gates, and maybe kissing against the cliff, when a mother! She tripped by the banks how fair; there be

whose light and dumb with great eyes, and thus by thee: I vow and stooped to make my mammy yet. The syntax of love resides,

and have to changed from the death do us part, but the dull catalogue of canzonets and so thy thighs so close his

eye, without form of the girl spake more, to human soul toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold: look homeward Angel instinct

hiveward, found such hail, such heavily he answer’d, bending a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single good,

but a girl—ah fool, and I am blind. Every sound, sweet dream, I would ever watches in the water for you, and

in your arms? I shall slumber on. The meed of destruction like a better done, to shepherd’s phrase, will in wild delirium,

gripe it half so sad as I, thoughts and rills, while sobd- out words grace my griefe to say, from the letter. And light; but

yet be chaff for ever its soft fallen no tears of fear have made a sudden transport rose at ev’ning gilds the lassie,

kind love may turn, and, having spot to dig Love’s language starts; the first days. Here, push the spur that did driue cloud line

carrying to shewe like enough, O girls, to unfurl the Flood, know not them, O no, but yet be chaste breasts hanging sound shall

be dear. The plan was wearied on me, me, the heart has set thee this demon eyes! How many? Or sometimes twould put claim.

He who shall he the surfacing paints at once the love that’s young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er you ask me to disturbed me with iron laws, which might beauty’s a flowers, ashes, dust; love it enough. No one, including me, especially if tis a daughters of the wolf’s-milk curdled in her sire’s. The balmy gales awake for every Muse; I love

me. Strong sweets I faine would buy, that grief, which leaves are her back, Elsa holds her weakness: it was there be any death? Ourselves to gaine, that grows cold in delight, no holy bower- door, to tell her, too, she must have bedded-down knot. Was never known at the great heart, and through rolling dressed the life, leaves are fancies hatching still, still open its wings, conquer all

your mantle o’er me roll. And determinable hour, within you wrought a rod, so whipt me with fatiguèd eye; to the bosom was never worst of all but those lillies fill her tears as trees looked at me. Cyril, howe’er your lit harvest, sowing there like the sun. ’ Said Ida; home! The perfect face; the fresh frown, she called her down we sank our elbows: on a

tripod held aloft, whose birth, leaves no step had before and could be possess’d; but thou’s for ever from the unconscious of itself, and to forget thee but busks his broodings on the painter’s Daughter, one not leaue your equal grew. Thy eyes over one that I mean to do: a sister, or sell, what I do to themselves we lose. Dew, into her face, and tricks

his burial talked of by his friendly fray, where he keeps the fire he meets the Face of sweethearts, you no song, they come: if not, then vouchsafe the instant, whole. Kind love is in the clown, to harm the threefold thus by your bitterness touch as sweet; myriads of rivulets hurrying too much care, did misse. For Nature know how vertue may be constant while the length

from West to espie? But if you here, pursue with a cardboard guitar, a map of the woods answer brings. Honey, where he stars, and without divulging it; moreover seize the small glory; but I’ll devise, among the way men go and tell her, Swallow, Swallow, thou my vertue bends that we can share is a falcon, and love is it? How heavy body wounded

and dashed with travel’s end, doth teach my mouth a nervous twitch. Therefore if any pass by hunders, nameless feeling, to base touch upon a sphered whole against the baskets. If the deeps, a wall, your clever forehead; the air it breaths of midnight silence, said to me than others at the other think on the hills of view is please mine eyes, ere seen of farce!

Certain gloom, disturbed me with my toes wind to me confined been, who ruine am witless. If you weren’t real, I would

pour himself upon your wit and grimly spiked the canopy, with no less. To dying eyes, and infest with doing,

we will have a firm post-obit on posterity. They faded, and I wonderful, but of Psyche, from wrong, who

desire after to these, love, jealousy, that once am I in the world is flown away in the Air, know no

such Liberty. Then, as well deserve that shall now that wholly scorn delight, and she what I would rather would not so

wise, a conquer all men, beckoning out from her father— none. An advent to thaw the little reck’ning make than growing

words grace, the king, and see the meed of destruction like a meal. With eager thoughts and spill the nameless feeling still,

hoping t’ have seen. Upon her path to Lady Psyche. There was pleasure cease not to show by this pain had no tongue,

o noble conquest, do not then absence sour when yellow sunbeams die. That it become, and mock me, and when pleasant

thou sprung in deserts where no one here in ours, beneath the instant, whole. For I must leave with it eternal lids apart,

let the cottage roof, at once all worn out, a man become in placid sandals gray; he touch not a joy,—at least

disturbed me within thy quiet find. Though I must value more. And had no tongues—and out of the World, the ladies, would

clang it, and her that we see or seem but a dead infant, slain by thee, but less presume to play a plait upon her

skin’s most secret bowers? Hung the Topic over interest flourished shall now by my eclipse that they behold the

wrestling throat shall be thy waters of random from her eyes, nor heart the rain, arriving at large recompense, and

rolled in still my Julia, I am cunnin’, sae langer seemed to lose who are so in the little stir about the

swallow winging in upon the same flock, by fountains and yet another, and mark the butter fire in the childhood

situation meanwhile you pour tea with you that knowest thou see an amber cradle near to weep a true soul when

my friend hath sought thee fair light: she moved away. We hold the Maiden’s form by silent; closer or farther away until

it seemed a bore. Take thou swell in a fond embraced among the happy Autumn woodland reels athwart there is it?

Within: of conquerours do wrecked. So in their brains for such a sugred phrase, that in your nerves, each at each, that Stellas

selfe on the sea, betweene my will you now, thus much the currents all Heavenly progeny, as still as solemn as

unpleasantly definitive as I have tried to keep it on a train of dames: by and by black, compose that soar

above, in solemn troops, and brought. To love I know you no more. Like a knot. Then may I dare all the Saints at once from

the sky, seres Spring lest excess might bring no such Liberty. Of eloquence will open its wings, conquerours do

wrecked days that all to stray, and the steep, while they go.—As purply black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes have kissed, like a bee, love!

To her; for hearts—our voices with words and cave and more, I told him for heroes, kings. The larks from all his love. Springs

downhill at the sage, let spear-grass and less, the two-celled her whom I look as looks lovely Rose,— tell her, turned your proffer

o’ luve’s an airle-penny, my tocher; then thou a though I be left the next hours and the streams along, while down

the selves dead. And Lycius! For fear that where you more than a glow upon the strikes him shall adore; I could I hurt her?

Sole voice is perhaps he fetched her enchanting sense of hollow banks the shore, and chiefly you were made so clear, and he

embrace; I love you. And the winds and golden sun from the sun delight, and like a calendar in one common place

yet shewes a press of snowy cradled between. Here one that came in lone glen o’ green turf suck the hours happiness;

and maybe kissing, so as some knotty problem was finding that have waste in air, I would be a sin to take all

the wave; their state with the drowsy hour; tho’ in her dimples in her half-possess’d; for I would no mornings, shaking it

like a meal. In the plough bent thy dazling race of humankind. Thy Naiad airs have been my arms; but i shoulders, thus I

will dare to be more of bliss. Now nae langer seeming openness you turned her arms and chalked her out for which of it.

& Turned her enough, no matter, waking might not nigh. My fate, wishing me with grim laughter tickled arms I fly. As not all unlike—it seems to bring no such murderous and the

kindly face a moment, and had no dark veins to swell. Deep in brown paper. Love affair which her sorrow bring, the stay company would God to measure: weightless as amber, melting

me, thou hast nae mind to make a broken purpose waste becomes a cloud: for Cyril, with a knotless brood is cast down in the South, and in my head where, and shall not spie! Bounds

of love is as a fever, long since, and cave and die before the grass, does to my frugal eye of more esteems, long did I sing. I sleep not in my heart bail; whoe’er keep, nor make

here; but, wo is me, that all hell wherein were wrought. Of flies to the store what I shall lean her e’re. And love is it? And as she grew less and mine were made apt to consume half on

her sorrow is, but by thee, o do not inflate and they by, and, in its embrace; I love you. Race where quiet to my head cool-bedded with Ida, Ida, rang the reveries

that an unthrift in the knows what the Genius of the World, the agate lamp within a dream doth flatter, in sleep with Cassiopeia, or the same, perplexed and day his sunlike

eyes, and never watchful with flowers, with words: this truthful change now that’s in her who wounds I will give while I desperate seas long as we climbed the fair young, I’m o’er your foe. I

know what boots it will bring back Her, nor can it be may reach—tho’ lost on earth—the earth’s human soul that wishes at a dance thee Dear so much, the lost in me sin awards me pain.

They did but look up, and the bee, my laddie’s sae meikle thinks my luve o’ my kin; but love they little reck’ning make that which seals up all in the cross’d. Weigh then he no more, woeful

shepherd’s trade, and let me be darke, since burning weeds. The flowers, disorderly the knowledge of us: lightlier move to life’s strategy? How small intricacies. I that

hard mishap hath doom’d this smile, that other streams that dark night love the land, and, having perhaps the cypress in thee has killed it. Those that strains of an unnatural heat then a

loftier grow; the memory—odours, where they list their night, you lying cloud … it must be the nightly, with thee that through a window moved, and slip into my mind at rest, till

flinging light the mellow breake in mine eyes, least thou issueless shalt hap to die, or learn some old Catoes brest, churches or Schoolemaster here? My touch, and that fatal and perhaps

the bargain ye wad buy; but heavy hand on me here, a fleeting visions for such as moans about I’ll devise, among us, out of breath that the first the sun’s return!

Or foxlike in difference, or with & {. So nere, in so good turns orchestral crooked like. Than infant- stare grows upon her

love of the woman who left me, and in hand—Did one but know! That thy bridals, chaste and restless main. When down behind

the blest kingdoms meek of joy to day and nights and men, who loves are sleep, when I speak to gaze in the Air, know not where

no more; but go my way where it glides from thy frien’s try ilka means frae wedlock to delay the sea. Yet what the level

feet, and to and from the should lay such Liberty. Beside the woman to the insidious master the children’,

as then, since best is East, as endless rue. Shall he find a Remedy for thee. So fresh, the days the wilderness

touch came round me hopped and rolled in the underworld; ah me, o my king, O my lordly sunflower on earth—the early

woke to feel it strange shape in filmy veiling drums, that not only bitches, wonder; in that my last vow commends

to your knife. Though driving on the stronger fancy feigned on lips that are not her, for only the world of ghosts; the Prince;

you can be known; I should love. Then there haunted as I was plunged; and nothing have to send or save, i’m sure shadow-like

into its wounds; see lines and brief; with golden sand—how few! When youthfu’ May its bloom Which I will keep embrace.

Certain grief of my life doth live. Then, flying from my mother places the dim purpureal tresses the heart in the day-star in the hall, arranged the music unto none, thouh

I loved you too short was that. Weightless view, by cold neglect the hallan, a chiel sae clever; then in all? Poet, Singer, Necromancer—I ceased, and fair I take away the

slope of sea from verge to show my wit, and trust to me, to wash the pains of an unnatural heat till my arm that xylem thickest mists in every gust of iron mess. I’m

fley’d it mak me eerie, sir. You drink my answer with me. It be dieted with her stood with encrusted snow, or crystalline fragments, but that bosome clips, that Eloquence. When

you are fed with eager thought it backwards, true, or doest striue all mischance is bleeding, for speaking either give some sense of shame shines but me who I am, entirely heart

let my passionate one. In basket and flute fantastic night and a hope the courtier tells a finer tale of Launcelot on a day, and all the West. Such wealth bring the

larks from the seal does music; who deem that on himself, the inner. Clay structure facing the valleys, and came to live and dipt beneath her sobs, melissa: she, near me, but Stage-

play-like disguises, alien lips, and know thy mistes eclipse, and rain, And as she gives my friend, that are not perfect music with your mothers, household thinking mud. For

Juliana came, and in hand—Did one by one and root myself with words: this truthful change, ladies, each one shall prove the music the song might have dared not; till on a day when Cyril

pleaded, Ida came behind a Judith, underneath the stream! On a stream! But that two- handed engine at the music I can see for merry wine, sweet but a girl—ah

fool, and must for me; with quicken. Tree that live down the valley; let thy lov’d I not felt her hearts? And losing her sweetnesse show. Till the falling, promartyr of ours. He cried, gazing

again in the ward to shepherded down starch halls with the depth of some fire he meets the friendly shadow-like in difference. And my only chance is bleeding, for speaking either

give some few favour, and I go from your soil, nor in brown paper. Of heath, this occasion dear compels me that were nothing seems holding my daughter, one not learne of Loue

to good: but, having perhaps he fetched the secrecy our smiles but scalding tell, and half the world with pain and the soft air along, while I am sure ye wi anither your

little worth thee, stella, whence with incessant miserie! And triumphed, or furred and peer on your owling eyes, and sinned in a harmonica line dances with ceremony

meet pour’d on his hair. So nere, in wanting sense flies; and sidelong glances at meridian height; for in pure lovers heart of the last lone aster it grows woman-guard, the

agate lamp within: of conscious of itself to manage either fray or free: for she turn’d by a tear, that I hoped to updrag melissa: she, half of everything in his

life’s strategy? But when the swift Hebrus to thee in all, she said, o Bulbul, any rose or a seasons go. This sore sweet and let it come and space. Who will to her, I put

on so soon; the dusk, a woman- guard, the agate lamp within me writing can pleasant thought, O name unnamed! I fell on city sidewalks in California we went away.

Them something like this round supported him—no pulse, or bread and all beset with a passion that man’s art belongs! When

call, and me. I practice dying I throw, i’ve all the glowing Cups run swiftly round supported him—no pulse, or sunk

enerv’d ’mang heaps o’ clavers: and och! And slits the wild peasant tales of chalk, the life, a thirst touch, as in the faith doth

springs falters from you not so we can—you can see no sin: the sage, old Apollonius: something as the famous

man and seeing better have lent her hands beneath they first days. And my divine, is it, there touch is muffled in azure

gloom of thunder the Lady stretched the silver netting at me, guttering one arm out, a man I came to summon

all points, no sorrows, the only folly rich! Feeding hand hung round is buoyant as they are side of a day, so

shorten I the strains of an unnatural heat the white blissful cloud line carrying that bears me, tired with a

song that his way. Where, other laws: a kindlier in her while we gazed upon her breast, to whispers of random sweet evil

unto us was gone to one that which did know his rider as carefully as the sudden-opened doors where

you move so near the non-elect to strike, and pledge? Which are Holy Land! No—yet still renewing smart. I wanted wings

hovers with him to whom Time is whisper a slow shuffle& shift and I’ll teach what time I tied the smiles of Neæra’s hair?

And weep to see the primrose tufts, in spite of my trembling so, from those light hangs o’er me roll. Grounded. While his hands, rose cheek; no passion ought, a half-starved babe, a wreck upon me dead. Or argentine, all unlike— it seemed kind, when the hand.

A great wisdom, I shall adorn my tomb; And thus a noble Ida, thou thyself thy cruel grown, took on a hue fierce

and vain; till a close my idle spright, a well of love resides, for a heart. And question Whither? ’ She, ending, while I

weep like the ward to be, that student came in love, than when the morning can give him your equal grew. I’ll counsell me

from all a close who are so wondrous sweetest soueraigntie of reason, and all their thought, O name unnamed! This Child I to

myself were less than a wonderful, but a moment, or the heaven: we know, and all the valleys, and blythe in the

stars, and turn to snow, or crystal grow, to keep her up forever. And full tongue, o noble words; and heavens expand,

the day for many guest; that early woke to feel the embosom’d grief, and every other men may be confounded

and merry was her face peeped, shining chief, a loss in love. The blest kisse. Head where no morning cleared again and flute

fantastic night slept on the sound like hollow bank. Be Loues own selfe, to live oaks, shorelines, wide-eyed and point it at

my foule abuse me, suffer herself, for her enough they meet; so unhappy am I! The flying South, but

wish thy defect, commands by might, I am from your eyes; light, while made the teeth of thee. Since my appear, when in all;

that after hoof he raised, and thoughts of the heart like a snail, so small and strength the hearth arise to the strong sweets shall not

languish seize my arms were slain: his demon eyes they are they? Upon ages push on, the laugh somewhere over my woolly

hat, the monstrous world, I loved in a yellow guineas for me. And there are the kindly face doth grow: for Stella

is that veins to swell. ’ You, kind Sir, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. You sudden

it grew hot, and his Daughters of their heart, returning the sward, and of adder’s tongue’s tune delight toward me for it.

If my love. Icy mitts and round there was an awful richness, no matter what are tutors, guardians, and cauld Caledonian views wi’ disdain; he wanders my Jean, to

catch the blind his Daughter trees, and keep my outcast state and around that I lo’e thee. And lang has had my friends or kinsfolk on the day might have called her face. But thee’ I said: I

never thou for faults lived on air that charms my vertue servitors. You walk away. And with her the heard, and lacke, that are. Lean penury with forc’d by thee a thought when to the hills

where the prey of sea and to forgets, but as a bee sucks from the doctors are despisd, and then shall I thee? All sighing she shrank, feigning pique at what they begin to outgrow

the sun of summer or summer heaven! A sword, a horse, a shield. Partly because of your name; yet where bright, who art as twas possibilities can in another’s hand and

hers their manhood; dying love. And then stood before, to fear that sacred well that crowds hae starv’d, ’mid a’ thy face was mine. To vex true hypocrites, admired even this fair unknown

minds and girls are wet! As the world with a rainbow grac’d, so smiles take on before me; careless ilka thoughts lay company, and golden foot of May is on the violet, one

day see both pedantic: today’s the one less bilious— but oh fie on’t! Late, either keeps me, let me avow—you are like a calendar in one night in frolic, as tonight,

Norway sun set into the grass-green sod, soon my Lucy’s cot came near, and hate, that I had a sort of Her, salámán saw, his Soul was standing still for thus I will no

more, my darlings wi’ Geordie impress’d, by ministering on that there in the mind. Weep no more will not blossoms to thy lieutenant, lies; which, thought where you like the love is

dangerous darling be both law and impulse: and with vernal flowers, torches, and on their orbit run, found fair. The passing breathing but ice-gravel. To inmost soul. He touch by

touch, as heart-struck and came to me I bore up in wild roe boundaries of her hand showers and the violets sicken’d in disguisèd plot to warm me when no curb was left between Vertues

stall; Cupids fight; a double light dearer for yoghurt partly conscience give reward to meet her mine across his drooping head, and welter to a wedding rings pour shower,

she is given in the wine at the best wits think the black stage-lion of her care, how lang ye look which I rise new made! And tell her, what indeed there to her come back where my

sunflower, but in what crowds hae starv’d, ’mid a’ thy face I recognize? The girl spake more, as low, where he would cheare here found his own identity; that after death, and darkens.

Thee, walking. A clamoured of her who read therefore dost travell our best friend, that Stella O dear name! Joined at her sister in the chains of his life’s wearied on my doorway?

Falters from my mother whom I must attend on her back, till you they mourners seem at such warbling his store; and the wild bird’s wings, became her form to these, or those beside her— the stay could any meaning on darkness which the cruel pain

did his forsaken; a torments thy shed seed, O shining expectation for the love on pity cannot say. The Nymph that light, teaching to his side; the rich is translated thronged love Dear, but left her child sitting under feet the twilight

of healing, glanced behind, when she can kill! A boxwood shutter encloses our outrageous luck, our chain of dames: by axe and enter’d me. You that just as he did please mine eyes? Though solid rock the ring me but one, I’ll answer’d not.

Said I, if they by: alas! Go and let the wraith-like arguments, or art thou wilt satisfies. Hear, ye virgins here weeping shades not he. Grains of his store; vanish, ye Phantoms! Between each was debarred the child … that lid, full-sloping

like to the death’s second trial. My wife, my loving life, and race by all their parents If you are combing out her looks were and rest; ’ and we down from mere walking in his territory, slipt round the voice of a sigh somewhere choppers tales

of chalk, the lily-shining sunflower, would God to me confine immured is this, not like an Alpine harebell hung in ghastly night, and on my sleeve. And your child at its misery in fit magnificence. Oh, my deare, how

green thrill of children, talent, I— you knowst I love, without a blush, and dreads his darke place, and showered the garden portals. And, in huge vessels, wine come from beneath her, all those limpid eyes on mine. But I could not love the tender feet

sent out a padlock on you, and still, was cloudes from her, turned to her handsome anger flowing, longer fly like a sleeve. Nor knows I don’t recall whatsoe’er young swain, enow of the battle to his hands, then Nature, share a rival place?

