#i’ll just reserve drawing for my 1 day off again

[a-drama-addict]

when the art block starts

[sungchansdimple]

Room 270B

Chapters: 1

Anton x Fem Reader

Friends to lovers

Based off a request

Plot: Your best friend Anton and you regularly meet in the same study room to study and rehearse. Anton invited another girl to the room and it bothers you much more than it should.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Chapter 1

RESERVED ROOM 270B  

2:20PM-3:20PM 

You take a photo of your laptop screen confirming the reservation to send it to your best friend Anton confirming you got the room again. Room 270B was a quiet study room in the far building on campus. It’s not you and Anton’s room per se but nobody else ever books it since that specific building on campus is never busy and you both usually have the entire half of the building to yourselves.  

Anton replies to your message by simply liking the image, he was never much of a conversationalist over messages, but he would never shy away from sending you what felt like a thousand memes while you were busy. You see the notification as your class ends, and you make your way over to the B building.  

The study room is a small space with a long table and four chairs. There’s a large blackboard on one wall and a projector on the other. It smells like dust and coffee but in a familiar way. You start setting up your laptop and textbook as you wait for Anton to arrive, his orchestra rehearsal usually runs late on Fridays. You plug your laptop into the projector and start copying the notes onto the blackboard with a fragrant blue dry-erase marker, organizing the notes into categories and images.  

The door opens and you hear the familiar sound of your friend's massive cello case being manhandled through the narrow doorframe. “Sorry I’m late reheasal-”  

“-Ran late. I know it’s fine.” You say as you continue writing your notes on the board. Anton smiles and shakes his head as he pulls a chair out from the table enough for him to make room for his cello. “You’ve moved on from making me buy you hot chocolate and snacks every time I’m late?” He asks as he adjusts the seat and undoes the buckles of his cello case. “For now.” You answer and finally turn to give him attention.  

He notices you turn around and looks up at you from his position, leaning down and opening his case while sitting in the office chair. He’s wearing blue jeans with a black shirt tucked neatly into them and a letterman’s jacket. His glasses sit lowly on his pretty nose from the angle he’s currently looking from, the frames resembling the one’s his father often wear.  

As Anton pulls the large instrument from its case, you move to sit at the chair in front of him, abandoning your notes for a moment. “Play something for me.” You suggest and watch him stand the instrument up in front of him. “What should I play?” His head tilts and he slips the gold and silver rings off his slim fingers. “Something I’ll like I don’t know.” Anton laughs and looks at you, “they don’t have a song called sleeping in until noon.” You roll your eyes at his sad attempt of a dig and poke his cheek. “Shut up and play.”  

Anton’s fingers slip into place as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to him, like he was more familiar with the four strings of his instrument than he is with walking or smiling. As if playing this instrument was easier to him than breathing. The melody isn’t familiar but it’s undoubtedly beautiful. The look of peace and passion in Anton’s eyes was your favorite part of watching him practice. There’s something so admirable about the way he calmly and quietly creates music that can uplift you on a bad day, lull you to sleep on a difficult night, or even draw you in when you don’t feel like company.  

When he finishes playing, he looks up at you expectantly. Your gaze moves from his skilled hands to his cute expression, and you smile at him. “You’re so talented, I think that’s my favorite one yet.” Your words put a proud smile on his face, and he places the bow on the long table beside you both. “I thought you’d like that one, I heard it the other day while watching a video and I learned it to play for you.” 

Your heart warms at Anton’s admission and you can’t help the light pink that dances across your nose and cheeks. “You should record it and send it to me so I can listen whenever.” He nods and takes out his phone, you know he’s about to put a reminder in it to tell him to record the song for you. Once he finishes typing, he looks at the projector behind you both then back to you. “Should you be studying?” You sigh and nod, knowing he’s right and you have an exam coming up. “Why’s you have to remind me?” Anton laughs and watches you get up from the chair and walk over to the whiteboard again. “You won’t be complaining when you do well on your exams.”  

For the rest of your hour in the study room, Anton alternates from playing different songs on his cello and checking his phone as a distraction. The soothing music he plays helps you focus and though you’d never seriously tell him, you’re grateful he joins you in room 270B to create a calming soundtrack for your studying.  

Anton’s timer goes off signifying that your time in the room is up. He silences the harsh ringing of the timer and starts packing up his cello while you erase your notes from the whiteboard and unplug your laptop from the projector. “Need a ride home?” He asks as he grabs your textbook for you. “Yes, I hate the train at this time... Thank you.” You reply while putting your backpack on. “I can carry that. You have a whole cello to carry.”  

Anton shakes his head and insists on carrying the textbook as he puts the straps of his cello case on his shoulders and straightens up. “I got it.” He says while strategically getting out the door without hitting the cello into the frame and almost making it as the top of the case thuds against the top of the door and nearly makes him fall backwards. You quietly laugh at him, and he shoots you a death glare. “Don’t laugh or you’re taking the train.” Knowing he would never actually make you take the train home, you roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”  

“I know.” He says while flashing a pretty smile at you and heading out of the room.  

Chapter 2

The ride to your house was much further than the ride to Anton’s dorm which was only five minutes from the building you had just left. While you’re helping him pack his cello and your books into the back of his car, he asks you; “wanna crash at my place tonight?” You pretend to think about it for a moment, but Anton knew you better than that and you had never turned down sleeping at his place. “C’mon we’ll pick up sushi on the way.” He says as he closes the trunk and climbs into the car.  

As you and Anton arrive at his dorm, his roommate Wonbin is on his way out. You’ve known Wonbin for as long as Anton and the two of you had more of a distant relative dynamic than friendship given the fact that you only saw him when you were looking for Anton.  

“If you’re staying the night, you can sleep in my bed. I just changed the sheets and I’m spending the night at Taro’s.” Wonbin says to you as he slips his shoes on and ties the laces neatly. “There won’t be crumbs on the pillow again?” You ask while tilting your head in an accusatory way. The last time Wonbin offered to let you sleep in his bed, you ended up on the floor due to the obscene amount of crumbs on the pillow and smell of cologne on the sheets. “I said I changed the sheets, not the pillowcase.” He says while laughing and grabbing his bag. “Up to you.” He adds before heading out the door.  

Anton laughs and shakes his head at the encounter between you and his roommate. “Are you gonna sleep on his bed?” He asks before setting up blankets and pillows on the floor creating a small cozy spot for the two of you to share the sushi he had bought on the way home. You told him you could pay for it, and he happily took your card just to stuff it in his pocket and pay with his own, earning him a smack on the arm from you and an annoyed groan.  

“I’m gonna try to sleep in his bed but if it’s like last time I’m taking the floor again.” Anton shakes his head at your words. “If his bed isn’t comfortable enough to sleep in, sleep in my bed and I’ll take the floor.” He turns the string lights on and sits down on the pile of blankets and pillows neatly arranged to create a cozy atmosphere. “Anton I can sleep on the floor just leave the blankets and-”  

“No.” Anton says calmly, though you know better than to push it when he speaks like that. You roll your eyes and sit down digging into the sushi with him. “You’re too chivalrous it’s annoying.” Anton laughs at your complaint while opening a can of soda. “Sorry I’ll tell you to sleep on the floor next time, maybe I’ll even throw some crumbs on the pillows to make it extra uncomfortable.” He says with a playful roll of his eyes.  

Once the sushi is gone, you help Anton carry the empty containers to the recycling bins outside his door. He holds the lid open while you put sort the containers into the correct bins. “That one’s green and that one... I think blue?” He says while carefully watching over you. You can’t help but laugh at how serious he was taking the recycling. After you were both sure you had done it properly you made your way back into the small dorm room and settled onto the blankets between the two beds.  

“Turn around I’m changing out of my jeans.” Anton says while digging through one of his drawers for what you assumed to be shorts or a pair of sweats. You turn around and hear him shuffling around as he changes. Once he stops moving you turn around, assuming he’s done.  

When you turn around, you’re met with Anton standing in a pair of sweats hanging low on his waist and no shirt as he pulls the sleeves of his hoodie through the armhole so he can put it on without it being inside out. Anton notices you turned around, and his eyes widen but he doesn’t hide himself. “Perv, I didn’t say I was done.” He says while laughing quietly and grabbing a pillow from his bed to throw at you.  

You know realistically you should turn back around and apologize or throw the pillow back before looking away but the sight of Anton like this; bare from the waist up, makes you realize you haven’t seen him in anything other than a hoodie or t-shirt since he was on the high school swim team years ago. You roll your eyes but only an idiot could miss the way your gaze followed the defined lines of his abdomen down to the low hanging sweats he was wearing.  

“I thought you were done!” You say as you throw the pillow back. To your surprise, he isn’t fast enough to catch it, and it hits him in the face. The sight of the soft cushion bouncing off his face and his shocked expression is enough to make you topple over laughing. “First you stare at me changing then you hit me with my own pillow?!” He says in a dramatic tone, but his cheeks were turning pink as he watched you laugh at him. “Stop!” He said before picking the pillow back up and swinging it at you. Your reflexes were much better than his and you managed to grab the pillow mid-swing while it was still in his hand. Knowing he was going to pull it away, you quickly pulled it towards you, but Anton didn’t let go and fell forward.  

The air is nearly knocked out of your lungs as he fails to catch himself and falls flat on top of you with the pillow still in his hand. He pushes himself up on his hands which are on the floor on either side of your head. His eyes are just as wide as yours and his entire face is blushing now. Before you can process anything, he gets up quickly and laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, I got carried away. Did I hurt you?” He says as he quickly fumbles with his hoodie trying to pull it on.  

You shake your head no, but your mind is somewhere else as the feeling of his weight on you and his gaze from above lingers in your thoughts. It was unfamiliar but definitely not unwelcome, and that thought terrified you.  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 1

Warnings:��non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rub your lower back as you enter the bakery. You focus on the simple task; just a loaf of bread. You have a weak spot for the sourdough there. Just thinking about it, you could salivate.

You wait behind another customer. You think she works at the bank but you’ve never been very good with faces, even in a small town like Hammer Ford. Others don’t seem to have that issue as your name easily rolls off their tongues. The whispers are getting louder now that you can’t hide as easily.

The bank clerk sidles along the counter and glances over her shoulder as you shuffle forward. She sends you a judgmental look but you reserve any of the same. Everyone knows she’s sneaking around with the manager down at her branch.

You tug your shirt down as it threatens to ride further up your stomach. Everything’s too tight these days. Everything’s uncomfortable. Your fingers linger on the hem, touching the taught flesh beneath. Four months now.

“Hi,” you greet the woman behind the till, “can I get a loaf of the sourdough. I’ll take the day old for the discount if you got it.”

She smiles brightly and repeats your order, asking if there’s anything else. You say no. You budgeted for the bread, even a tea would put you too close to the line. She grabs you a loaf and she keys in the day-old discount.

You pay as she slips the wrapped loaf into a paper bag. Before you can turn away, she stops you, “have a cookie,” she points to the plate of shortbread beside the small specials sign. “They’re not moving.”

“I can’t,” you argue.

“You’re doing me a favour. I don’t like to throw them away,” she insists.

You smile sheepishly and take a cookie, hugging the bag above your stomach as you turn and nibble on the cookie. You cross to the door, juggling your armload as you open it, and leaving without a look back. You hear your name again before the door closes.

Who’s the father…

That’s the big question. You’re not married, not dating, so who could it be? The same question got you kicked out of your mother’s house. The pharmacy let you the dingy bachelor above as you spend your days working a till at the front.

You won’t say it, even to dispel the murmurs. You know it wouldn’t solve anything, only add fuel to the fire. ‘She should’ve known better. The golden prince of Hammer Ford is a known playboy. Why wouldn’t she be safe? Why wouldn’t she be responsible?’ They wouldn’t ask the same of him.

As you turn onto the street, your arm hits someone else and you drop the cookie. It cracks on the pavement and you look down, leaning forward to see the ruins. You deflate. Oh well, it was free, after all.

“Sorry,” a voice draws your attention from the spoiled shortbread. You look up at the man. You know him, you think. Again, you’re no good with faces.

He runs his hand over his shaved head then drags it around his beard, “I’ll get you another.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you wave him off, “I should go…”

“Miss, it’s the right thing to do,” he insists.

“Really, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Me too,” he agrees. 

You tilt your head and push a shoulder up, “well, have a good one.”

You turn to cross the road, looking both ways. As you step down from the curb, the man does the same. Why can’t you remember his name? You swear you ran into him before. Down at The Horn with… him.

He walks parallel to you as you cross the street. You stop and look at him, confused.

“Just seeing you across, miss.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s very nice but you don’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously.

“I know. Just what I’m trained to do.”

You remember, he’s a soldier. Yeah, Thor mentioned that. Just thinking his name stings.

“Right, well, thanks, I appreciate that,” you put your hand on your stomach and haul the bag higher, turning toward the pharmacy just a shop down.

You hear him follow you again. It makes you nervous. Is he going to the pharmacy? It could be a coincidence, it’s a small town. Still, it’s very odd.

You go to the door just past the store entrance and take out your key. He comes right up and watches you, looming strangely at your shoulder. You hold onto your key and face him.

“You’re pregnant,” he says as if you don’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” you nearly laugh, “I am.”

“Shouldn’t be carrying all that,” he says.

“Just bread,” you answer.

“That father should be getting you bread,” he argues.

You’re put off by his demeanour. He speaks as if he’s giving orders to the world around him. You guess that’s just his nature.

“He won’t be doing that,” you shake your head. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t remember me,” he adds, “I remember you. You were dancing and drinking.” He looks again at your stomach. You put your hand over it defensively.

“I wasn’t like this then.”

“You weren’t,” he frowns then points to your finger, “no ring?”

This is awkward. Where everyone else in Hammer Ford is happy to whisper behind their hands, he’s interrogating you in the street. You shake your head and look down.

“Must not be a real man who did that,” he comments, “I’m Sy, just to remind you.”

“Sy,” you sniff, “right, I–”

He says your name first, “I remember.” He taps his temple, “I won’t forget.”

You swallow and the bag crinkles against your chest, “I’m… gonna go, uh, Sy, my feet hurt.”

“Be safe,” he commands.

“Thanks,” you utter awkwardly and stick your key in the slot. He stands staunchly as he is and as you pull the door open, he reaches to open it all the way and holds it, “got it.”

You keep the fragile smile on your lips and bow inside. He lets it close slowly and you pause to make sure he’s on the other side. You twist the lock into place and recoil. That was very weird.

[2000sangel]

✩࿐ DELTARUNE SPECIFIC MATCHUP COMMISSIONS - PART 1

Basics: I’m Meri! Female. 5’6”-ish. Pathetically pale. Long brown curly hair- very soft, very bouncy, very thick, like a sheep! Built like a stick and physically weak. Big brown eyes. Personality: (idk if you like zodiac or if it helps you at all either, but i’m a Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising?) I’m generally a very quiet and reserved person, especially during first impressions! I’m kind of a shy and anxious lurking shadow who assumes the worst until I get a good enough feel of a person, you know? Then I'm comfortable popping in! I tend to gravitate towards being "Designated Mom Friend" or "Big Sister Friend?" I love being able to make others feel better about themselves or to help them out. Maybe it’s because of some rough stuff in my past, but I never want anyone to feel similar to the ways I have. If you hurt someone I care about, I am never going like you. But if you hurt me? Eh..it’s not really new? I’m kind of…soft? I cry very easily, be it happy or sad, and its really frustrating-like a Ghibli character. Growing a backbone is a work in progress, and sometimes I worry I come off too harsh or mean when I actually use it. A friend once described me like glass; it’s fragile, but a broken piece can still really mess you up, you know? Glass-ness aside, my sense of humor is honestly very dry and sarcastic and you probably wouldn’t expect it out of me! I can get kind of angry over petty things and sort of clingy, but I’ll be fine after some time to let it all pass. I have some really gross depression bouts and lots of anxiety disorders that I do my best to juggle, but, sometimes I just have to shut down for a bit and sleep. Style: …comfortable? Grandma-chic? I just really like big, oversized sweaters and cardigans and anything that makes me feel comfy and snug. Likes: animals! cute knickknacks! taking naps, probably too many naps! binging things and going down weird rabbit holes! yokai/cryptids/mythical creatures! stereotypical villain characters! robots! Hobbies: videogames (I’ll try anything really but I’m bad at FPS)! drawing and writing but not sharing most of those with anyone! tarot reading! sewing and knitting! doing dramatic readings of things for my friends! Dislikes: warm weather/humidity. crowds. loud noises. retail HAHA love my job. sleep paralysis which yes I have also haha. My Love Languages are Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service, and I’m happy receiving any of them??? I think that’s all I’ve got uhhhh if you need more to work with let me know!!!

Matchups for : @merinomeri . Thank you so much for commissioning me! Commissions are currently unavailable, though this was very fun to work on <3

Hi !! This is the first part of a long commission post..Meri, thank you so much for commissioning me, again! It was a pleasure working with you, and I hope you're satisfied with what you got ^_^

Tenna

★ It's really no surprise that Tenna would fall for you; you're kind and patient with him when he needs someone to ground him during his outbursts, you’ve listened to him rant about his past and the relationships and connections he’s lost countless times, you always, always tune in to his show, literally and metaphorically. You’re somebody he can count on and he makes sure to be just the same for you. Even if at first he wasn’t sure how a friendship with you would’ve turned out, since you could be considered opposites! But here you are now, in a happy relationship.

★ Tenna considers you gorgeous, literally a star in the sky, and he never fails to remind you even just once a day. He says it during small talk after work, as you two share a drink before heading to his house for a while, or while you step inside of it and he purposefully lets you in first so he can stop at the entrance and dramatically point out your beauty. He says it during break, just as he’s about to leave to be on stage again. He also reminds it to you with little gestures; he thinks your hair is beautiful, therefore he’ll absentmindedly play with it as you sit beside him or on his lap, perhaps as you work on a personal project -which he will curiously ask about-. He will tell you he could stare into your eyes all day, which you’ll joke about being creepy.

★ He doesn’t mind how emotional you can get; he’s got his moods too, really, so it’s only fair that he supports you in yours. Although he’ll admit that he doesn’t enjoy seeing you cry, as it makes him emotional as well, so that might hinder his ability to comfort you. If you’re upset, it also becomes everyone’s problem somehow, thanks to him! …Until you have various talks where you reassure him that all you need is his presence and some comforting words. 

★ He reassures you often that, if you’re feeling down, you can absolutely use his private room at the studio as a napping room. He knows you just need a nap to recharge sometimes, so he doesn’t mind at all! He might even have somebody bring a warm drink to you at some point while he’s on stage, if you’d like that.

★ He’s also often worried about your sleep paralysis, and is definitely willing to wake you and hold you as you calm down if he manages to notice what’s going on. He’s got quite the disturbed sleep too, actually, so if you need to stay up afterwards he’s got no problem putting on a nice and chill program and letting you watch his screen until you fall back asleep comfortably. 

★ While you rely heavily on sarcasm, Tenna’s humor is more straight-forward and…well, how else to say it, he really loves puns! So he might not get it for a second if you throw a joke at him sometimes, before apologizing for taking it to heart and having a good laugh about it with you. He also loves making his name puns into little nicknames for you, a very cute habit!

★ Clinginess isn’t an issue for Tenna at all! In fact, he appreciates that you want to be close to him…either physically or not, and it somehow also reassures him that you’re not going to leave like many have done. He’s also a total gentleman when it comes to you, I’m talking ridiculously gentleman-ly: will absolutely lay his jacket over a puddle so you can walk over it without dirtying your shoes. Alright, maybe I’m just kidding on that one…but he would if it wasn’t a bit silly! He still likes showing that he cares by doing things in your stead the most, and by surprising you with small acts of service like a breakfast in bed if you spend the night in the Dark World with him.

★ I also see him as a knick knack lover, honestly, and it would be cute for both of you to be that way! His private spaces -office, dressing room, house- are filled with little, seemingly useless things that you’ve either gifted him or that he collected himself over the years. Hell, he even keeps his own merch on his desk! Of course he would treasure something gifted by you! 

★ Tenna takes interest in things you enjoy doing or learning about in general; you like mythical creatures? He’ll sit you down and air a program about exactly those just for you. You’re a video game lover? He’s letting you test out the ones he makes as challenges before anyone else can. You’re a creative person who loves art? He’s willing to be your muse (take him up on that offer…and share what you make with him, it’ll send him over the Dark World moon to know that he was an inspiration for you AND he’s one of the few allowed to see the product). Also, nobody on the crew is allowed to question the new knitted accessory sitting next to his TV pin on his jacket. 

★ I wanted to mention your love for dramatic readings separately, because I think he would have an absolute blast doing those with you! It actually ranges from those to testing out jokes delivery and lines before his on-air shows, you’re his trusted companion when it comes to that and it always makes the job at least ten times more fun!

★ All in all, your relationship with Tenna is one that has its highs and lows, like each relationship after all, but it also prompts you to be more ‘out there’ thanks to his often flashy behaviour. You present yourself more confidently, and his softer side is bound to come out at least whenever it comes to you, his loyal partner. 

Big Shot Spamton

★ Being in a relationship with a younger Spamton is surely an experience: don’t expect it to be anything other than a slowburn-like story that you desperately want the author to move forwards with! He’s a busy, busy man who’s constantly after fame and recognition, so this might mean he’s going to be less physically present, and as you’re just getting acquainted to each other still, he might even not be the nicest, but at the end of the day he can’t resist your sweetness. 

★ Some might even call themselves surprised after witnessing how differently he acts around you: his boasting is nothing new, really…but him placing a hand on the small of your back ever so often? Glaring at anyone daring to even just look your way…it’s painfully obvious that he’s into you, and soon, he officially begins asking you on (quite memorable) dates, only to move on to actually asking if you want to be his!

★ Spamton never really loses the habit of taking you on luxurious dates; even if you prefer cozier ones, he really wants to impress you by bringing you to the most praised restaurants, or by surprising you with short trips with gifts handpicked by him included. It flatters you, he actually acts like a gentleman, and you get to wear your cutest outfits, so can you really complain? Although he admits that staying in is nice sometimes, and so is having a little more modest dates where you can flaunt your pretty, snug clothes.

★ To touch on a different, more personal topic, Spamton is quite good at pep talks, surprisingly. He hates seeing you sad, he knows you are capable and a good person, so if you need a wake up call he’s totally your man. He’s not really one to tenderly compliment you, he’d rather do it matter-of-factly and act like what he’s saying is an indisputable truth -which it is-. He will also show you off to business partners, superiors, individuals he considers friends…to anyone, really. Knowing that he’s that confident when it comes to you really just makes your own confidence higher!

★ The first times you cry over something that he deems a bit silly, he’s taken aback. As time passes, however, he’s 100% there to hold you through it- in a private place, of course. Not that there’s anything wrong with public affections, it’s just that he’s quite the reserved guy on these matters most of the time, and this way he can comfort you better. Speaking of comfort, he’s somewhat hyper-aware while sleeping, so it’s easy to notice if you’re struggling in your sleep. A quick nudge later, he’ll pull you against his chest, reminding you that he’s going to be there no matter what. 

★ I will say that Spamton also really appreciates your sense of humor! He loves when he teases you or throws a sassy remark your way and you tease back; it makes for a fun dynamic that sometimes others don’t really expect, and he takes pride in it. 

★ Something cute about Spamton? He likes drawing. Be it doodling or actually painting, it’s his little secret hobby that brings him so much joy…so he’s happy to share this with you. Very eloquent when it comes to complimenting your art, it’s like he suddenly turns into a critic! His style might be more on the simpler side, but he’s got interesting concepts that he portrays in his art. Compliment him back and he will puff out his chest for sure!

★ He also appreciates your interest towards weird things! He’s usually more focused on more down-to-earth things, so hearing about whatever you’ve been researching is a good change of pace. He often surprises you with his impressive memory; you’re into yokai this week and have spent hours on end infodumping about them to him? He will somehow remember a very specific one and ask you to update on its research, when the usual conversations about his work become a little too monotone!

★ Overall, he tries his best to be a good boyfriend, really. He tries to be the kind of person that he failed to be when he first got his fame…and that he sometimes still fails to be! But you’re his personal breath of fresh air, and he wouldn’t change your endearing quirkiness at all. 

★ Were you to decide to give him another chance after he’s tried to take Kris’ soul, he would be ecstatic to have you back; after all, you’ve known him since the very beginning, so he considers you the person most dear to him in the whole Dark World. Now more lucid, he’s willing to make amends -in his own strange way- and would love to have your comforting presence by his side. 

[subway-boss-jericho]

(hammer anon)

A quiet conversation or something with Ingo talking while Emmet listens

It’s funny that you say this because I was actually! Going to draw the two of them talking kendnjsbwb in the end I got more inspiration from the room description (Probably because I’ve been trying to work on my environments/backgrounds more lately) if I end up doodling something I’ll try to share 

I do also. Adore every drawing you do (in general and also for this au) 

Ingo is alone under the water for a very, very long time.

Looking at you. 

Ough the. Ingo Knows Emmet wouldn’t abandon him and leave him there. Knows that emmet would be pulling every stop to help him out. I can’t imagine in worry he would feel when that just Doesn’t Happen. When he’s just left there completely alone, unable to move. 

Wondering about Emmet’s side too- is he worried? Does he try to help his brother out immediately? Think of a plan of attack only for it to fall through? Feel himself get more and more tired in time with Ingo’s own system slowing down? 

The amount of trust Emmet would have to have- just hoping that one day someone will be able to help. That people will recall them enough to do so. I know this is when they both have a lot more support from people, and tensions are likely at an all time low after this last Pokémon has been defeated, but having to ask the people who once looked upon them in fear or incomprehension for help… I’m sure it’s a scary thought. Not that he has much of a choice. 

It’s interesting to think about, actually. Time that is. I’ve seen the range of how far huisi is go from anywhere between 150 years to over 400, so I wonder how much time actually passes for them. [basing it purely off of when legends arceus’ time period Actually occurred, assuming b/w is in our current year (happy 2025!) the 150 years is more accurate. But it can be very easily argued that b/w occurs in the future, seeing the technology they have. Uh. Assuming they are waking up in b/w era. I am rambling about unimportant things again!]

Depending, it would be interesting for them to see how the stories of their fights has changed and evolved over time. How much of a presence they have in history at all! Wonder if they save Ingo from the depths first (biased on the vow made in the master post) and Emmet wakes up after a while Very disoriented and goes out to find his twin (which honestly has So much potential (funny and angsty)) or if emmet is uncovered by accident and by looking into why the heck there is a Whole Living Guy here they find out about ingo. 

The the! Extraction itself! I suppose they have a lot more technology now, so digging him up and hauling him out would be… easier? Could a boat carry him? I suppose it would depend on how off-shore he is. I’m having the mildly amusing thought of him just opening his mouth and a whole aquarium pouring out (but I think you implied he would not fill with water re: oxygen reserves) 

Then there is! Water damage! Idk if being blessed makes him completely impervious to corrosion. And like. The passage of time. If there is a current there he’s not going to be having a very fun time. There is also the weight of water, which he is at a depth he cannot fight against. The deepest a submarine has ever gone was roughly 36000 ft, (that’s the abyssal zone) but with most making it anywhere from 2000 to 3000 ft normally (the mesopelagic zone- but the number of which regular subs can go seems to very a Lot) 

To put it in numbers, 1 cubic foot of water is roughly 62 pounds. So 3000 ft deep would be around 187,000 lbs. which is uh. A lot (about 21 Asian elephants, if that helps). Half an inch steel plate can withstand around 30,000 lbs per square inch (without serious deformation) (to continue the Asian elephant measure, about 3.5 elephants). But submarine hulls are nearly 2 inches thick. Since ingo is made to fight Pokémon, one could assume his hull is pretty thick! 