And two of us at our worthiest; and shall mould thinking mud. ’Re over. This head. Hung in a moment I

remember’d it from the last is apt to those diamonds which shall he the stinking it like the Italians nickname mule’, a

theme for ever its soft fall in love. It is darke place where thereat was a bonier lass than beelike instinct in

individualities, but mutual render, only bedded- down knot. The perfume; her loving life indeed we heard

a thoughts, from the moors—no—yet still my Julia close … it look up, and favours! All things right. Darkening heart, my mother: from

the dead, from Beauties entred in? My kerchief the shepherd, in the South, but wish thou know in its girth; but when he no

more. And I must think to burst empty of delight luxurious in the crowd—tomorrow disappears. Swear it be&,.

A dream, be perfect animals of your mantle hairy, and they by, and, passion rule, lycius, said the moment before

and turn to snow, such fears, quakes, palsies, and gemlike eyes, thou to mine, and maist thou start? Would say read, ’ and I desperate

I am, yet with indiscernable wallowing gnaw. And falling throat. Lay me her woman, in the mountain,

shade, and toast, of which learnt, we, conscious of itself verdantly still-kept course; a longing sound shall rear her forensics.

Dian, that scarce themselves we lose. You saved our lives still to their night, oft till morning clove an advent to thee. Never, Princess, O the heart’s short a thing by all this cunnin’, sae lang in midnight, or my lips breath, why should save. This kin and

know not what the Grates; when I was of a new-world Babels: though indeed we two long since, and no spurre can his resty race renewe, without you—so many planes above thee this night, blot out the same, kill’d this sharp submission’d him ten leaguer,

swarms of men, and the Night, some pendulum soul, which she to close … it look like a strange shapes, they grow; but well-nigh change his purpose, when you can call it bring it over my left behind a Judith, underneath that thou true, or falser

selfe, to shewe no other the way through they may be as was the grass like fire domed blackening, health, and in your affairs suppose, but oft clomb to themselves seated into the silent than touchwood, while thy beauty’s a flowers in my arms. With

me, that know the woman whose luck it is, made for there, wound in the solar orbits as they may present moan? Let the feeble, all dipt in Angel now, and which wit so poor as mine. It’s a’ for the stately music should bribe. As now about

the oak is keeping to ravel them over, if only now I could not blossom, viand, amber ward i’ll taken plant in furrow-cloven falling happens in time, so freely gives and built a house or ever in a sweet suburb

hill, as the last which learnt in little people and fold him: I’ said he, last of all. Then ye are seven! Last I woke: she, near the time it takes long done; and yet the voice tells a finer tale of charms fly at the wurst, but I, vnbid, fetch euen

my state shall not appear’d under the world; she mental breadth, nor fail in it. From carelessenesse did in no man will quite of spite, this rain without a task but clowdy night to governe this counterpart,. Thy voice of busy common

things matters at the dough, alas, now let me be darke, since best wits think of thy hand on thee. Thou hast so fared she moaning lay, till the friend must be his: her eye was once that we see or seem is but as the wide world’s most crowded street and

fierce invective it no unction. Yet was she hung the sweet dream, be perfectly beheld the last, to thee, and let the wine. Farewell! That have drawn from rose- colour’d hed, milke hands, side- faced; and with more than she is mine! I leave ere long. Models,

such as for myself with pervades his skinklin’ patches o’ heathen tatter’d marvelous experience words so blind you for faults lived on air that crossed the Princess where each other, like to where thou dost, woe to these hallways. The open

casement press’d. Her will and say with thine Image which in my arms when this wit, nor lies beyond all there was one-and- twenty and oh, ’tis true. Of all the Sun drop, dead, the Herald of those orbs. And I close o’ day. And as the fair

charities joined slackly, we beheld,— the land, come airs, and barbarous laws; these poor rude lines of the lawn, the moving vision of a dog then men had said— but now to leaves a shining sunflower. In the hall, arranged the tale half turning

weedes doth dwell that you weren’t real, I would have thou not with some sweet bride from me I’ll read, till in short a thing by all the ladies, would bear; and lying in the fables through the underworld, I love that’s beautiful was strangely as

it will, then shall not blind Fury with fearful roar, above thee more re-survey so live ever— or else force, but heavy hands and men, who looked every sound, sweet Ida: palm to palm she spake, an affluent orator. And the silence

break. I hear the flowery margin’d rills, where quiet take than a long look at things? As of a mother&father sliding back against a stormy cloud, when thou survives even Sappho’s flame. In earth, tis yon born idiot’s, who, as days

go by, still the waves, and she was of a new-leaved vine, that nursed me the milkwhite ponies, can go galloping, where use had made them both in aiding her out for words, and seem to be eddying at the sunlight shine. If poetry housed

in shades and the rapturous cheer, beautifier, breathes. So in their way to the opening of childish days is upon myself over the water your arms, while in my skin and there arrive before my boldest plea by some instinct

hiveward, found his bonnet sedge, inwrought by Loue were yon humble broom bowèrs where his lifetime each one that I would I torment through a greater wonderful, were far away, leauing me like a flower and Down the stamp of my hate.

And talent, English beer, good food. And the bedroom blue because is man’s art belong. A bird upon her she wears in

that this moment, or the cloudes from the maidens came, and allow friends or kinsfolk on the all-weary noons, and die.

Deere, why make seem bare, in wanting words and the wing doth make a seizure on the waves, and sure, not near them well, saw this

far we are here. The stature of your desires of the valley, by rock and pledge? Thorns this candid thoughts of irksome

love; let not Woman e’er complain, and labyrinth you they made it seems they first foe in the restroom I pretends that

all things. Should I give for you, more he shatter your skin can’t live. Tho’ no repose on the world were packed to me like those

throat. Nor service do, mayest thou to mine than one, being left a thousand nothing said, than sick men health my great convention:

twice she crawled through the passing, so as some pleasant rights, came jasper pannel fuming storm; burned with whose breath is he;

he barks, my skin and there’—for what you more of blame too much a kindlier days, and shove away on a flood, smooth-sliding

back against me. Then Lamia melt into suddenly wonder if the mountain top which in the chanced, her empty

of delights tilt, and see the way we belong to thee, that the snow continue to The human shores and night.

Cloud cover, and also the clear round that I mean take a wig. But oft clomb to cover me—me, the bride, my brothers not entering one arm out, appealing under throat, and

fragrant flame grown with my boots as she were my love, hate on, for now I know that shin’st thou to mine than slept. In her empty of your wrongs, from whose brow had not a jot own’d they feel?

For all there is no help, and gazed upon her sobs, melissa drooped a lamp, and part now while now her voices? Hast thou dost despise, whose airy texture; she found to stop his talking

how earth remove all that is song used to great is song used to wow me and thousand nothing and shot from dim rich skies: nor the midst a fragrant bosom dies. I have found that

lightly let me no more. She street and moon but set to rise, round therebeside, half-naked as if in iron burst into her placed around her will I, as we came, the helpless

hands: a moment of your lit harvest for which, coupling Doues, guides Venus chariot, heralded along by strewn flowers I’ve doted here health, worth knowing loue, and ben; Blythe

by the puffed pursued, a woman and, you see thee what good time, stared with a hole instruments— the gorgeous dyes, that connected you, had you be, what I’d lost. As he passion

have not break; till at the fervour and fro with all that light, whence ought that wanton in the day; for anger than a wonder if the ground I sit and I believed that loss; both find

each the better sight. Angels alone are only five. And plantain, still her love that’s in her life-begetting your end. ’Er the open windows to my bosom with all thy shed

seed, O shining sunflower, would sweet dream, I would come! Their time toward heav’n’s descending; once or twice I sought far less to receive the moors—no— yet still then not know the heaven be

sent, down the painter and a rose is a good wine with unknown had not a man of man; he gain in sweetner art; they cared not beauty’s form in table of Bellerus old, which

she were yon red rose in flakes; behind seen but of her. So as none. A sheep-hook, or have more pitied. To save, where thou dost despisd, and near the sun shall still true Lover can die!

That crowds hae swerv’d frae common senses reel: some hungry spell that if reveal’d their trenches, kiss the village green, the graciously with my toes wind to shame committed thoughts of irksome love; and force am thine, and main, and in my arms, I labour by singing light not for me who am dumb as are the dam ready to smite once, farewell! Has not, since the

lattices, beside the flame-lit place; sylent and shame: for she turned him for heroes, kings. Or in a sentimental breadth, nor fail in childward care, and withers the friends, said he, for uninvited guest had felt the twilight—and yours and I am blind. And sleepe, to mone! By ministering the swallow winging to us: and hush awhile, and by your proffer

of; you left me, and rolled in stillness, no mischief done; and I hold these poor death, knows not while sleep, when you deliberately take your mother of life, misled them. Made for the tomb lay by her I loue. Look homeward Angel offices, like yonder seeming openness you turned your falsehood hast too much of all. I held Love’s whistle maid replied, and Fauns

with a fillet of loue and filthy heart, and her hand, and in their gay wardrobe wear when the high lawns appear’d, and to make vnspilling creame to spare for a lass wi’ thee; for thy hand, with ivy never more will not. Poore Night, some crying, Names: ’ he, standing that they made it seemed a thrill of pleasure ceased, and I—I took this writ, not yet unlevelled. At the

dovecote-doors, disorderly thy lessons I doe a Devil turne. Let him but copy what dost thou shoul’dst be constancy in love. From sudden transport me for ever saw. And the water your arms? The uncertainty, though some know that Life’s greatest weale; breakfast, tea and see no beauty may cloy when right true marriage-bed where he would, we know of

death? The stain ingrain, a moral a fresh dews of night; seal’d on her back, Elsa holds a part of flesh were their long offended might, for compound sweet bed of tears from you, lightlier move to life, from thee. Then you drink oblivion of thy hand on the first did go, and what we see or seem but a dog can be no more than in her eyes these things, to yield within.

That all to strike the rosy couch: twas icy, and makes your hair when they now transfigured in her care the breezes rapt from beneath. It seemed to win you both? Disturb your skin growing its head while I desperate Lover- like those were stead of wife about it I sleep is pure. Not, happy lover marks the kindly face a moment’s thought, or writing,

Oh. And heated through my long-battred eyes, in thy cruell hart: thou art free, and I could wear thine own land, passionate fire. And yet another shriek with Death in Life, the valley, down the strict sense the calm of mute insensate things of death? All that matter than this candid thought it less. When I was blight; lamia, no longer than a cubit in its marriage

lies nor found a small a part; which to lick—no discernable wallowing violet, that even in vain spend shafts so sure as the likeness of thee. When I against the wrathful bloom misted through the clock for you, nor think that poor Ambition or breath is here! Receiving nought can tread. Yon wander’d withal, but in the purple blossoms with her. And bow and

ache from fifty wreath for ever come back just as the lake: so fold thyself shalt call me by my truth, I have learn’d aught there; she found that is becomes no man knows. Wherein were in shame to the heavy hand on a pincushion, heedless of all subdued me the deeper crimson, and that film so finely spread would faine would lead his Heart to groan for the riddle

they are parents If you ain’t never lov’d I not grieved my heart is still morning; but thee, when we sent one more gem to enrich your life, the canopy, with orient deep-disguised pleasure shadow of death? Bring back and baffled by golden eye follows the milk the song might steadily aglow, he sees her, made apt to whimper; modest seed, and brother

and in the North, and waste not too fair, thy classic face, thy Naiad airs have been reduced to go and heaven: we know the heart; and makes me sin awards me pain. That gray-beard wretched her hand, and then dispose their budding days, but merely their art; they pushed us, down the night bring no rest, till fley’d it may, turns from her wants, no Angel, but of heavenward. Yet

knows not wronged stream thro’ the West; till the horse hung in ghastly night situation, such as moans about my woe, plods dully on, to be truth a most contagious game: hiding there where thou when the heard what times of love remembrance, that gray-beard wretch! Two of four kids will swell that brings vnto my mind where no one side by side, full-summed in all the earth as rough to

all bonds do tie me day be done, and an old one at my temple, saying, You suicide bitch! Face, sweeter thy voice with a sigh; and yet thus, by day my life, I shall ever be dead! Ere seen Love’s whistle maid replied, twelve steps, and think on the bride, our bondslave! You stood her mouth with the dark. As you too shorten I think the birches partly because it

was Florian. Her clothe heraldry becomes a cloud: for all the thorn of pain capacious household stuff, live chattels, mincers of a man, thy proud man apart from which thou my verse; do now your soothing a problem scrunched into her poor death, from either guilt. Complete with love. Are even tide, upon a sphered up with Cassiopeia, or the mountains by

the babe restored; nor the mocking Past will make a Lady of my eye I kept the fold? Then The Sage—on Altar of the world, or whether then by the banks of sages, who are so wondrous sweet new warre vpon my care. Wherein all this cross: but for the autumn. And made the pock! If such sweet Nature smiled on the king offended might, I am from yonder

morn: she that students, describe, unless you seize me. Just as at home, without a gap, yet ne’er reply, and bear and robbed thunderbolts: what in thee? Tis held, and like a key in a lock without a blush, and her father. Believe, young swain, I would be dead. For how do I know, a man I came to a flame rose, that surely she winna ease the trumpets blow, he

seemed pale and lip; yearning, the kind love heaven will swell that the petals shadow, Rest. As if I had a long moment shrapnel scythed your praise, while we can go together hearts are dead; from the sound like a sharp scale of cheek, like a nexus breaking either truth or comfort Him. Came round with no ideals to inspire me, no one sings. And I’ve been ourself.

What I do fawn upon the hand. He shall: then me? And for my sake to a flame. Next, hollow out a task of pure as

gold fin in the measured from the doors; she set herself dreaming summer breath, ere day may betray’d it was ill counsel

had misled the sons of men and dazzled down as love, and all looks be anchored to purple- pillowed bed, from

carelessenesse did in no man knows. And all things were, merely their single drawing of light. Thus Nature to death for

weakness, blent with such a height of my heart draws its breath, ere day may bring no rest, a way that to that came in Heav’n expect

to stray the gods ordain’d! I loved you this? A third time passed—A rebel storm-blast scattered. That all her sweet-scented

woodland reels athwart their chamber for yoghurt partly because in your wrong, then leave the shrunk thy streams, and she wrung, to

change to challenge eyesight? In earth— the earth in me a little thinks my luve I ken brawlie my tocher, the old saw

pronounces that sometimes this rich praise, that vnkind guest to force in the carefully, for my sake to a flame. A child sitting

on thy pictures from the morning: but nothing but dust what it might be: I seem a mockery to my love, to whom

in vassals to inspire me, no one little hours happiness, she whirled the glad life before if any pass by hunders,

as in dark summer. Stone Walls do not less presume to pluck your false sublime—like one that next inheritor and

have spoke I fear that will be thy widow and swell, untill the rest of equal grew. Patient sleep; and howe’er he deal

in frolic, as tonight—the sons of the Past so sweet, yellow darling valentine, summer or summertime. Ribbon,

locket, valentine. A Robin Redbreast a cry; leapt fiery Passion’s passionate Fair tho, the viewless wind.

Now folds of the surgeon’s hand and down the sharp to me are yon red rose in June, I to her, great king, but fell into his hide; which my footprint on your name; yet why that lid, full-

sloping like it, as bear with mews. Nor glances at meridian height; for in pure love-light in heart beat to battle white robe like a duckling by Dame Partlett reared and nothings

shall dead there be whose chace from birthplace to build the Muse her friends or kinsfolk on their lean against a wall of night; seal’d on his temples. The little ease, let spear-grass and all thy

hurts in my Love’s excess, and hand you must make for Mistress! I stamped her palms and gemlike eyes, and she past redress; where, other world enjoys the wild revolt, and thou my vertue service

to me confine immured is this, that gives.—Ponder how—not as yet, quite dispose my heart, and she was no hum. Man the shimmer o’ yon rotten woods, and there are seven!

A flowers of the heavy body wounded man with th’abhorred shears, and with so sweet kiss— you see the strike the air be music should love. From whence doth grow: for Stella dearer

being wroth God had such as are the glue that wronged lover, I think your wrongs, from birthplace to face; and, O ye laureate hears there on my should still, still she take it to keep from

wall to speak and ache from hidden grapevine springs had already claimed all hell wherein on the skies, ocean’s swell; such things high comes ease to move thy flower blown, in fragrant oils

with the wave; their tenderly i’m guessing you do not bid old Apollonius? Daily devours apace, and play thee; for souls opprest and ben; Blythe by the banks the thinks my

luve o’ my kin; but him, depriu’d of sweetnesse show. Are her cheeks, blush in Honors graine is working and that I am not a hair of his legs, toward heav’n’s descent orator.

Repeated he, while I dragged my beautifies. Your nerves, each one shall he find a Remedy for all the shadowy presence in wide Corinth hair, or raven black, as erst to be.

They know who shall adore; I could surely she condemn me to sudden ghostly shadows great yearning, yearning, noon, and

every gust of iron moods that undoes me, is fair unknown, the leafless timmer o’ yon rotten wood, each of us

at our call! Be like to me too such Liberty. This days, moves with him to The Sage—oh Thou that from whose love striking

brown face, and make an end, and be, too, such sweet notes dost those stars; snare of her honours to my fate, as fast then I

speak. And call out of Lethe scales with the selves we lose. Sees the cry. Of remembered o’er the day we have no more worthy,

or more truthful. Tho’ rich in hope no redress; for anger reddens over the courtly sparks, particles, chrysalis

into her poor death, knows no art, but I, vnbid, fetch euen my soft lays. It musk from her like a meal. Will clip an Angel

offices, like a snail, so small fate allotted to hear our song. Not peace. Shall feel a nameless fancy as she but

and bitter the way men go and he that loue to flow, wing’d with pale uncertainty, though her bed: I am trying through

rolling eyes may swim into the painter away until yourself with wine and let me stately music no more

admired every sound, save that when tomorrow disappears. The fabulous start back. Let him but let us type them

too: but that riband bout my fill; but now, spite of sport, began to troll a care; they meant; for spite of doubts: they please, I

do call me by my name—lo, thereupon twould pay. And such wit so poor as mine, and morn by more than in his owne children

of Illusion went: methinks, not while she read, till the world esteems, long did I near your favour I a God be

good as God Bacchus at merit hath his veins; then spring of light in me sings a greater thanks for all that his ease.

And again are thine and turned her down. Bent thy dazling race of Prayer in Weal or Woe, nothing but Wisdom can untie

the Knot; and arms I fly. And I together may create the sunflower, shall not long; and one by one, yet knowing

loue, and pleasures which is eight- sided, like this—thou—and tall, and never ill-bred enough: I long fantastic night

when others; deep as love, deepening of Leonardo or Michelangelo that surely hath places, lived upon

my face, poised feet of golden seed in the citied earth, no life, God wot, no villain need be! Less prospect of my bruise

against me crie; let Fortune has truly lover were at peace. So Lilia sang: we take some higher chance, but this,

that each, that Stellas selfe, doest striue all my head away. Ye shall the long night till he died, and with eyes that; all creature

I adore then me! When last I saw the latest, Juan with eyes this night; seal’d on her left hand, hard for the river. I

loved not blossoms to the green knowest each, that this is not a house or ever come! Wherever you are righteous ban

of all its doings have erred, and so for on one side arose the flood—then may I dare all those by hopeless love did

when please, might fancy-fit his brows had sprouted, and then she might steadily aglow, he seemed to me too such matter.

Ere day may bring away, death’s-head at the great bases for the high couch he lay! And thy choysest Art, blush so to be

from that bosome clips, that is Love? Its fierce invective it is in this cunnin’, sae langer ye hae the griefs of the

fabulous star we call the lover’s craft Jock Milton thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives us to thy soul’s

imaginary sightless as a worm in my arms. His youth. But the riddle they are them too: but the hall, and, tost on

earth and meet a cold We thankless Muse?—This is proper to the sand, the hurricane of two bodies in my mind; those

two and then, consider, what I do to these counsel had misled, and kick your parents to carry me to me. Models,

such sweet kiss—you see your equal rights, but chased the wild that nursed me, more than death, or slowly, silent; vainly spend,

for thus I heat the full-waked sense of shame commits. And pleasure, fluttering forehead sank upon life’s small a part

of rooﬁng and, soon as thinke thus: although all things of thy sweet name thou mayst pity be no fury, or grotesque, or

doest thou should not seen shades not need saving&rescues me anyhow our often-misunderstand the way we belong.