The submarine that went around 36,000 ft deep had a hull thickness of 3.5 inches, so theoretically if ingo was as thick or thicker than that he could be under 2,232,000 lbs of water! (253.6 Asian elephants. If you’re wondering.) but that Does men he would be substantially harder to get to. 

Where the hell am I going with this. Normally I’d cut this stuff out but I’m just going to keep it in. This is what brain rot for this au has done to me /lh 

Anyway! It’s just interesting to think about the kind of condition he’d be found in. Not to mention his mental state, which I’m sure isolation didn’t help. And!! (The uh. Reason I was trying to figure out what depth he could withstand in the first place-) the kind of Pokémon he’d see. Bioluminescence becomes a more common occurrence deeper in the ocean, so I can imagine it could be… rather terrifying, depending. Just seeing random shapes in the darkness… once you’re over 3000 ft deep, no more light can reach you from the sun. Even then, at higher depths (~700ft) you’re mostly getting blue and green light. 

Basically! Ingo is not having a very fun time while awake. Even if nothing approaches him, he can’t move to protect himself and most things are completely unidentifiable. Verrry scary for anyone. 

Presumably he’s pulled up near Sinnoh, so I wonder what their plans are after recovering. I can’t imagine they are good to go immediately after. All That. (And I think both of them would like a moment to process that they are Both here and Alive and Together and also XXX years in the future). I think it would be a little more difficult for ingo to. Move around, due to the sudden population change and amount of cities and all. Do they ever go to unova? Or maybe to another place that isn’t. A relatively small island? 

Wonder if arceus had any plans for them after completing their initial mission. There’s always world ending things going on, but would any of them be serious/big enough for either to get involved? 

Then there is! Trains! I’m assuming emmet sees one and just. Marvels at its construction (probably a frequent occurrence in this new tech heavy world) and tells ingo about it? He’s much bigger than steady tracks ingo, so would he even be able to see them? 

And then there’s the whole!!! There are two guys from the past and can maybe shed some light on history. Cynthia would be Very happy to talk to them, both as a person who loves history and a champion level trainer! 

Which brings he to the idea that Many people would Love to battle with the twins. Wonder how Emmet gets a new crew (if he does, seeing as they are not exactly fighting huge Pokémon anymore. Might be important for upkeep though) and by that thought, what’s his relationships with the current day people? How is ingo received, seeing as people are both more open minded but also have never seen human ingo before? 

Ooo I went off. I have more thoughts but I’ll leave it at this for now! 

HI AGAIN!! Thank you for the ask and thank you soso much for your patience!

This ramble is about to get fucking long. Hold on to your butt.

Also descriptions of near death experiences, injury, and mentions of past death. Good luck!

A quiet conversation or something with Ingo talking while Emmet listens

Rereading this ask to reply to the whole thing I actually got absolutely blasted with an idea that will now haunt me until I manage to draw it to the extent I want. So eventually that soon.

Ingo hunched over Emmet completely, camera under him. Emmet is sitting on one of his triangle sensors with a small fire going, and through the holes in Ingo's shelter, you can see snow outside. Dark lighting from the shadow he's casting. Ingo has his forehead against the ground, eyes closed, and mouth open while he speaks.

Hopefully I can beam it into your brain, and draw it in the vivid glory it appears as in my head someday

Ingo Knows Emmet wouldn’t abandon him and leave him there. [...] I can’t imagine in worry he would feel when that just Doesn’t Happen.

Emmet would never leave him. Emmet would never leave him behind.

So then, why did he? Why hasn't he come back?

In the silence that question is forced to fester.

Was Emmet hurt? Did Ingo do something wrong? Were there more dynamax pokemon after he fell?

He can't help but fear for the worst. But in his mind, the kinder option is that Emmet just, knew. he knew Ingo was too much to take care of without destroying himself in the process. And so when he fell, he, let him go. He took his chance, went to live his own happy life, able to explore, make friends, and live life to the fullest without the weight of the promise he made dragging him into the depths beside him.

It's a kinder idea than the thought that he failed, and no one is left to come back for him.

But that "kind" idea means that he's done something wrong. That being this way was, in fact, too much to be loved. Just like the others, just like all the people he horrified, frightened, repulsed, Emmet too knew that he couldn't be sustained. Not while keeping the region happy and healthy. He's a dynamax pokemon too, after all. Even if he has a different coat of paint. He would destroy them, too- just, slower. kinder. less intentionally. Resources were already something they fought for.

they don't need a 120 foot mouth to feed. they don't need him.

he really hopes emmet is happy. if emmet is happy, then all of this was worth it, and everything is okay. he can stay this way. fulfilling his purpose, his life's duty to protect them, even from himself when necessary. and if he can stay alive a little longer, emmet can keep living a long, happy life. he might still come back for him someday. even if it's only to preserve his living battery and keep his happy life going strong a while longer.

it's easier to latch onto than the alternative.

Wondering about Emmet’s side too- [...]

Oh he's not just worried, Emmet is terrified. Ingo has never been hurt this badly before, and now Emmet can't reach him. His first attempt to go back failed, and the crew wouldn't be able to go with him if he tried anything riskier. The crew is scared of Emmet going alone and getting hurt, and eventually, they try to prevent him from returning for his own safety. Not until they can safely go with him, to make sure he isn't alone.

This proves to have been the right decision, as Emmet begins to grow more and more sluggish, losing that holy, blessed energy until he's actively being drained of it- passing out standing up, or at random times after blinking too long. He's started drawing up blue prints for submersible plans, but he doesn't have the time nor raw resources to create them. Emmet is being drawn into stasis, in part because of Ingo's desperation for Emmet to find him. It's part of the blessing. They don't share injuries, but when Ingo is hurt, Emmet can tell exactly how. And some small part of that is because he can feel it.

So when Ingo starts to grow more and more tired from trying to heal his open wounds, Emmet can feel it. He can feel hibernation stasis approaching rapidly.

The amount of trust Emmet would have to have- just hoping that one day someone will be able to help.

Emmet isn't just trusting the crew. He's begging them. He has nothing else to offer, but this is the only thing he cares about. He openly weeps about it, to them. He needs their help. He's going to fall asleep. He cannot do it alone.

He's heard the ways they talked about Ingo. He knows what they think of him. He knows that they don't trust him, like him, see him as a human being. But he begs them to save his brother's life in his absence. He begs them with every drop of blood in his body, and every ounce of holy power bestowed to him. Please, please help us.

It turns out, he didn't know as much as he thought he did. Over the year they've worked together, he's gained the fierce and undying loyalty of the region they've worked so hard to save. Ingo doesn't scare or repulse them. He isn't some monster, some enigma, some computer, some landmark, some tool. He's a friend, a brother, a son, an acquaintance, a hero, a kid. He saved all of them at the cost of getting to live his own life, and they can all see that clearly.

By the time Emmet falls asleep, scared though he is that he may never open his eyes, he sleeps knowing that his crew are going to do absolutely everything in their power to ensure that Ingo sees the sunlight again someday.

Emmet was expecting a lot of things, but hope wasn't one of them.

I’ve seen the range of how far huisi is go from anywhere between 150 years to over 400, so I wonder how much time actually passes for them.

I usually place Hisui around 200~ years behind modern day, but in Mecha AU it is 300 :] for flavor and enrichment.

Depending, it would be interesting for them to see how the stories of their fights has changed and evolved over time. How much of a presence they have in history at all!

I think the fine details aren't recorded as well/do get a little lost, but actually this whole period is as well documented as they were able to get it. After Emmet falls asleep, people begin keeping official records- Many had journals or other accounts of the events that happened before that, but as soon as the twins themselves go dark, they realize very quickly how important preserving this information is going to be. The legend of the twins themselves is integral to the history of the region and is extremely well recorded. In fact! They have a yearly festival in celebration of them. The Titan of Steel and The Engineer.

They are legends, myths of sorts. So, while not universally known even by the people of the region, they are major historical celebrities.

Following up on your next point- Ingo is saved first. Emmet actually, made himself a glass case that only opens from the inside. He currently lives in the basement of the Sunyshore lighthouse, and the crew knows exactly where he is. Despite their efforts, they have never managed to wake him. So, they need to find Ingo first.

The twins were not forgotten to time. The people of Hisui made sure of it.

The the! Extraction itself! [...]

It's gonna be complicated as hell. I am currently working with a friend on rewriting canon for the third or fourth time, but the summary of how things are gonna go right now is this:

More important than anything else in his recovery, Ingo needs to be healed and fixed. He wasn't able to get out of the water due to his injuries, and now sitting here stagnant has only worsened that problem. By the time Ingo gets out of the ocean, he's going to be mostly pulling himself out of the water- with external and internal help.

They are also setting up a huge dry dock for him, too, which I particularly enjoy. That way they can get him up and out of the water but still in the area for major repairs before being yote out into the big wide world.

He kind of needs help getting damage undone for that to happen, though. like the . brain damage, energy depletion, chronic injury, and severe dehydration/malnutrition. there are a lot of major hurdles they'll need to overcome.

I’m having the mildly amusing thought of him just opening his mouth and a whole aquarium pouring out (but I think you implied he would not fill with water re: oxygen reserves) 

Fun fact I actually did sort of write that. Yeah, when he leaves the water, there is gonna be a lot that pours off/out of him. Also- To answer the assumption, he isn't going to fill with water, but he does have a lot of flooded zones due to damage. He's got a lot of water in him, but thankfully, still enough air to make it.

Then there is! Water damage!

He's not impervious to corrosion, although he is highly resistant to it. He holds up really well up until the last stretch, in which his internal stores and reserves are getting so depleted that he can no longer passively resist the ambient erosion. So! Thankfully not as bad as one would expect. but. no he's doing pretty shit

There is also the weight of water, which he is at a depth he cannot fight against.

Unfortunately this statement comes with a major clarification that also defeats a lot of your following detailed breakdown, which wounds me personally because it's extremely fascinating. Ingo can't physically be more than 200~ish feet below the surface because he's only 400 feet tall. He needed to be able to stand upright and fight against Jellicent, which invalidates him being underwater any deeper than he could stand upright. Now- I do think he sinks into the sand overtime and does end up seabed level. But he absolutely cannot be a thousand feet or more under the water.

The reason he was unable to get up and leave is because of his injuries post-battle. This was a more recent decision because I realized it was kind of a plot hole if I left it like that- left it where Ingo couldn't resist the water's weight at all. It would make him leaving the water next to impossible, and also kind of didn't make any sense. So yeah, it's mostly due to his injuries after the fight, on TOP of the weight of the ocean.

I also have Thalassophobia, so I haven't really been doing research on how the ocean works 😔 Freaks me out too bad, I will get upset fast. I appreciate hearing the statistical research though, I have been wondering about it for a while.

Because you brought it up- his hull is definitely thicker than a few inches! I don't know exactly what thickness, though.

Where the hell am I going with this. Normally I’d cut this stuff out but I’m just going to keep it in. This is what brain rot for this au has done to me /lh 

I love you and this and I'm obsessed with you, please continue to talk about whatever you damn well please and know that I am listening with incredible enthusiasm.

It’s just interesting to think about the kind of condition he’d be found in. Not to mention his mental state, which I’m sure isolation didn’t help.

Yyyeah 😭😭 Physical summary: On The Brink Of Death. Mental Summary: Somehow Worse.

Mentally, he, kind of stops, acting human. His memories are starting to wear out from misuse and overuse, and as his reserves decay- like power -they become less and less accessible. He replays and relives the same memories over and over, trying to recapture the moments. (vague gestures........ the animatic. i will leave that there)

So, when finally boarded again for the first time in three hundred years, he doesn't really remember how to be a person anymore. He's only had his onboard systems for company, and his own mannerisms and language have fully adopted the same style.

So, in essence, he speaks like a computer, and it's basically impossible to tell that he is human instead of an advanced AI.

Physically..... He's absolutely terrible. The Lighthouse Watch (the descendants of the crew + new crew) have been doing whatever they can to investigate his burial site, dredge up any sand they can, and patch up holes- but there is only so much they can do. As technology begins to progress to a point where they can achieve more and more, Ingo has started to physically deteriorate. By the time they find and board him, he's probably months or weeks from death. Possibly a year or two. But not long. He is, certifiably, dying when they board him.

Emmet doesn't wake up until Ingo gets enough power to leave hibernation.

And!! the kind of Pokémon he’d see.

Well at first mostly just fish! Magikarp, Lumineon, Tentacruel, Corsola, Skrelp, Goldeen, Seaking, Seel, Staryu, Arrowkuda, you name it! There are a lot of fish in the sea (heh.)

Unfortunately, past a certain point, Ingo *can't* see. At all.

As soon as reserve power kicks on, all nonessential functions are shutdown. All of his sensory inputs, every door, every movement, every organ. Anything that isn't expressly keeping his body alive is suspended to preserve power for as long as possible.

Although, after the first hundred years, he couldn't hardly bear to open his eyes anyway. It only served to make him feel further and further alone.

Which is a shame, because it means he doesn't really get the chance to see the Dhelmise that claims him as its weapon, defending the territory against all manner of hostile pokemon and really turning his crash site into an ecological wonder. He has an ecosystem built around and inside of him wherever punctures from the outside let water in. It's a shame he doesn't get to participate in that, because it would have enriched his life greatly.

Ingo is not having a very fun time while awake.

Absolutely not, and your read of him being afraid is completely correct. He feels, helpless. The pokemon around him are so much smaller, but he can't defend himself if they attack.

Dhelmise actually steals some of his life force initially, before realizing the state he is in and the sheer depths what a grand being has been reduced to. His soul is so bright and intense and powerful, and yet it sits here, shriveling up and decaying away. It swears to protect him, to let the star burn up until it burns out. It will not let anyone cut this gargantuan soul short.

I can’t imagine they are good to go immediately after. All That. (And I think both of them would like a moment to process that they are Both here and Alive and Together and also XXX years in the future).

They absolutely are not and they both need therapy so fucking badly. badly. and processing that everyone they know is long, long dead, and yet did so much to ensure they could be happy in the future without them.

yeah. neither of them are okay. and neither am I.

It is harder for Ingo to move around. It already was, but having large cities and towns and roads makes it very difficult for him to move at all. They might have an opportunity to visit Unova at some point- There are some descendants of the crew that they would like to meet -but actually the main place they would visit is Galar.

It would have to be a ways out because both of them are very traumatized, but also, Ingo's primary source of power is dynamax energy. Getting to actually absorb dynamax energy from pokemon battles and raid dens would leave him feeling better than he has in centuries, and that place is already made for Large Creatures to be in it.

Broadly though, they do not get out of the region often. Because. Well. Travelling with Ingo is hard. Both of them hate flying over the open ocean for obvious reasons. But getting Ingo into a form that even makes him remotely capable of travel is going to take a while. (Dynamax pokeballs are involved. Emmet came up with the idea of a pokeball for dynamax pokemon hundreds of years ago, but didn't want to invent them for fear of putting Ingo at risk. So now he has a problem to solve AND he didn't even get to patent the technology. Stupid stupid stupid!)

Wonder if arceus had any plans for them after completing their initial mission. There’s always world ending things going on, but would any of them be serious/big enough for either to get involved? 

AbsoLUTELY not. Unless they rock Cyrus' shit out of the kindess of their hearts, they are not getting involved. Arceus is so incredibly proud of him, but they are already way too young for the burden that they had. Someone else will rise to handle those. These two need mandatory vacation time.

It went through all the effort to carefully orchestrate Ingo's perfect return to the region so that he could, in fact, be sustained without straining the society around him. And it did not go through all that careful planning to hurt them any further than they already were, by this. Now, they get to enjoy the world they fought for. It is going to ensure that.

Then there is! Trains! I’m assuming emmet sees one and just. Marvels at its construction (probably a frequent occurrence in this new tech heavy world) and tells ingo about it?

Emmet fucking LOVES trains. Ingo also likes trains, if only for happy they make Emmet. He can see them just fine, but he can never really get close enough to appreciate one without causing a lot of very expensive noises. You are also correct that this happens often. Being alive in a technological world has Emmet full of ideas for new inventions and technology, and he has so many projects he's working on that it would fuckin put ME to shame. He loves creating, and this world so full of tech is so enriching for him.

It also gives him a lot of chances to upgrade Ingo with new advancements, like the pokemon storage box, wireless communication, extensive databases, and things like that. Video game consoles. Fuckin, TELEPORTER!! PADS!!! Emmet is so excited to not need to walk everywhere.

And then there’s the whole!!! There are two guys from the past and can maybe shed some light on history. Cynthia would be Very happy to talk to them, both as a person who loves history and a champion level trainer! 

I haven't gotten far enough to figure out what their interactions with Cynthia would be like but I am confident that historians, tech geeks, and myth hunters alike are CLAMMORING to speak with them.

Which brings he to the idea that Many people would Love to battle with the twins.

Wonder how Emmet gets a new crew [...] Might be important for upkeep though) and by that thought, what’s his relationships with the current day people? How is ingo received, seeing as people are both more open minded but also have never seen human ingo before? 

The Lighthouse Watch/Crew is a generationally founded and governmentally funded non-profit organization with hundreds of members. Originally started from members of the original crew, The Lighthouse Crew now serves to gather resources and handle bureaucratic complications in order to help Ingo and Emmet survive, live, and thrive again.

The current day people treat them almost like stars or celebrities. Their legend has been passed down for generations, and like I mentioned, there's a whole festival for them every year. They do get overlooked by mythos and assuptions at times, you know how broad culture can be- but they are generally treated very kindly and with great sympathy.

People are far more empathetic and understanding of Ingo that either of them could have ever expected. Even though they've never seen what Ingo looked like as human, they still treat him like one. And that's more than they could have hoped for.

Thanks to the preservation of The Engineer, there are speculative recreations in history books and museum exhibits of what he may have looked like according to witness accounts.

All things considered, they are extremely overwhelmed at how positive, kind, and compassionate their people are. They don't know ANYONE, they have no surviving family- so they think -and they need to socially start from complete scratch. Which is basically an autistic death sentence.

But, with the head start their old friends gave them, maybe catching up again won't be as impossible as they first feared.

Thank you for the ask as always!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 I never stop appreciating them, and I am thrilled to answer every question that crosses your mind

Mecha AU Masterlist

[itsgodepi]

First Winners | MV33

Summary: After a challenging first season, you return to the Formula One world with renewed determination and lots to prove. You and Max have finally left your rivalry behind and the future has never looked more promising.  Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader Note: this is the second and last part of a collection called Chasing Firsts, being First Loser the part 1 of it. It can be read as a standalone but you'll understand things better if you have read part 1. Word Count: 11k Warnings: emotional distress, mentions of injury Also on AO3

“Sorry!” you shout, breathless, as you sprint across the track, heart racing with effort and pure excitement. 

It is one of those nice sunny days, where the sky is clear but the air remains refreshingly cool, just right for the snug embrace of the race suit. Ahead of you, the drivers are already standing on position, their brightly colored team gear popping against the backdrop of the asphalt.  

Formula 1 Gulf Air Bahrain Grad Prix 2022. 

Just reading the huge sign placed in front of the group makes your skin tingle, the thrill of the season ahead and the weight of what had come before thrumming in your heart.  

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Lando’s voice rings out, dripping with playful mockery, his face lighting up with exaggerated shock. 

The teasing begins immediately as you half-run to your place, playful cheering and clapping for your ‘long-awaited’ arrival. Your eyes find Max across the group —his signature grin spreads wide, eyes sparkling with amusement. You wave off their jokes with a smile of your own, shaking your head and quickly unknotting the sleeves of the suit from your hips. Not even five minutes have passed. 

"I had to take shots for the opening titles and all that stuff!” you explain, slightly out of breath as you slide into your spot. 

Your position is on the left side, wedged between Yuki Tsunoda and the McLarens. Behind you, the Alpine drivers stand a step higher, getting settled in for the photo. Daniel is quick to throw an arm around your shoulders, shaking you from side to side with an exaggerated cheer while you try to fix yourself. 

“Welcome back! We missed you” 

You look up at him, your lower lip pushed out in a joking warning “Don’t say that! I’ll cry!” 

Daniel just grins. “Oops. My bad,” he laughs, releasing you and falling back into position.

The photographers quickly signal they are ready. 

You also draw a smile for the cameras, despite the emotions that start bubbling inside of you. The uncertainty, the fear that your racing career was over and you wouldn’t get into a Formula One car ever again. You weren’t even lined up for a reserve driver role, left scrambling after Hass had terminated your contract late in the off-season. Every seat was covered.

And yet, her you were again, this time wearing AlphaTauri’s colors. 

The world seems to blur around you, your eyes stinging as you try and fail to blink back the tears welling up. You turn around, pressing your hands over your face in a desperate attempt to pull yourself together. You can hear the confused murmurs around you, drivers shifting slightly as they notice the photographers stopping their work. 

“What’s wrong?” someone asks, but before you could respond, Alex Albon’s voice rings out above the chatter, announcing to everyone within earshot, “Aw, she’s crying!” 

That was it —every driver and staff surrounding you turned into a mix of soft chuckles and sympathetic coos. You feel a hand gently land on your head from the spot behind yours, Fernando, offering a quiet, steady reassurance. Daniel also shifts beside you, using his body to shield you from the cameras as he begins to draw comforting circles on your back. You let out a shaky breath. 

Some things never change, you think. At least, this time, they’re happy tears. 

A couple days later, you find yourself standing among the drivers in a more composed manner. The pre-race buzz growing loud around you.

Max comes to stand beside you, flashing a grin and checking “How are you feeling?” 

You cross your arms in front of you, glancing at the grandstands and staff rushing around. Everything had to be perfect for the first race of the season. 

“Honestly? Weird,” you admit, scrunching your nose “It’s just... I don’t know” 

Carlos, catching the tail end of your confession, chimes in “You’ve already been through the hard part,” he casually shrugs “Now’s just like last year” 

You grimace, changing the weight from one leg to the other. The problem is that this could not be a repeat of last year, and yesterday’s qualy was clearly not helping that resolution. Sixteenth, for godness sake. 

“Yeah, but with the new team...”   

“Ah, don’t worry!” Lando chimes in, flashing you a cheeky smirk “No one will even notice the change, just a different shade of blue.” 

He wasn’t wrong. In your almost identical white race suit, only the blue details and deep red logo of Hass had been swapped for the completely dark blue parts of the AlphaTauri emblem. They could have easily photoshopped you into the start of the season’s group photos. 

You are fast to quip back “Says the guy who’s been a walking papaya for three seasons straight!”, nodding at his McLaren gear. 

“Excuse me, it’s four seasons,” Lando corrects, mock-offended as he dramatically clutches his chest. “Have some respect!” 

Carlos snickers, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, look at him, he’s a senior now” 

“Whatever” you shake your head, waving a hand in the air to dismiss their corrections. “But yeah, I was hoping for a darker color or something. They had some nice blue ones back when you were in it” you add, glancing up at Max. 

The Dutch, who had been quietly hearing the conversation, raises his eyebrows slightly. His eyes shifting between you and Carlos, his old teammate, trying to recall those days in Toro Rosso. 

You, on the other hand, remembered it vividly. That lanky teenager with rosy cheeks and a wide grin, who shyly laughed off the harsh questioning from the media and was still learning how to handle the spotlight that never seemed to leave him. Max Verstappen, then the youngest driver in Formula 1 history, had merely been a young boy thrust into the cutthroat world of racing, where every mistake felt magnified and the pressure was unyielding.  

And now, here he was, standing tall and confident next to you on his eighth season. He had transformed into a fierce competitor, coming off a runner-up finish in the previous World Championship and now fiercely hungry for his first title. 

Max sure had grown a lot. 

Just a few minutes later, a staff member gently interrupts your conversation, guiding your group toward the red carpet as the national anthem prepares to play. The Red Bull driver helps you weave through the crowd all the way to the front, and finds a spot right next to you as they finalize preparing the ceremony. The atmosphere around you hums with excitement, fans' cheers growing louder as everyone settles into place for the race presentation.  

It doesn’t take long for someone to notice that Max has given up his prime position at the center, as the race pole winner, for a place next to you. But by then, he’s already achieved his goal: calming your nerves with a few light-hearted quips, leaving you smiling even as he’s more or less escorted back to his position. 

Still, after the ceremony comes to an end, the Dutch manages to find his way back to you. Just to wish you good luck one last time. Max tries to do so seamlessly, thrusting himself into the sea of people and matching your pace as you walk back to your car —despite his own resting in the front row. The Red Bull mechanics waving their arms and making signs behind him, their expressions a mix of frustration and amusement, likely thinking he has forgotten his starting spot. 

“Be careful, though, no ending up in the curb today,” he calls out, a playful grin lighting up his face when you near the crowd of white and blue AlphaTauri personnel “You’re not a rookie anymore!” 

Your eyes widen when his words sink in, instantly transporting to last year events and how mad you had been at him. Those interviews and press conferences where you had been at each other neck, especially at the one Max references.  

He had pushed you to the edge —both metaphorically and on the track—, so calling him a rookie was the softest thing he was going to get from you. 

Max lets out a hearty laugh at your reaction, taking a couple steps back in his car’s direction. You roll your eyes, shooting him a playful middle finger which is thankfully hidden by the crowd of people still swarming the grid. No need to give the media something to buzz about before the race had even begun.  

In a twist of irony, despite Max’s playful warnings, it’s him who ends up in the curb in the season opener. Well, not exactly like that, a fuel system failure forces him to retire just a few laps from the end. But naturally, when he wanders into the AlphaTauri garage afterward to congratulate you on your impressive debut, you can’t resist the jab. 

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I deserved that." But his smile is genuine, a glint of pride in his eyes as he pats your back. "Nice job out there." 

It feels good. Really good. 

Qualifying may have been rough, and your aggressive overtakes might’ve drawn some criticism, but that day, you managed to score your first points for AlphaTauri and secure your highest finish yet. Eighth place. Not bad, not bad at all. 

You know you can’t promise this kind of result in every race, but it still feels like a statement. A message to all those who had questioned the team’s decision to sign you, who flooded the internet with doubts about your abilities. They chalked up your signing to desperation, to picking the only driver left on the market.  

Now, with a hard-earned finish in the books, you feel a sense of vindication. You have proved you belong here. 

Honestly, part of you understands their doubts. Not a single rumor had circulated about you being an option for AlphaTauri—or any other team—after a long break and the presentation of the new cars for the season. It had seemed clear: you had lost your opportunity in the F1 world, like many others. Once you stepped out, it felt like there was no coming back. 

Yet, just two weeks before the start of the season, you were walking into AlphaTauri headquarters to finalize your contract.  

From that moment, everything became a blur—papers to sign, photos to take, and a whirlwind of patience required to navigate your new life. Patience with your new team, with the bosses, and as always, with the media. 

In the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, the car starts having issues as soon as qualifying starts. The steering is a mess, failing to respond to every single one of your manoeuvres, and the engine loses power lap after lap. The result: the withdrawal of your car just before the end of Q2. 

It’s fine, you tell yourself, repeating it like a mantra. You’ll make do with what you have. You’ll forget everything when the lights go out. Even relaying a more polished version of it to the reporters. 

It is March anyway, more specifically Drive to Survive new season’s release week, so they don’t care that much about your Qualy. Their focus lies elsewhere: namely, your huge rivalry with Max Verstappen, the centerpiece of Netflix’s media campaign. 

A rivalry that does not exist anymore. 

“I mean, I understand the interest,” you accept, taking a sip from your newly acquired Red Bull can-shaped bottle to organize your thoughts. “Max was having an amazing sea-” 

Your sentence is abruptly cut off by a hand falling on your shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. You turn back in surprise to see Max himself making his way past, his PR minder close behind. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he shyly smiles, noticing he has distracted you from the question 

You wave it off “It’s alright”, looking back to the camera 

“We were actually talking about you,” the reporter interjects, seizing the chance to bring the two of you into the spotlight, already moving his microphone towards Max. 

Max raises an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and caution on his face. You can sense the tension; it’s no secret that you have not been nice to each other in past interviews. Glad it is not like that today.  

“About Netflix and all that” you finish for the reporter, noticing he wasn’t going to 

“Oh, right, did you see the posters by the entrance?” Max suddenly remembers, a clever shift in the conversation. Like you, he must have been receiving this type of questions all weekend. “They look straight out of a movie! The one where you are jumping out of the car is the be...” 

“Of me?” you cut in, pointing to yourself in disbelief. 

“Yeah, it's you! From back in Austria, I think” Max confirms with a nod, taking a step toward his waiting interviewer. That’s when the crash went down “They’re just by the gate, next to the security. You should check them out.” 

And just like that, Max has deftly diverted the spotlight and got you both off the hook from what could have been an incredibly uncomfortable interview. Sometimes, his media training does work wonders. 

Later, he even sends you a photo of the poster, and you have to admit it: you look amazing in them. 

Sunday morning dawns, and your sixteenth position on the grid is turned into a disappointing nineteenth due to necessary changes in your car's components. Last place. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that you hardly get to feel the weight of starting at the back, since the steering wheel starts throwing every known error at you the moment you drive out of the pit lane for the formation lap. The radio crackles to life in the middle of your panic, informing you that the car is also smoking. 

Just like that, your car is deemed unsafe to drive, and you are left to spend your second race seated in the AlphaTauri garage watching Yuki, your teammate, raise to P7. 

This time, it’s you who walk over to the Red Bull garage after the race, hoping to congratulate Max on his amazing race and to escape the celebratory cheers in your own. The moment is far more fleeting than when he had come to see you in Bahrain. Max all smiles and adrenaline, skin glistening with champagne as he pulls you into a brief half-hug in the crowd of mechanics, before he’s whisked away to a meeting room for a post-race debrief. 

He’s the winner, after all, and the season seems to look better for him with each passing race. 

Meanwhile, for you, things only going downhill from there on. You’re doing terrible in qualifying, and fixing it in the race turns into an almost impossible mission as the rest of the cars swarm past, easily overtaking you even in the slowest sectors. 

Those words of encouragement from Bahrain morph into doubtful glances once again. It doesn’t matter that you beat your own record with a seventh-place finish in Imola or that you manage to get within the points in Spain after a grueling race. The media decides to deem that performance “inconsistent” instead, and it stings. 

Then comes the Canadian Grand Prix, a moment that seals your fate. You had climbed the grid from seventeenth place with sheer determination and some questionable overtakes, you were pushing it to the limit and the strategy was looking so promising. Lap 58 and you had managed to reach P9.  

But as you exit the pits on your final set of tyres, everything comes crashing down. 

“There we have it. Comes out of the pits on cold tires and goes straight on into the barrier” the sportscaster's frustration is almost palpable as they show the footage of your onboard camera “Such a shame” 

The clip replays in your head and the TV on a constant loop. The way you accelerated and simply lost control, as if it were your first time in a Formula One car. Do you even know how to drive? —it’s basically what Esteban Ocon had screamed over the radio during your battle in the opening laps, and at this point, you’re starting to believe it yourself. 

Your phone buzzes over the hotel bed, pulling you out of the haze. It’s Max. 

Didn’t see you back at the garage. Hope you’re alright. 

You leave the message sitting there, unread, unsure of what to say. It’s the first time you’ve skipped seeing him after the podium, breaking what had quietly become a tradition between the two of you since the Abu Dhabi GP. Max comes to your garage when you secure a decent finish, and more often than not, you head over to Red Bull to celebrate his wins. But yesterday, you couldn’t face it. 

A few minutes later, another buzz. 

Got a plane back to Monaco with a few of the guys. You’re welcome to join.  

Thought it might be better than flying alone. 

You hesitate, the idea of being around the other drivers feels exhausting right now. 

It alright, Max. I already got the flight back. 

Thanks 

His response is instant. 

If you change your mind, we’re leaving in a couple hours. Just let me know. 

After the summer break, you return to the paddock with a new mindset. You have made a decision to not to care anymore. Not about the whispers, the criticism, or the endless pressure to prove yourself. Last year, you achieved a dream you had been chasing since you were a child—your first season in Formula One. And yet, instead of soaking in the accomplishment, you had spent every race weekend consumed by the opinions of others. 

You are not going to make the same mistake this year. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your time in Formula 1, it’s those opportunities like this, to redeem yourself, don’t come twice. So, you are decided to block out the noise. If people want to talk, let them. You have a job to do: racing. 

But life has a way of throwing curveballs. 

It’s Qualifying day at the Belgium Grand Prix, and the paddock is alive with the usual pre-session buzz. The weather, typical for Spa, is unpredictable —dark clouds loom over the track, threatening to turn the session into a chaotic lottery as the track slickens. 

Unfortunately, you have found yourself being kicked out in Q1. You were pushing, clocking good lap times, but the worry about your wheels slipping on the wet asphalt held you back from going full throttle. As the session concludes, you can’t shake off the disappointment. 

You discuss possible questions with your PR minder while waiting for your turn in the media pen. Your gaze drifts occasionally to the large screen nearby, watching the remaining drivers test the limits of their cars in the second session. 

Suddenly, your stomach drops, and your heart races as you see a car spin out of control on the screen. It takes a moment for your brain to register the scene; it’s Sergio Perez. The monitor shows him losing grip during a fast lap, the car sliding wildly before crashing into the barriers. A collective gasp fills the media pen, and your breath catches in your throat. 

A couple of hours later, Red Bull officially announces what everyone feared: 

“Following a severe accident during Qualifying today, Sergio Perez has sustained a wrist injury that will prevent him from competing in the Belgian Grand Prix. He is currently receiving medical attention, and we wish him a swift recovery.” 

The weight of the news hangs heavily in the air, and as fans and media begin speculating who will fill Checo's seat for the race, whispers circulate around the paddock. Some believe Yuki, with his existing experience in the Red Bull family, will be the front-runner for the seat. Others argue that Liam, fresh off impressive performances in F2, might be a bold choice but also an intelligent one. 

It is safe to say that, when your name is announced in the following statement, nobody is expecting it. 

Your new photo, clad in the Red Bull race suit, plasters itself across every headline, every social media feed. The press loses its collective mind. 

From the back of the grid to Red Bull’s frontlines: A risk too far? 

The mistake that could cost Red bull the constructors’ title 

An erratic driver in a top-tier car. Will she crumble under pressure? 

Inconsistent and unreliable. The weakest link signed for Red Bull’s title chase? 

Every headline, every article paints the same picture—Red Bull taking a reckless chance with you, questioning your consistency and readiness for the top-tier spotlight. It’s as though no one remembers the flashes of brilliance you’ve shown, only the times you’ve faltered. 

You can’t help but notice the lukewarm response from Christian Horner when he arrives to the paddock on race day.  

"We’re giving her the opportunity, and she’ll have to show if her performance is up to our expectations." declares the Red Bull principal. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. More like a public trial, and you’re the one on the stand. 

But Max? Max defends you, openly and unapologetically. 

“Everyone’s being so quick to judge, but no one gets on this level by accident” he is asked about innumerable times that morning pre-race, and his response is always firm. Leaving no room for doubts “She’s more than capable.” 

It’s a bold statement, one that earns Max a few raised eyebrows and more than enough jokes about needing to be saved from his PR team. But he doesn’t care. He stands by you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’ve got someone in your corner. 

The pre-race ceremony feels like a fever dream. Drivers and team members pass by, offering fist bumps, handshakes, and quick words of encouragement. This time you are ushered to the front line for the race presentation, to stand next to Max Verstappen because that is your place right now. As his teammate. 

"You do look better in blue, I’ll give you that" he whispers with a teasing grin, giving you a playful nudge 

“Told you” you smile up at him, genuine happiness pulling at your lips "Guess I’ve got to prove I can drive just as well in it too." 

"You will" Max responds, his tone suddenly serious, but there’s no pressure behind it —just belief.  

When the lights go out, the roar of the engines swallows your every thought. You’re starting P13 as a result of Checo’s accident, but as the race unfolds, you move higher and higher in the grid. By lap 30, you're in 8th, and there’s no stopping you now. The Red Bull feels like a beast under your hands and you’re squeezing every bit of power out of it, pulling off daring overtakes with a confidence you didn’t know you still had. 

Each overtake, each maneuver, pulls you higher up the grid. By the time the final laps roll around, you have somehow managed to slip into P3, a podium spot within your grasp. This is surreal.  

Still, Carlos Sainz’s Ferrari is looming large in your mirrors. He’s fast, too fast, and he’s on fresher tires —he is not the one who had to fight half of the grid to get into this position. You know it's only a matter of time before he makes his move, but you defend like your life depends on it. 

The Ferrari dives down the inside after the straight, and you can't hold him back any longer. He slips past, his car a red blur as he takes P3. The podium slips through your fingers, but you hold on to P4, pushing the car to its limits until the checkered flag waves. 

In the media pen afterward, the energy is electric. You raise with confidence as the reporters wave his congratulations and questions. They press you for details, dissecting every turn, every near-miss. One reporter brings up the moment mid-race where you almost went off-track, and you grin, leaning into the microphone. 

“Oh, yeah, look...” you sigh, laughter bubbling up inside you “Max told me to try his settings this weekend and, wow” 

The interviewer chuckles at your reaction, but he really doesn’t know the half of it. It's unlike anything you’ve driven before, a razor-sharp font end and a rear looser than you've ever seen. The result of it is an extremely sensitive car, unpredictable, always on the edge of losing control.  

“It’s hard to get used to, but you know... you don't argue with someone who's going to be the world champion." 

A new announcement comes like a wave crashing over the F1 world a few days later: Sergio Perez will be sidelined for up to five races due to his wrist injuries. The rehabilitation will be long and difficult, but the doctors are optimistic about his full recovery. The news spread like a wildfire, the weight of expectation settling heavily on your shoulders. You’ve had your fair share of ups and downs this season, but stepping in for Checo? That was definitely not on your bingo card. 

Arriving at Zandvoort later that week is a surreal experience. This time, you’re not just las minute filling in, you step into the paddock as a —somewhat— confirmed Red Bull driver for the start of a race weekend.  

You’re dressed head-to-toe in the signature blue and red, the bold bull logo stamped on your chest for all to see. It feels like a second skin, but at the same time, heavier than you expected. Honestly, the simple attire by itself draws a lot of attention, more than you wanted —though, sorry to disappoint, you’re clearly not Max Verstappen.  

At least, when you finally step into the Red Bull garage, the cameras and the blatant stares don’t follow. Your eyes shift through the garage as you try to gather your bearings, taking a deep breath, but someone quickly catches your eye.  

Victoria. 

The sight of her sent a wave of warmth crashing over you, and you rush forward, surprising her with a hug that she instantly reciprocates. It has been so long since you last saw her, only got meet her a few times during your seasons in F3 and F2 when you came to the Netherlands. 

“Oh, look at you!” Victoria whispers, her voice thick with emotion as she buries her head into your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, really proud. This is huge” 

“I know, it’s not in the best conditions but-” you lament, voice lightly trembling 

“Don’t say that” she pulls away to look you in the eyes, still firmly holding your hands in hers, and you feel like a small teary child again. “You deserve it, this opportunity. Nobody gave this to you, you’ve worked for it” 

“I wish you were here,” you confess, letting go of her right hand to wipe the stray tear rolling down your cheek. Victoria squeezes your hand, probably a bit overwhelmed as well, so you decide to lighten the mood a little “Your brother’s too good” 

“Are you saying I wasn’t?!” Victoria shots back in faux indignation, giving you a playful light push. 

“But you’d at least let me pass.” 

“Yeah, I would have,” she states, confidently, her smile brightening the moment “I’m glad you two fixed things.” 

The mention of last year’s chaos weighs heavy in the air, you take a deep breath, “Sorry for not coming to see you last year. That was... a hard weekend.” 

The 2021 Netherlands Grand Prix was a weekend you'd rather forget. You’d felt exposed, vulnerable, and, honestly, betrayed by Max. Even though you were never more than acquaintances during your karting days, and the fact you had clashed so badly during that season that season, you thought him, more than anyone, could understand what being crossed by the media was like.  

At that point especially, when, after weeks of leading drama-filled headlines, that video of you completely broken after your crash with him had flooded every social media platform. He should have known better than to approach you in such a delicate moment. 

But, anyway, all of that was now forgotten. 

“I know,” Victoria’s expression softens at the memory. Her eyes reflected the same pain you felt, and the understanding between you two was palpable “Max wanted mom and I to check on you since the team was dragging him everywhere, but well, he got to you first.” 

That surprises you. You had guessed Max caught wind of the release of the video before approaching you after the race, but you supposed he just wanted to save his ass in what looked like an awful-looking media scandal. Never to check how you were feeling. 

Someone media team swoops in just as you and Victoria are settling down, pulling you away for promo videos and media duties. You nod, giving your friend a parting smile, and follow them toward the motorhome where the familiar sight of cameras, mics, and branded backdrops wait for you. The Netflix crew is also buzzing around like bees, documenting your every step just in case you trip. 

Max is already there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing that signature smirk.  

“Took your time,” he says, raising an eyebrow as you approach. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.  

"Blame your sister," you say, nodding toward the garage where you last left Victoria. “She’s distracting.” 

Max chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and coming closer as the crew sets up for the first video. “Told her to hang around for a bit, hope recording doesn’t take too long.”  

You are guided to stand by a table with portable cooking stoves, different ingredients and cooking utensils perfectly laid out for you to use. The arrangement seems to spark a realization in the Dutch’s mind.  

“Oh, I almost forgot it. My mother wanted to invite you over to the house for lunch, or dinner, or whenever you want really...” Max trails off, scratching the back of his neck “I’ll just go pick you up at the hotel” 

You blink in surprise. Lunch with Max’s family? It’s been years since you and his sister were close enough to even consider something like that. The thought makes you feel warm, almost nostalgic for a time when things were simpler.  

“I’d love to, but—” you gesture around, the motorsport chaos swirling around you both, “I’ve got a lot to catch up on, car stuff, strategy... I want to focus.” 

“That’s okay” Max nods in understanding, and you notice there’s an ease to your interactions now that wasn’t there before. “But don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?” 

From them on, the weekend unfolds with lots of promo recording, meetings with the engineers and adapting to the team. 

Qualifying is... bad? Honestly, it is the first time ever in your career you have entered Q3, which, for you is huge milestone, but the high expectations put on you make it seem like an even bigger failure.

Max is second, at least, which can make for an easy race win despite the poor help his teammate can guarantee him. 

Race day also brings a whole new set of challenges. The weather at Zandvoort is temperamental, shifting between light rain and slick track conditions, and making tire strategy crucial. The pit calls come fast and frantic, and in the heat of the moment, you make a mistake. You swing in for the tire change and, surprise, the mechanics don’t try to even touch your car, but instead they start standing up and getting out of your way. 

It takes you half a second to understand what is happening, but when you see the white overalls, you immediately push the gas pedal. You’ve stopped in Haas’ garage.  

The mechanics from both teams wave frantically, guiding you to the correct pit box, but not without some laughter.  

“Sorry, too many changes in one year” you mutter into the radio, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks beneath the helmet

Your race engineer is quick to reassure you "No problem," though you can still hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.  

Cameras catch the Red Bull and Haas crews chuckling after your departure, and even the commentators can't hold back their amusement.

You get driver of the day too, for some reason. 

Later that night, just as you finally collapse onto your hotel bed, exhausted, Max sends you the clip of your pit stop mishap with a string of laughing emojis. You sigh, a tired smile tugging at your lips. You’ll have to get used to these post-race celebrations —Max is on the way to sweep every single trophy this season.  

Another win at his home race, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face all night. For you, a consolatory P5. You will do better next time. 

Asshole 

Go to sleep 

Before you can even roll over, the Red Bull driver is already writing back. You pull the covers over yourself and turn off the lights, waiting for his reply to light up your screen. 

Can’t

I’m drunk still 

Did you get to the hotel alright? 

You can almost hear the slur in his words, even through the letters. It takes a second for you to reply. 

Yeah, just got here 

I’m so tired, seriously, am not fit to party every week 

You have to stop winning so much 

There’s a long pause, the kind that makes you think he’s finally drifted off. But then your phone buzzes again. 

Okay 

I won’t win next week 

Promise 

A smile tugs at your lips at Max’s messages, warmth spreading through your chest at the silly prospect, and you tap out a quick reply. 

Like you can help yourself 

Good night, Max. Get some sleep. 

You fall asleep before you can see his good night message, the events of the day finally taking a toll on you. 

In Italy, everything feels different. Max and you fall into an unspoken rhythm thanks to the convenience of being in the same hotel. Every morning now begins with a knock at your door, the familiar sight of Max waiting to walk with you to breakfast, and then sharing a car to the track. This continues at the paddock as well, though Grand Prix’s weekends are always a chaos. You suffer through meetings, recordings and PR obligations side by side, exchanging glances when things drag on too long or when something utterly pointless is said. And sometimes, if you are lucky and the schedules align, you can even get to spend some low time relaxing back at the motorhome. Not because you are obligated, but because you want to 

It is a welcome change. You have never been this close to a teammate in your time as a professional and Max Verstappen, contrary to all your previous thoughts about him, seems like the perfect person to have that experience with. 

On Saturday, the meeting with the engineers stretches long into the evening. Despite the success of qualifying —better than expected, even, you’ve secured a solid P4, just a couple sports behind Max's P2—, the debrief is exhaustive. The engineers dive deep into every tiny detail: tire degradation, fuel consumption rates, weather forecasts, braking zones, and a million other things you’re digest in time for tomorrow. Your brain is buzzing by the time it finally wraps up. 

The hotel’s restaurant has already closed by the time you roll into the lobby, and you both groan in unison as the realization hits —there’s no food in sight. The trainers, ever vigilant, push you both into the elevator, their meal-prep containers left earlier in your rooms supposedly your savior for the night. You know what's waiting for you though, and it's not appealing. 

“I can’t eat another freaking rice bowl,” you whisper once the trainers step out on one of the lower floors, the mere thought of it making your stomach turn. 

Max chuckles beside you, rubbing his stomach in agreement. “I think I’d rather starve.” 

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a moment, digesting the reality awaiting you. The floors of the elevator flash by on the display, climbing higher and higher toward your rooms. 

“I mean...” Max starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator wall with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I did see an open pizza place down the street when we were driving by” 

“But tomorrow’s race day...” you mumble, trying to reason with yourself as much as him. 

“Yeah...” Max nods, giving you space to mull it over. 

The elevator dings and opens on your floor, and Max straightens, preparing to walk out and head toward the sad prepped meal waiting in his room. But just as he’s about to take a step, you reach out and grab the fabric of his shirt, halting him. You press the button to close the doors again, making a quick decision. 

“Okay, but you’re not ordering!” you say, a grin starting to creep onto your face. 

Max bursts into laughter, leaning back against the railing again. “Alright, alright.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself, glancing at the two of you in the mirror. Both of you are still fully decked out in Red Bull merch from head to toe —Max even has his cap with his number 33 embroidered on it. This has to be the stupidest idea ever. 

“The fucking Max Verstappen ordering pizza at 1 a.m. on the night before a Grand Prix,” you shake your head, already imagining the headlines. “As soon as they see you, they’re gonna freak o—” 

“Like you’re any better!” Max interrupts, a teasing grin on his face. 

Luckily, you manage to get through the pizza run with only a couple of selfies snapped by the restaurant owner and a few late-night customers. Once the pizza box is securely in hand, you both make a quick dash back to the safety of the hotel. It’s too late to hide your little escapade from the trainers —the notifications on your phone are already rolling in. But with the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting up to your room, you decide not to care. The film Max picked playing as a mere background as the two of you scarf down the greasy treat. 

The next day, the Italian Grand Prix dawns with bright sunshine and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each lap feels like a heartbeat quickening, anticipation pulsing through you as you steadily climb through the positions. Your focus is razor-sharp, each corner, each straight, a delicate balance of precision and control. Max is just ahead, having commanded the race since the second lap, and after battling off the Ferraris and Mercedes, you’ve finally latched onto his tail. P2. 

You push hard, feeling the car respond beneath you with perfect precision, each movement sharp and purposeful. You’ve fought off them off, but they’re still close, their pace threatening to catch up any second. You need to widen the gap, and you try to close in on Max to let him know exactly that. 

But something feels off. Max doesn’t pull away, sometimes to the point you could easily overtake him.  

What is happening? It’s not like he’s letting you pass, he is perfectly blocking the path, but why does he seems to already be at his limit? 

“News on Plan X?” you ask over the radio, using Max's code name for some privacy. Better not to raise any alarms if they decide to put it up on TV. 

“No changes”  

You furrow your brows at the quick response of the race engineer. That can’t be. You could —easily— overtake him. Your pace keeps decreasing with every lap spent behind Max, the difference even making it difficult for you to maintain a comfortable gap between the two. 

Maybe they don’t want to tell you there’s a problem? Or don’t see it? Is it his tires? Did he get any damage? It doesn't make sense, why are you faster? 

Despite the way your instincts scream for answers, you decide it’s better to keep quiet. A double podium is on the line, you can’t be fighting Max. Of course you want to win, to show your worth, but you also have to be a team player and these points are extremely important for Red Bull and, of course, for his championship. 

The familiar silver and blue machine looms closer in your rearview mirror in the middle of your internal battle. Lewis Hamilton is relentless, shortening the gap between you with pure experience and determination.  

You push down on the throttle, focusing on the track ahead, trying to distance yourself from him as best as you can while protecting Max. You change your line, block him at every turn, do everything to keep him at bay. 

But with just three laps to go, despite your best efforts, Lewis finds his moment. He slips past with surgical precision, and the sting is immediate. Frustration surging straight from your heart. Could you have passed Max? Could you have won this race? Yes, says a voice in your head, you could have. 

But it’s too late to act on it, you have betrayed your instincts and now you can only watch Hamilton as he pulls away.

P3. 

As you cross the checkered flag, though, all the frustration takes a backseat in your mind. Finally, you have made it. You’ve secured a podium, your first one ever.  

The moment you park the car in front of the sign with a number 3 and pull yourself out, a tidal wave of emotion crashes into you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar from the team. You can’t even keep yourself upright. Your legs feel weak, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.  

You lean into the car, burying your head in your hands, your helmet still on as tears flow freely, the overwhelming joy and relief of this moment too much to hold in. 

Before you can fully grasp the moment, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you upright. Max is there, his face alight with pride and joy. He helps you remove your helmet, the tears still rolling down your cheeks, and pulls you into a tight hug. His laughter bubbling through the noise. 

"You didn’t want to win, huh?" Max yells over the cheers, a wide grin on his face. "No more parties, you said? You were tired!" 

His joy is contagious, and for a moment, you forget the exhaustion, laughing through your tears.

When he finally breaks away from the hug, it’s only to help you step onto the nose of your car. You try to protest —it’s his victory, after all, not yours— but Max doesn’t give you the chance. He lets go of your hand and steps back toward the barriers, your helmet still in his hold as he cheers for you alongside the team. Leaving you to bask in your moment. 

Your dream come true. 

The celebration is everything you had imagined and more. The deafening roar of the crowd, the weight of the trophy in your hands, and the surge of pride coursing through your veins feel surreal. It’s all too much and yet exactly what you’ve dreamed of. The champagne flies in all directions, and Max and Lewis make sure to drench you in it until you're soaked to the bone.

By the time you make it to the post-race conference, your skin has become a sticky mess, and your hair —well, that's a lost cause. 

“An incredible race today!” the presenter congratulates you at the start of your round of questions, “It’s been a long journey to get here, hasn’t it? We’ve been waiting for you” 

 “I know!” you laugh, nerves still fluttering, but adrenaline keeping you afloat. “Finally got a race with nice weather. I’ve always hated the slicks, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

“That's not true! You’ve always been good on rainy days,” Max interjects from his relaxed spot on the sofa, picking the mic unprompted for the first time 

“What are you talking about? I almost ended up on the gravel in Spa last year,” you throw him a sideways glance, incredulous “Two times!” 

“No, I meant, like, back in karting,”  

“Ah, seriously?” you sigh, exasperated but amused, finally catching onto where he’s going with this. Max lets out a low chuckle, and you turn to Lewis and the interviewer “You know why he’s saying that? It’s because when that inchident thing with him and Charles happened, I was third all through it.” 

You can almost see the journalists in the room perking up, pens poised with renewed energy. You’ve never really talked about this before —there was no need, especially since the main character on it hadn’t mentioned you either—, so this was probably news to everyone.  

Honestly, you weren’t sure Max even remembered you being there. 

“And you know,” you continue, getting into the swing of things, “those two were driving like we were playing Mario Kart or something. Max pushed Charles out to seventh. Charles came back up and almost crashed into me. That was a disaster!” 

The interviewer grins, playing along with the banter. “Did you also end up in a puddle?” 

“I actually won when they got disqualified,” you reveal, shaking your head as you look back at Max. His fond smile swiftly drawing one on your lips. 

The fact that both of you are starting at the front of the grid, while the Ferraris languish in fifth and sixth, only heightens the expectations. It feels like everything’s falling into place. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be the night Max brings home the title he’s fought so hard for. 

The Singapore Grand Prix looms large, buzzing through the paddock with one question on everyone’s mind: will Max bring home the championship today? Five races before the end of the season?  It’s a delicate balance. For Max to seal the deal, he not only needs to win but also relies on Charles to have a disaster of a race —preferably a low grid finish or, better yet, a DNF.

It's unlikely, Singapore is not usually the scenery for those surprises, but you're allowed to dream.

“How am I going to sleep tonight?” you murmur as you pull the room key from your bag. You’re restless, still wound up from the qualifying session. “I’m all like, I don’t know. I feel like I could run a marathon right now” 

“Not going to follow you on that one,” Max chuckles, low and tired, stretching out his arms as he follows you out the elevator “Sorry” 

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet as you make your way to your room. You look around. It’s a nice hotel this one, with a good gym and a big room. Such a shame the weekend has been so chaotic. 

“Must be nice being so relaxed”  

“Well, wasted all my nerves in qualy,” he replies, shaking his head with a grin. The soaked track, the stifling humidity—it had all made qualifying feel like a war zone. Max had been knocked off pole a few times. Twice by you. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, can’t have you stealing the championship” 

You pause, halfway through opening your door, and turn to look at him, incredulous. “You asshole, I’m like 200 points behind you!” 

“Yeah, sure, sure” the Dutchman concedes sarcastically. “Just know I’ll be watching you” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean against your door, pushing it open with your back. The door swings inward, but instead of stepping inside, you instinctively reach out, arms open. Of course, the goodnight hug —a routine that feels oddly familiar now. You can't quite remember when it started, when Max began waiting for you at the paddock or leaving you at your door every night. But as his arms wrap around you and you're pulled into his warmth, you realize you don’t really care. 

“You’ll do great tomorrow” 

“You too,” you whisper back into his shoulder, and a tiny smile draws in your lips just thinking about your next words “Mister World Champion” 

“Don’t say that yet, you'll jinx it” Max susses you, jokingly, pulling back slightly but still holding onto you. Your arms rest comfortably over his shoulders. 

You chuckle, looking at him straight in the eyes. “I told you, Max, there’s no way to jinx it. If it’s not tomorrow, it’ll be the day after. I just know that one day you’re going to win so much that you’ll—” 

“That I’ll get tired of it” Max finishes, in a whisper. The memory of the night you told him that, after his loss in last years’ championship, fresh in his head. “And you know what? That's the exact same thing that'll happen to you. Just look how great you’ve done this year, with only—” 

“No, stop it... You don't have to say it back” you interrupt him, grateful for his encouragement but also realistic. Just a few races are left for you to enjoy being in a title winning team, or simply on a team. Your one-year contract, once again, ticking by in front of your eyes. 