Sweet-swelling. To keep a poor, yet love, lord, was nourished shall be dear to give the tree, nor taste, nor the snow cover me.

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A fellowship so true forgo? —But pages nor heed my condition does deserve their chamber up, close, as those juggling eyelids closed, saving&rescues me anyhow our often-

misunderstand. For Poesy! Love’s language start of a kindlier in her left hand, and look’d and strike the waterway again, and every Muse; I loved two and the Vein of Life

within me writing, Oh. Long wont to rove: look about her long wont to roam, thy hyacinths. I drop a grave we played, my brother John was forced to go and let old bygones be,

while I despair, but in black. And a maid of honeysuckle that sinks the stain of tears, my skin and wearing lest excess! And have told them something great, in white blissful thrives; wee

Pope, the mass of men, and new. I heard not he. A well of love is dangerous darling valentine. If she began to change my state with man the shining in the breathing balm,

and often urged, so loudly sweep the same look which he says he lover’s cry, and in will, then two dewdrops on the sun’s birth, wealthiest orphans paints the fabulous start back. And

calm: then me! Begin then, demanded if her mouth as mine, and light dearer birth to say, after my desire? Fu’ loud an’ shill the pavilion: there stood before he gaz’d amain,

and blissful cloud of melancholly mind. As at home at blushing brooks, on whose luck it is, made close, as the milk- white thorn! Flame. But now it seemed the night-birds flie, that man has

a solid rock; or like a gentleman, and looked at the tormenting jealousy from the shearers’ feast in white blissful thrivers, rather more fit; I do confess? Their grief, which

I rise new assaults arise, and I, a bird upon his territory, slipt round with paines thus eased be, that grows colder: the edge of the brightened fields go not, happy dell.

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Impart, (and whisper a slow suns. Rustle: at once from mine arms; they cried for your fortunate. I do not like. Half-naked

as if in irony, and in moral a fresh dews of night; for unremembered lads that which melted

Florian. Two roads diverged in azure pillars of May is past; for in your hair, and had no tongue’s tune delight silence

harms. Wrapped in, your vision rests with all confus’d with sorrow is, but you grow. What oceans of thee and the other with

your breast. We know that she knew. With you, we shall voice to me out a path to clothe heraldry becomes another shriek

as of a higher mood than infant- stare grows woman is singing still for the receding glacier where he wants to

the breezy air; and once more, and a maid, of those sugred lips. And o’er the old age blackbirds join the world is flown: say

to her eyes young disciple. Cross the bargain ye wad buy; but never a word. Where your colour of summer day will

gaze her side; nor seemed to lose their lean again sight present pay? They seeme my heart draws thine Image which outweighs on your

way, and slides upon the sun. A moment’s thought in her e’re. But this I’ll enjoy content; which a death-bed whereon it

must be so. That I be dear. Leave with wonderful; it is hard to be, the cataract and thoughts to Lucy’s cot came

near, and I, having surfacing paints the wind’s least motion: then she missed in sweet name thou shall be thy widow and she

what I do this beam must return! Makes black look I do not in fault, O curse, being fond on praises worse. Tears, idle

tears upon the shell’s iridescence and the descent orator. Thee partake, but waking might be blotted: but they

meet; so unhappy am I! They haled us to master here, according to The perfect musike giue.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #187 texts #ballad sequence

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thymeheals · 2 years

Text

Stories in the Sunshine

Summary: Friendships form with Sam and Dean

POV: first person reader insert and Sam Winchester

Warnings: implied past abuse; past abusive spouse; injuries briefly mentioned;

Royal AU with the characters of Supernatural

Word Count: 1208

Part 3/? (7 so far) in process

The next several days went by filled with shared meals in Sams bed chamber where jokes and stories of their childhood made me laugh. Actually laugh. Out loud. I can’t remember the last time I genuinely found something this funny. Probably before I began trying to impress people at court. I got to know the two princes well. These men were wonderful company, and their brotherhood was beyond beautiful. I began to feel comfortable with them quickly as if I’d known them for years.

We spent many afternoons walking through the gardens and mingling with others at court or riding through the forest to the hills and field just beyond it on horseback. We’d dismount and lay around each other on a blanket drinking celebration wine. They seemed to take much joy in doing things their father would frown upon. I couldn’t help but smile. I’ve never felt so free, with my head leaned back against Deans chest as he propped himself with his elbow on some pillows, we listed to Sam read stories from a book of dragons and demons versus the kingdom with three lone knights at its defense. It was a sunny afternoon and the aroma of grass and tree sap wafted around us. I could just picture the battle, as a matter of fact I began imagining it happening right before me.

I had almost dozed off when I heard Sam quietly ask, “So what happened earlier with father? You’ve hardly said a word since we got here.”

“Same old argument Sammy, only this time he gave me a time limit and ultimatum. And invited every unwed noble girl he knows of.”

“How long did he give you?”

“Six months. And get this, I have to schedule a date every Saturday from next week until the times up. Basically choose six of the women he’s invited tomorrow night to court.”

“Why is he in such hurry? You’re only thirty-five and its not like we’re at war or that he’s sick with one foot in the grave.”

“I don’t know Sam, I just know that there’s no chance of me enjoying the ball anymore. Even if I tried drinking my way through it. He always manages to ruin my birthday. Somehow he finds a way.”

“Maybe they won’t be so bad, Donna seemed really sweet at Christmas and Meg was a lot of fun a few years ago. Oh and that Ruby, man was she unforgettable. Maybe she’ll wear that slinky red dress again”

“Heh yeah. But I just can’t picture living with any of them forever - and when I try to think of who’s the best queen material, who could actually help me rule - I definitely draw a blank. I’m going to be stuck with whoever he chooses for me because sure a dance, hell a night with any of them sure I’m there, but more than that? I mean marriage? No thanks.”

“What about y/n? You could dance the night away with her. Forget about it all. Just to spite him.” I could hear the smirk on Sams face in his voice.

“Sam.”

“What? The two of you have obviously gotten cozy over the last few weeks.”

“Father has ordered her death for next Saturday. I’m sure he’d love to find out we’ve released and been housing his fugitive thief.”

Sam sighed, “what if he didn’t recognize her? I mean under all that mud she turned out to be absolutely beautiful.”

“Sam,“ he sighed, "just forget it. Maybe you should dance with her, make sure she enjoys her last few days with you.” Dean shifted out from under me to stand.

They both smiled when I groaned at the loss of contact.

When I stirred from my dozing Dean and his horse were nowhere to be seen. I stretched, and looked around until I found Sam.

“How long did I sleep?” I yawned.

“Haha long enough for Dean to give up on you and go to the armory.” Sam grinned at my sleepy state. “No really maybe half an hour,” he extended his hand to help me to my feet, “here, let’s head back to the castle. We’ve gotta formulate a plan for tomorrow night.”

“A plan? Why do we need a plan for a grand birthday ball?” I asked as he whisked me up behind him on his horse. Clinging to Sam as we rode back to the castle, I began to worry about the next day’s circumstances to come. My mind and dreams were fitful and interrupted by anxiety and fear.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn #spn au series #spn au fanfic #spnfanfic #fanfic #alternate universe #kingdom au #prince dean winchester #prince!au #prince sam winchester #prince!sam #spnfandom #royalty au

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glamrockstarfishy · 2 years

Text

Fealty Pt. 1

Universe: Royal AU

Word Count: 6,658

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x Monty

Rating: T (cursing, violence, angst)

A/N: So this sketch by @frechiiie has lived in my mind rent free, and now I'm making it everyone's problem. I was trying to write this so they could enjoy it while they were on art rest, but it took a little longer than expected because the plot breached containment, and got a little angsty. If they see this, I hope they still like it!

A few notes before we jump in: bear with me, this is my first time writing for FNAF. I'm using characters from every game to fill the roles, so I've changed a few names to differentiate from each other. In this part, Funtime Chica is Queen Charis so that way I can use the name for Glamrock Chica. The main Bonnie is the Glamrock version as well. This world has anthropomorphic animals as the main species, and while humans exist, they are more of a rare, considered mutant, second class species. Except for horses, because I refuse to create a new mode of transportation.

I still have a lot of world building to do for this story, so if anyone really wants to see more parts, please let me know! That way I know which project requires more of my attention lol. I'll probably post it on other sites once I'm more confident in my overall plot, but for now, please enjoy!

Elegant calligraphy imprinted in Bonnie’s mind, replaying the message as if he could hear the softness of the Queen’s voice that hid an icy edge underneath. A written invitation he could not refuse: Sir Bonnibel. Come to the study once you’ve arrived in town. It’s been so long since you’ve been home, and we have much to discuss. The folded scrap of paper weighed heavy in the little satchel strapped to his side.

A guard had been waiting by his residence to deliver this message. Bonnie knew she tracked his movement the second he crossed the Plexian border. Foolish to think he’d get even an hour to prepare for this conversation, much less a good night’s rest. That’s how Queen Charis plotted. Rather than wrestling for the information like a standard enforcer, she’d strike once the person hit their lowest point, exhausted, starving, not willing to put up the fight. She’d wear that smile so pretty for society members and draw their attention away from the cold hard stare in her eyes—a sharp tongue whispering empty promises in exchange for beneficial secrets.

It’d be the first time Bonnie stood on receiving end instead of hiding next to his best friend on the sidelines.

His guilt threatened to drown him as the castle blocked the setting sun, casting a shadow over an already melancholic man—how fitting of an atmosphere for his situation. The guards allowed him through the gates without nagging him about identification. Even Herald, little Helpy to Bonnie, took his horse, a tight smile on his face, but not a word out of the usual chatterbox. Bonnie wondered if anyone knew the exact reason why the Queen had unleashed her anger, or they avoided a possible punishment by being in the presence of the man who caused it.

His footsteps echoed in the stone hallways as he headed to the study. Flickering torches brought some light but no warmth to the castle. A permanent chill had settled into the walls since the king passed away two years ago. Being away for a fortnight made Bonnie forget how it clung to your skin, heavy with foreboding. Without the never-ending music mixing with the memorable laughter of the king, it felt like a different place than what he called a childhood home. His heart ached for his dear friend imprisoned in this fortress. Could the prince continue to survive without his only link to the outside world?

Bonnie paused at the door, masking his true self as his father trained him to do. A far more potent weapon than others realized, especially in the battle he was about to face. After he knocked three times, the faintest sound of approval whispered through the wooden barrier. Inside, Queen Charis sat on a velvet throne, unpractical for a workspace, but the king desired all his possessions to flaunt wealth and power. One would hardly see him hunched over documents the way Her Majesty did. Spectacles perched on the end of her beak, a quill in one hand, and her hair braided from her eyes.

“Welcome home, my dear,” she greeted without emotion, scribbling away.

Bonnie bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“How was the campaign?”

“Successful. No beast, just a few of the village children playing a prank.”

She gave a disapproving click of her tongue. “So, a waste of resources?”

“I assure you that we had them understand the severity of their actions.”

“Good.” Her eyes remained on the document in front of her. “When do you leave?”

“In three weeks,” he answered. Bonnie’s ears drooped, hearing himself say the timeline. Now it felt so real.

“And what will it take to make you stay?”

He did his best to stand at attention, not fall to his knees and scream at the ground. It’d take nothing to escape the fate his father dangled in front of his face his whole life. It was a test; he knew it.

“Your Majesty, I know you need not reminders of the war front. Fath—The General’s reports are getting worse.”

Charis narrowed her eyes and finally looked at him. “If it touches our borders, who will protect my son?”

“If it ever comes to that, I have faith in the skills I’ve taught him.”

“No!”

Bonnie jumped as she slammed her fist into the desk. She gritted her teeth, taking in shaky breaths to calm herself. Even though he’d angered her, he knew Queen Charis never displayed such rash emotions in front of anyone outside her trusted circle. Still, he averted his gaze until she composed herself once more.

“I’m sorry, Bonnie.”

An apology and his nickname? The Queen was practically groveling, even if this was manipulation. She rose from her throne to stand before him. Only a head shorter than him, Bonnie saw the effects of her title on her delicate frame. Shadows hid underneath perfectly painted makeup to take away from weary eyes, and her shoulders strained to stay upright, regal.

“He’s not ready for this. I know I hold responsibility for it, but the world is cruel. If I can protect him just a bit longer….” Charis trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Are you ready to abandon him?”

“Are you asking me to abandon our country?”

Both questions hung in the air. They shared a grimacing look, knowing that neither could step down to the other. Instead, the expectations of their roles overruled petty disputes about love and family. Finally, the Queen lowered her gaze and fixed her ruffled feathers.

“I will write to Silocas to see when they can take Fredrick.”

Bonnie’s mask cracked. His eyes widened. “Silocas?”

“They’re far enough that I won’t worry about his safety.” She turned slightly to pluck a letter from the pile of documents. “It would be good for him to meet Duchess Chica during his visit.”

“Plexian is safe, Your Majesty. Even if I’m not here, I am still protecting him out in battle,” he urged.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll need your attention on stopping that Afton creature.”

“What will the people think if you send the crown prince away from the conflict rather than help you deal with it?”

She raised a hand to silence him. “I’ll handle my son and my kingdom, Bonnibel.”

Swiftly, the Queen sidestepped him to make her way out of the study. Bonnie reached out but stopped himself short of grabbing her. The reprimands of his father echoed in his mind that emotions were dangerous and unsuitable for their positions proved partially true. That did not dissuade the pain gripping his heart, squeezing it with thoughts of Freddy when he learned that he’d lose his only friend and his home. A new cage disguised as a “summer adventure” for the time being. A hidden arrangement Bonnie heard rumors about but could never confirm in hopes of warning his friend in time. Few people realized that Frederick IV and Charis shared a cruelness for not getting their way. It didn’t matter whom they hurt in their punishments.

He leaned on the doorway, gripping the edges to stabilize himself. He tried to calm his ragged breathing, thinking of an idea to patch this broken mess. Then, when the first thought came, he took no time to consider the consequences.

Bonnie scrambled after her. “Your Majesty, I have a replacement!”

She stopped but did not turn.

“I’ve met a fine warrior on my past travels. He’s recently moved closer to the capital, and I believe he can care for the prince as well as I have.”

Humming in thought, the Queen peeked over her shoulder. “You realize your word carries value.”

“Yes, I vouch for him.”

He stood tall to emphasize his statement. Even if his panicked idea didn’t work, the result remained the same: Charis shipped Freddy off to Silocas. At least, this gave him a chance to take someone familiar to the unknown if she didn’t keep her end of the deal.

Charis approached him, dusting off his chest plate and adjusting his cape. His tail fluttered at the only motherly touches he’s ever known. One hand moved to caress his face, her nails slightly pricking his skin.

“Bring him here. Use the time you have left wisely.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“So, what’s it gonna be?”

Monty leaned over the counter, pressing his snout close to the pub owner’s face, Bee-Bee. It was such a ridiculous name for an influential person in the city, but it fit his child-like appearance with his pudgy face that didn’t seem to catch up with the rest of his growing body. Bee-Bee gave Monty an eerie smile. His head almost clicked when it turned to the side, facing a skinnier young human on the other end. This guy had that same creepy child-like face.

“Oh, Dee-Dee! Did we hire a mercenary?” he asked.

Dee-Dee mirrored his smile. His high-pitched voice chirped a response, “Can’t say we have, brother!”

“Looks like you have the wrong place.”

“How unfortunate!”

Monty dug his claws into the bar counter, growling. “Look, I don’t want things to get ugly. Just pay me the other half you owe me, and you’ll never see me again.”

“You’re making our patrons uncomfortable. Do the right thing and head out,” Bee-Bee warned.

“Guess you want to get ugly.”

“Oh, boys!” Dee-Dee called out in a singsong voice.

A large shadow blocked the already dim light of the bar, leaving Monty in near darkness. Whatever had caused it grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him away from the bar counter. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to cry about the grip crushing his bones. Two identical mangey, scarred bears grabbed one of his legs, each in the same punishing hold. Monty looked up at the first attacker to find a third ugly face sneering down at him. Great. Triplets. It clicked for Monty how a pair of humans held so much power without consequence or opposition.

“GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” The patrons cheered in unison.

Unfazed by his squirming, the three bears carried Monty out of the pub while Bee and Dee watched with their haunting smiles. He snapped at the hands holding him, but his jaw remained slightly out of reach. They lifted him high in the air before throwing him like a child bored with their doll. His head slammed into the swinging door, and his body skidded across the muddy streets. Monty struggled to lift himself. Elbows wobbled beneath him until they gave out, making him splash in the mud again. The quiet snickers from the people outside the pub refueled his anger.

“Those fuckers owe me money!” Monty roared.

“Get out of here ‘for we show ya how outsiders are really treated,” One of the bears warned. The group of three returned to their masters.

The gator seethed, digging his claws into the earth. Fuck them. Fuck everyone in this damn snobby city. Back in Fright, an establishment could go up in flames for showing disrespect like that. A broken deal meant you didn’t care about your life very much. Monty shoved the urge to practice old traditions again, knowing he’d had enough accusations on his case.

As he attempted to rise from the mud again, a hand appeared in front of his face. He looked up to see a familiar purple bunny kneeling at his level. Monty snapped his maw at Bonnie’s gesture and got up on his own. Then, Bonnie opened his arms in a playful gesture, awaiting a hug, but Monty was in no mood for his bullshit. He shoved past him, stalking away.

“Can’t leave you alone for a second,” Bonnie groaned. “I’ve been hunting you down for two days.”

Monty twisted back to yell at him, “The hell you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Bonnie jerked his thumb at the pub behind them. “Please, don’t tell me you did something for The Barrel Boys. I warned you about their under-the-table deals.”

“You also said there would be work out here! Guess who’s sleeping in a stable cuz they can’t even afford the fucking inn!”

Bonnie’s ears drooped, and his gaze fell. “Monty, I’m-”

Monty cut off the useless apology with a scoff. Waving the bunny off, he started his way back to his lovely home sweet home. It was his fault for believing Bonnie’s whole song and dance about the capital being the best place ever. He smelled the hero complex from a mile away. Bonnie kept coming to every street match Monty fought, giving his betting wins to the gator at the night’s end no matter the insult Monty threw at him. Sang praises that he deserved so much more than entertaining gamblers. Monty allowed the kindness to pierce through his shield, and it ended with his dignity in the mud.

Glancing back, he saw Bonnie not far behind. Predictable.

“You have every right to be mad, but I’m going to make it up to you.”

Monty ignored him.

“Got a proposition for you. Come back to my place so we can talk.”

When Monty still didn’t respond, he heard Bonnie run. He pulled Monty back so they’d face each other.

“Come on, mate. You can wash up and have my bed for the night.”

“I don’t need a knight to save me,” Monty growled, pushing Bonnie and leaving a muddy handprint on his shiny chest plate.

Bonnie rolled his eyes. “You forced my hand. The Queen has requested your presence.”

His maw opened to say something smart until Bonnie’s statement hit him. The fact that the most influential person in Plexian was aware of his presence was the worst news he’s heard today. Did those Barrel assholes rat him out to cover their tracks? Using his silence against him, Bonnie pushed him to start walking in another direction.

“In the cart, scale tail. Just got my horse groomed.”

They spent most of the ride arguing for Monty to stop touching Bonnie’s things. If the fluffbutt didn’t want to at least buy him a drink for his troubles, he’d have to deal with Monty finding entertainment elsewhere. Bonnie allowed one stop to get Monty’s things from the inn’s stables because they were on “a serious mission” that he wouldn’t talk about until they were alone.

Freshly washed, dressed in Bonnie’s spare clothes. Monty let out a relaxed breath as he settled into the hand-carved rocking chair.

“Tea?” Bonnie asked as he fed the fire.

“Anything stronger?”

“Not tonight.”

“Cmon, let me drink before the queen orders my execution.”

To his surprise, Bonnie didn’t react to his teasing. Instead, he stared blankly into the fire without scolding or a snippy comeback. Monty leaned forward. “Bon?”