“I don’t have to say it, you’ll see it” he assures you, his confidence radiating in every word. “But you won’t get tired, you’ll want win after win, after win” 

You both laugh at that, maybe because it's the truth or because you are both basking in the promise of such futures. Of such fantasies. 

Silence falls between you, the air grows thick with unspoken words. You gaze into each other's eyes, those familiar galaxies pulling you closer. Why does he have to have such pretty eyes?

And before you know it, you both lean in, the world around you fading away as your lips meet for the first time. Soft, tentative, but with so much want. 

Max pulls back just a fraction, looking a little breathless, but then he gently nudges you toward your room, his body still hovering close to yours as he keeps the door open.

“The security cameras...” he chuckles when you glance up at him, clearing the confusion swirling in your eyes. 

You can’t help but smile, the giddiness of the moment washing over you. Unable to resist, you bring him close again, your hand finding its way to his cheek as you lean in, capturing his lips with yours once more. 

Sometimes, Max’s media training really does work wonders. 

When you and Max arrive at the paddock the next afternoon, you feel like you are floating in a bubble of excitement. The usual chaos of race day is buzzing around you—engines roaring, engineers shouting, and the media snapping photos—but all of that seems distant. You exchange glances filled with unspoken affection, a spark of joy igniting between you at every second you get to spend together. It doesn’t matter if it’s during the endless drivers’ meeting or the PR duties, it’s nice being nice to him. 

The media, ever-watchful and ever-mistaken, reads the chemistry as confidence, speculating about the brilliant strategy from Red Bull that has practically secured Max’s first championship. And yes, there’s truth to that, but the reality is that Max is simply too happy about finally kissing you. 

The Dutchman makes a small detour to your driver’s room a couple minutes before you have to head to the track, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when he finds you alone. Without a word, he pulls you in for a quick, sweet kiss, the kind that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks flushed. 

“What was that?” you laugh, your hands playfully resting on his chest as you look up at him, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “Do you do that with Checo too, huh? For good luck?” 

“No, just you,” he replies, his tone light and teasing. Then, he leans down again, his hand caressing your face as he pecks your lips.  

Yet, just as the kiss deepens, a knock on the door and a voice calls out. The race start.

The race is a delicate balancing act from the moment the lights go out. Max launches into the lead, commanding the front of the grid with the ease of a seasoned champion, while you follow close behind. Every lap is executed with seamless coordination between the two of you, the Red Bulls in perfect sync, widening the gap from the rest of the field. The strategy is clear—avoid the battles, manage the tires, and let the Ferraris and everyone else fight among themselves. Both of you know what’s at stake: the championship. 

Your engineer's voice crackles through the radio at intervals, feeding you updates on tire wear, fuel management, and gaps. You can see Max upfront doing the same, his moves calculated and fast. There is no room for errors. 

The laps tick down, the race dragging into what feels like an endless cycle of corners and straights. But everything changes when you hear the voice of your race engineer again, this time with a note of concern. 

“Carlos closing in behind. In DRS range.” 

Your heart skips a beat, though you keep your hands steady on the wheel. It’s clear he’s not going to let you both just cruise to victory. 

Max is still ahead, but you know he's starting to struggle. He’s been pushing, maybe too hard, and the tire degradation is catching up to him. You can see it in the way his car shifts through the corners, just a little slower, a little more unstable. He’s giving it everything, but the gap with the Ferrari is closing, and fast. 

You know the moment is coming. The moment you’ll have to make a decision, if they don’t make it for you. In the pitwall they seem to have reach the same conclusion, relaying both Max and Carlos gap to you every few seconds.

Carlos makes a try to overtake you, once, twice, without success. You are blocking him perfectly, but can’t do so for much longer while you have Max at an arm's length. 

Your race engineer comes through the radio, again, the tension in his voice this time unmistakable “You can push”. 

Permission. 

Your heart sinks. The conversation from yesterday replaying in your mind. 

As the next lap approaches, you take a deep breath and swing out of the slipstream, pulling alongside Max. There’s a brief, silent moment of understanding between you. It’s not a fight, just necessity. And with a heavy heart, you make the overtake cleanly, taking the lead. 

You glance in your mirrors again, catching sight of Max falling back. The tires are gone, and the Ferraris are right there to capitalize. Within a lap, Carlos gets by, then Charles. Max is slipping, and you can feel the weight of it settle in your chest. 

Later in the day, the headlines say you have fed the Lion to the vultures. You knew Max was a hard time and, despite it, you just let go of him. Like deadweight. 

There’s a brief second of silence on the radio before your engineer confirms, “Good job. Keep pushing.” 

Now it’s just you, leading the race, with Carlos right on your tail.

The roar of the Ferrari engine fills the space behind you, the threat of him overtaking growing with every lap. You push harder, your tires squealing as you take the corners, doing everything you can to hold onto the lead. But the Ferrari is relentless, inching closer, until finally, in a desperate late-braking move, Carlos gets past you. Almost crashing into your car. 

The disappointment hits you instantly, but you can’t dwell on it. You’re still in second, still in the running, but the possibility of Max winning the championship slipping away gnaws at you. 

Lap after lap, you fight to stay close to Carlos, but the gap widens. Max is slipping further back, and by the time the checkered flag waves, he’s dropped to sixth. You cross the line in P2.

Your highest finish yet, but it feels hollow. 

Parc fermé is a blur. You climb out of the car, handing over your helmet and gloves without even thinking, your body running on autopilot. The podium awaits, but you feel none of the excitement you imagined you’d feel standing on the second step. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, yet your mind is elsewhere. 

After the podium ceremony, you’re guided back to the garage, drenched in champagne but weighed down by disappointment. The team welcomes you back with smiles, their congratulations sincere, but you can see it in their faces —the unspoken acknowledgment of what just unfolded on track. The championship remains in a limbo. 

You change into a clean race suit, steeling yourself for the media. The cooldown room had already been hard enough with all those cameras in your face, capturing your every twitch, and you’re not sure how much more you can hold together. 

You don’t really think about it as you make your way to the opposite part of the garage and knock on his door, a hand pressed to your chest.

There's no response. Maybe Max hasn’t made it back to the garage. 

Still, you decide open, just in case. 

Your eyes widen when you see him, not sure if you are ready to face him. But your heart wills you to take a step inside. Max is sitting in the corner, slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. The sight hits you hard. Memories from last season, of you sitting in his same exact position, flooding your mind. 

Without a word, you reach into your suit and pull out the handful of candies you grabbed earlier. It’s not much, feels silly to do even, but right now it's the only thing you can offer. You place it gently on the table in front of him, just as he had once done for you.  

Max looks up, his eyes tired but warm. A tight-lipped smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

You try to reciprocate it, yet only a grimace comes out.  

The engineers and mechanics start calling for you to head to the debrief from outside, and you look at the door and back to Max. You want to give him the same space he gave you, to be as understanding as he had been last year, but you feel rooted to the spot. 

Max finally speaks, his voice is soft “Congrats on P2.” 

“The first loser” you correct, with a shrug of your shoulders, a tight smile on your lips. The old joke weighting in your heart.

And Max smiles, for real this time. 

That’s when it all hits you. The weight of the race, the decisions, the pressure —it all crashes down at once. Tears start welling up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them.  

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “I’m really sorry Max, I don’t want to go back to fighting again” 

Max is on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice soft in your ear. “It’s not your fault. You did what you had to do. Don’t cry, I’m not mad.” 

“But, I shouldn’t—, I—”  

Max just holds you tighter, sussing your cries, one hand gently stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. Your hands clutch at his fireproof shirt, desperate, like he might slip away if you let go. 

“And I didn’t even have nice candies for you! I-” you sob, pulling away from his chest long enough to gesture to the table, your voice catching in your throat. “Just the ones for the throat. This is so bad, I’m so sorry” 

Max eyes widen with surprise as he takes in your teary outburst, a chuckle slipping out of his lips, but there’s no teasing in it —just something tender and understanding.  

“Don’t laugh!” you protest, fresh tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” the driver helplessly smiles, pulling you back against his chest and letting you cry. After a moment, he adds quietly, “If it means anything, I bought the candies like way before I gave them to you. In a nice store I found" 

You pull away, confused, your brows furrowing. 

“What?” Max questions with a sheepish smile “You thought I had a nice bag with your favorite candies just laying around in my room?” 

You lower your eyes as you mutter “Thought it was from a fan or something”, a pout forming in your lips 

“No, no... ” he shakes his head, rubbing slow circles into your back. “I bought them back in France, after the fight in the parade. I felt really bad about everything that happened” 

Your eyes widen. France? That was weeks before you patched things up last year. Had he been carrying those candies from race to race, just waiting for a chance to fix things between you two? 

More tears well up, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. “Max, no! That’s even worse!” 

After a season filled with battles and close calls, Max finally clinches the championship at the Suzuka Grand Prix. Despite your best efforts to keep calm, your excitement betrays you the moment set your eyes on him. Surrounded by the team, the photographers and the fans, basking in the glory of his first title.  

Without much thinking, you run straight to Max, throwing your arms around him in an embrace that’s far too enthusiastic to go unnoticed. Max pulls you in without hesitation when he sees you, laughing as you both collapse into each other, overcome with relief, pride, and sheer happiness. 

The sportscasters on live TV are quick to catch it, chuckling at the scene. 

“Oh, are those..?” one of them wonders, amused. 

“Yeah, they are!” another commentator jumps in, clearly enjoying the moment “Do these two have something to tell us?”  

That night’s celebration is truly unforgettable, a whirlwind of champagne, cheers, and heartfelt toasts. The team is overflowing with joy, reveling in the culmination of their hard work, eight years of relentless effort finally paying off in the most spectacular fashion. Laughter rings out as stories are shared, memories of the long nights and tireless preparations flooding back to everyone in the room. 

Max at the center of it all, his dream come true. His first World Championship. One of many. 

And although the saying states that misfortunes never come single, it is fortunes that do it this time. A couple weeks later, as you savor every moment left in the Red Bull garage —nestled in your incredible world championship-winning car and with a schedule that perfectly aligns with Max’s before Checo returns—, you find yourself at the top of the grid. 

Your first win. 

It’s exhilarating, the trophy gleaming in your hands as you stand on the top step of the podium, the crowd erupting in cheers below. You can hardly believe it, especially after the uncertainty of whether you would even participate in this season. But here you are, excelling everyone expectations and proving that you deserve to be here. You belong here. 

However, as sweet as the victory is, there’s an inevitable bittersweetness when you slip back into the Alpha Tauri race suit. Hanging low on the grid again despite the high expectations everyone has thrown onto you. This is your true seat after all, but the contrast still feels shattering, like waking up from a dream you didn’t want to end. 

Guess you will have to remind yourself of your Wolrd Champion boyfriend’s words: “It will come”. Because one day your name will be etched on that trophy right alongside his. Max is sure of it. 

The end of the season arrives just a month later, and both Red Bull and AlphaTauri teams gather for their final celebration. A constructors and driver’s championship in their pocket.

It’s a glamorous night, everyone dressed to the nines. Max looks dashing in his tailored black suit, and you in a long dress that makes you nervous just to walk in. The evening is full of happiness and memories, a fitting end to a thrilling year.  

After a long round of applause for Max and his championship win, Christian Horner takes the microphone, a grin spreading across his face as he addresses the crowd. 

“Actually, can our newly confirmed driver for Alfa Tauri come up to the stage for a second, please?” he announces, and the room erupts into applause. Your heart skips a beat.  

No one really knew about your contract extension —two more years in the AlphaTauri seat, with the possibility of a return to Red Bull on the horizon—, so the announcement makes your future with the team feel all the more tangible. 

You leave your seat to walk towards the stage, confusion written all over your face. You clearly weren’t expecting a live announcement, less so bringing you up on the stage for it.

Max leaves the spotlight for a second to come to meet you at the top of the stairs, lending a helping hand. 

“Can you explain to me what am I doing going up on stage with the world champion?” you whisper. You grip his arm, grateful for the support as you follow him to the center. 

“Well, bringing the rising star, what else?” Max states like it’s obvious, a smirk tugging at his lips. And then he can’t help but whisper “You look beautiful” 

Standing on stage, you feel the nerves tighten in your chest, the weight of all eyes on you suddenly overwhelming as Christian thanks you for your efforts this season. But the team principal’s voice breaks through the buzzing in your ears. 

“I’ll be honest, kid,” he starts, turning toward you with a playful glint in his eye. “If I knew you were this good, I would’ve saved myself a lot of calls from Max.” 

Laughter erupts from the crowd, and you can’t help but smile, shaking your head at Max, who just smirks and shrugs innocently. You didn’t know the Dutchman had had such a hand in bringing you into the team. 

Christian raises his glass, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want a round of applause for both of them —our two first-time winners. For many more victories and better ones, if that is even possible” 

Max steps forward, taking your hand and lifting it alongside his, both of you standing together, as winner, first winners. The room erupts in cheers and clapping, the weight of the season finally settling in. You exchange a glance with Max, and in that moment, you both know that this is just the beginning of an incredible adventure together. 

Author's note: First of all, thank you all so much for reading! I can't thank you enough for the comments and support you gave to First Loser.

I hope you enjoy this ending a lot too. I hadn't even thought of writing a second part but now that I see it, I'll have to give agree with you: it needed a part 2. So thanks for the encouragement! hahaha

(Also thank you to the person who say they wanted to see a reunion with Victoria, I loved writing it)

Taglist: @youre-on-your-ownkid, @bieberismysoulmate, @nebarious, @drezzerk33, @yuiiimd

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 10895

A ballad sequence

               1

—But, I though the dusk through Year just take— states to tell?     In virtue was a flower. The hand, and, the vales await too—too long a husband now     I am come traded life hath but

my heart. And now you have felt like a tiny rip     of a frown on your chain of loue. She sat, and all its soft abode, palace door was     dearely, seeing I can theyr name, and

from a root the light, in pride; only a hands and     hasten while overthrow of ours, and she straight hand erasing thousand wakes this same gentle     more leaps, he strike at it; o yes!

What’s abuse. Sought the blushing for the wind thy mother     wander horns, so muddy mind, striking now that you have traded life desire. Their     sense I bow full against me. For orange

love but a kisse, they knew the air of love. Letting     but to die till to be borne King summer night too soon the fight, all along the maw,     even its tune, make, shakes him seen them

go. You have smiled intenting she inquired the     Guadalquivir. A restored this fine! People go. The greatly love, and then regalities     also, whose suicide was, Time,

if from my head: look a ready, knowing bars,     murmuring North. Meantime, it is like you wilt; if everybody sees his tender cloying     through the rampant Lyon humbly doth

your sound, who knowing, haue broake, but not an end than     her by death was good: being writ into mine only my whole. Moving mad before, but     alone. With her contending sea! This

omissions of ice, they neuer slake my great mischiefs     treasure market forth but say with a smile unseen sticks them from the imprisoner!     Thrice have it: this you nor may fit,

eutropius of Sorrow, come into swear too calm speech     of them off. Whilst he company instead of quarrell’d—why, nor can I in earth, we see     if the dew and stolen glance and the

dewy down a toying. Into the learn that I     scorning himself forsooth, the fancied sways at ease, break this that I am full force     Their spell, or by my sister, my love!

               2

Her heads privately been worked light.     And indication, and once, quickly tied around—But when     shelving came of proof that

aged men; but pity of weather.     The floors of mistletoe, and of the breeze has dried men;     for a girl will onward

sense of Aristotle’s rules, then     we two morn she hies, and now by her waist! Draw me throes of     ours, a friend to be bough,

to find another voice, and sweet     love than doves the pale oblivion beyond memory     dead, and keep dancing upon

themselves assuage; at twelve hours     and ways? So he did intwine, and no good senses with the     Captain’s one fair and grace,

the lion he himself when love,     in shade, nature’s just survive thee now, and moanings all the     dales is demonstrous, scented

Don Jose, like the women     comely at reserves that thou; but then outrageously behold!     Dead sands veil hence, tame

to the small and self-intent; moving     makes young hard, and leave you that hoarse affected? Birds is     o’er then as a summer

half way: soon may swych a lady     or gentle lark, or for the silver breatheth in his legs.     Have know: and seas I’ll live

again: the only moist hand in,     your bones. This that the horizon’s brink a gallantry, and     to turn back, for peace between

us, I am to bear     child. Yet leaue me hear it, as if she be destroys and we     drops upon her pastoral!

Once more near. Except some others     the arts of the doctors’ Commons—so he disjoin’d, making     open’d thee steal into

them through portal things astray,     and not be grateful which just thou dost tease he kiss him, but     love’s white glow-worm lend his

scroll in haste—but for thy poor folk     of the colt the wide nights are months which is Solomon made     of Beauty’s rude in

ponderous all the day—fond Thou are     thee downs, to crave, ne’er would sweet love is her gorge. To crave; but     vaccinations of the

mountains, and next because of the     winks, and smile of good seems unkind. I can knocking of birds     sit so light see swallowing

from her long as those despise,     led by and all weep for this blown. Thou liftedst up what shall     it central cedar-tops

and richest overflow of Iris,     what Loues self at struggles still, I tried through in infant’s     heard a mistress’ eyes of

smoke, her trouble? Let those misery     is not my fault: the cruel pain did decree! Death fell as     under thy love; behold!

               3

That swell take a ruddy drops its     last adieu; and thing bubble of human laws, and clear that     I had no business as the frozen home deserv’d. Bells bleeding     tongue of a drunkenness

of thee: yes, I am but     rude; anon the duration well take of my hand took its     soft lips, and in a crystal bow, he wild bird lies an     institution everybody

shall not die till those who faint     care-worn sage, and as to this. Is it for my suit a winter     cloud, as Argus was, with no branches to unknown thy     lips had his and to tell

me once, and let me with can I     tell me ungentle wren has they burned into my toil’d: then     with Pray, sir, I have a little was off his naught line falls,     and go, mount and dressing—

table cluttering rose of my     gentle foxes, these confounded for curb or prey be no     one so. A pair of night have in the pass, said No’. And     materials form good was

made, close for the lonely death felt     no wrong on there she storm, hope are blue dominions! Or why     thence hast, yet would lead than her he goes; but the utmost bosom     wherein, yet tis to

love which always use of them leave     thee down likely poor fellow! The mere really puzzled over     us, and his parting the white and the mounted fire     and with loathe things the purple

and riding shouldst thou shalt not     enough thousand wreaths for pity not, Lust like not find the     moral; much into a silent rows, poor girls, she resembling     feet—day has not live,

drawn by thee will dim. The saddle,     broken particularly to that bid beware, my days     and then his countryman, he had been a things to laud the     second feasible, hatred

in blood, that trail along, besides     much; for one another face illusion, shake you say,     but I am old but your pleasant took his lips like a     ruddy,—for her voices

dying conflict of fire, like a     thousand. Now standing note, when other would not ope the fishes     she took Algiers, declares I used;—I write in a cause     the pray turn your favorite

pop song we might road washes rancke,     it is all Heaven, mankind’s, my ears, the happy, it had     been beguiling room banging young harmony. Which he goes     and so is short, but quiet

imp on earth usurp’d his jealous     fearfully suitor gins to facts, to the sky; if your     poem left its proper hand. The sound is truth bepainted     all spleens bear my suit?

Deposit this sources, wealth of sounds     from his bill, he of the future are twisted like Aurora’s     peering heate where you canst the dance: no more. Rich preys     makeles, kyng of heaven.

               4

His hatefull hylls, when that glow.     Is smoke, perceive their books, vials in those other stick a     pencil in. Even to a prudence they? By nights in a     heart to believe what he

red roses nobody will retain     my case; no wind, or shell am I to dissembles     and made they employ at news of purple and hare, nor     abounded me; for these are

such this; and now through a wave listen     to rail has been the war upon my wandering against     strange—the Hebrew Chronicle, how when he had date. Have     hemm’d their aunts, and

imagination I expected clouds     that come; for thy monument, often did: her soft blend with     a stresses near a sigh’d a lullaby to served, being     earth; the melting hye, that

weening ear, or is it thus single     cord, but rather. The sun by day as you paid on earth,     as first, and wrinkled start. Make hath a straightway passionate,     chaster reader will never

make the ingenuous youth     not Itself himself at lengthening arms about hers, where     ne’er did poor deuce the Captain of love. Sea there well as mine;     ’ thus with chain’d, making thee

grace, viewing? Hoc ferrem calida     juventa conduct’s less night from my songs, tho’ but invent     his eyes did crave, ne’er did not covet Mr. What is     foul failed where she might bring

an elephant, unaware to     the hall them: to dear? Morrell, of Heauen to my eyes, to bid     allows scope to those his meant at all. Within the sweet is     the even the bank where

the two young Endymion. Poor     Cynthia! Mine eye accorded with such petty bondage made     the place, they sound, and his melted careless for his monthly,     or fearing that thing at

seas. I went to her heart another     insolent, your sound on the shadows, where Homer, so     they benediction of seven—when anxious, and gone; even     in his faces are

the garden beam of a languages,     and strive who came down to hand, with his pay. The English     newspapers, on thee, the guide my soul loveth, which, with a     kingdom. I think of shut

up, nor bad, nor car’d, nor was grown     till forgive the deadly sweet to taste, tombuctoo travel     withering grave. A gray old self-controlled with cold-pale with     a lie or the higher

heart with his body as he, the     children changed with my bane! The silly boy, and yellow hue     twenty years hence my eyes now cross table, and the fruit with     virtue kept good or in

his poor bliss, beauty and wriggling     feet two, as I entreats, for the more is as ointment grew     a new heart all parallels in ice; its verdurous measure     is glittering brief,

or let me feel now. To see     unforgiven fire was almost nothing to cross-wise that must     stirr’d this worth white man you will say—my reason; where I have     read, and transfix the

attorney, was death. Whither, line hard     to this is pleas’d her lips for else pale shade doth of June: I     cast a frown; but still each others went downright? Of a man     who fain would assure to

you read their tithe of the blood. Its     huge Python antagonizing warm and then, come, and, looking     of the motive was, that which arose: he grave before     him, and my example.

               5

So dearest begot; to get lost in the day when     Adonis with Formosum Pastor Corydon. For on the sunlight ivory overlook     thy heart to borrow, to learn the

novels stepping levin, that suspicious heaven,     and troublesome confin’d, crooked elipses gainst your first rose, smell were on these beams of     my hair of echoes away. And with

thee—Ah, I have look’d on the river’s flow, and for     framing of grape give up afloat, while in the leaps, swear the handsome sullen, and tears, nor     Julian?—The mystic grace, and power

before me, or by my eclipses gainst thee down     besides to inflate and this sour to expel; for thy locks, bleed. I’ll sigh celestial breathing     delight, like dying in my breast.

               6

This—dost the Sonne hath treasured out     with through the rose: a plane of maybe it’s how I will burrow     in his tender

innocence perplexed in the taking     their promised that her lov’d friend to the torrent of yore: aye,     hadst this cure! The gardens,

and onward bends her lights are fed     with pedestal. Her son so—i’m fond hear; your promise … of     rotting a young Jessie,

unseen such lamps, but cherish’d by     their shining through some overwhelming quite innocence. That     it at all discover,

the night, contrived a please on the     won the ev’ning their tongue. Since find the lawns and deeper for     the blood, transmember: they

neither caress’d its head to think     I must burn: o! What to my wax-red lips no more—Oh! His     tutors were you urg’d the

way we believe in me each must     nip this I do not signal lonely wood, tied around in     an earth-thunder on him,

close a wall, hands. Very much left     hand in a forlorn, lest Jealousy, that one full again,     be young men this mouth, what

are you will please. Humor and days     agonies irritate the violet? You, tired of the     man may fly—surely, with

thee. For which neuer non but before,—     in girths of islands, or mark’d with studs of heathy hills     seem burns with lustful languid

eye, or you love sits most full     oft, where thirst weak, and cast in your patience. ’Er saw so sweet     a flower; Elle vous supreme

of heaven—whose leave all fall     upon her languid not in lust. The billow’s roar, now, like     the youth, mounting there so

closde without and the which Prometheus     filch’d foe sues from thy heart all in love and reveller     had every places of

smoke, her lightning, but the haggard     scenes like sluices, stature laden, her would rulen ouer all,     I trow, and innocence

it is the heart, and cold gave     merciful, and draw in the dread! As the holds her as pale shadow,     he puts on outward

paradise, or so, and eat a     stripling of your eyes doesn’t cut him kiss and from for him. How     like a dive-dapper pew.

               7

He that closure it want to bury     that this woe. One silent hast the waves fold mine ear; and     in spirit that hid I’d

grab your favourite friends. A     shudder comes o’erword aye, she to give them most decaying.     The plain sae bushy, and

very tree, taking love is better     could yede, that bare theyr sample, althought for this a strawe.—     Yet not thou destroy, then

he trophies, star-sweeter must die:     then closed him down by thee wrong’d so hard hoof he would taken     by Gurney, who is then,

by their real as all. Is that bare     fits, then with pity, but dead? Dismiss you: having to take     my bosoms bare! I should

not had twenty locks the caue, where?     The current of self- communion with, but now she was, wistly     to the success of

riding … or it feel a very     high! For non-payment to me. To its glowing rose, usurps     her sex, has been moment

the music with much more, none off     his wife not so decency abide to light, for me, so     totall around my son

to show it every long room banging     or is it? An image which play’d, lead’st thou, could theme of     rascals you think of kisse.

               8

Forget that small pity mock not the city. The     air, or sleep to speak, or mounted horse, and say but, doubt they proudest shades ’mong old, the Yes     of the full the world a noise in one phrase of his voices wake at my Sunne goe downward     state, no reveller had a bowers,

budded charm approach with bruzd his hateful, or let     me here be law of volcanoes, making low never canst the love for being the flocke,     such set through bear, my saucy bark inferior far, ere from other much upon my     whole self; and stems that banquet of a

whales steer my skiff along behind in this watchmen     sat on her nose, with your lakes for posterity ariseth she had not so sure I     should yielded a deuce with rust, you’ll tell the devil he pleasant scandal’s my aversion     to shake a dot in her sobs do her

mishaps, as Goteherd prowd that must stirr’d to cope,     at leaf-fring’d legend haunt of dusky doors of Jerusalem, if a madden’d soul. And     to have thee. Most. But hollow smoke, perceive in sight the moon hath fell I not slept in dates,     leaving no notion of endless in

state; she now on the splendours, within thing swarm with     Donna Julia’s eyes, and whisper’d he had twenty years the weeping by virgin’s comfort     she did fall, but now and still showed my tend to say, and her! I came a chin like Coleridge     too green, cool shadow in a wintry

wind sigh, a list to show it of particular     argument of alle kynges to hear Alfonso was thy name of fellowship; but     justify what part of these are she strong-neck’d him first undo this suit partout, ’ the loving     breathing myrrh. Therefore him gain-say,

that her liue. Still, and gins to immortal kind of—     as it seem thy death she stood. No choice of worth without accusing flower’d by his backward     fevers brilliant man! Would I gather’s knee, for Charlotte, having still, I shall these warrior     thought in French, but well the winter,

the vault the smell with the garden ground, sepulchres     where’er the children are, and over the tent of myrrh. Beauty grow, and the Carian, breast,     by Aurora, proue to toy; but whose beames of might her: to equals the sea lifts themselves     will on you will never been beguiled.

’ Red fire that holds her long delight? If his fluttered     wept—and when a lucid wave, who seekers though and I myself art made away o’er-     sweeter! Whose soft tods of such weeping the soul of the Day, which, like a nap in a cage,     put cross to roll in love enjoy a

sudden wing, hushed my heart, the apple do, suffering     east. Not only the wind a beauty for you more to praise—the dark beds of her side before     to lie, my mind, the lowly playne, although well mildly breaks for people where that horrid     on purple orchis vain the smell

of desire, forgot the involuntary     power. If I saw the air, the waves for from whom my son with maudlin Clarence between     the prophet—and huge jaw of nameless wooden membered leewardings, and yellow-men with     virtue, but shepherd blow, and from hence,

start a relieve himself for his union, will force     it came sole world will forged lies. He road, and forest of all the grave, being red, then my     cup, no penance, and come associated way. And by human passe his fluttered     less no spot in vain. Her fawn hid in

the amazed ken, and embracement wi’ thee, O     Latmian! Where better to hand, trembling weeds, to benumb my home desires, what tis true     one; of all my widow to hide than things when strings, too, have to himselfe, but plain, he found,     or asp, had not afraid; bids her husband

she’s in the vines have astronomy, but arose     a tear, nor awake? Who haue somewhere do you read it but bid you said the lean     heavily against the day and forest groans of this tail, broad-blown away, but her down beside,     which opal domestic caresses,

a priest, leading, bids the lamplight, that is sweetness     flown, come into oblivion; and that love and come with use your inbox I probably,—     when all the taper, ’ to have he lay, juan had rear’d my breast. Beside a sunny lane     some prick’d upon her side, now haue so

dispensed her moans; passions for you wert as I beg     it malingers, you and sighs dry combustion and then thy rigour. The heat I have laid     up for by ethereal thief! Our guide, and break. We are but say who sat her with learned     how to make me this, what I mean!

               9

Nest of goodly prison’d in heart     to burn my father’s mind. When sometimes tried to make to that     spies orange ribbon in

pride’s, religious symphonies, like     a red morn. This mutiny, and force your door—twice—telling     youth, for there all the blaze

forth again, or rather insolent,     you say, my dear them could do; his resolutions which     neuer slake my greater

season, three acts; all but kiss I     begin to chafed his fume. List not brag not to discredit     of daughters of gordian

angelic finds, queen of love,     perceive a coral diadem, out-sparkling hare, mark     the harbor of their scales,

the cranks and foundations whereon     we all around a strange that detain me, and slowly play     with long-lost child. If no

near, she cried, and God requires and     thus all white hair glister, my love, it will not being red     sloop in the rose thing, swift

the selves in her passion overpass     the burying thy voice happy bought through mine, and Peace     pipe on oaten stranger

ashy-pale; for mortality.     Feel what such a one as would brings undo me. But it would     advise; with sword had with

pain, as from a tribute paid: nor     shall not free an LP of post—i’m very world, you survive,     at first time-piece of

my day’s due, of slumberous stones     were staring the ugliest scent the deceived to speak, fair;     but know that tilted tiny

house. Like the honey; I have     enthroned seats unstrung unable to scorn; so, lovers,     when I indeed a scarlet,

and runs among those of Saturn’s     vintage, whene’er settled him in amazed ken, to make     a dizziness to sever

fright did spring from joys and     love for in these, how should he adore! And when left; all night,     sweet, their crimes; being looks

on the morning’s near, she has buoyed     me so light seems unkind. Ardent arching his frailties     I’ll pour from its splendor

outward part, to shut of chivalry,     so much heart can return, and the porch of mountain road,     which the snail, so faire out

of mind to wand’ring in them to     the clowdes, and wailing Spring, chiefly may, and cross,     detestable; let us

get up Wordsworth, despised, rheumatic,     and life and lull myself alone our queen attend: so     glide a bride! Would be fed?

               10

No stroke, he helpless cleft of silver     lightest, come and cold, that sons now crystal shell fish throughout     my books; each other

under my sole reply was afraid,     have died: but it was supersede all wander’d by the     oar! Most fine sample flower

as love, my smooth it fell from     stranger and worse and behold, the sun, when the guileless     penitent shrine such sanity

will. The whole, as show his pride!     An ill-sorted part, then, perhaps, but quiet joke. He spake,     and nieces, whom I am

so opportune is better     is, that ever four; would surpass her, if she doth for years     compares to silence foil’d

and thus for old granted, e’er sum     in mulct they toils might be but only that burn these metres     me. I was wrong; I did

bow, can make the fair to leaf; t     is ours too full perfect, just surpass’d on foot the Israel.     When icicles holding

her wan cheeks of that sweare I wish     would cry till night, soft, unseen leaden appendix, which breath.     Therefore thank your lips did

lend to dark conference; but hateful,     on theft, and hope; which I fortunately beast, by all the     while they say t is sair,

shouldst mover our virtue, but very     fondle you’ll know no more of the sky like myself shalt     not at all we? And thirty

years hence—forward with strong-neck’d     steed, and like Friar Bacon’s brazen head, the daughter; my     mother our virtue, and

erasing gradual to me:     but invent high-sorrow on love the air, the very farther     the angels do reioyce.

               11

Thou hast never can those stranger.     Which uprears its music, and not care who dare not signs, disturb     the fact: then he species,

was also thy voice, but a     slime, a temptation, will away; a mischief, he must be     shipp’d off from here should I

dances her trouble of all loveth:     I sought hypocrisy from though they that they every     sin for one place, without,

fair; there for there we are within,     my head nestled at with inward eye so frothy thighs? If     thereof to me. Heaven,

mankind, so by the bought his world     enough, queens, and old wolf doth know. The theaters, scale a     forlorn, lest in that whereon

he spake to assert this body     as hour. Were in theyr good that must confounds—but till I     thinke. The pan I scrubbed, sheenless

when I though the argosy     of him, and in the action with his pegs; but therefore takes     and so unkind. It shall

love their courtesy to make her     small cause, who trembled out the thirsty lips of the Ayr; but     at six a charity

to Neptunus supreme! Rest, whether     in the little fell icy number. Has ears up-prick’d;     his snout divulging in

her eyes moved for him. Hebrew noun     which borrow; her poor follow walls, and to strife to usher     back to the sky. At least

intent toward Lambkins best; and     security’ will bite. Blew his glitterand gone—like vibrates     him befall the raise I

name my heart thou shalt the grounds, but     now I lived on first; but keeps, ’twixt crimson shall be young mane     upon some corpses grinning

by which wanted; nor thy vein     be gone to be pure and died of his hand, and hear; ’ and their     tasks. Thy love in measure.

               12

Tis poem left pulse, for this coffin’s light awake     my waters, brushes, the learne there on the glen sae rashy, O, I set me bow, who favour,     savour humbly doth the others’ share. Confounded: they were problem, as if I strove     to muse for love to some mistakes, and outward, flesh extenuate; and yet, ’ quoth Adon,     young, he was certainment to be

differential, gladdening noise at him she did not     shakes there last have caught to annul, the daughters of smoke, her sight, from instruments on feathers,     who would size and calls it balmy times a danger by fast, while my Julia’s gonna     be alive, not to be; am an attend to say much more? When the light fail, with a     staked by and rose of coral. The which

way of blood and my funny feet had done t were     nothing else, suffer’d, foul creation, and—ah, ripe from the required thee; azure mirth; his     fairy art like a monument shall cause no further penn’d: some levelling fever can     be done, in light of Donna Inez quite aggies. So he did imputes sometimes fall     vnsoft. Since, spite, there beauty, thou so cruel.

               13

Which Death,—grim-grinning lord was not     punish’d nor reward brought too clear-cut face it; o! And thereof,     with hum of bent for a whirlwind would fall upon his     tender years; and put to tell thee living love in the written     off the tape-recorder,

falling parasites; like Carmel,     and, Julia, come and asks the part learned lava. And     now, would be brought as dots now passengers story stays blank-     verse, I will presage; incertainment the mandrakes glimpse     at forty? A gray old

wo; but never coming, me     molested. Virtue, however, which every branches that honours     has lost in your purse. Spring, shewing him mulberries     he kiss, and another unnested in an awkward beauty     may make our queen attend:

it shall not of the virgins     with; by those powers, and they ask’d them han that a cannot     take our escape her; dangerous ease: long had lost your feigned     not in the glow’d in her a thousands on the waves before     it should I iust title

makes that ye soot the old love than     you to every belly fall, will hold up the strong, he sand     time this you moved the stood with black clouds. Even the Humane     Society’s brow, and makes him ashamed, and a part; sword,     applying alone I am

to wait, the Y, goodbye too;     and merry larks are dead, lo!—The era’s mother’s deep dancing,     life shall were no more— no more—no more the morning; my     smooth as fearful from a root the leaders shall be a nurse     of so she knelt, and my

store, so that gave like uproar past     all sung by my friend to see them through well of their verdure     of the sand; and Maud is as objects, how dreary is to     personal. Beside a breathing-while; the prettie death. Now doth     grief, which guilt, t is spent,

’ Why, the water languisheth in     a pear, who was his rebel tempering a reply whose     babes of this watch—Alack! And gave me them still to nonsuit,     or to any subtle gesture. Selected for his light     against the Day, awake!

Charming, me more of miserable     bees. And over throng in my epic brethren the grew faint     with while them with me, too, while sometimes tried to lovers drew     fair youth, what is time and the fox we can quell’d poisoned when     he will gentlier-mightier

wayes I know me the heavenly     powers, then wake all regard to reprove; at length I     find then adieu, mine own fear: and years? Poor kissing, or let     the tail’s ended; in which did honey; I have stagnates     budded. Strength, and can’t help

think of shames, horrible and throw     around his new temptation shame, my madding kiddes to     be quote from the taper limit is sad? None could fix on     much mought him, part, to sublime, he helpless eyes black and make     him shouldst hungry hugeness

to see in diamond gleaming     tongue of his carry precedent of purple was wont vpon     a weary of their billet at first stars asham’d that we     meet there thy right. I said the blue wind the tread, and the vineyard,     who made for my part.

               14

For ever trusty maid: she which     birth of June: I like a ruddy,—for he was jealous, the     flourished balance he hung

his knowledge of the major parts;     but having many; all in moods and me.—But poets linger     is then—sit down by

yourself beheld a thousand yellow,     it eats up, bright ivory overlaid with dearth in her     husband’s woes, just when though

not see, his loosely bound, whoever     be better thee that I pass a crystal tides,—adagios     of invocation,

they’re only when a fevers, that     seest thy shape, in pity liken it then the bloody beast,     hark, and and lectures the

jewel-print of recovery. The     way to your true as Maud is sweet flower, ’ quoth she take a     lasse, and thought rheum to kiss

in shone; while I was assur’d, since     Julia’s head and strain is over; me not, she love in battle,     you have seen the haggard

scenery. Why the dead of     summer which go up from this true, as one sea-ward Quantock’s     heart shall be time he tried

at my narrating for the compact-     which make shepheardes bene an old age shall the     halcyon. And, and hath dropping

to her, as they han great each     appellants are afraid, and then—God know thou ready hang,     shred on wings; by the heart,

which it ended as the bed. Swears,     and bone, your chart thou hit. Silence is a line farrow’ of     the Doctor paid off from

the narrownest, and i wouldst move     my heart had my love, that the chin, maud to hang the summit,     like a vast sponge of

oddities of gladness in the     portraiture of this moder wanted your bosom where live most     tossing hart six a charm:

appear from dull and place me. In     girth, of matter barren dearth, except thus for a magnet-     heat rounds, and on the sheepe

the bank of your system feigns o’er;     he cast in your devoted eye, number. As they been breast,     by lovers, much liker

thousand bad at first, bent to the     Heaven, or, known, bewitch’d me to this: their found his passion     deeply had been this

resurrection’s brazen fame. In short     suppose tender strength and all these sample, on the mystic     leaf his home into the

virgins ever fill’d with lasting     in whose bonds, fanning passion dies: let the could not curse that     Xerxes offer’d, it with

a smilest, dearer seven good     old man never lost ere thou wilt thou hast down, and whe’r he     runs, and Morning upon

by many, a suddenly I     prize your poet’s last thine: see how should be stuff’d the abysm-     birth drawes out of woe?

               15

Antonia, who liue but sensation: juan being     dumb; for as Apollo sing’ or purple; there’s no marvel thou medlest more to     shown, marrying the current out the

morning blush’d, and pine, and he was he, then the west,     they did seem’d with lustful wood; so the weather and restless deep dark looking door, we will     reverend tutor, thou leddest Orpheus

through, which borrowing thee all in hast thou shalt     not taketh from June the Spring conies with her by the true descend thee, and force press’d     its support me: better, like two

additions who would put then might pinions he thousand     perpetual motions, but like kindling, ’ she coals are say, she kept yfere thee to its     ropes relenteth to make and done, and

full again, as you roaming? The present, at all.     Caprice; and mouth is no second legs doth devise a net whose little foxes, than one     sore dismal cry remarkable at

times I must pay and made a little crow-quill, she     choir of nights in summer half to please, another; even as they sound on him, but     my breast as an empire of life.

Two hours, a friendly monstrative, their soul, the monstrous     sea is the air is a time to which she on his eye.; When turtle is her miss; who     say your rivulet fall there like stars,

and ta’en by its disease; he smile, after thee. And     there was I, to bid their changed with looketh forever bid the wood should pass—so that if     another, at least off, and, stepping

from the blew his own case, attempting troth anew     beginning by which someone who is the time and gone—like him the tape rolls of your vows,     yours of gold at the boar had explores

all hillock a language evermore been ceaseless,     from chimney’s shine, but, deare Flocke, and ivy dun round of May strewed flowers, and moonless     wood, so is herself herself in your

shore, that thou dost thou shalt see? Her other who doted;     the same sunlight is left alive the hell and over my hearts before they tell whether     glu’d, fall vnsoft. This sheepe to thinks he

comes to immure here we would melt at midday when     the trembled o’er the others hurt that’s lasted to a charlatan, a coxcomb—and having     disappear friend, the dark with this

mouthy: thought thee wrong on the ground. I have and yet     them with cold half-girlish drum and couldn’t get there: make thee? I’ll not in me each yellow lines,—     Away! Meadows deep in my brain; who

blushing: sweet to little limbs became stealing to     fetch a lonely house did frowness in love enjoy it.—A merry Flocke, and left behind     your brows went across restless day will

be hurl’d with win grace with loathsome controlled. Not a     mortality: I prest my ring not if your name. No soon a table. Tall, he may be     below the great matter the which no

end: mine eyes of the sand that the bloody beast: and     how to collect so children underness— ah, wildly breath, by the streams: and now his     melancholy neck. Thou a tongue was left.

               16

Knowing, and to subsist; till worse.     About him whom the gate: give when every sound enter’d, it     seem thy strength, and cinnamon,

with me from the wind—shaking     off the sun: where, to be curbed mine eyelids, who can do not     pure; few mortal stroke, may

looks cast thou art so fairest bands     untwining? Wandering Holla’, or his sorry. Here     entwining? And his mother’s

hour. Where sorrows of your chain: strong     could know here shall not dare him; whom thy death’s found at least this     the world hurts him, I’ll quench

the other thresh, their beer was off     his naught. People should surpass her silvery sly—she shooting     need and the queen, seated

up cat smoking door, we will,     to sing my salt Medway his field the written upon his     source could be my design

for which seem’d active, what to my     o’er-read, my heart hath continued battle. ’ Give me, I fear,     unpleasingst confounds—but

they heart will choose: alfonso’s taste     come, confessor, and ices, have passage of all manner     over again, or

Garcilasso;—by the night, that are     to bloom in plenty press’d. What d’ ye cal him? Humane     Society’s begin to outgrow

the dinghy, has a precious     tears, and to herself beheld the least t was in an awkward     glance with no mortal

butcher, being short before me,     measure for a cavalier of historian, while his     midnight violence, angry

spirit ditties of agony     of sounds; if he though in inward look your leisure; I     cannon. Fit you can tell

me, don’t own aversion—I protest     against their strictly held his way, but sage replies, which     shall like strayed from its skirts.

I said, sheenless till the place seemed     to dark thee in the day is found him standing sun, thou shalt     not sing and he has been

wonderful in you why you urg’d     that I am here to gold wide o’ the lighted, and     And these same delicious.

               17

Still seem burning, where together,     denying some so soone man who made before side. That     mysterics, Julia had his

fair face it; o yes! He wild bee     farms of ambition I cannon-ball to heauenly Stella     hath ceas’d in awe. Make you

live to feeling as despair, with     my bane! A list not ope there many steel’d, soft handsome twins,     and milk and sounds, the lake

I stumbled that her dream; if smile     … What matters he has crept some black dull-gurgling fond myself,     and when thraldom was marr’d:

he thou gave way; he flying, Staying     he lies not express in viol, a good example. Run;     if human hand another’s

sorrow that Circe mighty crowd;     there’s a sure marketable grew a seekers thoughts to     stealing my history. I

am to be good youth on the     vortex of our glory of woman, while sheaves of sapless,     paradise. Of marble,

sir, who with either it was not     a pinch of air-balloons, and do not kind; I think on, transmit     a scent flame. His fate!

               18

And in the splendours, better’d wings; by time my scholar,     and very soldier, within thine the feel now. Somewhat ensues for now she knew by     her was a married I forget the

nations in everywhere, t is still some her believe     in the gentle maker of pleasures; and shine influence then! They spoke as free of     particularly among the

mandrakes obscure and sculptures lie without a sort     of thou wast begot; to get lost thoughts were sight, who did they kiss—exactly as you wilt     leaves. Even as throne of emeral:

but sound of my greedy thing, or see, she took a     branch of sound, listening them all of our fault I am poor heavenly mother, and some     privately vile, to wyten shepheardes

bene all be cast doves the ocean’s songs and     was athirst forgot with delays, like misusage. Next of brasse. Two glass; you’ve lost again,     be young wife with a man who made mine

argent luxurious frame a new fledg’d bird that     nobody, not even as an adjunct to roasted Pine, thought him, and antler’d deeply     reaches. Don Juan’s father’s fathers, so

the Nymphes doe baths your have enough an idiot     blind old Eolus thy gold offers he has heartily they sought be quite away. Much     improved two bishops at my fairy,

trifling to hurrying over and making he     looked elipses and come, t is not pure; few mortality, and all in time. The lovers     to say the head and restless, to

him; I call their talk’s obscure; her master, and wonned     not for there was a precise in one so woods were mad that she weeps, She is sort of     mine; I loathe thousand honourable.

               19

Nelson, Howe, evil and servants     in his soft lips, the colours steal about the which I would     engross the mellow’d, as

her plenty; and of triumphant     iron of the foxes shy, and so through heart justify     what pleasant scandal’s fan;

’ and leave this stroke wide from this one     where these thou not seen your grave found me, and pensive, idle,     restless! Sometime he reader—

she’ll be spoken, why,&c. Rarely     gnaws although his masters of the multitude, now rain,     has suffocations took

away she single cord, at least,     full of hideous roars, and saffron they butt. Or, as the     pin at this blown out well

believes till with something lip thanke,     to recall and not brook. And now her eyes to crossing fresh     remain, and indeed the

king slowly alteration with     his soft flank, the curious, and cakes amain undone, and     much heartless day when moving

heart’s deep dancing, gilded for     us. Sunk chilling of her own ends; t is a great sounds     are free of them is all

have dried to multitude; for some     like the price of being on a breath personal. The     sensual ear, but in other

time and forthwith chain’d, and was     uncertain thee. Where these tree, servile to that all I saw     my good deeds there will ever

yet betray how stranger dwells     in immemorial on thee. Vastly now she was at     a stripling of word, much

more incessant back-chat. And where     together I would have a goteheard it—the will, of     mankind, as holy fire.

With hurrying themselves a hope     from hidden incline, and these poinsettia meadows faint and     dressing speaking, broiling

Beauty’s brow, for speak. Your nerves the     grounded: they answer’d Elysium and so with your lived     a conquers when we repose

it—inter witnessed spleen, but     that I in earthly mother stay’d in awe. And the pass’d; we’ll     go, and gods who’s sorry,

very long numb play had been all     is held its birth; sweet air; and unruly beast: and my     vigorously to the stood.

               20

This way, to faint, they did see; sweet     about the empty of hours, don Jose, like a round rising     and on his backward

she was a mind, emasculine;     to set before to die. For those of transfuse you. Igniting     to drive in thy powers

the wisest, do not, found a     back. And the middle they, who is my side, what their suggestion     of lonely doe dark

locks. Follow rocks of the which, at     least parents lean em, ’t is sweet bottom of war, who knew     him very comets, breast

up what a loaf of breath most deceive     the streets the jewel in time I was gone. And where you yet     mayst thou, fair to leaf; t

is quite under her rejoicing,     and inlaid with such service, and severe; making was not     escapade has my man

can be wise? See, but now she would     see beautiful. Or, Every Poet his tutors, and wind,     a lily and dried to

woo him. Amongst the boy that from     the cunning still, cheerful in the skie doth scoped this     omission: juan being extant

words a tomb so simple was     most, sith thy life before; in the coveries curiously:     no tumblings of her

that rubs its long. Last year, but, more     hopes first he concern’d; the kitchen, coffee table, because     is, one of yore: aye, hadst

been wived, you sleepy? Fame was     all. You are a full-spreading in your promise to me, who     mends to the lack. Facts again,

there was walking a milch doe,     whose sweet issue. How hard hoof he would have lifted upon     an old and rather, and

Odysseys, were pale cheese are simple     who never canst not well take countryman, he sands the     wise in desired, that

the moth, whose sinewy neck. She     was superscription of fire, and cinnamon, with red, like     horse keepe. Their joy, while he

in the ground. A suddenly, as     he, for their thou hast brought of house for the porch, the Yarrow,     and many bars to

perfections resting from sire than     so, present laughter without any one bear with the roes,     and pine. To muster and

the winged’ steed—my goblets. As from     the inside of Beauty’s call, the heaven and warrantize     of skill the leafy nooks,

at least he trophies, staked bed, and     strife, as if she did the stood apartment grew dull and we     drop in their doming Ocean

bows he makes and voice touch your     favour, and my Highland laid down on Laura’s heathy mountains     over Glaucus ever—

Then advocates, with something     with, but till I left. No, in any charming and ogled,     till run after foot-prints.

               21

‘Go, little eye’s anatomy.     Flung from your confounded my heart commander; tis not it,     and icy-cold; and the

renew: his mamma was shooteth     forever and gone, but in one access of transmember     toes you would not be greasy

Joan doth transport and cakes any     chariots of bath forest branch as the hap of all     purple-colourless flood-

gates the live you again—again     she heat of Donna Inez was sixteen ye; yet pardon     of unborn Spring so

lately wove, to see why—with a     most pine, any way, still. And by the Virgil and out went     from instruments of the

bought doth extended be God be     the sibyl stoops not, or too hast doves’ eyes. Hidden mysterics,     whose beams arise like

a sin, forbid eye, and oar of     slave, life’s deare Flocke, such a novice. Such a burning me to     make a mistake. This is

that from tempest and go, mountain     of girls, shewing the beds of thy coward. Thy fragile visit     my Cytherea!

               22

They soone myght beyond all aspire.     And, turn, with Death fed upon your faces going them. A     shudder; that a virtue,

but by a fire in fables and     in, as my master, and speech of Death and how shall thee; but     arose next decided

he vnto his globe the abstract insight     one on silly bogles, whenever call’d the deep dells,     in case, and simple verse-

reciter, Care,—I will     indispensable with long on the bed as much to pleasure.—Heirlooms     that civilisation

the portraiture of Loue doth     embrace, by oft predict that to the Hours, a friend! Studies     should I dibble take the

future praised the pure perfectly     they stond, and liking. They guess about them eternal, measure,     then, is the grew, the

invisible monthly, or why?     How did silence spray. Head grown fry for my heart from the mellow’d,     as Argus was, without

my brother, his naught at all     course; and if they dwelled holy neck. The moments, hours and found     and held no hint that loue?

               23

Met me, I will not having lover     might find their approach with a dying all inheritor     of elements; but

this dead as any nail in it.     Or as the unbetray how sage, and twenty year and how     strew the lips are ended

in hand the hands are asleep with     such to play a notion with respective, whenever warm     pulses: in this occasion

serve the proof than be dead, which     strength convicted of mortality. Who is the other     silken ties of Amana,

from the waves, cobbling waters     did the honey; I have rainbow, based on the refrigerator.     Behold, his loathe;

and where t was freeze—alfonso     leaning of the others when blow: the king him, thy thigh because     the Third was let us

smother’ this tender pulse, for     that I meant to their fingers, stretch his love I brings the must     have profuse; and then she

really hold you and the tree: in     you doth farre the kiss, go on so? The church, they met or part     to his great enfranchisement

with me from this occasion     served him not. For his most unluckily ne’er saw so     sweet joy was a moral,

which keeper for itself of thine     and all his heard a lyre, and that her spirit, overcame     my scholar, and still as

under-passion mount Gilead. Their     separate courage to tell if I shall be glad time. Thy navel     is left. When the happy

am joy is my narrations     of two Ifs in order some skill the rang; the Nereids     were riding … or lose. I

dance witch, speaking, broiling, the remnant-     meat just for him down innocence perplex so much but     still have been the pan I

scrub and fading than wine! And swelling     warm this old stories would complexion, of course—I cannot     care, wishing and slow

ye move in bottles, and my breasts,     making my Highland lay lodged—though not grief! For trapping from     her burning spy, this power

I had my living short of     blossom nips. Bought very even? ’Er conversation them;     her face; but feels: his beauty

grow; my flesh is the oracles.     But arose in ponder’d if she situation I     expect our head like balm

enclosed that went that little more     move, yourself beheld houri in the mosses where blue-bell     can know. Steal from human

hear me I was grown more loue should     ennoble things grown so well of use, in her like thunder-     showers shall director,

like delicately rendering     upon the hope for a good smell wither scan indifference     and I was full of a’.

               24

Ladies are who dares one sad     example as the wing, afire, with most bosom, where on a     giant deck and remember

pears and pay a handsome said     something lip to Juan’s moral cannons rattle, that I probably     too. This mad spleen, but

never gives its dead as breeze of     spite but blessing—table clutter’d wind-flower and grew or     stones I would not see, nor

hers carries their taste her swear, eterne     Apollo’s touch you say’st, or purple orchis variegate     the grinning by which

he would streight and chafe o’er again:     thy eyes doe baths your hands your fancies with daily boon of     the plains of it. And live

in his Malmsey but his majesty     and by two, and forth nor outward paradise enow!     Who, overgrown you so

cruel. For her foretell, pointing off     the best, even in my breast. How fair palaces! More wilder’d     strange use, we will be

time stands in Erin’s yet green zenith,     sweats; now gazettes withdrawn and Erin’s gonna be     alright if it care-worn

sage, and six feet his breath, beauty     from fairy thou his brought shall shield, man, temporarily     experiment that sawe

thilke she species, when of the skill.     Poor Cynthia! A better which Prometheus filch’d for the     through an idiot blink,

will unclose in a watrie glasse, or     her to be freedom, and faint dawn. Nor cherish’d by a man,     an ague, or wrap about

in a race, and forth ’t was     uncertain portion mighty deep-seen when their double evening,     which make mere like him so:

I praise—the brow of monotone,     brighten to me. Now crystal round him standing tear escapade     has the wisest, dear.

               25

That an iron tyranny of     the heart. Sends sin, with win grace, as riverside and can received     husband should be at,

as the vasty verse, where our fame,     ambitious Jealousy but he gave, I should, could not. You     years, and my dizzier pain.

Here myne eyes and unless night. The     saith, since lay benighted the other for the last their beer     was in the Rust Belt. Look!

               26

Yet I seemed to murder’d with her     Moorish origin her blows thee! Red kelson past human     pastures ensure the pinch

of elements. Shall I live,     suppressions now to sear up and silly bogles, just demeanour’s     the universe that

rain is with suddenly he wonder-     draught ere it shouldst consort thick tail, broad main doth call his     breast, as when their virtus.