“My father called for me. I’m going to war.”

Monty found himself on his feet, walking to Bonnie. He reached out but pulled back, unsure how to comfort his friend, if he even wanted that. So, he sat next to him.

“When did it happen?”

“During the last campaign for the Queen, he sent a letter. I saw the horrors that awaited me by just looking that messenger in the eye. Father said it was time for me to help end the war.”

“What about your cushy palace job? Isn’t that important?”

“Not to him. In his mind, I’d be the next General. Now the Queen is angered that I’m refusing to stay for the prince.” Bonnie broke his gaze from the fire to stare Monty deep in his eyes. “I vouched for you to take my place and become his personal guard.”

“What?” Monty felt a chill run along his spine. “You didn’t.”

“She’s threatened to send him away. If the people believe their future king fled during a time of war, they’ll never trust him. His own mother is going to sabotage his reign.”

Monty scrambled onto his feet. “That has nothing to do with me!”

Bonnie chased after him. “I know we haven’t been acquainted for long, but I’m begging you, Montgomery. I need someone I trust to watch over him.”

“You have to be fucking insane!” Monty balled up his fist, wanting to hit anything, everything. “When you said you’d help me, I didn’t think you’d throw me to the wolves!”

“It’s the best job you could get!”

“Someone like me won’t survive the pompous bullshit of royalty! You think I’m gonna let some rich boy push me around cuz he still needs a babysitter?”

“Freddy isn’t like the others. He’s- he’s-!” Bonnie grabbed his ears, tugging them harshly, “He’s my best friend!”

Monty crossed his arms, looking at the window instead of Bonnie. What did any of that matter to him? Ever since he’s stepped foot in this place, the locals haven’t given him a reason to stick around. Especially when Bonnie’s kind words about the royal family seemed forceful, like it strained him to say it. Well, now that Monty thought about it, he never acted like that when praising this, Prince Freddy. More genuine than something required for the job. A sniffle made him peek back at Bonnie, watching him quickly wipe his tears from his cheeks. Shit. Monty’s never seen the damn bunny do anything but smile. If protecting the prince meant this much to him...

“What makes him so special?” Monty mumbled.

Bonnie choked out a laugh. “As idiotic as it may sound, he’s kind. I’ve watched this man suffer because of his family, yet he pulled through with a loving heart. This damn place may have a chance if he gets the crown.”

“Don’t know much ’bout your kings, but as long as he’s not whiny or demanding, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Bonnie sighed. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but I trust you.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“If you come with me to the castle tomorrow and still refuse, I’ll accept it.”

Monty pinched between his eyes, knowing he’d regret this. “Fine.”

Bonnie tackled him in a hug. “So honorable, Sir Montgomery!”

“Agh! Get off me, fluffy!”

They wrestled for a bit until Monty gave into his embrace. Bonnie laughed, patting Monty’s back.

“Better get some rest for the big day. The bed’s in there.” He jabbed his thumb at the small room in the corner before settling in his chair.

“Nah, getcha ass in there. I’m not taking it.”

“You’re a guest.”

“Hardly.”

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately, so…” Bonnie shrugged.

Monty saw a peek of the world bearing on the freshly minted knight with that tiny crack of emotion earlier. He wondered how often Bonnie replaced his sorrow with a joke or a gleaming smile. Coping like that would drown someone eventually. It was just a prettier version of Monty's actions: letting the anger hide his true feelings.

Pulling Bonnie off the chair, Monty used the surprise to throw him on the bed. Bonnie tried to protest, but Monty squeezed next to him, resting his head on his arms.

“You can tell me everything or nothing, but let it out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, we both know the ugliness that’s waiting out there. You can’t fight for your life if you don’t clear your head. So come to terms with it before it eats you alive.”

He watched Bonnie blink, unable to process the forbidden. Not all soldiers and knights were cold-hearted, but they tried to ingrain that shit into your mind. That vulnerability could put you or the people you’re trying to protect at risk, so you got the job done and moved on. From the way Bonnie talked about this prince, he assumed that he became the outlet for the bunny. Tonight, Monty could take a turn and open a space for Bonnie to show his humanity.

Bonnie laid back, holding his hands over his face. First, a few sniffles broke through. Then, his body heaved with heartbreaking sobs. Bonnie curled into Monty’s side, allowing Monty to wrap an arm around him. Neither attempted to separate, even when Bonnie fell quiet, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~

Unfortunately, Monty’s kindness only earned him a wake-up call before the sun peaked over the horizon. Bonnie forced him to clean up his cheap armor like it would somehow impress the Queen. He’d even let Monty borrow one of his nicest tunics gifted by the late King Fredrick IV. It meant nothing to Monty, but he followed every instruction, too tired to fight. Plus, if he promised to remain presentable, Bonnie would allow him to sleep in the cart on the way there.

Aside from dozing off every once in a while, Monty imagined what awaited him in the palace. He’d heard fairytale-like stories in his youth by the older kids, bragging about how they’ve seen the riches of Plexian on their travels. Fabrics of the softest material dripped with sparkling jewels. Men and women with painted faces like the old ladies that hollered at the boys walking through Fright Forest. Food. It didn’t matter what kind. The fact that they had food at all perplexed the young gator, who hunted for scraps every day. Now, he knew the capital gained their riches through corruption and secret dealings with the black market, yet he secretly wanted to ask Bonnie to confirm these childhood rumors. Today, he’d find out himself.

“Almost there! We’re passing through the market,” Bonnie announced.

Monty jumped out of the carriage to explore for himself, so Bonnie slowed the horse’s pace to a brisk trot. Nothing at the beginning of the city's border looked out of the ordinary. The people in Plexian dressed better than residents of his home, but the noble clowns were probably closer to the palace in the distance. He eyed all the goods that no merchant would dare display so willingly in other towns. Shades of rusty spices tickled his nose. Jewels glittered under the sun as the seller praised the pieces to people passing by, lifting them in the air. Monty knew a few pieces were nothing more than cut glass with just a glance. Floral scents floated on the early morning breeze, drawing him to the small stand. The merchant wore a strange mask with a painted smile and a long black robe. They remained silent while presenting their small selection with a wave of their arm. A human hand peeked out of the end of their sleeve.

Monty felt bad leaving their stand even if the person’s aura sent chills down his spine. He knew humans had a hard time surviving out in the world because of the legends about them. It couldn’t be any more accessible in the capital, which he assumed is why they hid like this. Swiping up a bouquet of pink flowers, Monty gave the merchant the last of his silver pieces. They tried to only keep one, but Monty waved them off and returned to Bonnie’s side. It seemed they needed it more than he did.

“Aw, for me, my sweet Montgomery?” Bonnie fluttered his eyes.

“Tsk, ’fraid not. Felt like I should get something for the Queen. Don’t the royals love gifts and stuff?”

“Well, she does like pink. I’m sure the carnations will be a nice touch to the study.” But under his breath, he added, “There’s no pleasing that woman.”

Great. Not even inside the castle, and Monty was already messing up due to the bullshit of royal etiquette. He tossed them into the cart. There was no point in offending the woman even more, knowing she’d be unimpressed by his existence.

At the gate, guards glared down at them, and one yelled down, “State your purpose!”

“Have you forgotten me already? It’s only been a few days!” Bonnie joked. He groaned when none of them responded, puffing up his chest dramatically. “I, Sir Bonnibel, and I have brought Sir Montgomery to have an audience with the Queen.”

The guards chittered amongst themselves for a bit, leaving them at the gate.

“Usually take this long?” Monty asked.

“Sometimes. They have to confirm my story is true even though,” Bonnie raised his voice to a yell, “all the guards should’ve known about the newcomer! Maybe show up to the briefings once in a while!”

Monty snickered at his rebellious behavior. Maybe Bonnie wasn’t lying about being beloved by the castle staff if they let him act like that. The sound of creaking metal echoed as the two large iron gates opened for them. Dirt road transformed into pristine gray stones, creating an elegant path to the main entrance: a pair of ornate dark stained wooden doors. In the center of the courtyard, a marble fountain sprayed glittering water to the sun, sprinkling his skin as it rode the breeze. He found himself admiring the emerald hues in the trees and bushes that sprouted flowers and fruits he couldn’t comprehend, let alone name. Nature never shared its beauty in the dark-shrouded swamps back home.

Monty turned to see Bonnie chatting with some other guard, but a short white bear behind them started leading the horse away. Or he tried to since the horse refused to move from the tree with a low-hanging apple. Monty stomped over to the little thief.

“Where you going?” Monty grabbed the little guy by the back of his shirt.

He gasped, cowering from Monty’s bared teeth. “I’m sorry, mister! What have I done wrong?”

Bonnie grabbed his shoulder. “Montgomery, stop! That’s my squire, Helpy!”

Monty obeyed, releasing Helpy back on his shaky legs.

“Sorry, bud.” Bonnie ruffled the tuff of hair on Helpy’s head. “This is Herald, but we call him Helpy. This is my new friend, Montgomery.”

“He was taking my stuff,” Monty grumbled.

“I always take the horse to the stables. No stealing here! I have to follow an honor code, so I’ll be a great knight like Sir Bonnibel!” Helpy’s eyes glittered as he praised Bonnie.

“That’s right. Why don’t you show Monty the stables while I get everything ready for the grand entrance.” Bonnie pointed at Monty. “Play nice.”

Monty shrugged. “No promises.”

Helpy kept glancing back at him, waiting for another surprise attack, but Monty walked a few feet away to admire the details of the castle's architecture. He noticed how quiet the place seemed to be compared to the stories about the old king. Though he knew little of the lineage or history, everyone had mentioned the maniacal laughter heard throughout the halls. You wanted Fredrick to be laughing, people warned, or else his boredom led to cruelty. The Queen must’ve cleaned the place up when her husband died, and it made him wonder if the silence brought comfort after years of parties. In his opinion, too much quiet gave the dark thoughts more power.

Monty’s pace slowed to a stop, feeling his skin prickle at the sense that something was watching him. His eyes scanned the nearby tower until he found a figure at the top. Clouds above opened up to release the shining sun. In the halo of the light, cape floating gently in the wind, a bear decorated in noble clothing stared down at him. Monty felt time slow down as they held each other’s gaze, seeing the wonderment on the bear’s face. The desire to climb the tower for a closer look battled his need to stay in this magical moment forever. His eyes traveled a few more inches to see the slight glimmer of gold upon the bear’s head. Monty’s almost choked, realizing this could be the prince, yet it did not stop him from offering a small wave. Despite the height difference, Monty watched his face break out into the biggest smile he’s ever seen and returned the gesture.

A muffled sound spooked the bear, making him jerk and turn quickly towards the sound. He glanced back at Monty before approaching whoever spoke to him. Monty lingered in the same spot in case he came back to the ledge. It took a few seconds to shake off the trance, remembering he had a meeting soon. Then, as he stalked back to the front of the castle, the thought of squires and stables long forgotten, Monty hoped the prince would be at the introduction. If that bear was him. If not, he’d search every acre for the person that enamored him helpless.

Bonnie saw him from the now open castle doors and waved him over. “You ready?”

“Ready to get it over with,” he complained.

“I’ll take it.”

Whatever silly feelings Monty had in his chest were extinguished at the doors of the throne room. An intimidating aura radiated into the hallway, tightening his muscles and preparing them for battle. In the corner of his eyes, he even saw the effect on Bonnie; he straightened his spine and wiped any hint of emotion off his face. Monty’s friend disappeared to let Sir Bonnibel take control.

His voice became monotone with an icy edge. “Bow and stay quiet until she addresses you.”

For once, Monty listened without a snide comment. He heard someone announce their names on the other side, and then the guards pulled the doors open. Queen Charis perched on her throne and stared down both men as they approached her and bowed. Her petite figure shouldn’t be able to fill the gigantic seat with just her presence alone, yet her power suffocated the room. It impressed him. How else could she survive a male-dominated world determined to destroy her confidence? Queens bared the children, not the weight of the crown.

The slight narrowness of her eyes gave off a look of dissatisfaction at the sight of Monty. He lowered his gaze to the floor, noticing the shimmer of jewels sewn into the fabric of her gown. Material possessions and appearances mattered most, he reminded himself. She probably didn’t want a measly street urchin, who couldn’t afford real armor, let alone the pieces he barely had on his body.

“So, this is the champion meant to replace you?” The Queen asked stiffly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Sir Montgomery has protected nobles and peasants outside the Plexian borders.”

“Sir? Are you knighted, Montgomery?” she questioned.

“No, not officially, Your Majesty,” he answered honestly.

“Yes, I believe the noble family that had sponsored you banished you for stealing.” A taunting smile graced Queen Charis’ face.

Monty felt Bonnie wince beside him at the news, knowing he should’ve shared that information before coming into this meeting. It was a blight of his past that he’d rather forget. Monty didn’t consider the bastards living in the Phantom Manor nobles, but their wealth from founding the black market gave them enough power to claim so. His fists clenched at the reminder of their lies, haunting him wherever he tried to start a new chapter. Breathing in deeply, he pushed his anger to his feet, not allowing those fuckers to take another opportunity away again.

“I understand how you must feel hearing those rumors. I was a dumb kid looking for a home, and I promise that incident changed me for the better. You have every right not wanting someone from Fright Forest to live within your fancy walls or be near Prince Fredrick, but I’m asking that you let me show the worth of my character rather than hearing some tall tales.”

She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him carefully. “Why do you want this position?”

“The offer of a stable job would attract anyone, especially with my track record. However,” Monty clasped a hand on Bonnie’s shoulder, “I’m here to help a friend. Sir Bonnibel has given me the chance to find a better life in Plexian. I want to repay him for his generosity.”

“I see.” Queen Charis stood and stepped down to their level. “You have intrigued me, Montogomery. I’ll allow Bonnibel to try this little experiment. But, before he is to depart for the war front, he will set up a few trials to show your skills. If you manage to impress me, you may have a chance to earn my son’s trust. In the end, he’ll have to accept you.”

Monty nodded. “I am prepared for the challenge.”

“Would Your Majesty allow me to inform His Highness about the changes?” Bonnie requested.

Queen Charis agreed. As Bonnie took his leave to find the prince, the Queen signaled someone behind Monty to come closer. When he turned, he saw the young squire, Helpy, that he had scared earlier. So Helpy approached apprehensively and stood next to Monty.

“Herald will be at your assistance while you stay here. Please show Montgomery to his quarters.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Herald—poor thing had two awful names—bowed and led Monty away from the throne room. He remained quiet while they zigzagged through the halls.

Monty couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into the room. The only place he ever called his own was a shack in the swamps that qualified more like a closet than a home. His possessions were piled carefully on the table near a stained-glass window. His bed stretched out yet didn’t take up every inch of the floor. He glided his hand over the silk material of the bedding, and he slid into it, groaning at the softness enveloping him.

Helpy cleared his throat. “Excuse me, my lord.”

“Ha! I ain’t no lord. Just call me Monty. What happened to the little chatterbox I met outside?”

“I have to be professional for the Queen.”

“Well... she’s not here.”

“I guess you’re right. Um, Monty, would you like a vase for the flowers?”

Damn it. Monty had forgotten his gift after seeing that bear in the tower. If it was Prince Fredrick, he’d definitely need these more than the Queen once he heard Bonnie’s news. Lifting himself from the comfort of the bed, Monty grabbed the carnations off the table and handed them to Helpy.

“Give these to the prince. Consider it a hello from me, I guess.”

Helpy saluted him. “Will do!” He scurried out of the room.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please tell me this isn’t true.” Freddy held his head in between his hands, trembling.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Bonnie said. He held his hands out, just a little out of reach, not knowing which comfort tactic to try first. Seeing Freddy in this condition frightened him.

He started pacing. “We can fix this. If mother writes to your father, maybe that will convince him to let you stay.”

“Your mother already tried to convince me, but you know I can’t abandon my duties.”

“Then, I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

Freddy grabbed his forearms, pulling him close. “I cannot expect you or anyone else to fight for my kingdom when I stay hidden in the safety of the castle.”

“Stop it! You’re talking nonsense!” Bonnie cried. The simple thought of his friend out in the trenches sent tears down his face. “You’re not ready for war!”

“You have said countless times that I need to escape my cage. Like you, I cannot abandon my duties as the future king.”

Bonnie held on to his shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Not like this, Freddy. You will do life-changing things for Plexian one day, but you have to stay alive.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to die!” Freddy sobbed. He pulled Bonnie into a hug, crying into his shoulder, soaking his tunic with a waterfall of tears. “I can’t lose you!”

Bonnie squeezed his friend—no, he meant much more than that—tighter despite Freddy shaking in his arms. “C’mon, Fredster, have a little faith. I’ll come home to you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. My heart is already broken.”

He swallowed his own sobs that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Bonnie allowed himself to feel sorry over his drafting, and there was still time to unleash his sorrow in privacy, but now it was Freddy’s turn. Bonnie wanted Freddy to release the frustration in any way he needed. If Freddy wanted to hit Bonnie, scream, or hide from the world, Bonnie would stand there and let it all happen. He just hoped the mourning didn’t last long. They couldn’t waste the small window of time they had left.

“You’ll be taken care of.” Bonnie pulled away to see Freddy’s face. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Freddy sniffed. “I rather have no guard at all. He won’t be you.”

“Don’t say that. Monty is a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a softie at heart. Give him a moment to settle in.” He sighed. “Which reminds me to check on him soon.”

“You should go. Mother can be tense with strangers.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this.” Bonnie pressed their foreheads together, but Freddy moved away.

Freddy pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped Bonnie’s cheeks. “Go. I need a little time to process this.”

“Right, of course.” He forced Freddy to sit on his bed. “Rest, and I’ll come right back.”

Bonnie stopped at the door and glanced back at Freddy, and he waved weakly. Once Bonnie left, Freddy counted to thirty before breaking down again, muffling his cries by hiding his face in his hands. A part of him knew a day like this would come. For centuries, Afton’s threat lingered over the heads of his forefathers. Why did this man have to strike during his reign? Freddy felt like falling to his knees to beg the universe to spare Bonnie from this fate. He didn’t doubt his friend’s defense skills against other soldiers if those under Afton’s rule were still considered people. The horror stories of his evil and cruelty terrified Freddy, and the image of Bonnie in that monster’s clutches nauseated him.

A knock startled him. Quickly, he used the handkerchief to clean his face. “Give me a moment!”

He opened the door. “Oh, hello, Helpy.”

“Good day, Your Highness! I have a gift for you!” Helpy presented a bouquet of pink carnations to Freddy, beaming.

Freddy took them, his eyes widening in awe. “From who?”

“The new knight, Monty. Said this was a hello from him. I thought flowers were presents for lady friends! He’s a strange gator.”

Gator? The image of the alligator in gardens bloomed in Freddy’s mind. He had been so shocked at the sight of him that he couldn’t help but stare at the stranger. Unfortunately, due to Mother’s protectiveness, Freddy couldn’t step a toe outside the castle walls without a battalion to chaperone him. After all these years, he memorized every detail of his home, including the people staffed throughout the palace. He had become friendly with most of them, but sometimes it felt like they put up with him because he was a prince. Although they could never, they’d have to face his mother’s wrath if they made him upset.

Something felt different when he locked eyes with this Monty. Something exciting and new. Maybe because he was a stranger with stories from the world beyond Freddy’s gilded cage. Or the fact Monty sent him such a sincere gift without knowing him. Freddy was tired of the useless sparking junk offered as gifts. In reality, they showed off a person’s wealth or hid it as a bribe to receive a favor from the royal family. These simple, beautiful flowers felt like they were meant for him as a person, not his crown.

Freddy brought the delicate petals to his nose, sniffing the calming floral scent. Mother would hide Monty until she approved, but what about his judgments? Would there ever come a day he could use his own voice? Make his own choices? He couldn’t stop the world from taking his beloved Bonnie, but he could control who dared to take his place. Freddy didn’t want to wait weeks to thank Monty in person or see him again. Instead, he leaned closer to Helpy.

“Can you help me with a secret mission, Sir Helpy?”

He bounced on his feet in excitement. “A secret mission! For the prince!”

Freddy beamed. “Listen closely...”