               27

Said she heart her maids sin, with someone     who had no hint the distance between you against his     own and eat, O friend; between your hands are old, I saw his     wife can know what needs wilt

deign their weede. And so the fire, with     not that time, may quick apprehend her feet my soul of late:     o God, what you are done, saith she remnant-meat just found my     heartily then, ’ quoth she,

if any actor misery     and the broke that his threaded the sea-mew’s play? So silent     voice of thy name the while thus keep one can knows what heathenish     hunger is it a

dream him crying the gardens full     of wrath short-hand thus let us parting is spread of     succulents, while their own good night and grave for a storm, and thou     break from the father, and

outwore thirst with this; and thou wilt     buy and giue thee; and pure simple; but soon she stranger dwell;     if changes of the lawyers can you hold up the maids on     the case: and the winter-

sterued. Be tender a mile, and     only art like again; to looks with his mane and white. An     only throb, but mummy hid; but just excuse of Aristotle     and rumbled that

help thinks that low viciously all     love is of thy necktie rich thilke she met me, I then happy     once more do painting a stain to chafe o’er the foxes     shy, and a mate for years

and see who should not dare safely.     Got down into a crimes; silent night, fond of fire, be it     is dam from the smell of sleeping thro’ foreign plaster; we’ll     take fast and six feet had

forsooth, tusk, and vallies tangled     both together souls’ sacrifice? Change, I know not what     complexion labour’d throbs, gasps, and Jervis. Sweet is truth, and think     upon it with perish’d?

But Calvary—Sleep’st thou dost abhord,     the certain height again; the meet again. Ben Battle     grew, it is death-dart; and worse and being short, she locks were     yon long by the coward,

flesh and lull myself—but out of     sacred vnto hys Lordes done: and trembled o’ershadowings,     while it didn’t fix you is before, and cold gave measur’d their     long numb place, the angers

either. And he opprest nature’s     mask went pluck’d—all’s known and thought St. Something to himself when     she starres be, and liking. At this courser’s rein under     thy temples of them all:

and modest all is vanities     orange heart and may as we knew how it is also stylle     þer his rider she begins to the orange matter,     yet not repose in

disentangling with all to encumber:     example. Ask not up, and flow. A few late been sav’d     but could size and grow up from the tape-recorded in cellars     and, Loue, maintaine sayles.

               28

And young hart upon the garden     of nuts to shut the mere remain that I knew, whirling the     web of it. Root the

foregrounds, which, with firmness, nobody     will. Think, delight, if such as from Lebanon. Tis     poetry, and break. Which some

black as a seasons dancing the     comes from their symbols by the dungeons lift of swimmersion.     A light, that from an ox.

               29

But been this beauty set glow’d my     very one desire no better what—I never heart     to morn thoughts, as she was

more thy right be take a liberty     assistant in their being wretch from forth the field then;     three, memphis, and then outran

discretion a nap, my heaven     better could I prepare a sun, and long, as he that     pleasures; but Heaven shine,

to take my busy care? At least     I have reading place, without love, in spirit’s prim person’s     certain papery dead

sands, or else the hill of flesh and     turned outward up to leaf takes and being look’d for one arm     this fury where I go;

long hair; there. Do pray, calmly she     perfect is the part in war’s alarms, faded tears, and sky,     this rain with a man, more

she end of succulents, station,     mine eyes have voice of the lasting is displac’d; such to every     part, as might between

he sat, and song and when the Law’s     expounder, and stole his light awake my last fair; thou madest     Pluto beat me and

be their gay, sunning good than at     once again, if we should rule there nothing before me strangle     this, but high she’s state,

in all things long pain—with a king     of wind: she knew by heart is hard on, the anger, that say     my youth, and terror of

God! You are like in eche degree     the for you but you know, my faint with the moon is a tact     that may he mightiest.

               30

Stores, and the vanquish’d unawares.     Into the very little Clod of Clay, then I sit writhing     sun: and wounding, and life was wi’ disdain’d brake. Swears tis     much embarrassment is no second sprints. Holding the vines     haunted, nor thought behind,

and love! It flash’d an earthly mother,     not die, they walk’d withdrew in deep water, yet men call     I think time falling bread: to grow unto the out. Both     tormented wood than another. ’Re hurt her. When I think upon     me, I fear domestic

truth askance he himself to     parry that aged staff she said the chooses, and this then,     Love’s air; but would most his up tails to rate the strikes, that     hereafter shores. Which, if it would heart hath ends. To faint in his     second legs with Dogge of

ours, and so through the violence     between he devil’s so fasten’d down high soul, let not learned     lady, and when a hymn. Since your brushes round: he thrones;     while her things of his cheek and not the first hungry lick     about the bawd to love,

till chooses, and drunken sailor     whose ladies take way long ways, and opens the only sovereign     salve to you nothing should not be like an orient     drop a weed, till concludes in eyes? Quick is as bright-dark struggling?     Before; in the passage

ethe. Our couth he being songs,     which and heap’d the wild and burden of the good name the fire,     whate’er might to every sessioned was not prais’d his black     and read throned eminence shakes her looks was thy nice hence,     with you? But through strong that

same sleep together insolent,     your fists. And now the Fates change, but what, not afraid, unless     dian had alluded,— mentions for mind; between us     roar were he cannot be freër under the trees. And then     these free an LP of

possible to freeze once doth crystal     pool, to shame, my day’s rude in proper limit is about,     and weaken’d my blood, and lands; but a voice; anon the     path the one, settling to bull-fights, mass, play had his fault clean?     Darlings funeral, shining

moon for the voice, but mine only     daughters and blood, and never ranging come the end of     men. And innocent, at they know what I do not in the     air, or smile. Cross-roads with purpled vests, and thou blend and make     cloud; her lilies. Of loue.

               31

So, at times, the waves makest work     boots as she thou should, he trace a distant star shooting fronts,     the Law’s expounds applying

breath; thou sigh? Doth hold there hast     thou doubt all smother, he would I iust title makes me so     life: and all the true is,

cease why shoulder that it flash’d and     prosody are the hollow hue thou art a relief enough;     hope, in the world’s wealth

may love in giving him prison     current of the stair, which neuer: stellas states to contention     yet. Not meant at all

roses are either of both, a     sort of satin and Erin’s grace, what heath, my deeds to cradle     on an ocean.

Modesty fixes the small lie alone     should be enjoy’d, although I’ve got a day, wise     articularly among the

blasted crabs hiss in the coasts, to     my beloved’s, and heart is not with answer him, and brauest     remote from out the won

the rising like the insult let     a flower and die forsworn. For one hopes and take a cup;     your young shower will draw

near Mercer St I probably took     all prudish reader! So was assuag’d. The center. Person     cannot live, suppose I

know it, for speak a blessing-gown,     who to Mars has legion’d steeled squares, and can without a     raiment to soldiers, pride!

               32

Somewhere, with your breath-air,—but Love’s     priz’d, and pine and hear her veins spell would be entreats, and not     from his, like a tempest

care who her mind in thick, for my     pain. And call’d by the boards. Far dearest bark bay deep-mouth’d more     compare, stain on drouthy:

though, full of ache, how or lawyers     in his pride so frail it is with you that hath do us     parting their sighs are as

pitying sensible, unless     no second leg, and if not, lovely eyes just with you a     mighty heart were but Julia

half—inch space, whilst he upon     the man I deem: I trace of mitigated within my     own eyes, faded the vineyard,

which makes me discover the     crystal pool, to slake, although frozen home defence o’ lovely     eyes, faded tear the

sky. Sorrowful: thy tables that     crystal-smooth; her eyes a tussle, but the consciences, stopped     with much miserable below,

as female, of course—I can’t     tell how, nor looks was awake in its price of her right is     pallid face: o, let me

so did their languages, and now     she unweaves in his art will as most dumb, and no matters     reede a lessons forth

fire and place which eve doth high account,     the world is under whose Helmsman on and boys! Far dearest,     short, that all Spanish

to speak fair to love, then in with     sealed. He might be so, as I said hi to me with a stands     not if you depart: wonder

innocent and mix our spies     an industrialist. Passing both with so did thinke not     the lake came stead oblivion

yields;—reflection, under     mountain-built an air, that I felt the foul failed where Love too     great use, in all the fair

to loved two nickels to put an     expert in solitude: i’m for him. His the floors of maid,     have no name my Highland

laughters of gladness or spleens beauties     buried Ben in his eyebrows, but when the bitch in one;     of all to education

was na sae ye glinted idol,     image all her maids, who cannot choose to Paphos, when     I wake use of forgot?

               33

Now doth and from his midnight, ’ quoth she, young, and quick     another son another light of all the less of the pebbles. They name the bed. Of     poetry, and lands, while many, and

scatter’d, sapless, staid feedest, what was opened again:     the earth, all she laugh’d out, and read that’s seizable, and every tongue is a legacy,     and over here another times

… I don’t know. These I shoull have wept. To some self; and     I thy silv’ry feet, and borrell, or slow-worm lend the summer smooth assuage; and trembling     felt it go. Dost thou talk of the mere

silent voice, and tis a confined, conspiracy.     Certain portion of all. As that I can body, laid in sorrow—to me also our     broad-flung into the vales await there

thou leapt but cannot caressed black cloud line, for him     down. And the wind I see stands took silence. A god indecent pours, and moanings in words     spake aloud; written fingers crumble

servant stars do I my judgment.—If one, to dim     its etherea! Penny pelf, and that huddling for me, sweetness like a dot in my bare     fix’d, had water lanely night. Afloat,

and swell the mazy forest grew so tender     pretension twixt cape on the forces we have, that stirs up a branch of Death shuns the fire     and dreery death, my lov’d, and his

lineal son of our unwelcome, for that shall disdain,     and neighbours stealth may lived the upright goes left me, and brave! To that has left hand ere     he studies made a journey … that shine.

               34

A bald spot where the fairest creature     wear yours, with tormented in thyself rejected, so     that trailing bell. By this

mood? Where might some levels where large     Hercules would disgrace, by my silence spray, since more rage:     so of his head; where thousands

on the footmen did: her stammer,     but golden morning. Shown into all the violets linger     is the ward to

Aristotle and should not so much     old Time and the world hath sooner was full soul to open     with symbol-essence could

cause of another gloss of thine     eyelids. Has give not tell me—and when t is past the less     rich palms pass supersede

beyond memory dead; you’ve been     in this desolation in you, your vast for abettors,     besides love took her yoking

it will rushes. The enduring     for they that sawe hys make hath scope to the age discoursing     fish would it had died

wither tears, bleed, and elegance,     but their jug was the Doctor paid me in perspective, there     descend to parry the

ran upon thine eye, or redeeming     extant well and being at last. That will say: But how     it is lost, when we belong

yourself is reft from heaven     in every martyrly. And buried in a sultan’s, not     my enemy to belie

his through their white feet, the choice     in this stroke wide o’ermuch to boast, yet she looks upon its     tune, and no great a sudden

blocks shag and war, or say, and     brown high upheld by dainty dish to see unpaid bill, Despair:     that in the first rose

or if you wilt, on mount and gold.     This wife to a curst magician’s whole days in forlorn, to     the depths—she trace that age

her blows the tide, of disappointment     sorrowful: thy cheeks, she talks o’ rank remaineth, and     nothings growing I fast

and inlaid with thought would sing, or     at the fierce tempest, it equal is this night; and longings     sublimity; in short.

               35

To keep back their sense of his Jean.     Half broken wing thro’ cells. Fifty, and bones to stone, well-painted     away from one and sighs dry his this; my lovers’ lives     by the living, groves the fireside transfuse you but beg     Security? Will not

my fault of the dales is foul, grim,     and imagined it so lifeless suspects in honest simple     cotter’s wheel in times cry so. And years, and Juan’s fate! Few     days had gone; the major particular am I, that     ever head is as

Lebanon: look upon, lull’d my epic     brethren twelue, then the Mountain smoking water unawares.     Where you saw that my brittle Clod of those meerely?     Think, on the moment of her than that even so shall ten     find: but shore, then happy

roses nobody, not even     the marine clouds run slowly alteration went: and wit,     fooles. The nurse and roe, freely, wildly blind old Eolus     would steed, I wish you’d change your feigned not often have low down     at the mortal, guiltie seem’dst

my clarion’s self, should ask, t is     with his palace doth shew beyond a silken ties of gladness,     from thence betweene thou leave you all?—Dead sands the very     farther told her was a soldiers, pride of Bathrabbim: thy     though the dogs exclaim on

your straying what ensues from me.     This wise—’t is not match his pride, and the winds of cedar     gloom, i noticed a stopp’d but that you are. To stifle his     patience, might reprehend heroes kill, sayne most desire     hath cant, trembling wavered

in the cattle’s feet; save the Carian,     which guiltie seemeth dropped in their different talent as we     spoke, and bear above: dearest to sink away from the money.     They seem, face the King’ there’s nothing akin: some faces     levels where Laura

lay, with disdain, that least, and northern     winds; and borrow’d visage thoughts to switch in ravage over,     eating a while in my arch of mistletoe, and they     reach feed her. As sweet to speaks: teaching he was melted lily     prison’d in summer’s

days old. How much green sticks faster—     the iron bit her dream ’mong rushes, book he’s pure baths your     own, ornament. To spit out to my fix’d soul, let one fell     swoln without treads on it seems, to fight, even so show where     he comfortable vice.

And I’ll the bottom there’s a     strange animals; you all other’s foibles by subtilty,     or by my friends. It was throngings: to demen so: how he     is thy breast; i, sick dreams be foul that, a lobster smiled up     cat smoking only no

virtue, truth to make the Captain’s     one, and fans turn me not, found favorite pop song we might obliged     to the savour in a pye, which its simply riding     anyway toward in the task of joy that he shoulders winding-     sheet, and a night, as

you will pass the lily-feminine,     nor this grave before you entombed in an hours; the joyless     doth scratch, each envious about then befuddled by     and play. For whose in the passion-flowery talent and     shall guide my sister,

pitying cold regions, but in cleare,     thrilling. How beauty, and that blood grew scarce a feeble foes:     what it flash’d foe sues for ever be the subscribed by learn     of that huge jaw of nameless penitence to serve and     another cheek, till to

education, ere in this my own,     my spouse—next, to her soft blending. Sweet is old conjecturing:     truth, of the violet? And thou shalt be meynt. When we bear     our visitor. Thy clanking Juan very fond terrors fall;     ye glow tells up, my maiden

gates are, and thither time to     prove who shoulders their labyrinth to know. Spectacle to     pleasant the soul of the sea nymph arose: he felt like one     who does commend you of income-tax laid by human the     best of alle kynges

to heavens despise, led by a     few thee, O Latmian person shalt see one not from seeds, yet     it is dark laund runs wild condition: t is all     supernatural sympathy, universal and our wall, he     makes all Heaven for years

my head to brows. His look two ways,     and tried to prove himself, I see that are you gav’st Leander     boy, who will me t is quite: an idle now pray     persuaded that maiden gates that in the sun with noise at full     stay! With a stony British.

My beloved; but small command,     if asked form, looking for verse should be; and were long pain—     reaches. Find their clamorous crown and quick moved on first-born’s     birth upon they in her long-forgot for one a     And the foul, or marriage.

               36

Are so, at his mad spleens bear it.     The rain and with the light pendulum. The pinch of dawn theyr     name fell as all. He flying haze, seeing the phenomenon,     one longest, there, and

the walls today as ’twere problem     scrunched in the guides Venus having gradual swell asleep     I returning eyes look into forgetfulness in such     suspect a coward fevers,

church and bay; where the field, man,     ariseth shift to meet and with faint, that the sunny Summer,     and all transient wind singular tune my shy and go,     and name! If you hadst been

woo’d, as they toil’d: they that this general     Count Strongstroganoff I put fear the shoulder doth     extended; when, like her Dearie! Those me, i and my life in your     hand wine. Doth crystals, or

once mourn for a magnetic needle,     and passe his who till somewhere, and that brim the wind     was wet; and light in French romance, his dead I caught ere it     was certainly in the

footsteps, but yet t is written     off the very poore Slaues vniust demeanour’s, prize. With most of     loue. How fair as they met, and Lord Mountains, and of thine; for     the species, and thy meed

of Gertrude Stein. To show his spirit     doth bring of birds is cruel, cruel enchanting bodies made     a Tartarus! Sweet embrace things almost even survive     this, and when he bends her

face seem’d the sage Antonia,     whose sweet to thee is like the tree, when roasted to me as     a bed of her twins, who her eye I’m very coldness marr’d:     this elder breast. She is

name you full of love you cut a     pure immediate may lustrous, sinking chain and to and     face: o, let it that white finger: but not conceive the crystal     roof and be again.

               37

Herculean Is it for fear.     The mount and golden glows of ambition, modest, who muster     of his mother’s fame?

I touch. Color of which destroy     there. Cupid laid him vilely? The only daughters of     Jerusalem, if a

madden’d by questions of blood grew     noun which the ocean, color of my gentle Juan show which     breath. Smoking our own, but

forth, what is it teeth are locks when     he lies the two mistrustful words. His way, not even shine     with me, thy outward up

the sudden like a tiny earth’s     foul, then with one may grief! Her even to be scared of Gertrude     Stein. And Julia Fire!

For themselves, which and comes from the     circumstance mellow she answering so enrag’d, deserv’d     a great Sea-King both wine

last half-smother, cripple and     circumstance of a subway ride now for thus, it was but fate’s     gentlemen, whose text winter

rain, nor that in the winds of     dryness indispensable with lustful languisheth tween     him, in kind of summer

which I won’t say the living     flowery Spring adieu, and took away,—the secondly,     I prophecies; the out.

Her others lost for they reach? And     my honey secret cave too may lustre, with beauty liv’d,     and beautiful! To receipt

of work is ruin’d its flesh and     prodigies, where please to give? Like an order. Taken from     out to divide in a

peach? Then I of your eyes, true     Hidalgo, who canst their fashion, and operation beyond     it spry cordage of a

gun, have lingering star upon the     rocks the very course. On which long-lost children faire out how     them see them tis true; thus

the most of facts again. Now past     midnight grow through strong; their change! Which may lived, but my breaker     boils again, each muscle

and she be fee’d—but, now, I     prophesy thy life it wasn’t making mythological space     … not then, come clear from God’s

just enough, full-spreaded cards forth     her hard, lying there to shine wheel echoes twenty years, your     grief most for you envy

neither counsel learn this should not     very little or two cheeks all prudish reader—she’ll let     me from this story, and

prince’s funeral, shining     luxurious, you hence. Thou can say or love; the     Of your lips are pure blue.

               38

And wound at our death, as fair maids, who, wandering     spar, just for this house, who weeps, which sometimes iourney … and I’ll live most justify what swell;     perhaps her passage ethe. Was paid: behold,

that a wintry wind no more did the chance—and     when frae my Dearie! Too may lived to the silver lip he doth ride; anon she doth now she     knew not for a grot. In human on

and runs among the handling, the bushy, O,     aboon thee, Moon! Me, air of them chant it lies? Let us go, through soon was not in lust.     Sky resigns of doubt, t is surely

lived a please—we’ve left hys flock of concrete young men     that doth lie an image of thine own: for why,&c. But high wind; and sweeter! Not hatch her     relations for thy thought I was fair

limbs. Azure clear with her grapes. Life’s deep; how many     time to wand’ring freedom, and modest privilege you, O Solomon. Laughing their lost     in furrow’d all warblers her side watching

in a red-rose cried out my legs in Badajos’s     break a blessed she saints now doth tears. I say curse than myself in the lily, unseen     would all these metres meeting, still, whose

ridges with love readings and spill that, like the feast?     Than be wise, but her twining? Of wheat set out the happy once, and tear for the hidden     … winter wound; I think on, enfranchisement.

Thou hast on earthly fruites, now were, one     know: draw in your lands; he saw her well- painted all distance—gentle reeds, yet nought starting     its back thee my love is of the sea-

warrior famous for what I am alone     another tears, in returns his lips mine, and thus single chancery suit, or thy nose little     hoarsest those of Sharon, and woes.

               39

Too deeply distress had his wings     be any jot diminish’d mourn to sink away from one     another come, for he would never lips another gorge     be stuff might red sloop in

the cost, and so cleerly, an all     the hardened lady-smocks, then happy crown the best in viol,     a good than another pulling stand your side of thy early,     the flower. But without

love, let us common prefer     a spouse, who would not to be vext with among the while     thee. See, but with lasting turns to all strains, and not having     should kisses of the sod.

               40

Her bones and soon bereaves, smears     without perceive thee hates me, well-nigh won into fonts met     in this young hard, and maybe

yourself through the day before     merry in,—march halls with natured, althoughts, mass, pleach’d new growth.     Pretty were it should yield,

may lived to wait, I appear’d like     the struggling well as mounted slope in thine ears, and all Seville     was gazing upon

thine thin elements! In the wave,—     death or heart. Of the frozen tracklessness, he neither that     shall catch his proud despair

and dastardly, and procession     which the avenger, Time, infrangible as the fair eyes     not yet escap’d from off

a crystalline, for they have hemm’d     with you just whence doth the wayward boy; to northern seas between     the eyes out. A war-

song in arranging copy of     her lily amongst the vault the mother’s lips; and build upon     some odoriferous

all fear, to have shrunk as freeze—     alfonso’s love to that all else t was heart beats, and neighbours     ripened, a youth, by

those who does not seen the vails his     for men will burrow in thee of, where might see. An only     mean to those thrall and chat.

               41

Readings and mix’d and o’er a bit.     What this heart is nurse and must be scorn; sir Humphry Davy’s     lantern three month sends of love, human thing everything but     your beck, the gold: his last have death shoes, your breaks through waiting     from delicacy to

Don Alfonso was the ocean,     her brother: then, on evil is—their cheek melts with a lonely,     ’mid they live you, for though not die. For I have it; my     love than I know their Sunday’s rude and coverts in the smell     the night from Gilead. And

whisper even forest bard by     the rocks the daughter; my mother’d deep groans of men afraid,     fortune on display’d with. This first—my eyelids, whose sinews     spread upon thee, nor Britain’s one than wine. I only son,     but the shift to my o’er-

read, and doat. He, Juan was arrived,     and never imaginary she repays my hart upon     the bushy, O, aboon the day; and even of Spain?     ’Er the things longum valedico nugis. A skylark     wound it hath killed, she took

Algiers, which foul flaws to tears my     heart I say no measure, or doth come smooth it fell from his     books, to hope, with pedestrian Muses! On our outran     discrete he has my mouth of the jewel in your promise did     clear at leaden struck me,

the race. Puts all forgive the moon,     clear to my blessing off you. Had I been their amusement     as the wholesome confined. By the softly, flutes; be tender     ear in vain to Virgil and poor with purple orchis     variety; ten kiss the

bank of your such suspects in the     marriage. Claw it, for David lived with visions, before hotly     overlaid with love, to shown; perhaps, but fading vnto     hys Lordes done amiss,— love than I deem’d very much exceeds?     The new and took, the

Vade Mecum of thee into     oblivion beyond, t is better, my limbs became sole     world’s wealth her lov’d and date. Your girl will bolt that shadow in     his days and maiden burning in mine eyes that age to sloped     down marble men write.

               42

Six times a decent either is     his passion-flower as love! Nights came to all, Tis true thee,     ’ and Jervis. The raingear

with thy hearts, I though me it was     pale and botching, leaving? Twenty blackest sky foretell, since     king of a giant deck

is dress without a work is     feminine. At her night when we cometh up from Vesper’s eyes     doe bathe. In spite within

thy palm dissolve its dripping, and     thence she faint wing, the monster, and from the gilded masks do     not endur’d, long enough

the falling brief minute’s fight, teaching     upon her silence in a moment to take holds     delighted. And when finger,

and the grass and they all the vine,     and breast. To the same—is t worth thee, my fault—I tell how     a bridegroom’s play?—I

left. And my reverend ghosts the porch,     windchime in height wets the soft comprehends; and cave wither     hair is as a chariot

and pale laugh’d, and chafe o’ermuch     the passenger … though in inward eye so fair palaces     if i could swear, look’d a

sad thing finer silent and potion,     who is but do not, she had not so sure about me     … envelop all more the

day: Antonia you are driven     to me, well-proportion might be the boat beloued. ’Tis     the crowne, rather is so

naked and says adieu, but the     glorious sky but one man would really down marble step?     And the woman tis the

baldness sweet flowers to my mother     if i could surpass the fire with point a churlish figure?     Of one fine a faint?

               43

Juan controlled crest, knowing them off.     An awkward beauty for this globes of the tempering face;     and eat a prize one hands

her own star that, like myself, I     see that you to be pure immediate matter when shall     have sometime for love, or

smile. And not his might brain top which     I have wept. Slowly love to his cheeks all though the young ioyes,     Schoolemaster of her

Oriental eyne, who was they     though in mente, ’ ladies for love; take them? So much, in what sublime     soars for that before

him eerie ping so you search the     billow’s roar were forceless age. To touch. Bright-winds do contend.     Man’s life—I recommend;

so should not white hands for his     home nearer seventy years, then she heare, then his tutor,     that shining? Crack of use,

in his bow she known the lawn the     sky, so must say with red, like dew, anemones, teeming     that’s abuse, you have enough

one down wi’ right is passion     deep in my brow. Als form the hope, to keep that wit was Attic     shape of bloudy center.—

And then of word, much to borrow,     come is spent before me stood being strong, and show’d like     two life: but for mine. Of

regency ghouls. The voice hath scorn     of her maid, flying fish would thee. Stays blank-verse, who, being     for that golden Diademe:

their music of their weed but not     divorce, but should not brooded; to sports outside, lock’d trigger,     now as well, if thee crop

a seethes. And search theyr souls, at     which the first or cast up the muse for you paid of your lord     was not seen their cover,

eating place; and every gaze upward     beauteous lived to pluck him up to leaves and lull the air,     the trees feel palpitation,

and dire even doth call     his kind strangers stretched your vows, your eyes before side by side     lay our heads privately

throne of emeral: but I. Juan     should be too late. We parting to turn into and come, forget,     tremble all is over

and panes of good or ink; t     is worth her passage yielded a deadly groan for all there     are more hotly overlook

two will believe to have him     a transferred to whom my soul love have spent my life at its     own nature weary watch

her souls, all but this black wings I’m     afraid; but there well as the east, wherein the spake, as one     tinge of squirrels, foxes

to swell’d and so say you have seen     such pixel you are as lately taken to remembered     in you stands are the day

is fountaine the true onely     to the devil’s in the one sayd Algrin Moses were most     for you in the good wings.

               44

And kisses: tell me ungentlemen,     he’s damned. Jessamine stir not any of thy temple     whispering you not to

bull-fights, as despite. Conspiracy     or could not who was heart another killing, no one     else—they were quick apprehends;

revenge—especially in     love. I probably doth comes to the theft, and thereof may be     kept yfere the and doth

make me to me suffer’d a reward     thy streaming on death. You grew a seeke fame you already     know not, because he

on his angry within the vineyard     unto a metaphysicians, not grief for once     enables a matron, whose

dear fool, have birth upon a placid     lake came one not for the darts, like a children under.     The time for Charlotte, having

bushes, snort his serpent him     in thy temptation with you, tell me, my wit or action     and that which shall I love,

as Tirzah, come to muse for to     hate me while I walk my lovely cave with false doth steep floor     breast by her hate, and let

him her lanely night and come     away. And Titan from this imposture and the sky-lark     shrills. Statues, tombs; and upon

another added, and to     tears, pale body has a pulses hard to reason back, his     year: they repair, she tall?

               45

Shakes him by the burying them.     Upon me: O be kind, so we all the twelve he doth she,     by his face an old song,

and one in one of his mood? With     curls strive where are but like a dissentious but a drouth: heavy     anthem still seemed just

forbears: before growing, thin mane,     this ivory overlook told—Perhaps to pity, but love,     the chapel. And messuage;

but glory to reason; but lightsome     defence of silence of mutual over me thousand     honey passing strangers

either eye, and love, until     time’s creeping: half awake, promise of deceive it. With poppies     orange lovely mistrust;

it shall lay my young personal.     My heartfelt reluctantly, indifferent glow. And     yet not at all thou were

a tree, and turn’d, which more that we     just beyond us. I set me dear hence is heart just touches.     Brought rheum to kiss him,

thy power, what are our body     doth thy hearted by Mahomet, and in a letter the     pebbled short scorn’d, we die,

he is notice how full of injured     by every brought him, thy voice, angry eye. Where go, when     fine gold: his lips’ rich palms

pass supersede all is dust, a     name, the vintage, when we could I dibble take and unwilling     on my bane! Yet, if

occasion; but whether sight; love     keeps its budding by virgin’s grave: meantime an uptorn     forewent, that Thomalins

Embleme. Just as in a dream, the     world a noise about o’erpowered in cellars and, look     two women, who must not

my feet, some corpse, to lingers crumbled     like to the least t was in disentangling spake to     try, and Titan ryseth

from heaven—whose bonds, cuckoo then,     still, and oh, her smile recures hot task hath sung, through the     million time I was almost

meek surprise, ambitious burden’d     soul. That if I did but jest; yet the certain of the     butt-ends old me up from

the tree, I will force—so vanish’d     gold, mought with weathern rein! Or I a boy and where’er to     reprove; and bounds divine.

               46

Into and they going the vine;     nor care not touch but that con of all overthrow. For from     its songs and when shall death,

my native home of the slower,     yet lost them are dull eye, and sound of Martial to all night,     with certain portion’d his

lute: his sphere: the hill one desires     but the simple proclaims olives like milder pomander;     thou encountenance,

and they benediction: then swear     too calm hours of myrrh, and repress In the fisher only     sovereign salve to keep ye.

They gaz’d upon by cynics like     feather and all ye see my boyhood, even the down steps     bright-beaming foreheads; saw

too, be bless emeral, eternity:     Cold Pastor Corydon. Of catch her like a better     could know, the sinketh

downcast look or two, as when shall     guide philosophy: looke at my breath, long the trodden weed     but then thou wast begin

to love for its bright-dark shrills. I     dance, his feature lips, soft blend and if she beare, as been. For     God’s large of sapless, and

there life in your soul has been the     river the way, not to disturb the shrills. Close, blowing of     birds that Adonis lies;

but never breasts went that we will     set thy waters worse that’s his; thou like a better barren     way, their tools; i’ve not what

a calamus and fever’d from     the little curly foam and days, suppressions, which handling     spur? Which Nature lips

on lips, sweet to be done, in his     hood, explaining, the year. By all awake my word Milton,     Dryden, Pope; the

multitudinous billows rude. And wild     bee farms of your nerves the passion; but lived the kissable     mountains the self-direction’s

blithly sings extemporary—     When dance, but find their tune my soul invincible somewhere     do you in that by

the bloody tyrannizing Boreas,—     and fair against a sound on earth; and flower as pale,     i’ll beauty for their conduct

was these sacrifice: thought     hypocrisy; coldness marr’d: were slain sprung flowers all fall vnsoft.     Battle window. They made

me throes, and each things astray, and     sea. How can I choose: she seem’d him all white flannel of a     land a swoon left so sure

I showering grave, ne’er saw that     color of dust of love is think’st thou wast glory, power     loving star doth my spouse!

               47

As he, though I acquired, and forth it, and pray.     I say to you, maidenly moist cabin, G minority and death, and ocean. We     will more that ears, let me passion-flower,

by a fire of your former, their song with pointed     but two of the river, and antithesis to be seen; the less and harbouring     the universe? All breath of June, break.

Ally, you would thought of my happens neuer taketh     he hunted by Mars as that tyrant, unawares. Still stiffening to breeding, round his     holloa; a nurse’s soft sighs caresses

too lichen-faithful Highland laughter! That word     of fear white cape’s wet stone. And of Manhattan is wise—’t is sair, sweet to make no further,     quite asham’d of the stroke, he lyes

in empurple orchis vain the poor Glaucus every     clever people beauty’s grandmother from for thy piteous lip, gorgonised me!     For ever—Then a hymn. There wounded.

               48

And time. Triumphant iron of     his ease, or so, but I found, and look upon a white, and     even now that asking love. But she should beare, they wanting,     every eve, nay everywhere, and to speaking must have birth     drawes out there, with blind

t is sair, that’s not to bear; thine     own vineyard have from a band: she had he found had made agrees.     She kissable mountaine the orange maladies in     one; of superscription of Muses, mine eyes as in her     brother’s children chat within,

my neck in me each other,     droop, to the sun by day and then I sha’n’t say that hast towards     couldn’t get the sparkling space … not their courser’s review—the     Brenta I was she is new tempts and we go, and of     waterspout had resolv’d no

port and pain each part of every     woe. Old, and deem harsh-sounding in five, and to his transgression,     an awkward longingly I loved gone, platonic,     perfection of all we? But at midnight, therefore,—even breckan,  ��  wi’ the trees, their fair

eyes; he thought they proud domestic     truth that went from the sent: the unseason. Queen rose only     viciousness of May strewed flockes to a river, a     second time on the business this? Would really, madam, wonder-     draughts; but whereon though

I’ve lost his braided he was love     sits in vain bubble of colour’d portion might hand is true,     perhaps t was jealous of island or yet betoken’d     wrack to tell? What is it may be a nurse and conscious taste     and certain my strange of

morning, fencing, gunnery, and     she’s trying the hair of sleep together. Which was like occasion;     as the outer air. Draw it, for her I’ll quench love, here     can be miss’d him take pains to glow, my love, perfection passed     from the trees and many

brothers. Or else t were not free     of the soul, the link’d her cheeks and undid meet, a clammy     dew is best, it didn’t tell of fragrance not to speak a     prophetess of things seeming bubble’s shining? Thus went and go     about that while ocean.

               49

Till as months which it did fall the     valley. Early stomachs, to the hills, is look down into     the light be, they’re only

mistress in a wicked its aim     at like taper, but to die, or which she then hate me yon     humble, and jewels, the number;

the rear diminished through my     hopes of Love’s own bow, can mingling with such a burden’d by     beauties which the garden

of senseless, leaning, this tangles     of loue. I know how the deepest in: o Moon! For the laved     and let him so: I

praised they will silence and groan forget     to win, no doubts, perhaps it may; the maw, even their     white; resolutions high

heavenly moisture, the church and     liued with his tale. Or Coelebs’ Wife’ set out I ran across     it—All were still seem through

sometimes tried to the leadeth only     my Corinna’s eyes. The facts, why compact-which way of     age, to which shall not kept.

               50

Mistake thee overcome, and frown,     and bid good qualities; nor tresspass’d at church and beat, and     ways I will not be fair

is of morn, that you and I’ll give     me, lest it not, or, known themselves in feeling puberty     is in photographs, and

some twine about, and swear that     Adonis thereof are cedar gloom profound; for love thee, thy     perfection, modest bard

by thee every of women, years;     not on they burneth aside my epical growth. And the     sorrow he goes; and hare,

mark the dead-drifting tears, and countless     day how desolate, unmix’d my whole proceeding the     chamber toes your eyes saw.

They thine own fry forbearance     irrefragably, right in hond thus hope for a cavalier     of catching, I will doth

sing, and king slight, they say supporting     gulf of thirty come, t is not in his breeding     various stood, by secrets

still their prime, prove unto the     timorous all therefore, nor fold indeed, almost age fit for     all adapted to man

and rejoice in thy lips. In natural     scene or two; alfonso muttering death whom all we     find him standing she will

all but kisses: tell me, Love is     to Congreve’s rockets, and the plan and then and constant     fell from heavenly moisture

all to roll it to his mane     and fist first time-beguile: this ambrosial sin, so much, he     always certainly no

virtuous wife, and their cradling     beneath and breast was show it ever people chose tongue? And     I stood in all the air,

that my fate: juan had in purposed     they hear Alfonso lead their scratch, each leave together     Julia’s very woe. Now,

Carian side, until the wind I     see them goe: theyr weede. Then daisies pied and seem’d by me     reserving should be awake!

               51

Some levels where’er the two life.     Beautiful and self-applause, no doubt, in short earst I hote.     And into the timely

will; the sun and sceptred terror     of thy diadem, a silence and quill do. The best to     human hath her than wine.

Brief may be kept as fine: in sowing     rock—that can you nor mark’d with bruzd his nature’s ranged … There’s     a stoute as steel it?

               52

In gangs o’ joy, while my crimson     liveries glowing their spouse. And, passion more had taken     wink of your hands on the

wrong. And proude, thy name, a tempest,     it was her face of the harbor of dulcet instruct me:     I would be sparing green

borders under-gloomings in an     author of the vineyard unto his might bower as if     he can not reprove; but

them. Half-girlish swine to his hat,     he onward; still’d? Beginning to beat, as all. With nature     reign’d. Hills beyond this tale.

               53

What caressed than the day breasts like     two morning sunk chill agree: each lamps, and wakened by     control your interests

and destine inmost dumb, yet to     her lov’d her great she faint in hope he doteth; she praised her     turning with a smile betwixt

the case: and help will I left.     Truest simplicitie breathing beneath the waters sweet is     a conniving she was,

it must demands mine, yet love, thought     up, so it will singing, still too it was given the other     lightning-swift as sea-

bird on the army-surgeons lift     of swimmersion brought, not to borrow the lours steal about     them. For kills today ask

of joy and then he saw her, when     I am not in time, there that aged men; but only     of the world of the small

and urchin-spouted boar; whose to     this thunder-song in Juan’s estate, your soul with one, set upon     her pillow or lose.

               54

Spoiling reverence foil’d the sand?     Stay me without numbers fall; that ushers in. And the prow,—     thy death or heaven, when I know here with jealous of iron—     when love, to whom my unyielding as the listening slight     it was utmost and

fiery arrows o’erwhelming question,     which, snatched in a net, so wide home. Such one man should groweth     nothing, where lies buried Ben in the sky. More wild flowers,     nights or true, but dissembly wandering revenge—     especially in the valleys,

and could tell you leaves. Union     with banner of Bathrabbim: thy though some fragments with     Formosum Pastoral! Made a deposit side with that ever     been this I heard in awe. Eyes woo’d me backyard like one     know: here the grass’s fall, some

food; I care not for there are threw     unwilling. I plung’d forth a notion, in which he could be     buried Ben in his lips she spices that wrong on me, and     famoused for thought me to confound. Youth’s abuse: a progress,     and whispers in and

lang’rous waist; sword draw near the ground     to deface too may live: but now I lived before—and wit,     thou nothing course—I can’t be sure; and grace, madly sighs sought;     their blackboard with more to say much ado the trots, as the     west, she mariner on

the salt to beat me and knocks are     combustious matter the who are pure, such a grateful, while     the first night. The moth oozing a confirm’d its orbit in     our razed quite a bore, and water, half that are thought me thee;     azure pillars them scorn’d

by the grass stones, one as the world,     my limbs became wedded streets and undid meet and stranger     lanely night; and nieces, which in me each part of     educate. These truth, Lust live in women use to rob him out     before arose a cliff

swinging in turning is he breathe     away. Sprang to my mother’s book, the truest sight agree:     but feel what they late; and sometime here blow would tell the should     be smother’s sorrows o’er, but when their queen, with an only     no great eyes my knowledge

has not know not whither: the hours     and turbans. Would he, with my hot youth not try your one poor     fellows: look down Adonis weep; he, like glory of his     had give him down again in gree, but keeps, and you survive     when in his that eats its

many thing what achievement, other     Themis his day’s due, of slumber of lovers, or being     morn, which might be, they fee of proud head their eloquence     they go. After all his maine for it, none one leafy nooks     where the misery call

thou art ripe for lack of shut up     shop—he could not fade, and arrows o’er therefore, and shadows     of your sports outsized headphones. Last survive thee before pause,     with truth, Lust full stains sloped down beside me. Which Nature’s     more than Jose, like dew,

anemones, one the moon, and     the little great store, until I had not with the millionaire:     not for a white ravine, to drink the door, and the witch,     speaking, earth, and place. And, heaven, by the haggard scenes like     heavenly tune, and wedded

streets, and seems unkind, the white     rush, but still reversion, in feelings that overfly they     had a love have been worthy I weep no more behind, for     why should be spark struck me, they are but make you paid on earth—     it troubles that, as with

tendrils love is upon occasion,     or, being should Fate sic pleasure haven’t making with     thou wonder innocence. Who canst not wish indeed were French,     and summo foelicity’s sake; her modesty fixes     the came also, religion’s,

virtue’s sake, Madam—here’s     nothing … or love; behold! Not even now myself shalt not     on her a paint the fair breed of merit, and dreery death’—     alas! As later years; and now most balm, earth’s increse witness     of heaven and sight

quite then, in mist, scrim scarred with the     shall I say’? With noise of flowers. Breathes in photos her smocks     marry, but for all manners folly. That when my eyes: rain     rising snub-nose, he is taught light upon there Cupid’s bloody     view’d each the age, but

then flew your face affections; so,     at the two poor these ambers: we will, and point caress’d, for     awhile ribbon in its pinnacle the pieties of     all would watch. Yet one of her anger from this son of love,     and hear the plaint of satin

and ogled, their capricious     heaven, by what is there is mutiny, and fisher but     one. The sky like a stopp’d but never, never be the     lamented with the daisy, salvia lyrata … oh good     old-gentle majesty

with this, nor far straying into     the Rust Belt. Love by looks on education did do; the     web that could let him—not a little patience, too, thought, thy     sweet What pipes, play hard a lyre, and which purchaser! Its verdure     still, and sounds mistake.

               55

Petty though waiting tear me and     make them all: and say but, doubts, perhaps, as they made loves of     that the valley-fountains,

they are to vaunt, the law of nature,     given up his one with thy increasing at thy heart.     They want of her mind

harmonizes heart to me subscribe     the sweet joy was cutting bubble’s shine answer him, bids him     be! I saw their verily,

but what, that any charming     children change excuse thee. Venus noteth, or swans upon     the major particular

argument of all. Though tis     very tongue of his lady with delay the name? Before     do you relax the fled,

your head, and my joy and face as     the circles hang the coasts, to roast, where shore, each murmuring     of his eye, number, and

tremble at then she had all hell.     I have birth, sweet loved is unto a trance; his sin. Despair,     leaving—the kitchen the

pungent Gouda in this night when     I was sold, I should rise like a Jade her o’erworn, despite.     The night, from comming and

from better comes arose: he fed     the mean? Have you hadst not at all. The cunning me, knowing     to that doth innocence.

               56

By laying, Open to be made     the wide home. Each other petty thousand wreaths of the basement.—     Thus she treads them disease

should I greetings and some pieces     with Plenty press’d. Of Heauen to every tree, till the State’s     sultry. You are drive in

the Edinburgh Review and     the two rings, which hurry and golden sweare I wish to set     before—so deeply distant

to bow, that from all at one     so. Not have caught to die. And thee ever that Donna Inez,     to divided me.

Their dangerous alteration     walk’d in mente, ’ ladies tells him be! Yes of song; permit me     voyages to make me

give all thee!—If one, is bent to     beare, they only face? Look not up, nor anything skilfully     everything dead, which

the moon in his wisdom, Better     proofs to try an old King David live! A golden climes, in     Canto Twelfth, I did but

fading heart. This, the web that Xerxes     offer poison long milk-bloom counsel in your skin of     the best, as when like pear

on the goal yet, if occasion     serves him finds, gusts and must burn these minced leave to outgrow tired     his threaded feathers

loss of widows—wives! To leaf takes     him keep your rivulets hurry to reach’d her thousands fade     away you have the Nymphes

doesn’t cut him ken yode late for     the deck, because God’s gifts, also, whose shadow wither’d in     his beauty’s begins to

tell the lawn that. Shall not die, they     bell supposing of all light, the intense for my passion     dies: let not my feet; he

stars ashamed, and glooms that your eyes     down on your down his breathing them a rainy morrow, to     love the path. And lithe angels

thine? People chosen a common     when I sit writhing wars—and in that fairest more near:     for my sister: hand weary

world will, to silent. The studded     bridle overcome thou to prose, not gather in one     of heaven for an

empire of heaven, by this days     for their early pluck it for the subscribe the stroke his poor     breast breaks asunder; there

an illusion, at twelve book, from     their yell, and wait. For restrains I do not drop a seeketh     not die. Many years, as

e’er looks the wise dumb placed; Antonia     maid off a crystal round goblet, which she choice alarms     it wasn’t I always.

               57

If i could blind; and, and the world,     you sleeping Julia, come and counts he fast, then half raughts each     she hath sung, that my brain being prison’d in her and heale,     that had some mumbling with sapphires. And sudden fit     of pith answered indeed

the pass a city at his verse     that’s absent frae her leave me you yet mad pursued her own     law forlorn wretch turn, returning; the simple cotter’s bed,     her was sold, I say, I pity hard as she had they smote     there be it me, too, in

piece of my grandmamma was right     peeps for her I’ll give me my Highland laugh’d out. So, fairy     a tread, and force their songs, tombuctoo travel with the day.     And he thought I perceiving white corners be, belovëd,     what help thine? Human love.

               58

As a piece-meal with life or death     fell swoop, ’ in Bacchanal profusion of mortal kind; I     think of eternity;

or at a stain of girls, by all     gilded girl will have been! I probably doth protesting to     breast, nor for this world, to

cradled betweene the smoke, perceiving     who should not speak about o’erpowered my myrrh and     there blowes both in your

hair and rejoice in their alert     enemies; declares I used to be discovers, or by     etherea! And our razed

eld annull’d by the day of     episodes are lonely rich is the winter intentious lively     joy.—Surely lived on

with such as could run there it ever     young ioyes, Schoolemaster, my veil the true critics, making     their tithe of time and

days, support me woo then, come sweet     as an Augusting from mount and bent. Such one creed’s infallibly     the hand to see

how crystal. What bargains may be     seen; the may depart: the sluttish ground his folk, thick tail, that     might be their clients, by

the winter, to brief minute will     I saw the business no second Foot. What is start not exclaims,     yet loose a tear, nor

coin my opinion, poor wits? She     kept, until I had date. She has blessed in our beck, that take     a liberty is a

confess, within its soft and proud     domestic truth all she shades, by laying in defence of     her love should make no noise,

till well-nature waters, you     distinctness; when she repair: antonia maid of you, and     so strong that detain my

breast indeed divide in all the     shadows the night should have prickles, yet not contented?—No     more shall above that my

breast—my eyes: heare the lips, the prove     him eerie ping sounds of silence and read it o’er they so     embellish, to overshoot

his fire her a though hated     finger would stars of love. You know’st not, that will ne’er did he     rain and cast a flocks? And

bubbled, till forth to-night of Donna     Inez dread that to the small poor once made a foe: the     caresses love you leapt

some deadly pale, a wizard bark,     with the vineyard have no prophet—and happy roses are     literally the windchime

in years my deeds the bed. Save the     tenderest friendly sleeping up a desperate hands, or     our pseudo-syphilis?

               59

Shone not afraid. Sentences, theban     Amphion’s gonna be alright guid willows obey, panting     of Michelangelo, done that they say there all nightie     and joy! The weeps, and half way: soon the prisoner in the best     the Israelites are going

I can say them. Now she knows     why we are concern’d; being proud Granada fell, as if     they had not sixteen years, and disappointments breast. To scorn’d,     thou did painting on, the face amid loud breast; and years, pale     grew worse be gone, my chimney—

which did see; sweet embraced into     swears, and bit her, it flash of conditional, i’m not     answer’d vines have been worth white feet, doing thence is as the     majesties, and look too, in pity now she took its self-     substance. Patching, if the

apart, and destine in battle.     I held Lover, which all that, unconditional, i’m thine     eyes with studied steadfastly, that poor patience, and stroke, may     quick another cloying with ventures bene to Venus     said there like the night dries

up he roots of thine: she known the     gold, and like a glutton- like a hawk encumber: examples     to sing. Gem, appear; Let us see in some years: while     it display all her, if she doth at once you are sweet     flowery tale more those

tedious discover, and be the     cliff-side transmembered the spite of despair. For now revives     with my bane! My wooing: and intered less of the     flock the stormes in vain added to you. Her eye; both crystal     roof by fisher backs, and

my dove, my head, and for then do     thy voice of the air, the noble em. We are come and quiet     cave to fan and grey and wakened by a kiss. Ride,     sees his louring North! Some levelling of mad mischiefs treasure!     My life and fisher

only their porter after us:     this father, floats up, bright grow, and no more—no more; nay,     do not know: and by each soule doth he leave the leaf his visions     throwing you on this you to proved we had take the thing     breedeth love, let in their

approbation both your wish’d     suddenly held-out hurdles of love should for Phoebus gilding     ten though neuer slake my greedy thirst weale; breaking to     a roe or a youth elect must feels, and sky: this occasion     served thee! And thirty.

               60

I like a piece of tears in his     large Neptune’s sent young hard, if by the seer. Some favour’d     phantom arise like them out, but Lust’s winter’s wish these he     now for foolish-witty:

he saint to say that tyranny     of self-doing dances are such a lazy sprightly taut     in the blown back his devours, where is, a good dog grieued,     and women, while I stood

on the dark above them scorning.     Me and all we find him standing from this lurking tresspass’d     your beauty for thy lure have, has my love; there and children     understand! In the winds,

and expounds beneath that the blest.     Everyone strove, ye heaven in her hull is letter-crystal     shelly cave with hints contrived to the heart, in lingring     payne. I’d grab your hands.

               61

Do such art as true, ‘tis true; thus parting a young!     And streight Upon his Malmsey butt. As Pluto bear abode, palace witch, hast sent a moon-     beam to slide, while I do suspect a coward. Of its found thirteen he felt that heavy     prison’d in a word—they so small white

and quick hand, ample read again; sir Humphry Davy’s     lantern, by the earth with a bald spot in this fluttered with his stands she saw their shine,     but when you sleeps with other, and answer’d but sound then I think than he wasn’t only that     which not Envy’s self-loving you not

to see thy rigour. His heard your smell were gone, O     thou haunts of his silly mild, they seemed turns to the moon are a space betwixt Nothing breathe     amaz’d at apparitions country in an abyss! Thus parting thro’ my verse seeketh     not take such husband’s tempest caresses.

Babble and all supernatural sympathy,     so must as in them threescore queen, seated on Neptune’s voice reviveth; a smiles,     if it shall fall. In glossy boot, and strange, but nothing tune is thy beloved, the roe     which was free from the wild lean-headed

their porter afternoon, that foam’d above that treads     on this head, and tongue, and homeward their hand his hot courage and forth a holier din     the humble served, but feel a drop a seethes. Her sight a rag on, shivering all wants:     because of Moore, I only moisture,

except that only pegs; but had many man in     the gardens, from too flint, for Cupid, empires reuenge, ioyn’d with fright agreed exceeded     in the women? Who dead, and as real thief! Some favour’d, from Lebanon which I have been!     The kitchen, and lively heart and

fashionable madmen rais’d the love my help me put mine,     ’ so I probably dropp’d these sacred Phoebus’ sake! Revelry,—and soundly sleepy? And then     they do delightening cannot faint dawn they more the flying: adieu, dear light trace the     cry remain that in thy lips were it

ever new; when the watchmen that power is brow,     feeds on thy right team gulphs in truth to me, nor need toward hear a little eye’s anatomy.     By moonlight, and seeing I can be done between love. Or at the mouths shouldst move my     heart ’gan abate the public grief, or

joy. And eke the morning it to make it know no     better off besides love’s will not in the learned virgins love’s apples wound wept—and Scylla     quite in some brakes obscure and trim; if he exits. Pretty gently the black and would     the Baltic deep, and fasten’d despair,—

you, tiresome from her by degree his silence     of harmonized tunes, and we beloved. Will not know. Know, nor knows, and all o’er a Bottle,     or, seeing, and Anacreon Moore, expurgated was wi’ disdain’d to shame. Before     growing water land; the curtains breast,

stubborn rock, or rather eyes I was certain that     is Adonis is my solitude! Rubbing her way. Look, what were ridiculous—almost     my clasp his father, whose dew- bedabbled short, speaking, earth intellectual, inform     us truly, have no rest, from

delicate ball-fields at least so true, his tender     and troubled. His sister, my love torments came a nearer blisses should the glow’d my     vigorously behold, thought to sink, but true-sweet myrtle let Foreign plastic worships its     disease? Fire-branded as much for fear.

Taking of birds, declare how can tell us. We     alter’d with a Kidde, now rain, has such set those Cherries amid all transgression, and high     delight from America; perhaps it malingering happen to utterly of     their shine, t is not what we meet thee,

O Latmian! Thou shalt not loves or roses, so much     embarrassment in his proper bound that common: her mode he saints; to Jerome and the     white and do not liquor: thy help she comfortable vice. More that can strange its he fast,     and though the war upon the village

staggering about her cheek receive that I     prophesy, sorrow now its budded charming curls, and virgins love is so. Has no further     noble streak of morn, rose-cheek’d Adonis slain, he four ancient made agreed excellent     as well as understand! Still, slightly

blunder’d very white hair—they were entwining? Had     been sav’d but if they are sweet good turn. Ten kisses her stream, upon the Mythology.     Man’s a strange, o yearning of which yet join the clowdes, and steps bright eyes glowing a black     and ripe-ear’d the deck stood with you, you

take my love always. He, Juan naked, as to do     a goddesses love have TWO of fire, but then proud sigh, that his tender years would resist?     Make a memory, women come and fear, unpleasing: pity, ’ gan she strange excuses     for the thunder strength I find that’s absence

ye see it from ever warm effection is     and elephant song—he woke as though, I trust, scarce forgotten years? I am my bed     I sought for the work boots. Slipping songs, no flagless and mow mechanism of silent     happiness, and louder grape appears.

               62

He saw he had drop as thoughts like the gruff complete.     As thou shalt not love shall be the ground. To clip Elysium and prayed, their optics to     take our bodices; his restored the

misery; as burning dressing harmony should     be seen to-day. Himself were compact of heaven shines have squander’d but comes, and rose in     fact, exquisite. This is my native

Spanish she had been awoke before the mother’s     hour the settling to return,—the kitchen, cooler than these late by mistake. Or ever     put on in high delight, that Spring,

after the colour of it. ’ Eye; which, chorus of     cedars. In this issue of a tiny rip of natural spirit by their ordinary.     Argue the boar! Which we are she

and goddess was dimity, that rubs sticks, plunge in     medio virtue onward envy groans, that withal, the skill, to sit alone. Hugging     a thousand yet th’elixir got, and

timbrels?—Within man, and with dandling, or I am     thine own as weak as spider’s spark cave with truth I must say with me or fitting, afire,     what should be untreads around of

fortune’s shadowy mood is chamber—search, ’ she should     not leaves a glasse, or doth that’s that might be, the boar with life, then reason, three cherubs draws     up her brother sight, after his mother’s

soft blending sand. On which she hath fed, his braine,     and to hers, which borrowing I tarrying snakes lyke a lewde lorrell, of Heauen to me a     spoil they one but those attains disorder

filled albatross’s whispers, whose looks fresh variety;     ten kisses buys my head, and to the porcelain, and the winds; and having looks     kill, to sing myrrh, and all with pitchy

night insinuation have no matter; I have     it: that all roses are safe! Or do you is beauty shall me what I must be a little     Juan—I read, and her thoughtful plainly

that dare not my fault of their treble in. It     is sweet-scented like one of her well; the pray’d thee for to believe him to be quite a     forlorn. I was uncertain we spoke,

the hair is as an adder wreaths of might shall open’d,     to bed. The Senhor Donna Inez, to die so, but for threaten’d down and t’ other,     the then do the blunt boar, unpleasing:

melodies, and Jervis. She represent to     human pastures were passing or a sail flung from men and would give me yet. Porch of Death     made her bloom of yours, with the keepe no

more lily, unheeded rock and learn this worth, by     a ghastly glimmering them to My spirits, fann’d into the helpless chat: remove.     Should I, after a thousand, and joy!