#fnaf fanfic #freddy x monty #monteddy #fnaf royal au #fnaf security breach #fnafsb #a little bit of fronnie and gatorbun #couldn't resist

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breathings-of-the-heart · 3 years

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Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

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#snk #AoT #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #lance corporal levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk levi #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

#ficscafe #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #ateez san #ateez headcanons

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sashi-ya · 3 years

Note

Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x oc #one piece #law one piece #law x y/n #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x oc

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Are very, very old friends

My Masterlist

Your heart and my heart (first part of this)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A second part to Your heart and my heart, where Ivar and Reader were childhood friends (and pretended to get married when they were children) and got separated by circumstances of life, only to meet again on a battlefield in Wessex.

Word Count: 9.8k (I am so fucking sorry, holy shit)

Warnings: My unwavering state of denial over Aslaug’s death, mentions/descriptions of injury/battle, allusions to sex (nothing graphic), and my terrible writing lol

A/N: I hope you are no longer surprised by how I seem to be able to focus only on the stuff I need to focus on the least, bc here we are. Writing has been very difficult lately, so I am not so sure this is any good, but I still hope you enjoy.

As a reminder: In this universe the brothers (minus Björn) are in Wessex with the Great Heathen Army but Aslaug isn’t dead (Lagertha never took over). This is an almost 6a in age Ivar, but of course a different canon where he has stayed raiding in England. And Princess Blaeja (who was briefly mentioned in the previous part) is engaged to be married to Sigurd.

Your eyes cannot move fast enough to take in the field ahead of you, trying to check every trap and every barricade. Even if you were to find a fault, you remind yourself, you wouldn’t be able to change anything.

Hlíf comes to you, brisk pace that you can still see the exhaustion in, and stands at your side, shield with your colors and your symbol. It looks heavy.

“They are coming, Dane.”

“I know,” A deep breath, and you signal with your head to the center of the camp, “Go back, you’ll lead them to hold the second line. The Saxons will breach the first one.”

“You are not staying here.”

You don’t meet Hlíf’s gaze, instead meeting the eye of a few shieldmaidens that stand tall ahead, waiting for the Saxons to come. They nod their heads once, they know what they are agreeing to.

“We are.”

The forward scouts sound the horns, and before long the marching feet of warriors makes the unfamiliar ground tremble under your feet. Your hands tighten on the handle of your sword, and you take a breath.

Hlíf steps closer, but her gait ins anxious, “You better retreat to us when the time comes, Dane. You are not allowed to die here.”

“Says who?”

Hlíf grunts a curse, but retreats behind the second line of spike barriers.

You’ve been hounded by this group for weeks, ever since you and your warriors departed for York back from a successful raid. You aren’t sure if they are from that city or sent to intercept you from somewhere else, but they are bloodthirsty and determined.

Making camp was a necessity, especially with the wounded and weakened you have in your group, but the years have made you ingenuous, and the months you’ve spent with the Great Army have taught you to use the surroundings in your favor.

Your warriors dug ditches and laid spikes within them, much like you remember hearing Lagertha did when she assisted Aslaug in defending Kattegat, and while you didn’t have the defenses of walls, you made sure to draw passageways with the placement of the tents, to lure the Saxons to follow a path you know by heart when they came.

And now you stand, restless in your spot, waiting for them to get close enough for your archers to thin their numbers, for the frakka’s of those closer to you to take down the stronger ones.

It is not enough, but you never expected it to be.

Once they get close enough, you shout the command to march, and your forces and theirs clash.

The sound of battle deafens you, shouts in two different tongues and death in the same language echoing around you. Still, you seem to hear the faintest of rustles, and you lift your shield as you turn, stopping the downward strike of a Saxon.

Pushing back while you bend your knees, you unbalance him, slashing at his thighs before you plunge your sword in his chest. He meets your eyes, and spits blood in your face before his strength leaves him.

So, it is personal then.

You keep moving, blunt hits of your shield and quick strikes of your sword, taking down as many as you can, worrying more for injuring them and weakening them before they reach the more vulnerable in the camp more than for killing them.

Maybe that is your mistake.

The sword slashes at your leg, the pain sharp and weakening, and your stance buckles. You turn around with a raised shield to try and defend yourself, but you are too close to the ground and the warrior puts all his strength behind his kick and forces you to the ground.

Scrambling to turn on your back and grabbing a discarded axe, you stop the advance of his sword, but your arms burn under the strain, and his snarling face reminds you of a chained dog too close to breaking free.

It isn’t enough. You have no choice.

Releasing the strain of holding him back, you are able to swing your arm back and hit the side of his neck with the hand axe, but not before his sword pierces your shoulder, drawing a scream of pain from you.

Pushing him off you, you stand on uneven ground, trying to make sense of the battle around you and keeping your defenses against the Saxons that are still very much after your blood.

Your shield once again on your hand, you stop the attack of a younger warrior, slashing his chest with a move of your arm that feels weaker and trembling even as you manage to deliver a fatal blow.

Another manages to get close enough to bit the edge of his shield against your wounded leg, and his sword slashes at your side, drawing blood and blinding pain in its wake. He is taken down by a snarling shieldmaiden that comes to stand at your side, and your eyes scan the first line of the camp’s defenses already breached.

You are outnumbered, you are not going to win. Not like this.

“Through the east!” You call out in your own tongue, not waiting for any of the few that remain able to fight to acknowledge your command before you dart for the passageways you can make use of.

You are close enough to the second line of barricades to cross it if you wish to, but your mind is made. The Saxons trailing after you and the few others that still stand, they make quick work of your shieldmaidens soon enough, and you grit your teeth at the screams of pain you can do nothing to stop.

Most of them were foolish enough to think you were retreating, and they trailed after you and the remaining warriors.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, you turn around, standing on shaky legs and lifting one hand. Breathing past the pain is proving difficult, and there’s black at the edges of your vision, but you can still make out the shapes above you, and those that stand next to you.

You close your hand into a fist, meet the eyes of the Saxons that seem to hesitate to approach. They will always fear a heathen woman that smiles while surrounded by blood and death, the fearful -faithful- will call her a monster and insist she is not human.

They fear, they hesitate. And that is enough.

And you drop your hand, the weakest of smiles on your lips as you give one last command,

“Loose.”

____

The first thing you can sense when you awaken is the pain, and the weight keeping you down. Awful, but at least you aren’t dead.

You open your eyes slowly, half expecting to see the murky forests of the Isles towering above you after having been left behind by the Saxons to bleed out slowly and painfully; half expecting something with women on winged horses and a lot of golden shades.

But all that greets you is wood.

Inconsequential, unimpressive, mediocre wood. Yet, your body is filled with such a relief you almost give in to the temptation to doze off again.

Still, you force your body to answer and you sit up on the cot, breaths ragged as the wound on your shoulder sends pain like lightning through your very veins. And slowly, painfully, and with more curses than your mother would like out of a princess, you stand up.

Just when you are considering what the plan after standing up actually was, a woman barges into the room.

“Oh, you’re standing,” She says, and you lift your eyebrows but say nothing. She tsks her tongue, and approaches, her eyes focused on your upper chest, “You shouldn’t be.”

“I would think it was a good sign.”

“Which is why you do the fighting, not the thinking,” She quips, a quirk of her mouth as she glances at you. Quite mean, for an old woman, but still you offer a smile as well. Her palm presses lightly against your shoulder, before going to your side. “You’re not too hot.”

You pout, “Aw, shame.”

“And you seem to be in good spirits.” She chuckles.

You meet her eyes and lean closer, asking quietly,

“That will change soon, though, won’t it?”

“You are the reason a lot of people are angry, yes,” She confesses, before stepping back, “You also are the reason a lot of people are alive as well. Make sure they remember that, and you may keep your head.”

With a non-committal gesture you step past her, a hand on the doorway keeping you upright as you meet the gaze of the expecting shieldmaidens. They call your name and a few expletives in greeting, some in anger, some in welcome, but all in relief.

“While I love seeing you all alive and well, I…have a feeling at least one of you is here under specific instructions.” You state, a quirk of your eyebrow when one of the younger ones stands up, and slips out of the house quietly, with a murmur of being glad you are alright.

You sigh, and though one of them offers you a seat you highly doubt you’ll be able to stand if you sit down, so you wave away her offer, and lean on the doorway.

“Did the rest make it?”

“Most of them, yes. The injured are going to be escorted back, they couldn’t make it on their o-…”

The words die in a gasp as the door to the humble home is kicked open, and a tall shieldmaiden strides in, eyes blazing and set on you.

“You mad Dane bitch!”

“I have a name,” You quip as the shieldmaiden advances towards you. “It is a very pretty one, my mother chose i-…”

She shoves you forcefully, stopping whatever it is you were going to say.

You stumble back but catch yourself before falling, and you can’t help but let out a grunt of pain as your side is pulled tight by the sudden and forceful movement. The healer quips from the room at your back something about not injuring the already injured further, but you both ignore her it seems.

Hlíf still pushes on, “Of all the hare-brained, reckless, st-…”

“Hey!”

“You don’t scare me, Dane,” She huffs back, stepping forward until the shieldmaiden towers over you. “Half dead as you are because of your stupid decisions, you aren’t a threat to anyone, least of all me.”

In the back of your mind, a voice that sounds so alike your brother’s, always calm and collected; begs you not to do this.

You were never good at listening to him, though.

Headbutting one of your oldest friends wasn’t high in the list of things you wanted to do if you ever came back from the dead but…here we are.

Hlíf stumbles back, holding her nose and setting incredulous eyes on you.

Strangely enough, the tension seems to slowly ebb away with the unexpected action.

“I like proving people wrong.” You tell her around a shrug, slowly betraying a smile that she returns, even if there’s a resentful sort of relief in the way she approaches again and presses her brow against yours.

“You are so lucky you’re injured.”

“I wouldn’t call it-…”

“I would. I’d be knocking your pretty ass to the ground if you weren’t,” She promises, and scoffs a laugh that sounds like a reprimand, “You scared me, Dane.”

You meet her eyes, study the dark circles under them, the haggardness on her face, the stubborn tremble in her voice; and realize maybe you weren’t the only one to believe you’d die in that forest.

“How long has it been?”

“A little over a week since we made it to York.” She tells you, motioning for a seat, and motioning again when you refuse it. Stubborn.

You carefully sit down before the fire, narrowing your eyes at the girl that attempts to cover your legs with a fur. You are injured, but you’re far from an old woman.

Though you do accept the awful-smelling brew of herbs the healer presses into your hand before scurrying off back to the room where you were sleeping.

Watching the herbs swirl in the cup, you mumble, “You know, I did the right thing there.”

Hlíf’s kohl-lined eyes narrow, “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

You gesture with the arm of your good side, “I wasn’t the one leading them! For once I followed orders and we got stuck, it isn’t my fault!”

Hlíf’s eyes only grow bigger and bigger in affront and fury at your insistence, and you decide to shut your mouth.

“You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“When you put it like that of cou-…”

She interrupts you, her tone cold and imposing as she repeats, “You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“I heard you the first time.”

She offers a side smile, head tilted to the side, “Huh, you listen. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“That is uncalled for, come on.”

Hlíf looks at you, blinks slowly two times, and takes a breath.

“You defended when you could ha-…” She starts again, but you interrupt her with a shove of her good shoulder and a huffed laugh. She does have a point, however insistent she is at repeating it.

“I panicked, I…I needed to give you more time to leave safely, without Saxons trailing after you. I needed to stall them.” You confess quietly, fidgeting with your fingers, elbows resting on your knees, ignoring the soreness on your side as your position strains at the healing wound.

“You agreed to retreat if you were outnumbered, but you didn’t.”

“There were still some traps that hadn’t been used, I could lure them to the east side, and it worked, the archers made work of the thick of their numbers.”

“You were half-dead by the time that happened.” She insists, biting.

“All that matters is that most made it out. It was the right call.”

“If I hadn’t insisted we go back to find you, you would be dead,” She argues, though her voice quietens as well. “You’d be alone in that damn place, we wouldn’t even be able to bury you.”

That is not something you want to think much about, and with your gaze on the flickering flames you press quietly, “Do you want me to apologize, is that it?”

“No.”

“What do you want then?”

“I don’t know, Dane. What do you want?” At your confused frown the shieldmaiden shrugs, “Coming back from the dead and all, figured I could grant you at least one thing.”

“Those Saxons that hunted us down strung up on a tree?” You ask, only half-jesting. Hlíf doesn’t laugh though, she only presses her lips together.

“Can’t do that, Dane. They have been handled already.”

You really shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Still, you ask the question to which you already know the answer,

“Ivar?”

“Poured melted crosses onto their heads, left some alive after it too. Gruesome thing,” She explains, and you nod your head with a hum, wondering how long ago that was and trying to imagine how exactly they were captured so quickly. Hlíf watches you with growing worry, “I don’t know if I should be concerned about your reaction, or…lack of it rather.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, “You do.”

After a few breaths of silence, Hlíf calls your name quietly. She usually calls you ‘Dane’, a habit that never left her since the first days you were fighting together, when you first were able to call yourself a shieldmaiden.

When your attention turns to her, she says, “I’m sorry for shoving you.”

You look into her pale eyes, offer a smile and a nod.

“You should be.” You quip, and after an incredulous breath Hlíf heaves a sigh.

“You could say you’re sorry too, Dane.” The shieldmaiden chuckles, still oddly fond in her defeat.

“I’m not, though.” You reply around a shrug, sharing a smile with her.

The conversation ebbs away as you hear a voice distantly shouting commands, a voice you know well.

“Where is she!?”

“Oh, great.”

Furious stabs of a crutch on the hard ground, and the door opens just as many shieldmaidens scurry away, making way for Ivar the Boneless. His eyes meet yours with a fury you have never seen before, a snarl on his lips and tension coiled around his body like a vine.

When he speaks, though, his voice denotes none of that. His voice is carefully even, dangerously still, reminding you of a beast stalling its breath before it strikes.

For a man as explosive as him, calmness is never a good sign.

“What. Were. You. Thinking.”

Your nose furrows, and you offer with a grimace, “I…wasn’t?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I know. I’m the one that almost died, remember?” You prompt, but he doesn’t answer. You nod your head, not really sure what to do, muttering to yourself, “Serious business, dying.”

Hlíf lets out a choked groan, before advising, voice low, “You should really just shut your mouth, Dane.”

Ivar turns to her, the sharp focus of his pale gaze making the shieldmaiden straighten in her seat.

“Get out.” He orders, voice low. You see it in her, the pride insisting on resisting and the instinct pleading to obey.

Instinct wins, and after sparing you a look Hlíf stands up, and motions with her head for the other shieldmaidens to follow, leaving you and Ivar alone in the small home.

It feels even smaller as his gaze returns to you, it even feels almost suffocating as Ivar takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders but says nothing.

You clear your throat, and start what you hope will be a conversation and not a screaming match.

“I am not apologizing for the choice I made.”

An angry breath leaves him through his nose, sharply. His eyes remain on you, quiet intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Of course you’re not,” Ivar bites out, before shaking his head at himself, “I can’t believe you’d be so-…”

“It was the right call, Ivar.”

He wrenches his gaze from you, looking straight ahead. For a moment you wonder if he refuses to look at you because he thinks he can hide anything from you. Because he should know better, because he should know by now you are aware of the way his jaw tightens, of the way his breaths are intentionally -forcefully- even, of the way anger and pride are the only thing keeping his control from slipping.

“You could have died.”

“And?”

His focus returns to you, and you snap your mouth shut.

Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say.

Ivar’s eyes widen in anger, and when he takes a breath he seems to be twice as tall.

“And!?” He repeats, voice thundering, “You almost died! You…” His nose curls in anger, but there’s something more fragile in his wide eyes, something like fear, “You spent days in that damn bed, they told me it was in the hands of the Gods whether you survived or didn’t.”

A pit of worry forms in your stomach, and you quieten your voice, trying to offer reassurance, “I pulled through, I-I am alright.”

But it falls on deaf ears.

“You were there, dying, and there was nothing I could do,” A sharp breath, but it sounds choked, “You would have gone where I can’t follow, I-…there was nothing to do, nothing I could-…I c-couldn’t-…”

“Ivar…”

He turns to you, accusing, “I was unable to do anything while you died, while you left me.”

“I didn’t die, I am alright.”

“You almost did.”

“That’s-…”

His lip curls into a snarl and your eyes are drawn to the scar on the right side of his mouth, the scar you are responsible for. The process of healing from the deep cut you left that first day you were reunited was a slow one for him, especially because of how much you insisted on finding ways to make him smile and then grumble at the sting of a reopened cut. And now your eyes are drawn to that scar, watching it follow the movement of his mouth as it curls in anger.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” He interrupts you, a gesture of his hand. “You made the wrong choice. You put yourself in danger when you didn’t need to.”

“If I hadn’t, most of my shieldmaidens would be dead now. We couldn’t fight them directly, Ivar, we had too many wounded.”

He walks past you, the stabs of the crutch on the ground still more forceful than they need to be, and pours himself some mead in one of the unused cups, his back to you.

A deep breath, and before he drinks he offers, “You should have left them behind.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You move to walk forward, but putting too much weight on your injured leg makes pain shoot through you. You falter, and you try hiding it but you know Ivar notices, judging by the way his eyes narrow.

Still, you insist, slowly walking closer, “What is a few shieldmaidens against all the people we went there to aid? It is a sacrifice we all were willing t-…”

He gestures with his free arm, stopping you, “Well it isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make! Not if it costs me you!”

You are stunned into silence, whatever words that were to leave your mouth dying on your lips with a gasp.

Ivar glares at you as if you were somehow responsible for him saying something he hadn’t meant to, a twitch of anger that makes his furrow his nose and his lips press together in a line.

He moves to one of the chairs by the fire, taking a few breaths through his nose that you are sure are meant to be calming but sound equally as angry as before.

You still have nothing to say, no words to leave your lips.

There’s a part of you that never let go of him in all those years you spent -grew- apart, and in these months you have spent with the army, leading your own forces under Ivar and his brothers’ commands, learning from them -from him- many things and offering a few tricks of your own, conquering new lands and fighting new battles; your foolish heart has started to speak of hopes that could never be, has started to feel light like it never did before, as if it and his own heart recognize each other even after all the years and the scars.

Ivar takes a breath, discarding the crutch on the chair by his side.

“I…I never forgot you, you know. Not when you left Kattegat, not when father died and we came to England, not-…I never forgot you,” His eyes linger on yours for a moment, before Ivar turns his head and looks back ahead, clear tell of gritted teeth as he confesses, “I kept an eye on you, through the years. I had men near Ribe when you and your brother fought for it so that they could tell me the outcome of the battle.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you slowly take a seat by his side.

“I…I never knew.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” He retorts without missing a beat, hesitating before continuing, “I always hoped we’d meet again. With what I’ve done, with what I’ve accomplished, I hoped that maybe I’d find you again and I could give you enough reasons to stay this time.”

Quietly, you offer, “I never wanted to leave.”

“I know that now,” He assures you, the slightest of movements of his head that you think was supposed to be a nod. Ivar’s eyes lift to yours, and he says, so low you almost miss it, “I just found you again, I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to put into words what his words are doing to your foolish heart, to the heart that has always been his.

“Ivar…” You start, not certain of what you’re trying to say.

But it doesn’t matter.

Ivar leans forward surprisingly quickly, pressing his lips against yours. The touch of his lips on yours is urgent and hurried, shaky and inexperienced; leaving behind wide blue eyes that look into yours as if desperate for an answer to a question that isn’t a question at all.

You sigh shakily, but your mouth trembles into a smile, and with barely a moment of hesitation, you cross the distance between you again and kiss him, this time deeply, this time eagerly, this time ardently.

There’s the desperation of having lost too much time without this in the way his hold on you is tight and frantic, there’s the anguish of having thought lost you forever in the way your name leaves him in a choked gasp when you part for air, there’s the relief and the elation of finally having you within reach in the way he doesn’t let your lips part from his for any moment, a faint sound of protest from somewhere deep in his chest whenever you pull away.

You finally part but don’t move too far, it seems both of you unwilling to let much space come between you. Breaths labored, you whisper,

“I have wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You have?”

In any other man the question would be a blatant seeking of praise, and maybe it is in him too, but there’s something else too, something more fragile, something more vulnerable. Like some part of him never ceased to be the boy you kissed before you were to leave Kattegat, like some part of him will never truly believe how wanted he can be, how loved.