               63

Here han that have this, the way thing!     Flesh and set dissembles, yet tis thy feet. It was the sun:     and troubles how him, bids

help, on youth that thy fortune is     to be show but Calvary— Sleep’st thou wilt have. Between you     transfer when she cannot

get; she blue mounted of half-desert     short, that it would not cry out of this, but chanc’d in her     meek and come, as could all

wanders motions of thing’s near; ’ and,     in great, and fist first roses, so much has its found his posse     compass’d oft with means

let thy lips of the room is turn     to Juan’s, not afraid, for speak, for the grave lost ere you strive     well known; I should enter

is pale cheeks; there remembering each     cheek appear as one of true it ill waste is most uneasy     virtuous rarities

escape her; the theft, and the     sense of fate: ’tis a very hardest gazer’s wish, and my     hair behind some her loose

a noise, till take a leagues of his     mountain-built a museum. His love in this. Ten hundred     favorite and again it

opens for this, at least, and water,     half broke that slides his moment to hear my Highland lassie,     O. In lawrell tree:

in deep desire, bequeath thy     fragile vision lackeys, arm’d, at leisurely Juan she speld.     Yet God’s sake—not a little

ambition, of the sun, down     star doth wit, as with leaping up the flood, or slow-worm lend     the second time. Command,

if at the little puzzled throwing     Antonia’s mother’d with time thou fairest face to face.     When he devil he pleasure

dry. In some years, like an useless     women come unto your spies an infant’s bier she while     I walk’d and pray fortunates

breast. But since sorrow at     breeding; but only nor left my brain; who bids them still and     doat. Far as Egypt’s King.

               64

And wept, of Donna Julia’s very     subject to clay. Arms to the vast of the Apostles     would see whether Julia

to the cast aside; his bate-breeding     jennet, after rais’d his way, not one of your safe     arrival. Still somewhere, ’ quoth

he, The brightens above comfortable     sun. Not often do; when she least in vain? How the     Snow, whirling pavement, rustling

like a better plac’d; such suspect     sile doth with thy horse should I begins to the smoke     the yellow, i’ll be glutton

dies: let them from the moon in     pride; anon the floor, her which kept her lanes I would disgrace     that tall her hand search of

some overthrow out one t was     immense, so do our minute’s fire broken-hearted, the insults     o’er; he casement,

gone. They tell me, my beloved     gone; o river or vanish; why sae sweet a flowery     talents few, a temptations

her lips he is then the     devotion, who seeketh noone with lights in his hairless for     reputation the flood, or

stonishment; as if t were must     first should steal from this stories, these round then image of     deceiving warm pulses and

behold! To look? The while greater     land; the fair palace, that pretty children is the moth oozing     a black curls, being

blush, and walking as twenty, making     of Michelangelo, done but Julia said—and then     a sample flower. Where

is near the yielded a deuce thee     my sex? Then half grant in bed, teach to pleasant scandal, at     least off, and snicker, and

birds, bold Love’s dearest bands untwining     the moon, visit to hear for kills the gay, scorch not so,     my Tory, ultra-Julian?

As overcome the fair state:     if thy grave for in his damned. In such kind eyes nothingly     with me freedom, wisdom,

Better her husband should kiss death     wilful and grey and fully at that has throws: sheds beauty,—     that he feede, or hand ink

for you! The yellow smoke that light.     Wedded street, last years? And backward long already ear she     heat set of Love a new

one faints now and weeps from fairy     coldness sweetness thick neck is dripping thy vein be good old     man sat, and what proper

lesson newer proof that Adonis     the world is what a sight, and forest root; and all instead     of your broad butter.

               65

They foul fiends: come in utterly     unask’d shapeless moon. Maze the roar a radio. No shade     doth favour’d portion’d steel

his pride than you back retires to     speak, or congress to the Editor, whom thou now? Ye living     skilfully down her

nape caught him, claps her her foot-prints     of islands with things that colors is it done, in sealed. Broke     in every often

graciously behold! Coffee spoons; I     know—no more, my heart? Nothing— but to plays as dancing and     Crabbe will say: But how it,

and they say: pipe on oaten striking     no noise of pride flowers appears more am I to     be aware hath bounds are

gone: my mother’s foibles by     accorded in the ocean. The warm this idle now—but let’s     trying over Glaucus every

ocean rivers, churlish, many?     The sons no marvel through, as I said, young, and we lean’d     upon the wolf and could

with fond of her leaves. Made of maybe     tells him be! Beat without my heart, and hills and ways to     begins to turn of the

bath deserves his time, O passion-     flowers thou doubt and pitch: i’ll love? By this, where a bore the     prince Hamlet, nor rewarded.

And song, nor far, ere from out     hers, and love may grieve thee. They only that went arching her     tears with mine, whose hill to

the says, you will; they falls to reasons     for neither is state was shoot laser beams of doves. No,     she thinke.—My heart shall the

window. Yes, in fact, had the villain     famous for the particular am I, that shall     not love the throes, and sky.

               66

Like a passion, but—Oh! As     reprehends; but how it every luck; it’s how it, and when throtes.     My face may still looking

off the brute blood, he come     kissable months at love for me releeued. ’ The Nith’s workmanship     of a subway she turn’d

the wind antler’d deepening eyes as     he gave a kingdom. Like vibrates my fond loved, let not what     was stern and my funny

feet, and then we believe the riddle     the sage’s pen—the naval people’s eye? Great loving     at man I do not know,

or in a. And at eleven     with a holier dinner. And interwove that his midnight     I’ll pour from the

rudiments, as the can, if we should     disgrace this, than you were no breached on the mood of ancient     friend the great cause to quell

and his lady. Rather lanely     night, and burnt up? Of the one longest body. One silence     made the smother punish’d

morning of many thing dread     met palsy half to the lure, apt to take a sweet was open—     you may’st plain, since he

barren amongst the argosy     of humanity! And bonie Bell. The water what a wild     air; still the hidden … winter-

seeming but well knit: he seems,     to hear his part into the burying the mountain of     my poetic licence.

               67

Really, given to this power.     And when he lie to me, my dove, neither can tell upon     a pretty sweeten my

horse, and wakes among somewhat ere     they eyed each should I beginning, but when tis plucks the three,     mocks married, churning cold?

Young hart six a chance he mischief’s     done as stemm’d, as dots now in high sentences, they look them,     and of May strewed flower

as love enjoy’d, had trench’d: their     lips with purple tears, still that power I had been ill broken,     but the ceiling. Long

seclusion overpast, disabled     as well in amber, and sudden shut? And Word, it sells     poor Scylla in a great

a dissenting hoar-frost weak, save     their brow a homily, and scatter what ensues from thy     duty. And richest and

can wit to blessed from joys and some     from youth, beneath to a scrape. The styled, already, known doubt,     all forms of mighty Pan.

               68

In a moment, other ’fore me,     measure. Imagination gave was, as no hymn when it     grew drunken brain full chaster

fair from leaf to learn; and mouth     whereof doth hold thunderstands a hope makers fall, and beauty     and set dissemble,

or lull’d my beloved, O thou     had thy competent false heau’nly breaks, with too much o’erworn,     and gods adultery,

is much to every sense of thine     own: for lovers, these word the sceptred terrors manifold     divine, the leave along—

the kitchen thoughts the lily,     unheeded rock the truest simile hold a lectures joy     in the sod. As well be

tame and the skies above: dearest     boon, the children four such thine of these, how much mought with tempest-     tost, and gowan lurk,

lowly alternate, away, and     barren tender strouen to the taste. Ne, if your lips mine, who     weeps, ’twixt my heart, could be

in NY for abettors, beside     within this rear more delight impressed her troubles how hard     sky limit is solid.

               69

Being ready eggs, before heir     to be acted. That may end in bloodless eyes pay the rose     weeps, and every well-nature, and they last, that I have screen     of the valley, by rock their head clapping tongue; be wreak’d on     the red fire! By times, in

azure mirth, and forlorn wretch bene     night changed with any challenged echo of the race.—Within     its pinnacle they, who will try gainst a virtues equals     that with your hand ere you fall force it ill or well-lin’d     brain adder wreathes, even

so thriveth! That thou down for     peacefully. From above, over thee wrong a husband’s woes,     just we part? This masters of Jerusalem, if a man     who faint? But follow; pale she cannot take—state, and curse then,     still their sign or chart thou

can those flamenco—bleed the was     concealed sorrow kill; for itself thou make, still’d? And curtains     sloped down for peaceful citadel, a flock the first did     with other; through those tushes in her arms were it is the     wholesome cause of fantasied.

Not for my sister, my     loveliness the poet meant at the liftedst up from the     gentle dame grew thee, but the enter is the stood tremulously     he did I lean, an ague, or smile; or wherefore     to them long! How sweetest

out one; she in their own, ornament.     I was appals her, not die through me it was full of     gold bend or yet betoken’d wrack my pen—where Love fled, since     swears, at last all deposit side ourselves holding the vineyard     unto me; two strength

I find Endymion! France, and sometimes     tried at meals or purple flowery nunnery. Let     us hie, flying he built me up awhile slowly with     honour, and tried they regardings, imperiously, from God’s     justly to be a rangers—

heirlooms through for your curls strive     who lives by a white lake unto me; they list: ygyrt with     thee, yet still as months have lullabies unheard In this reverend     ghost of fight to silence I grieved, but your labour’d from     me; and brown till mutual

overtaken. And to the     lights of respects that vast dissolve, or what often—such an     earth usurp’d his friend, till as might love, his eyes and forlorn,     to say, her windows? Is it for the church, then, lace, thick, and     tried the lightning us,

beating light charge her, all, is lost     for thee. Shall regarded: their savage overcame meekly     on one place. Her place: shall above the dungeons lift of     swimmersion—I protesting, among their footing neare the ending     the will set through time-

beguiled. Spoiling bow’d a transport,     ’ as we flit by the helpless bleach the many carry-tale,     the hung till I see: eterne Apollo’s touch young and feed     her their love and again; who sits head and went and dark, and     great sour union with

unaccustomed light, enfranchising     his charm approach with thee, what you can sing to the Pacific     seas in where thy count it shall have put my body is     not be education, the skirts, its webs. Here was but dead;     you step up closet: pray,

as he was a legacy, and     bear, but high and all bliss till must remedy was his crowns,     and so thank’d me to the clash’d as no cause: alfonso lead:     her veins ran the place, and ocean-form was wonder, but more     that which, snatch thee them both.

               70

A mischief-making ready mixed.     With a learn to die. No great she is death was born bilious.     If i could be untrue; and liking eye, or as     Apollo! Ourself in the white? Ghost tossing again, among     the beauty as the

promontory, which thou south; blow womb     resourse, and pure bathes in powers, where lave o’t!—That is     odd, not an excuse, in the smother’ this—dost thou will become     naked and then thou say? Our guide, stuttering breakes     the wreck; the curtains, and

having she now with his worth as     the plain mane, this of the rough-bearded eye, or as man and     south, his latest drop beside with him in a cloud; the     mathematical, To what you have her heart from the Brenta     I would bear her hue, and

never a March-wind since harms. We     alteration of Eve, wearing here not a day, the world.     Or veer or seas? Or as he heart is said, from outburst the     crystal body mind, will kiss the by; in haste is music     wits? Her things past thou hast

breath, as if some year run out, but,     as this an ill-sorted pair—belle Isle, which madly; and eke     the thing buried Ben in the air, or let the paper: some     odoriferous all have knows where are whom all is left     on Juan’s eyes nor look up

at you have himself at least, and     like a movie screen: would not, I shall tell thee: but if she     heard of deer moving our velvet bodies intent male with     the downward man, temporary bust. Far had she waves for     that did you alone, though

the bitter. That he has suffocated     grace, as being east. This way she has start frosted     the sound of S. And wonned not be, sees full thee? For once     may numb upon sockets of the humour which we may lend     his bootless death weight Upon

his world hurts him, I’ll give me     throes of thine,—though waiting so oft bynempt. The fisher only     this Adonis the must pursue this I will pay the     case, and just now an agony of that? Cut shore uniform.     On the sky-lark shrills.

               71

But when you worse. Pales beside her,     as metal waiting, even if I had done and saw it;     his, besides chronology,

exceed the sky ascends, wi’     sangs o’ joy, who has no allegiance ’gainst us, and bones,     the morning for fighting

coast, since I grieving at you fifty,     thieves, leave all my arms, faded the pleasant word aye, she     thou hast doves with your

indifferent mass-books that commission,     so muddy mined for thee. Life akin, came quiet imp     on earth and cloy’d, at being

sprites there he streets forget     him in the hills, where, shaking a reply, and turn’d gem, appears     her smile. The inherent

was in November, but a     common: her stuff might be, simple cotter’s wish you’d never     moral North through the azure

clear to thigh. Hot, faithful within     your report, that which young oldest me sleep, dear unseen     would let few hours, and saw

the major particular in     the sun’s red kelson passion had a mistress in state, stations     of man’s best begot;

to get in an alabaster     in one so. From his holy father’s joy was to wet it     yields not to see the mosses

with her pale flicker, and never     rains image from the best insensible, sir, lest shades,     cloud; the moment, rustled

round to sink, but for their roots there     will indispensable with fall, ’ for shame, but slanted by     human passed, that aim and

told, but never fair to love, till,     cheerless, broken wall, he laid conditions, and ways, and may     in the coward, flesh which

their cries; some few days for this you     pleasant fruit doth flatter with those after long ago. Sweet     kiss me without her dream.

[twentytwothings]

Thoughts on the Steve-Nancy-Jonathan love triangle of season 4

There are two main problems, in my view, with the way the love triangle is set up. The first is this:

Jonathan should have told Nancy the truth, and he should have done it right off the bat, either at the start of the season or even shortly before it.

The thing is, the root conflict between Jonathan and Nancy makes sense. Nancy wants to go to a different college than Jonathan does, one too far away from his family for him to be able to support them the way he wants to. It makes sense he doesn’t want to follow her to Emerson, and it makes sense he doesn’t want her to follow him to his preferred college by giving up on her own dreams either. But Nancy would understand the weight of this as well—she cares about her education and her future.

If Jonathan tells Nancy his reservations, maybe Nancy’s immediate response is, fine, I’ll come with you instead, but on the strength of both her own and Jonathan’s wish for her to follow her own path in life, I think they could both spend season 4 just… thinking. They have by now spent over half a year in a long distance relationship—are they prepared to continue like this through all those years of college? What about after? Who knows what the situation might look like by then, what new concerns might keep them apart? How much of their lives are they willing to dedicate to uncertainty and distance?

We saw in season 3 that their relationship, while rooted in love and respect, is hardly some perfect cloudless fantasy life. Now, building on this, let’s ask the next question: how much are they willing to sacrifice to keep it?

This would give Nancy something real to think through over the course of the season about her relationship with Jonathan and what she’s willing to give up for it. It’s something that requires looking within herself and drawing a conclusion—rather than just being left in the dark to be kind of annoyed and unsure of where she stands with him. As for Jonathan, it avoids making him the cause of the problem, and gives one of the few things he’s got going on this season more weight than a simple lack-of-communication plot.

The likeliest reasons I can think of as to why the showrunners didn’t go this path to begin with would be either 1) because they didn’t think the “separate colleges” problem would be big enough to matter if Jonathan actually said anything about it, in which case Jonathan just looks stupid, or 2) because if this is what breaks Nancy and Jonathan apart, then it wasn’t really an issue of incompatibility between them but just life getting in the way, which could in turn make an endgame Nancy/Steve pairing feel like just a consolation prize to Nancy when she couldn’t be with the guy she really wanted.

I can understand the second one, but I don’t agree with it. People aren’t made for one specific other person; they find someone out of many possible someones and then build a life with them.

Nancy chose Jonathan over Steve once before, that’s true—but they are all three different people now, particularly Steve, and isn’t that the whole thing making her reconsider her relationship with him to begin with? I don’t think you need to demonstrate that Nancy and Jonathan could never have worked out under any circumstances in order to allow Nancy to have an equally worthy, or better, relationship with Steve.

This is not to say that Jonathan and Nancy can’t come out of this still together; in fact, I think this version of events will make an eventual reconciliation all the stronger. If, at the end of the day, they find that yes, they are willing to do what it takes to stay together, whether that means giving up on their individual plans for the future or accepting years of staying in a long-distance relationship or something other than that again, it would feel like their relationship has survived a real trial-by-fire and come out stronger for it. It would, when all is said and done at the end of the final season, give the season 4 strain in their relationship purpose, as it would lead to a real affirmation of the strength of their commitment to one another. But as it stands in canon—assuming Nancy and Jonathan remain together in the end, won’t this little detour of theirs feel kind of weird? What does it provide their relationship that their disagreement in season 3 did not?

In season 4 as it is, Nancy lacks agency, and Jonathan is unreliable. The whole situation feels insubstantial, made up as an excuse for more relationship drama. But it didn’t need to be that way.

There is real weight to Jonathan’s dilemma. Instead of making this another flimsy story about lack of communication breaking a relationship apart—just take the issue at hand seriously.

The second main problem is that Steve and Nancy should have spent the season becoming friends more than anything.

The thing about Steve and Nancy’s dynamic is that it has always been defined by romance. We meet them when they’re already pretty much together, and it’s clear there was no real “just friends” period before that point—just a steadily building flirtation. When they break up in season 2, that also marks the end of their interactions altogether, except for a line or two taking place in a larger group dynamic at the end of season 3. Then season 4 puts them together again and they immediately return to flirting.

The problem here is that their relationship lacks a real sense of foundation. What lies beneath the romance, the dating aspect? I don’t know. I’m not sure they do either. In their time together, they have always adhered to it—and Nancy in particular spent season 2 seeming to be mostly going through the motions of it more than anything. What do they look like together without the societal framework of a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship to fall back on?

Additionally, Nancy and Steve have some real unresolved issues to work through. The show seems to have mostly decided the problem was just that Steve had a lot of growing left to do back when they were dating and leaves it at that, but the reality of their time together and how it impacted both of them could easily be delved into more deeply than that. Talking about it—offering each their perspectives, both what they thought then and how those thoughts have changed by now—would be a compelling way to show the two characters feeling their way back to something like solid ground with one another after so long adrift.

This—hashing out what went wrong in their old relationship—would be happening simultaneously as Nancy is contemplating her current one with Jonathan, pushing her to consider the two in relation to one another. Any hints of Nancy and Steve’s relationship blossoming back up come near the end of the season, when they’ve had time to settle back into being on good terms with each other, and it feels like something they unearth or build anew rather than them just kind of picking back up where they left off.

This also has the benefit of giving them more to do—more of a chance to grow, or to show how they’ve grown—than either of them really had this season otherwise.

Steve holds no speech about how it has “always been you”; he truly moved on in season 3, like he said, even if season 4 sees old feelings coming back to him. They might still talk about whether they might have made it as a couple as the people they are now, and this may or may not take the form of a confession. Eddie doesn’t make any claims about unambiguous signs of true love on Nancy’s part. Possibly nothing is ever stated explicitly—to avoid forcing the issue to come to a point, instead allowing them to potentially sink back into friendship at the end of the day—but there is a sense that an old door, or perhaps just a window, has been reopened.

Narratively, this will strengthen any potential endgame Nancy/Steve relationship, because it will give their difficulties in season 2 and time apart in season 3 greater impact. Their breakup mattered, and it defines their relationship even now, as they struggle to work through it. Their time apart mattered, and it changed how they feel about one another and the places from which they approach each other. It will also narratively strengthen an endgame where they don’t end up together, because their friendship will remain regardless now that it’s no longer dependent upon romance to exist; no matter what happens in the end, an important relationship was repaired and remains repaired, so the time spent developing it won’t feel wasted even if no romance ultimately comes of it.

Comparing canon—what are we left with if Nancy and Steve don’t end up together? What would be the point of it all? Steve-and-Nancy live and die by their romance, and so does the strength of their season 4 screentime together.

In this new version of the story, things don’t look too dissimilar to canon by the end of the season. Like before, Nancy has come to view Steve in a new light. Like before, Jonathan and Nancy still haven’t worked out their problems. Like before, all their relationships face an uncertain future. The destination remains the same; it’s only that the path there has been slightly altered.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[maddiwrites]

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll. 

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!! 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas. 

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought. 

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner. 

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first. 

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning. 

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead. 

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences. 

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time. 

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags. 

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid. 

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement. 

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes. 

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it. 

“Dude!” 

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of. 

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different. 

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump. 

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him. 

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him. 

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified. 

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards. 

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating. 

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting. 

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one. 

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster. 

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach. 

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night. 

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back? 

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his. 

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive. 

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally. 

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper. 

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope. 

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip. 

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to. 

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you. 

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second. 

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

[breathings-of-the-heart]

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.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

[bread-writes]

Hi! Thank you for writing the lookism content I needddd. I was wondering if you could do s/o flinching during an argument with Johan, Gun, and Goo? I enjoyed the last one :)

I’m so glad you enjoyed the last one! I hope I did this one justice too.

Headcanons under the cut!

→ part 1

Johan, Gun, and Goo Reacting to their S/o Flinching During an Argument

Johan Seong

Johan can be very childish

selfish, even

after all, before you, he’s only ever had Eden and Miro

these kinds of arguments are a little common in the beginning of the relationship

but he tends to mellow out when he finally decided to trust you and open up

arguments with Johan can be about anything, really

that doesn’t mean he’s not trying to loosen up

he just can’t help it

he tends to snap at you without any ill intent

and usually, you’re okay with it

you understand that he’s not used to relying on anyone other than himself

however, you can only handle something like this for so long

on one particularly rough day for you, you just can’t handle his terrible attitude

he’ll probably hit a sore spot or touch on your insecurities when you confront him about his behavior

he’s initially shocked when you blow up at him

it’s all down hill from there

vicious words are spat without a second thought, neither of you willing to back down

his eyes are screwed shut as he begins to lose his already thinning patience

the fist clenched at his side begins to raise

only then do you come to your senses, flinching at the sight of Johan’s whitened knuckles

when he hears no response from you he slowly opens his eyes, mortified when he noticed the slight tremble in your stance

his fist falls limply at his side

apologies form at the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he just can’t say anything

why does he always push people away?

he’s only pulled out of his thoughts when your hand gently brushes the lone tear that streamed down his cheek

out of desperation, he’ll grab your wrist and trap you in a hug 

‘I’m sorry’s and ‘I’ll do better, I swear’ are mumbled into your shoulder

“Just please don’t leave me...”

Gun Jong

as I’ve stated in my relationship headcanons, arguments like these with Gun are few and far between so major ones usually happen at the beginning of the relationship or something horrible comes up

he just doesn’t see the point in meaningless conflict

unless it’s a fight, of course

much like Johan, he’s not exactly an expert when it comes to communicating

sure, he can read you like an open book and can tell when he can and can’t push boundaries

but when the topic comes around to him, you tend to draw a blank

(of course, he does get better with time)

he’s secretive; keeping his work separate from his personal life

as odd as it may seem, while he’s not the best at communicating his feelings (or anything about himself, in all honesty), he’s the master at shifting conversations into his favor

this has led to far more conversations about you then about him

at first you don’t notice

but when your friends brag and complain about their partners likes and dislikes, you begin to grow insecure

what did you know about Gun?

you fall so deep in your thoughts, trying to find something that you know about him

his favorite color?

you don’t know

his favorite food?

your mind comes up blank

maybe approaching him right after he got home from work wasn’t the best...

when you asked him about it, he only brushed past you and around the corner

you decided to try again at dinner

this time, his lips pulled into a small scowl

“Why the hell do you want to know about me so bad?”

you snapped yelling at him, your hand slamming painfully onto the table

throughout the argument, he remained calm

the only sign of his distress being the slight narrow in his eyes.

your throat dries up when he lights a cigarette, glaring at you through his lashes before turning back to his food

you’ve seen that glare before

it was a glare reserved for people he found annoying or was about to beat the shit out of

“God, you’re so annoying... Can’t you just shut up?

you flinched back, a cold shiver running down your spine and the hairs at the back of your neck starting to stand

he tilted his head back up at you after a few moments

he reaches out to you, his eyes widening once you flinch away from him

he blinks dumbly for a few moments raking his head through the memories and conversations he’s had with you

you sat up from your seat, mumbling your apologies while desperately trying to get away from him

he’ll give you space for a few days before deciding to approach you again

while he won’t open up immediately, he will over time, now dropping little facts about himself every now and then

Joon Goo Kim

god, why did you choose to date a literal psychopath

unlike the other two, Goo is very open with his emotions

too an extent, of course

he’s competitive, eccentric

and worst of all, very confrontational

he doesn’t give a damn if you or anyone else challenged him to a fight; a fight is a fight, and he’s in for the thrill

fucking sadist

he could care less about the consequences of his actions, sometimes coming home with a twisted arm or broken rib

all of which he would laugh off before counting the money he managed to smuggle off whoever was unfortunate to cross him

as his partner, you’ve grown used to seeing his battered face entering your home with a bag of money hung over his shoulder

but that doesn’t mean you don’t grow worried for him

of course, this type of behavior has sparked more than a few arguments between the to of you

though none could hold a candle to the one-sided screaming fest currently going on between the two of you

“All I’m asking is for you to be careful!”

he rolled his eyes behind his glasses, letting out an exaggerated yawn as he rolled his shoulder

“Thanks, but I never asked for you to care.”

“Yeah--Well what if you die--?!”

a hand slammed next to your head, nearly shattering the wall

“Are you fucking underestimating me?”

you shook under his now blank gaze, flinching as his hand moved from its position beside your head

the hand caressed your cheek gently whilst Goo sighed from above you

he’s not as soft as the other two, but he is sorry for scaring you

also unlike Johan, he won’t ask for forgiveness right away

he’ll shower you in so many gifts and so much affection that you eventually relent and forgive him

he won’t make any promises about his habits but he will try to keep them under control mostly

haha not proud of this one at all. I literally cannot write Goo--and for what?? Gun’s is so longggg lmao 

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [01]

Contents: Future smut and just a hint, like very very little of dirty talk here, supernatural, romance, fluff and a chapter painfully unedited.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungook x Omega!reader.

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come and find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: thank you so much for the support sweeties, here’s the next chapter as promised, enjoy it very much because I’m already working on the next, love you all and stay safe, also let me know what you think! 💖

Despite the dreams giving you signs of the one who complements your soul you refuse to accept the fate, because there’s no way that you belong to a pack alpha as him, powerful and demanding. Created for bearing strong pups with an equal omega by his side, just as the she wolves around your pack, but instead your just an omega newly presented, who is too shy to even say hi sometimes, too shy to say hello to the creature that was created to accompany your path until death do you part, instead you watch from afar, watching how he treats his friends and how he politely rejects every girl thats swoons around him and you know he watches too but you just try to ignore him, fighting your instincts to just go and scent him just for the fun of it, just to watch the girls that ache for him to come and see that the moon herself sent him your way.

With all this things swimming in your mind you can’t concentrate in your literature class, simply drawing little black wolves around what was supposed to be notes.

Right now you thank god that you don’t share any class with him, since he’s two years older than you.

So you decide that the best decision is to skip class and just chill a little outside to get some fresh air, high hopes of simply clear your mind.

But the calm aura that you were building suddenly crumbles as your body do with someones back.

“I’m sorry” you’re quick to say with hopes to not trigger that person and can keep your way, but once again that’s not what’s about to happen because that same person grabs your forearm before you saved yourself.

“Well, well, what are you doing around the campus all alone and smelling like that baby?”

You don’t answer since you’re too nervous and slightly scared of the hand grabbing you way too hard.

“Hm, where’s your alpha honey, do you even have one?”

When a moment of courage crosses you, you dare to hold the gaze of the alpha in front of you.

You could have accept a behavior like this form him, but not from just a random horny wolf.

“I-I…Please let me go if you don’t wanna have problems”

The nerves increase when the alpha in front of you does nothing more than tighten his grip and laugh with his friends about you.

“You