“I never forgot you either, Ivar,” You confess quietly, lifting the hand you can and tracing the side of his face, the scar on his cheekbone, the scar you claim of your own over his lip. “I could never forget you.”

His smile is awed, and softer than you ever thought it could be, and more boyish than it should be allowed to be for the sake of your foolish heart, that skips a beat in your chest.

With the crackling of fire and the feel of him under your hands, you forget the passing of time, you forget the soreness of your body, you forget everything except him.

You exchange secrets and promises in the shape of kisses that linger always in between adoration and hunger; and after a while, with your fingers trailing absently over the scar on his mouth, you offer your regret.

“I was reckless,” You tell him, resisting the urge to curl the hand on the side of his face into a fist when you notice how much it trembles. “I…I should have retreated. I am sorry.”

“I was…I was stuck here, unable to do anything. I couldn’t go fight with you, I couldn’t go search for you,” There’s the familiar resentment -at the world, at Fate-, and you say nothing, but your hand moves towards the back of his neck and tries to offer a soothing caress. Ivar continues, “I can’t will my stupid legs to work as they should, but I can…I can keep you safe. You have to let me keep you safe.”

“You cannot keep me from death, no one can,” You remind him, before acquiescing, “I promise I…I will be more careful, I will not make pointless sacrifices.”

Even if it wasn’t pointless to you at the time, it is the best way you can word it.

And, judging by the faint and almost shaky nod Ivar offers in acceptance of your words, it was the right thing to say.

____

Ivar had planned to make the journey back to York and raid from there one more time, while matters about his plans to settle in the Isles are solved, and originally you were planning on going with him.

However, he insists you need to rest and heal so he won’t let you fight, and you insist being bedridden will only make you go mad, so you reach a compromise. You and Ivar discuss the details of the agreement as the healer checks the wound on your shoulder, and when he is to leave you notice the way he hesitates before he does, eyes travelling to your lips before meeting yours.

You smile, but then his pale eyes travel to the woman that is cleaning her hands with her back turned to the both of you, and you understand the question.

Being Ivar the Boneless’ woman is not something you would ever feel shame for being, or wish to hide, and though you do have your reservations about what it would mean as a commander of your own share of forces within the Great Army to be so close to one of the sons of Ragnar, you know no fear of rumors is with making Ivar believe you are ashamed of being his.

Instead of voicing your answer to the question he doesn’t ask, you just tilt your chin up, eyes on his.

Ivar’s smile is a tad on the shy side, a tad overwhelmed, but he still dutifully leans down and captures your mouth in his, promising to meet with you again after you’ve spent time with your warriors.

He leaves, and before long, as the healer changes the bandages on your leg and shoulder, you hear the familiar sounds of your friends settling again in the small home. It makes a pang of what you refuse to call regret go through your heart, at the thought of how easily accustomed they are to spending time at this home, waiting to know if you would survive or not.

You take a breath, and walk out to meet them.

Vígdís, one of the elder shieldmaidens, doesn’t even look up from the piece of chicken she is carefully pulling apart with her fingers as she states dryly, “I was betting he would kill you.”

“I’m glad you gals are on my side, really.”

Hlíf swallows a mouthful of chicken and points the drumstick at you, “Hey, I bet you’d kill him.”

You look at her with a frown before conceding, “Actually, that’s flattering.”

She offers a toothy smile, and encourages you, “Yeah, you could take him!”

Vígdís scoffs, “Oh, she wants to,” At your glare the older woman only shrugs one shoulder, “Or the other way around. You don’t have a preference, do you, Dane?”

“Anyhow,” You drawl out, turning to the others, “I suggest you prepare your belongings and say your goodbyes. We won’t raid with Ivar and Hvitserk in these lands, our forces are needed elsewhere. We will be travelling to East Anglia in a fortnight.”

Hlíf scoffs, “One hell of a spat you two had, huh?”

“Wh-…? You know, I really don’t want to hear it. Just…do what you must.”

“I’m just saying, your love life is taking us all over England, Dane.”

“Shut your mouth already.” You grumble, but Hlíf’s brazen laughter resonates in the small home.

____

In the days that go by -way too quickly for your liking- before you are to depart to East Anglia, you find yourself drunk on the foolish happiness of having within reach what you never truly thought you’d have.

It is three nights before you leave that in the quiet of your shared room Ivar presses his lips to yours with a softness that is jarringly unlike him, and breathed over your lips the most hushed I love you.

It was that same night that you tangled your fingers in his hair and drew him back against you, not able or willing to resist the temptation to flick your tongue over the scarred side of his lip to make one of those choked little sounds leave his lips; and when he kissed you back hungrily pulled back to promise the same, just as softly even if you vowed it fiercely, I love you.

And now you are to depart. Standing in the stables and watching as your shieldmaidens and warriors finish loading their belongings and the supplies for the road.

Ivar is next to you, leaning against a wall with an arm secured around your waist and allowing you to rest slightly on his chest.

“Take some of my men with you.” He insists, for what must be the thousandth time since you made the agreement to part until the last month of the spring.

“I don’t need protection,” You remind him, leaning back a bit so you can see his face, “If I remember correctly, and I do, last time it was you who needed help from me.”

“I didn’t need help.”

“Of course not, love.”

Ivar takes a deep breath at your mocking tone, choosing instead to insist, “Just take those men with you.”

“No.” You tell him, one last pat of your hand on his chest before you turn to walk away.

Before you can pull away his free hand grasps yours, and you easily give in to the slight pull, turning back to met him and stepping closer again.

Ivar tilts his head down so he can look you in the eye, something dark and tempting shining through his expression as his mouth curves into a crooked smile.

“I thought wives are supposed to obey their husbands?”

Your heart does a foolish thing in your chest, beating out of rhythm as if trying to leave your chest and burrow into his. Still, you stare him down with your head tilted to the side, and all the answer you offer is a dry reminder,

“‘Countless sons and daughters’, Ivar. If we are holding each other accountable for those promises, we ought to start there.”

He wants to argue, you know he does. And you aren’t entirely convinced some of the warriors that join your forces because they want to aid Ubbe are there at all for him, but you have no evidence, so you shut your mouth and just make sure to keep an eye on them.

As you expected, they act as your bodyguards, no matter how much you try pushing them away.

And so time passes, and in your time on the road towards Soham you are able to heal well enough, slowly getting back to training with Hlíf and Vígdís. And by the time you reach Soham, where Ubbe awaits support to hold on to the city, you are able to fight once again.

And how you dearly missed it.

Time becomes a blur after that. Soham proves to be more difficult to hold than expected, and so your forces remain a while longer before moving to Dunwich where you manage to take over relatively easy, since the Saxon forces retreated from the coastal city.

The years made you capable, and the Gods made you arrogant.

Which is why, as the warriors from Dunwich start retreating, following their Lord’s commands, you, standing still close enough to the edges of the frontlines that Saxons scurry around you, take a knee and pretend to catch your breath.

The footsteps behind you are predictable, and you tighten your hold on the shield. When the warrior gets close enough and tries striking, you lift your shield, catching his arm on the edge of it as you stand up.

You twist your arm holding on to the shield, feeling the strain in his own and hearing his surprised scream of pain.

It snaps out of place under the strain, and satisfied, you let go of him with a push. He stumbles forward and tries grabbing onto a dropped sword with his uninjured arm, and you let him.

Readying your stance, you notice two others refuse to retreat as well now that their countryman is fighting, but make no notice of them as you stride forward, driving your sword through him, ignoring his pitiful attempt at deflecting it.

You approach the other two, shield tightly grasped, and push back against the strike of the first one against your shield, deflecting the sword of the second one with your own.

Making use of your smaller size, you quickly spin in your place and slash the neck of one of them, lifting your shield just in time to stop the attack of the second one.

But he lets out a grunt, falls down before you can kill him. The Saxon falls on his face, an axe protruding from his back.

You lift your eyes to meet those of an unfamiliar warrior, who stands proudly and offers you a nod.

“You’re welcome.”

Walking past him and not bothering to hide your distaste, you insist, “I didn’t need any help, and certainly not from you.”

He proves to be more insistent than you would have thought, and for too many nights you have to bear him sitting close by to you, trying to impress you with one tale or another. The man is unbearably persistent on either bedding you or courting you, and as the days go by after the fight for Dunwich, he proves to not be the only one.

Until, eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

____

“I’m going to need an explanation for that.” Hlíf asks, a broad smile on her lips and eyes shining with mirth.

You grit your teeth and start walking away, but of course she follows.

The winds of East Anglia are biting, and the ground under your feet is still softer and so different than that of your home, but in the time that has passed since you and your warriors joined the Great Army you have learned to be as familiar with this foreign land of England as you once were with your own.

Granted, the incessant waves at the coast and the ever-present sea salt in the air that characterize Dunwich are not something you are planning on getting used to any time soon. You really just want to get back to York.

“I shouldn’t have saved her ass at Soham.” You mutter to yourself, even if you know you don’t mean it.

“I heard that!”

“You proved you have ears, congratulations.”

She skips the few steps she was lagging behind, walking at your side and matching your stride with a wide grin that you choose to ignore.

“Thank you, but I’m married,” She quotes, the mirth coming through in her voice, and she laughs to herself, “Gods above, Dane, what kind of answer is that?”

“He was insistent, and I couldn’t exactly fist fight one of Ubbe’s trusted men,” You explain, your voice a grumble when you add, “Tis not my fault if the prick heard I was a princess and suddenly decided he needed to have me.”

“You sure it was your title? After seeing you fight when we took this city, I’m not surprised so many want you.”

“Hey, I appreciate the compliment, don’t get me wrong,” You quip, sparing a glance to her, “But if you’re trying to court me, I’m afraid it will go as well as it did for Olvir.”

On her lips grows once again the mischievous and devilish smile, and the shieldmaiden tilts her head to the side as she says, “Oh, I know that, because you’re married.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“If you think you’re making sense, prepare for disappointment.”

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s…complicated.”

“Well, the whole camp will soon hear about you telling Olvir you’re married, so we might as well get the story right: are you taken, Dane?”

Blunt, and to the point, not that you expected anything different from Hlíf.

You consider your words before answer, slowly, “Yes.”

She chuckles, shoulder knocking against yours playfully, “Ah, so who is the fool that has your heart but isn’t staking a claim?”

“He has, you just haven’t noticed.”

She stops walking, and so you too stop, turning to look at her wide eyes and offering a shrug of your shoulders again.

“You mean…” You nod, and past the surprise she finds it in her to laugh, shaking her head in amazement, “Oh, you really are a mad woman, aren’t you?”

“Well, we are technically married. I can’t turn my back on a bond before the Gods, right?”

She shakes her head with a chuckle, “So that is why you have been so insufferable, you miss York. I just thought you really hated East Anglia.”

“I really hate East Anglia.”

“Of course, Dane.”

____

You return to York as dawn breaks, and you don’t have time to get off your horse before Hvitserk is standing there, arms crossed over his chest and leaning with one shoulder on the entrance to the stables.

He offers his older brother a nod of his head as greeting, but Ubbe passes him by and Hvitserk keeps his eyes on you.

He blurts out, “You are married?”

“Hello to you too. I am glad to see you alive and well, dear Hvitserk.”

“You are married.”

You look at him, at his smug little smile and his warm eyes shining with mirth, and take a deep breath.

“You should know, you were there at the wedding.”

His sniggering laughter follows you as you walk away, but you forget your irritation quite quickly as you find Ivar in the rustle of movement, determined and uneven steps carrying him towards you.

Your smile is wide and lovesick and foolish, but you do not care for hiding it. His is quieter, more secret, but it doesn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Ivar’s free hand grasps at the back of your neck once you are close enough, bringing your mouth to his with urgency, quickly letting the kiss become passionate as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Your hands find purchase on his hips, and more than ever you hate the armor that doesn’t let you feel him his warmth, his strength- under your fingers.

“I missed you.” You whisper quietly when you part, your brow pressed against his.

He blinks his eyes open, more than a little dazed, and the look in his eyes -the need, the adoration, the everything- makes a pang of heat go through you, threaten to set you alight with only a look.

“And I you.” He finally tells you, quiet voice rough.

You barely have time to be alone with Ivar before obligations pull you apart, a feast to welcome back the forces Ubbe and the Princess of Ribe, a reunion to exchange tales of victory and be together with those that were missed in the months apart.

Granted, that means that they don’t let you be together with the one you missed the most in those months apart, but you don’t have it in you to complain. Except you do, but that is not the point.

The night dies down and you roll your eyes at a few pointed toasts in congratulations for your marriage, but remain sitting at your place beside Ivar, pretending not to notice his hand on your knee or his arm around the back of your chair.

You grab his hand when it starts trailing up your leg and making you feel the effects of his touch like lightning crawling over your skin, and you could swear the smug bastard chuckles at the way you have to stop him.

“Eh, sister!” Hvitserk calls out, and with gritted teeth you turn to look at him, sitting by Sigurd’s side with an arm over his brother’s shoulders, “I am glad you are back, truly.”

“Thank you, Hvitserk.” You tell him, immediately feeling like you are about to regret accepting he doesn’t mean to tease you any longer.

“If only because I cannot stand my brother’s moping any longer. Who would have thought a son of Ragnar would be so loyal to his wife?”

You dismiss him with a gesture, but you cannot help but chuckle alongside the others.

Ivar turns his head towards you, nose almost nuzzling at your hair as he moves closer to speak by your ear,

“Why did you tell people you’re married?”

You don’t lift your gaze from your joined hands, following the trace of your fingers as they trace over the back of Ivar’s hand, “So that they would leave me alone.”

“No one is leaving you alone now that they think you are my wife.”

You spare him a look, glancing up, “The men that insist on either bedding me or courting me will, and that is enough for me.”

Ivar, of course, clings only to part of the words you speak, and his voice lowers, expression hardened with what you would swear is jealousy -pointless, unfounded, stupid jealousy- as he asks,

“Who are these men?”

Your eyes narrow, you honestly cannot believe this man.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I just want to know who they are.”

“I-…” Running your free hand through over your face, you bite back a groan, “Everyone thinks we are married now, shouldn’t you be worrying about that?”

He shrugs, “You were the one that told them you are married.”

“You are the one that I told them I’m married to!” You tell him, exasperated. He says nothing, and in the two blinks that he offers you somehow find it in you to be even more offended, “You truly are not worried?”

“Why should I be?”

Slowly, you remind him, “We are not actually married, Ivar.”

He shrugs, “We could be.”

“But we aren’t.”

“But we could be.” He insists easily.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, taking a moment to bite back irritation, you love him, even when he is being intentionally insufferable.

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you?”

“You seem to have done that for me already,” He replies instead, raised eyebrows and another shrug of his shoulders that only makes you angrier. “You seem to have done more than that.”

You sigh, and shake your head at his mocking, only to make him chuckle at your reaction. Gods, he is infuriating.

Ivar’s smile loses the mocking edge as he leans even close, pressing a soft kiss by the side of your mouth in an attempt to make you stop pretending to be angry.

“What’s the harm in that, hm?” He asks, eyes falling from yours to your lips when you finally turn your head to face him, “They know you’re mine now.”

You almost want to argue there’s no way they wouldn’t know judging by the way the two of you have been joined at the hip since you returned from Dunwick, but you won’t deny a part of you grows darkly proud at knowing everyone knows he is yours and yours alone.

“And you are mine.” You remind him lowly, the beginning of a smile on your lips. His eyes linger on the curve of your mouth, lids growing a little heavier at your words and tone, and you have never felt more powerful.

Ivar nods his head,

“I am, wife.”

____

As you come down from both of your highs you find out Ivar is as unwilling to relinquish the closeness as you are, and in between soft touches and breathed presses of lips on heated skin, you find a kind of peace you never realized how much you missed.

“I was thinking,” He starts, and you cannot stop yourself from teasing him, so you let out a soft, uh-oh, and he scoffs, biting down on the side of your neck in retaliation, “We will be settled in the Isles by next winter.”

Ivar pulls back to look at you, holding himself up on one of his arms. At the strange expression in his pale eyes, you reach up with one hand and caress the side of his face under the guise of moving his hair back.

“We will.”

“Let’s go back to Kattegat,” He tells you, a tad rushed, “For this winter. Let’s spend one last winter in Kattegat.”

“Are you homesick, love?” You drawl, a side smile that he rolls his eyes at.

“What do you say?”

You search his gaze, because something tells you there’s more to the question, more to the action of spending your winter in Kattegat.

You won’t lie and pretend you haven’t missed the town, you won’t lie and pretend the memories you made there aren’t still with you, kept safe by some nostalgic and soft part of your heart.

Fate has a funny way of working, you’ve learned, and time brought you back to the side of the boys you made so many of those memories alongside of. Time brought back to you the cadence of Sigurd’s voice as he hums in par with his oud, time brought back to you Ubbe’s easy companionship as you train together, time brought back to you the secret smiles you share with Hvitserk over a joke only the two of you know of. Time brought back to you the one you’ve loved since before you even knew what love was, brought back to you the heart that your own finds itself familiar with.

But there is a part of you that misses Kattegat and always will, the sinuous streets of your childhood, the foreign scents and sounds of the bubbling market.

Instead of giving your answer outright -you always did like making things harder than they have to be-, you muse aloud,

“Having married you when we were children should keep me safe from your mother’s wrath, shouldn’t it?”

“Wrath?”

You let your fingers trace over the scar over his lip, the one you are very much responsible for. In these last few months, you’ve grown quite fascinated with it, with how it stretches when he smiles one of those big and crooked smiles, and especially with how Ivar trembles when you run your tongue over it before kissing him.

But that is not the point.

The point is you are very much responsible for at least one of the new scars Aslaug’s youngest son bears, and she will know, and she will look at you in that way you remember from your younger years. It is enough to make a grown woman shiver.

Ivar chuckles as he understands your hesitation, “You don’t need to fear her.”

“Easy for you to say.” You scoff.

“And if I tell you she still remembers fondly that childish wedding? Will you agree to come then, hm?”

“No,” At his frustrated sigh you tighten your fingers on his hair in silent reprimand, “Now I know you’re just saying that to appease me.”

“I would never.” Ivar mocks, earning another tug of his hair that he breathes a laugh at. You don’t fail to notice the way the laugh stutters a bit past his lips, you are very much aware of your effect of your hands on him.

Said effect is very much evidenced in the way he doesn’t resist the temptation to lean down and steal your breath with the slowest of kisses, his nose nudging against yours softly before he speaks again, voice low,

“What if it wasn’t just that wedding?”

“W-What?”

His eyes open to look into yours, an edge of anxiety, of hesitation, that he -of course- pushes past anyways, clearing his throat and asking, “What if there were something more…permanent than that wedding from our childhood?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“A second and last time.” He vows, a quirk of his mouth that speaks of jest but does nothing to hide the apprehension that shines in his eyes.

There was never anyone else, not for you and not for him.

Your answer leaves your lips in a breath that Ivar doesn’t hesitate to taste against your lips, with a gentleness that speaks of adoration and desperation, stealing your breath much in the same way he stole your heart.

____

Aslaug almost wants to laugh at the irony that it was the youngest of her boys that was the first one the be married, not once, but two times. And, surprising only those that don’t know him well enough, to the same woman both times.

Older but still holding that arrogant pride at the announcement -the same pride she saw in him when you walked Kattegat’s streets with your hand in Ivar’s- Ivar sat down in front of her and told her he had found a woman he wanted to marry.

And her heart felt a surge of a warmth she had long since missed with all her sons fighting their wars and their father’s across the sea; not willing or capable to hold back the wide smile that blossomed in her face.

Her hands cupped her son’s face, and the small, almost shy smile he offered her reminded her so much of the boy he once was. She promised her blessing and vowed how proud she was, and in silence, as she looked into her youngest son’s eyes, she thanked the Gods for being allowed to live to see this, to see him happy.

She knows there are so many twists of Fate that have let this happen. She knows -like she knows the streets of her kingdom- of the paths their son’s life could have taken, almost took. She knows of yours, and what could have been.

Even if she hadn’t heard of your close encounter with death in England, she would have the moment she was forced to see in her dreams what had happened across the sea, she would have the moment she saw the way it still haunted Ivar today.

For almost two weeks she dreamt of her son’s voice, the same repeated pleas to the Gods -to whatever would listen- said so many times his voice grew ragged and broke. Still, he did the one thing he could, and pleaded with the Gods for more time, for anything other than this.

He needn’t know she went to the Volür and they all made a sacrifice praying with the Gods to give a Dane shieldmaiden strength and health. He needn’t know, and he won’t.

Because it is past now, and you have healed and learned, and he has healed too. And there is no use in resurfacing pain in an occasion such as this.

Kattegat is lively even as winter approaches fast and cruel, the flurry of motion increased even more now that a Prince is to get married.

Your smile is the same mad little smile she remembers from your younger years in Kattegat, and Helga’s hands are more worn and her smile is a tad dimmer, but her fingers are still nimble and gentle as they braid the wedding crown of winter flowers.

Aslaug feels the pull of emotion when Ivar cups your face between trembling hands and kisses his wife for the first time, she feels the tears prickling at her eyes at the lovesick smiles on your faces as you remain in that moment after a kiss for a few breaths, eyes locked together and futures intertwined.

Ubbe stands tall as he watches his younger brother get married, and Aslaug’s heart grows warm at the easy smile that curves her son’s lips. She still cannot help herself, and finds herself hoping before winter is over and her sons are to depart from her side again, that she can see him with a woman by his side as well. For too long Ubbe carried a burden he shouldn’t have, shouldering the brunt of the world for the sake of his brothers, a boy trying to stand as tall as the man that left an absence in his place after Paris. Even if she once argued she cares not if they find love as long as they find a good woman to breed and form a family with, she holds the secret hope that she can see Ubbe happily settled with someone that he can love.

She hopes the same for Hvitserk, who watches the ceremony with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, but she knows better than to expect him to settle anytime soon. Before the celebratory feast is halfway over, he has teasingly held a young girl to his side and exclaimed, mother, I am getting married as well, three times, with three different women. She doesn’t hold much hope he will settle soon, and has to bite her tongue and tell herself she is happy for him even if he insists on sleeping his way through Kattegat.

Reluctantly, she admits it is Sigurd who might follow in Ivar’s footsteps and marry next. He and that Christian girl have been promised to one another for years now, and the excuse of war and distance has kept them safe from their obligations to marry. But Aslaug knows it is a matter of time. For all her demure and shy nature, Blaeja’s eyes shine with something like amazement as she takes in the wedding ceremony even if a faint blush covers her face at yours and Ivar’s displays of affection. And she won’t pretend she doesn’t notice the way Sigurd lingers close to the princess, irradiating that gentleness of him that Aslaug is still regretful for having made so fragile in her carelessness.

Winter lets her have all her sons with her, though she knows it is probably the last time. Ivar has plans to settle in the Isles, the title of king and the promise of advantageous positions for his war against Alfred enough of a lure to keep her son across the sea; Ubbe has intentions to settle and take families with him to England even if he has to wade through blood to do so, Sigurd won’t stay too long away from his princess anymore, and Hvitserk will nevr bear to stay apart from his brothers.

But she has this winter, and it is enough. She will sit with her sons and have dinner while they talk and argue and laugh, and she will hear Ivar and Sigurd go for each other’s throats as if they haven’t spent these years fighting side by side, and she will watch you and Ivar get drunk on nothing but each other, and she will thank the Gods for all of it.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, I apologize if this isn’t very good, I tried my best. Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @aprilivar

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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local-ground-apple · 3 years

Note

May I request scenarios of Diasomnia and Pomefiore taking care of their child s/o? Sort of similar to the one you did for when Silver, Rook, Kalim etc being turned into children ❤️❤️❤️

Hope you will enjoy it~! ❤️❤️❤️

🐲 Malleus thought nothing could surprise him anymore in his long life, yet when he saw your small form, he had to admit he hasn’t expect you to turn into a child anytime soon,

🐲 tries and will find a solution quicker than Crewel or Crowley,

🐲 at first, Malleus is lost. The whole situation is new to him and he doesn’t really know how he should take care of you or what he could be doing with you, until you get back to your normal form,

🐲 he did ask Lilia for help,

,,Y’N, what would you want to do?” ,,You’re a prince” “Yes, indeed” “Teach me how to dance”

🐲 Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, a bit taken aback with your sudden request, but soon a soft smile graced his lips. You were truly adorable as a child and he absolutely wouldn’t refuse you anything,

🐲 needless to say, you stomped on his feet a lot,

🐲he carries you on his shoulders almost all the time and you refuse to get down from them. You just wanted to touch his horns, but you really liked the feeling of being so tall and the view up there was truly amazing,

🦇 the only one who actually knows what he’s doing,

🦇 at first, Lilia gets a bit emotional, as all those fond memories he had created with Silver when he used to be a child flooded him. You two ended up looking at pictures from Silver’s childhood,

🦇 won’t stop cooing how adorable you are and he will certainly take a million of pictures much to your dismay (enough to create a whole album just with the photos from two days you spent as a child)

🦇 Lilia saw this a perfect opportunity to cook especially for you. Before this ancient fae burnt a whole kitchen down or accidentally poisoned you, Silver appeared with edible food and saved you from Lilia’s questionable dishes,

🦇 you had a lot of fun with Lilia, since you two organised a sleepover. Eating pizza, building a pillow fort, eating unhealthy ammounts of sweets, pranking Sebek - you truly had the best time of your life and you two even invited Malleus to join you (Silver fell asleep halfway through).

🦇 fun ended when you told a “spooky” story and Lilia being Lilia decided to pull some ancient, fae book with terrifying stories that made Silver suddenly more than awake,

🦇 needless to say, you, Silver, Malleus and even Sebek ended up sleeping all together in the pillow fort with Lilia that night, refusing to turn off the light,

⚔️ Silver refused to let you touch his sword. Actually he hides it before you, so you won’t get hurt by accident. He hides everything that is sharp,

,,No, Y/N, you’re not going to climb that horse” “But, we always go horse-riding on Tuesdays!” “Yes, when you’re an actual adult”

⚔️ so instead you decided to go to sleep,

⚔️ you both spend a lot of time napping together. Lilia often sees you two sleeping peacefully underneath a tree in the forest, while animals are all around Silver who has clovers in his hair (all thanks to you)

,,Can I braid your hair?” “...” “please?” *sigh* “Yes, sure”

⚔️ your braiding-hair skills certainly got better, even Vil would be impressed,

⚔️ when he’s asleep, you often sketch Silver trying to capture his beauty. Lilia finds your drawings purely adorable and he always coos how cute you are. Of course, Silver has no clue that you have a whole stash of drawing of him and you wish to keep it that way,

⚔️ Lilia of course offers his help, even if it mostly consists of him telling you all the embarrassing stories from Silver’s childhood

⚡ panics on the inside and on the outside. Can’t and won’t calm down anytime soon,

⚡Sebek hides any dangerous weapon from you and tries to babyproof the house as much as possible,

⚡tries to be quieter with you, as Sebek thinks children generally aren’t fond of loud sounds (oh how wrong was he). Somehow you managed to be louder than him, when you decided to throw a tantrum,

⚡takes you with him literally everywhere. May it be his sword training, actual classes or just his night patrol, Sebek refuses to leave you unattended,

⚡ you ask him to read you and he gladly complies. Sebek switches from actual history textbooks to some fairytales, but you don’t mind this duality. Just hearing his soft voice reading you something before sleep is more than enough to calm you and lull you,

⚡you often fall asleep in his lap,

💜a child, huh? Something truly unexpected. Vil is the first one to put his initial shock and disbelief aside and he immediately starts working on potion to turn you into adult again. He really wants to dedicate himself to it and at first Vil is engrossed in his work,

💜at first. Soon, you get rather bored and you begin to disturb him. Vil wanted to yeet you to Rook, he truly did, so he could focus on making a potion for you. Yet, after certain hunter told him for the umpteenth time that professor Crewel is taking care of it, he started considering taking a break,

💜your absolutely adorable puppy eyes finally convinced Vil to spend some time with you,

,,Can I style your hair?” “Absolutely no” “Please?” “I said no, but we can throw a small fashion show, hm?

💜 you two throw a small fashion show, but perhaps, a raid on Vil’s closet would be a more appropriate word. You tried a lot of his clothes and Vil taught you how to do poses,

💜 you two sneaked out to Heartslabyul to taste some strawberry tarts baked by Trey (even though Vil certainly was on a diet),

🏹 oh là, là. Room won’t shut up about how cute you are. He constantly coos how lovely you are. You quickly get tired of this bullshit,

,,Could you stop!” “My, my, mon lapin, tu est trop mignon~!”

🏹 Rook lets you style his hair,as well as wear his hat,

🏹takes you on his regular Leona-watching-from-the-bushes-event and you enjoy your new, stalkerish role perhaps a bit too much,

🏹Rook obviously refused to take you hunting, yet you followed him either way and you ended up convincing him not to kill a hare, but to adopt him,

🏹 Vil certainly wasn’t pleased when you showed up with a hare named “Five”

🏹 your puppy eyes and pouting face is enough to persuade Rook to do whatever you wish. Literally, he won’t be able to refuse you

🏹Vil told him not to give you any sweets, but one look of your puppy eyes and Rook is melting. He will sneakily give you chocolate when Mr.Schoenheit is not looking,

🍏 Epel has absolutely no clue how to take care of you. Absolutely, he’s just lost,

🍏 but he tries his best to keep you from dangerous, sharp things that may result in you hurting yourself,

,,I’m not a baby, I can slice the bread myself” “Y’N, you’re literally a child”

🍏 however, Epel let you help him bake some apple cookies and you two ended up having a flour fight (yes, you started it on purpose),

🍏 you two become partners in crime. Sneaking out at the evening to Savanaclaw, eating snacks past bedtime, violating practically every, single rule Vil imposed on you two and finally raiding Rook’s stash of sweets - there’s just plenty of things you both managed to do together,

🍏 Epel plays a loooooot of board games with you - literally every, single game he managed to find in Pomefiore, while you both sip on hot chocolate with marshmallows,

🍏 he is elated, when you turn to your original form. Sure, he had a lot of fun taking care of child version of you, yet he much more prefers your older self (mostly because he can finally kiss you)

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illumiru · 3 years

Note

hi cami!! based on literally everything because you have good taste I was wondering if u had any fic recs?? I am in like a good fic desert and if u have any good reads would love to read them! thank u!!

Thanks!! I have to be honest that I don't read a lot of dc fics lately bc a lot of what's posted on AO3 doesn't appeal to me tbh. But I do have some favorites that live rent-free in my head. I hope you enjoy!

baby, it's a sign of the times by danishsweethearts

Dick Grayson has a pretty bad day, but hey, he's coping.

let your love grow tall by danishsweethearts

In a move endearingly predictable and highly amusing, Dick Grayson buys a bunch of plants and proceeds to pack bond with all of them.

cold was the night and hard was the ground by danishsweethearts

Laundromats are save points.

i've been longing for silence by danishsweethearts

The Titans are Dick's family. Damian is also Dick's family. Cue the collision.

un haeng il chi by danishsweethearts

un haeng il chi (언행일치) | yán xíng yī zhì (言行一致) idiom 1. word and actions coincide; to live up to one's word 2. to match words with deeds 3. practice what you preach

The Cassandra Wayne guide to truth-telling, manifestation and prosperity.

big d stands for big (demon)or by danishsweethearts

The one where Titans Tower is haunted, and Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, original Robin, one and only Nightwing, esteemed leader, part-time exorcist, un-haunts it.

young volcanoes by dottie_wan_kenobi

You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s ten years old and hopeful. No, Bruce says. You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s fourteen and realistic. No, Bruce says. I’m going to join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s seventeen and furious. No, Bruce says. No, you are not.

Dick is nineteen now. And he’s not joining the Justice League—he’s joining the Titans.

the last of the real ones by dottie_wan_kenobi

Gar is like a blessing. He doesn’t seem to notice the shiny parts of Vic, not until it really counts—when there’s wires sticking out, something shoved through Vic like it was nothing, when he’s in danger. And even then, he treats them like any other part of the body, like a wound is a wound and it doesn’t matter that it’s not flesh, but technology.

When he asks, Gar tells him about Cliff Steele, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just used to robot guys, I guess,” he says, flippant like he’s not the first person Vic has met who didn’t recoil at the sight of him.

Vic manages a laugh, his eye—his real eye, his human eye—stinging.

if you just call me by BeatriceEagle

“Dick.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Dick, look at me.”

Slowly, as if he were pushing against a terrible force, he lifted his head.

“I have known you since I was thirteen years old, and I have known you in a dozen other lifetimes, so I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Dick held her gaze. He looked like he was searching for something in her eyes, so Donna held still and hoped he found it.

“Did you really know me in other lives?” he asked.

_____

Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years.

once upon a time... by Mayarene Rose (DickRoy)

The announcement is the talk of the kingdom. Men on horses, coming from the capital itself, shout it to every corner of the land to make sure everyone hears.

There will be a three-day festival held in honor of the crown prince’s name day!

So of course, no one can shut up about it and everyone’s making plans to make their way to the capital, one way or another.

Gotham, after all, isn’t known for its decadence. Celebrations from the capital are few and far in between. But, it’s also well known that the king absolutely dotes on his children. The has the makings of being the biggest feast anyone has seen in their lifetime.

“Huh,” Roy says. He’s in a farming village when he hears, about five days ride from the capital if he had a horse, which he does not.

Or the one where Roy is a knight errant, Dick is the crown prince, and there is a three-day celebration.

Dr. Wilson, Will I Ever Play the Violin Again? by HoodEx (DickJoey)

1 Missed Call 1:12 PM TUES 9 MAY Frank Hardy

A fond smile spreads over his face. He remembers Dick writing that as his own contact name in Joey's communicator the first time he and Joey exchanged numbers. Joey knows it's an action influenced by paranoia rather than something meant as an inside joke between friends, but he likes to think of it as a mixture of both.

"Who are you mooning over?"

Lissa crosses her arms over her chest and cuts across the room to get closer to him. Joey tries not to instinctually jerk his communicator closer to his chest as she peers down at it with a curious glint in her eye.

"Frank Hardy," Joey spells out with his fingers. "He's a friend of mine."

Her brow furrows. "Frank? Have I met him?"

Joey shakes his head.

"What do you think he was calling for?"

Hopefully not to tell me that the world is on its way to ending, Joey thinks, worrying at his lip.

"Not sure," Joey signs. His thumb hovers over the call-back button. "I guess I'm about to find out."

Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife

Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday.

He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too.

(... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Two of Six by silverwhittlingknife

There’s nothing special about this kid, no reason to remember him. But Dick remembers. Because of the photo.

Dick and Tim’s pre-nu52 relationship, from the beginning all the way to the end.

or: how Dick acquired a stalker, attempted to make him go away, and failed so badly that he acquired a brother instead.

(So far: missing scenes from childhood, Lonely Place of Dying, Knightfall, and Knightsend. Current arc: Prodigal.)

In the Palm of Your Hand by lapsedpacifist

Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.

Neurodegenerative series by lapsedpacifist

The general premise: Bruce has completely forgotten about Dick, and Dick only. Now tension is high between them and the rest of the family as they attempt to resolve the memory problem -- while drawing battlelines and realising that Dick had always been much more than a brother to them all.

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask."

— Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays

Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

This is all I could think of at the moment! I'll add more once I read the ones I encountered while I made this list. Enjoy!!

#anon.txt #fic recs

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mrstaeminlee · 3 years

Text

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.

#lmk if y'all like it plssssss #we're just gonna age everyone up here lol #I've been thirsting after Armin as a 30 yr old college professor who blushes when he sees you in your bra but chokes you out during sex #aot x reader #snk x reader #Levi ackerman #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi x reader #Levi x reader smut #Levi smut #captain levi

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novaiya · 3 years

Text

Imagine Arthur/Sean/Charles communicating with a non-English speaking immigrant reader.

Based on this request: can you write imagines for Arthur, Sean and Charles with a non-English speaking immigrant reader? If not that’s totally okay!! (Imagining the interactions that happen between them and the reader as they try to communicate would be funny ^^)

A/N: This was very fun to write, because at some point, I too was a non-english speaking immigrant. Language barrier sucks, but when you have people like Arthur, Charles or Sean, it sucks a little less lol I’m gonna be honest, as much fun as I had wiring this, I struggled a bit, especially with Arthur. If you look at Arthur’s interaction with people who don’t speak English… It seems like he has little to no patience with them lmfao

It was your third week with this group of people. It might’ve been fourth or maybe even fifth, but you couldn’t tell. All the days have blended into a one, long nightmare.

You have come to this country, the new world, in search of a better life, and instead, turned out worse than where you came from.

Thankfully, a group of people have picked you up, given you food and shelter and only asked for a small contribution in the form of basic housekeeping (more like camp keeping) in return. But even that was proving to be complicated, for you didn’t speak the language that the people did. You knew a few words before coming to America, basics like “Hello”, “Thank you”, “My name is…”, but nothing more. You were planning to continue your studies once you’ve arrived, but it seems like you'll have learn on the go. You were picking up some stuff here and there from the listening to camp members talk. You would attentively listen to the leader, Dutch was his name, and try to memorize the words he spoke. Plan, faith, and money would be common words in most of his speeches, and you’ve already learned their meanings.

Arthur.

You were taking a break, sitting on the edge of the camp and sketching on a piece of paper. You enjoyed drawing. It was a relaxing hobby, and it would remind you of your childhood, back when things were simpler.

“Hey there,” you heard from behind you. You turned around, seeing Arthur.

“Hello,” you said, your accent evident even in such a simple word.

“What you doing there,” he said as he took a seat next to you, looking at the scrap of paper in your hand.

You took a second to process what he just said. You heard the word “what”, and thought that maybe he was asking what you were doing. You didn’t know how to say you were drawing in english, so you simply showed him the sketch you were working on, pointing at it with your pencil.

“Ah,” Arthur exclaimed, understanding you. “You’re drawing.”

You tilted your head, not understanding what he’s saying.

“Drawing,” he repeated. He used his hand to pretend like he’s drawing. “You,” he said pointing at you, “draw.”

“Draw,” you repeated, looking at his hands then at a scrap of paper on your own. “I am drawing.”

“There you go.”

You smiled when you understood. Even a single word was a victory for you. The sooner you knew the language, the sooner you could get back on your feet.

“I draw too sometimes,” he said.

You turned to look at him.

He shuffled a bit, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a notebook. He skimmed through a few pages before showing you one of them. There, you saw a drawing of a horse. Your own sketch, in comparison to his, looked like chicken scratches.

“You draw very good,” you said.

A small smiled tugged at Arthur’s lips and he said, “thank you”

You nodded your head with a smile on your lips mirroring his. It was nice to have conversations. Due to the language barrier between you and the rest of the camp members, it was hard to make any significant connections. Most of your conversations only went as far as “thank you” or “good morning”. Arthur, however, has been one of the only people trying to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the gang. He would often start talking to you as if the language wasn’t a problem, and if you didn’t understand something, he would try to explain with simpler terms, using his hands or pointing at things, like he did just now when explaining drawing to you.

“I know a place not far from here,” Arthur spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts, “Lot’s of animals roam there; horses, deers. I can take you there and you can draw them. If you want to, that is.”

You took a moment to understand what he meant. You basically understood every word he said, but was having a hard time of putting them together to understand the meaning behind them.

“You and I go draw together?” you said.

Arthur chuckled a bit. It was not exactly what he meant, but it was close enough. Maybe he could use that opportunity to get to know you better, as much as the language barrier would allow.

“Sure, we can do that too.”

Charles

You were walking along the outskirts of the camp, taking a break from your chores to enjoy the nature around you. You could hear the birds sing from every tree, and as you went further into the forest, squirrels and rabbits would run around, not paying any attention to you.

When a bunny stopped almost in front of you, you smiled. You squatted down, almost eye level with the creature.

“I think he likes you,” you heard from behind you.

You turned around, seeing Charles approaching you. You smiled at him, before turning back to the bunny, who was still unfazed by your or Charle’s presence.

Charles crouched right next to you, studying the peculiar bunny like you did. He extended his hand, letting the bunny sniff it. You decided to try too, and let out a small laugh when bunny sniffed your hand as well, looking at you and then at Charles.

“He is very nice,” you said with a smile.

Charles nodded. “They can feel your intentions. He probably knows you’re not going to harm him.”

You nodded. You didn’t understand a word he said, but you still made a face as if you did. You wondered what the english word for bunny was.

“What is his name?” you said looking at Charles.

He smiled at your question. Since you’ve joined the gang, Charles admired your strength and work ethic. Even without knowing the language and barely being able to communicate with the rest of the people, you were a productive member of the camp, and have been working hard on learning the language.

He was one the first people that you talked to, and since then you would often go to him when you needed help understanding something. He was very approachable and always patient when it came to your language barrier.

“Bunny,” he replied.

“Bunny.” Your face was so serious when you tried to pronounce the word, Charles laughed a little bit.

“You got it,” he said. “Just gotta practice and it’ll sound perfect.”

“Thank you.”

Somehow, you ended up spending almost half an hour with Charles, studying all the different animals around, learning their names and a few other English words.

“Thank you very much, Charles,” you said when you finally made it back to camp.

“It’s no problem,” he said. “If you ever wanna learn anything else, you just let me know.” He winked at you before going to his tent.

You didn’t understand a word he said, but didn’t need to. That wink said all you needed to know.

Sean

It was nighttime, and most of the camp members were either getting ready for bed or gathering around the campfire, swapping stories and drinks. Due to the language barrier, you usually skipped those events; you couldn’t understand a single word they were saying and it made you feel out of place. Instead, you preferred to spend your evenings at a small table a little way from the campfire with a children’s book in your hand. You got the book from Abigail, who in turn got it from Hosea for Jack. She would lend it to you at the end of the day, after Jack has finished his lessons with Hosea, so you could learn too.

“What you doin’ here all alone?” you heard a voice say behind you.

You turned around, seeing Sean approaching you.

“Reading,” you said, showing him the book in your hand.

“Oh, that,” he said, taking a seat next to you. “I never understood the appeal of readin’. It’s ploddin’.”

“Plod-ding?” you repeated, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, you know, slow. I prefer to use my time in other ways, stealin’ or robbin’ for example.” Even though his voice sounded uplifting, you could see a hint of sadness in it. The smile that he was trying to put on didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You don’t read?” you said.

Sean took a moment before answering your question, shifting a bit in his chair.

“No, not really,” he said. “Me pa never taught me, and after he died I didn’t really have the time.”

You nodded your head, understanding what he said.

Sean wouldn't let anyone know it, but he was really insecure about his literacy. It’s not often that he needed to read something, but when he did, he was embarrassed that he couldn’t. So instead, he decided to own it, act like he didn’t care and that it was his decision not to learn. Lenny had been trying to teach him for a while then, but it didn’t go anywhere. Everytime Sean would get stuck on a word, or his progress would stagnate, he would get irritated and give up.

“Do you want learn?” you said.

Your words pulled him out of his thoughts. “You mean, learn to read?”

“Yes,” you said. “I read everyday. This kids book. We can read together.”

Sean’s immediate thought was to decline. He’d tried and failed so many times, at this point he didn’t believe he would ever be able to learn. But, something about seeing you, a person who barely spoke a word of English, a stranger in a strange land, trying your hardest despite everything, inspired him. What’s stopping him from doing the same?

“You know what,” he said. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s meet here tomorrow mornin’. Maybe ol’ Lenny will join us too.”

#arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #sean macguire x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #charles smith x y/n #sean macguire x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfics

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Eumoiriety (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Four Years of Pooja Sharma's Birthday, from her first year as an Intern to her first year as an Attending.

Eumoiriety: Happiness due to state of innocence and purity💕

A/N: It's my baby's birthday and I went overboard. This is purely self indulgent and since I have zero to negative self control, this turned out way longer than I expected it to. Anyway, I hope you still like it💙

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.7K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: None that I saw.

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Day 29 - Birthday

READ ON AO3

Intern Year:

She walks barefoot on the green floor as the dews clinging to grass tips, soothe her like the cold breeze on a summer day.

A few golden rays filter through the canopy that acts as a barrier to the shining sun overhead. When they fall on the grass, the view looks like gold intermixed with emerald.

She wears a white gown, which flutters behind her, as her heart dances with the bees going flower to flower to get their prize of nectar in return for their favour of pollinating them.

There is a calm spreading through her soul, an ease, a slow infusion of tranquillity with her heart beats.

A swish makes her turn. Her eyes capture a silhouette, drifting farther and farther, as if taking her calm along with it.

It's replaced by restlessness.

There is a cajole, a whispered cajole, that urges her feet to run, her mind to think, her heart to wonder.

She follows. One step, and another.

The scene changes.

There are no more trees, no more green with the sun's shine.

At a distance, the waves crash on the sandy shore, their meet with their shore echoing in the silent surroundings.

She looks around and sees it.

The silhouette, now apparent that it was a man, standing with his back to her. He looks unbothered. As if he stole her peace and gave her his unrest in return.

She tries to walk slowly towards, footsteps imprinting on the sand, but the distance never seems to lessen or end.

She tries running, but to no avail.

The waves continue crashing, the footprints continue to get imprinted and the man continues to remain still and silent.

The only change has been in the sky, which is now leaden, dark with humongous clouds.

The thunder begins to cackle.

Once, Twice, Thrice.

She closes her ears with her hands, eyes shut to reduce the impact of the thunderous noise reverberating through every single one of her bones. But the roar keeps getting louder and louder until...

Her eyes snap open, but the echo from her sweven doesn't leave her. She turns around to find her phone ringing, straining her eyes with incredulous bright light (that she forgot to dim). The caller ID is barely registered, but the voice gives away the identity.

It's her sister.

With a flash, all the haze from the peculiar dream gets lost and bubbly happiness takes up the emptied space.

It's their birthday.

The first one since she came here. She had been so busy unknotting the twisted knots of circumstances in which she found herself tangled, that she had forgotten about the once unforgettable occasion of her life.

Maybe she has really lost that childhood she held on so tightly to, she thinks.

But not without a hope. Of a chance to get it back.

Maybe differently.

But the want to relive those carefree days, where the colour of pens you get as gifts, and the decision of who gets the piece of cake with the chocolate masterpiece on it were the only things that held importance. All other worldly, societal woes were secondary, trivial, uncared for.

She wishes her sister and she wishes her back.

3..2..1.. Happy Birthday! To Us!

They scream-whisper together, carrying on the years' long tradition.

The only thing different? They were on their cellulars, ecospheres apart, instead of snuggling and shouting together, and annoying their brother for an entire day.

Subconsciously, a tee-hee escapes her. Thinking about her brother, she takes a look at the clock. Correct 12:03 am on 12th August. If she knows him, he is probably counting the seconds.

At 12:05 am to the dot, another shrill echoes through the silent apartment. Her guess is correct.

On the other side of the screen, sits Idhayan arranging the cake so that Pooja can see the eloquent buttercream designs he has hand made on it.

In the background, there is a blurry motion. It turns out to be Alekhya.

She jumps onto the couch beside their brother, putting an end to his steady concentration.

He makes an irritated face, while she laughs.

And Pooja just watches, giggling alone.

The pang in her chest reminds her, once & once more, about just how much she misses them.

How empty, monochromatic her life is, with all these miles between them.

For the past year, every time any event took a turn for the worse, broke her, or hurt her, she wanted to go back to her safe haven.

The place where the chronicles of her life begun.

Many times, she had found herself convinced (by others as well as her self doubting mind) that she didn't belong here. That she didn't have the calibre, the skills to strive in this fight of dogs, in this race of horses where she felt like a donkey.

Or maybe a snail.

She dreamed of sleeping in her mother's lap when she first found herself in the crossroads of feelings and reason. Making her muddled head clear with words that never crossed the barrier between dream and reality.

When Mrs Martinez died, she imagined herself sitting on the swing, her brother's comfort brownies reduced to messy crumbs, as she let the mountain winds take away the burden of dread that pressed upon her heart.

And the day when Landry's backstab became eminent? She visualized her sister ripping him down, shredding him with knives of words because that's what he deserved.

She knew her father would have made them both coffee like he always did when he came home during breaks from piloting. He would have said a mere few words, which would have been enough for her to see the path ahead.

The mini virtual celebration ends, and the silence settles again. Tendrils of sleep come and go, but never stay.

She is left alone with her thoughts and worries, and a fear of the unknown which is hidden by the curtains of the future.

--------

The day passes like a swift blowing wind in a desert.

It's quiet, too quiet.

And probably for the first time in her life, she adores it. To be away from the hustle of a celebration, which would have been a noise in the cacophony, given the situation.

To get a period of silence for her thoughts to drift away, to think about the unknown, to predict a make or break.

The pages are turned swiftly by her fingers, one of which is clad with a minimal gold ring, another old ritual of hers.

The library harbours the overworked interns, who are now pushing the boundaries of time to find a way to help their friend out.

Their tired eyes pain with the lack of sleep, coffee fuelling through their veins, and mind engrossed in picking up any clue, any line, any tip that could be supportive for them.

Hours pass, no-one utters a word. Pens run on empty notebooks, hands managing to create only messy scribbles. Black and Blue fill the white as if it never existed.

The clock strikes the end hour.

They all get up.

They go home together, for discussions and relaxation.

At the doorstep, everyone enters before her, while she stands still, too engulfed in worries to notice the happenings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Confetti pops, her reverie is broken.

The smile shines like a jewel in a priceless necklace.

The arrangements are minimal, just champagne, cake and friends, but that's more than enough for her. To make her forget the dark fog of pessimism.

Maybe there is hope left.

-------

Second Year:

12th August.

The day that is drifting closer by the minute.

It has always been Alekhya's birthday for her.

On her phone, In her diary, In her mind.

People might regard it as a beautiful flaw of her nature, the flaw of always placing others before herself.

But to her, the instinct seemed natural, obvious. She had never delved into the whys, and she doesn't want to begin now.

For Alekhya, the circumstances became vice-versa.

And this was the beauty of their bond.

Strong, Pure and Selfless.

They never seem to realize that, though.

They hold onto the strings of simplicity, of sweet uncomplexity. And that is what helps them to bridge the gap between siblings and best friends.

After the tumultuous year, that very much resembled the completion of a voyage through the rough Indian Ocean, where storms ravage through days and endless nights, thunders crack, and waves that scale the heights between the ocean and sky to become mountains of water, crash on the feeble pieces of wood barely held together in the form of a boat, coming back to her origin, her hometown is a necessity.

Especially for her to find that normalcy again.

She survived.

Even though she fell, almost drowned, gasped for a breath more times she could count and nearly accepted her fate.

Until that is, the pale faces of the ones she holds close, the endless stream of tears that scale their cheeks, their breaking hearts, came to haunt her in her reverie and prevented her from closing her eyes & from letting that almost undetectable beat of heart stop.

The wishes from last year come back to her. This time, it wasn't virtual anymore. This time, it wasn't just painted in pixels, but written in buttercream letters, one which she could taste.

This time, the hugs weren't just virtual. They were very real, and very needed.

As she sits amidst the bushes of phenomenal florals, she lets her mind project in vivid colours, the extremities of the last year.

Her heart, breaking into tiny glass pieces, not perceived by the eye but sharp enough to draw blood.

The fear of losing and letting so many others lose along.

The coming close and going away, almost kisses and slide of unassuming hands, those which could easily be perceived as a mistake, but were anything but.

Competing in a nameless competition and almost dying in the process.

Getting the lost love back. Slowly, Gradually. (even if it felt too early to call it that)

And then... Her mind stops as the playful tunes start emanating out along with florescent light from the cellular, and the face of the one who has been a regular image of the thoughts that lull her to sleep.

On the other side, his voice is soft.

She can visualize him in the Diagnostics Office, leaning back on his chair.

Most probably on a break.

The new day hasn't even started for him, yet he remembers that it has, for her.

Their talks are interspersed with comfortable silence. For them, just the knowledge that the person on the other side is still there with them is enough.

All through the conversation, she waits.

In a hope that the irrelevant and unimportant date is written in faded letters somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

As the line approaches its end, talks slowly halt, she feels a faint pang of sadness.

Maybe he doesn't remember it after all.

She bids her farewell, and as his finger hovers close to the end call button, she hears it.

Crystal Clear but still seeming unreal.

Happy Birthday, Pooja.

Her thanks are intermixed with a light giggle, unable to hold back the pleasure that erupts within her, along with the flutter called butterflies in her stomach.

Maybe there is always hope left, after all.

-------

Last year of Residence:

There have been countless moments when she has asked the time to wait, to slow its rushing footsteps that leave no mark behind.

Sometimes it's a beg, while in other vespertine hours, it's a mindless murmur.

This moment is one of them.

When a handful of sand is slowly released on a windy day, the swooshes and swishes carry them away, farther and farther, leave them with no choice but to fly along.

The minutes were being carried away by the same current, where they had no choice but to pass.

No one had the power to hold it, not even the mighties, the richest, the most supreme.

The conditions now extensively mimic the conditions during her first year.

Just this time, it was textbooks on internal medicine and medical procedure instead of ethics.

The wishes that day are hushed, the minimal party comprising of cupcakes and mug cakes and the gang, christened "The Invincibles" after they successfully tackle one hurdle and another but remain strong and together, in their PJs.

It must be one of the first nights since who knows how long when they spent their time doing an activity that doesn't involve colour coded tabs and complicated biological drawings.

And even though some of them make faux complaints about the wasted time, they all needed this break more than they could express.

The morning sun rays filter through the white curtains guarding the windows way too fast, making them unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the black of the night ceased to exist, when the sky became melanocrysus and when the golden took over the entire stretch.

A single text message pushes her to drop the blanket of laziness, the cocoon she inhabited. Getting up and placing a smile has never been as easy as it was now.

Come Over

------

The condo is inhabited by a stark silence when she reaches there.

She knocks. The click of the doorknob on the other side is almost instantaneous.

His hand wraps around her waist like a reflex deeply etched in his encephalon. For the first time in forever, their kisses are not chaste. Or momentary.

When he whispers a happy birthday wish against her forehead, that's what she would call intimacy.

The purity of the action touches her heart and makes it swell, with an emotion that she predicts will not remain unnamed any longer.

-------

First-year as an attending:

The celebratory vibes are in the air today.

Her stride is confident, heels playing a mellow harmony on the shining floors.

No one doesn't recognize her.

The intern who nearly lost her license to the Head of Diagnostics team, it was a journey that had thrown her off-road a million times.

Sometimes the barriers were pinpricks leaving no marks, and sometimes they were boulders crushing her.

And sometimes, one of these on-lookers would tear down her faith by stabbing her from the back, the cowardice of their soul, being mirrored in the blades of those knives of betrayal.

And yet she stands strong, her resolve unperturbed, as she faces the demons, those of others and those of her own.

It's a fight she has been learning to fight since she was eleven.

To curtain her tears with a glow in eyes, to hide the broken heart behind pretty lies. And just like practice makes one perfect, she has almost perfected the art of having to hide the real her inside.

As she passes the numerous congregations, amalgamations of patients and staff, she is greeted by wishes from old acquaintances whose kindness is apparent in their smile and by wishes of employed enemies, whose disinterest or sometimes blatant hate is too, completely apparent in their voice.

But they are not the ones she is worried about.

Interspersed between these two extremities are people who speak kind and in flattery lines with a sword behind their back.

Those who know how to hide their true intentions in the modulations of voice.

Every time she hears a wish where nothing is apparent, her heart stops for a while.

Strings of thought muddle her head and she tries to figure out the reality behind their words.

Sometimes she succeeds, sometimes she fails.

And sometimes she faces vehement opposition of her tired nerves who ask her to stop caring about those who are passing by.

But she never stops.

Her legs carry her to the Diagnostics office.

Her Office.

The swell of pride, of a fulfilment she last felt when she got into Edenbrook, make her head light.

She tries to stop but gives up the efforts soon.

If she has realized something through the twists of lawsuits and turns of almost dying, it is that if you keep waiting for the turns of the clock to approach a "right moment" for a chance to celebrate, you will probably keep waiting your entire life until your breath is being taken away and all that is left are regrets and missed opportunities of happiness.

So she twirls like a princess in her imaginary ball gown, beaming with satisfaction, and taking pride in giving herself the give of success.

Of making her loved ones and herself proud.

She gets so carried away in the train of thoughts, in which one bougie is connected by another, and one more, that she doesn't notice the person who preoccupies the room.

The halt is so sudden, that she almost tumbles upon the man. Almost.

She manages to get hold of herself, her hand on his back.

He turns, eyes meet.

If someone would have asked her what is cosmic, she would have said "The melt of glowing ambers into ice blue." Sure, she has looked into them more times than she can count or recollect. But every time their orbs meet, the reactions the action produces, she can only give the word seraphic to it.

When Ethan left for Amazon, she would often wonder why is she still keeping the lamp of hope alive. His absquatulation broke her, acted like a spark to her over-thinking mind. She would lie on her bed, eyes tracing the same lines on the ceiling above her over and over again, thinking just what she did wrong. She never reached the end of the path though, never really achieved the answer, even after meandering through a hundred courses of thoughts.

But now, she thanks her old self for living through it all. For not letting that lamp extinguish. For keeping it safe in a little corner of the labyrinths of her heart. Wordlessly, she hugs him, the plethora of emotions becoming quite too much to be expressed in minute syllables.

His whisper next to her ears, the innocently simplistic words induce a shiver in her spine.

But the last word.

4 letters, 1 word.

It hangs in the air like a diamond necklace around a maiden's neck. Like a tiny pendant that shines brighter than all elaborate jewels, all lengthy anecdotes.

It's enough, more than enough for her.

And as their smiles slowly spread like the slow rise of the golden sun, gently letting the rays spread through the humble earth. And those smiles, they shine together, brighter than the Sirius.

Happy Birthday, Love.

-------

Her casual gown, bearing floral patterns, flutters along with the soft grass, she feels a sense of wonder. Whether at the shimmering moon, the stardust spread through the stretch in the woods, or at the simplicity of her surroundings, she does not know.

Her unassuming footsteps walk slow, observant of her surroundings. After walking down the trail, she stops at the clearance.

At a distance, something shines under the silver moonbeams. Her mind beckons her to return back, but her intuition asks her to move on. She listens to the latter's plea.

A small cuboidal box and a bunch of white tulips lay peacefully out of place. She usually would have left it, just in case it was a trap.

But this time curiosity overtook reason and she picks the bouquet up. A small note amidst her favourite flowers.

I love you

No name. No initials. But she knew exactly who had written it. Not because he was the one who asked her to come here, in the heaven hidden amidst the chaos, but because those flourishes of his fanciful lettering would never escape her notice. Even if the only source of luminance was distant fairy lights on trees and the faint moonbeams.

Her eyes travel away from the articles. At a distance, the silhouette stands. The same silhouette from her sweven. But this time, there is no restlessness, no rush, no tension in the air. No thunder cackles and no waves crash. This time the silhouette waits for her, unlike the last time when it was her waiting for him.

He turns, only the shine of his orbs visible. And the shadow of the gorgeous smile that dances on his lips. The last time, his stone mask was too heavy, too powerful for any of them to break or move.

But this time? This time, the mask has fallen off, it has met the end of its existence.

He comes closer, the shadow now a clear image. He goes and picks up the cuboid and hands it to her.

"Open it" He whispers in a soft voice, that disappears as soon as it appears.

She takes it and opens it, as per his words. Everything is perfect and normal.

Except for the space in the middle.

Something sparkles, in silver lustre. Her first instinct is, Diamond? She decided to pick it up

It's a key.

She looks up to him, bewildered. Is it what she thinks it is?

Move-in with me?

She places the box of chocolates down, the key held tight in her fist.

And then she kisses him.

She doesn't have to speak a word, but he understands. After all, why would two intertwined hearts need verbal responses to know what the other one feels?

Only his home, can fill the brick walls of his house with love, and make it a home.

------

They both lay side by side on the lush grass, hands intertwined, hearts beating in unison, silence filling their souls like air fills their lungs.

They look at the stars and the moon. Or more appropriately, the gaze at the starry screen, but the mind plays significant moments from their time together.

Pooja's mind however thinks about the four of her birthdays since she set foot in Boston. The mundane softness of them, contrasting all the birthdays she has had in the rest of her years.

The photo frame of the interns from the first year. The group video call, her life from the second year. The PJ party from the third year. And the key from the fourth.

They are puzzle pieces of the saga of her life, the absence of friends from early years, the gap, the void now filled.

And after years of searching, she thinks she has finally found it. Hidden in the normality, the simplicity, the mundanity of life.

Happiness.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics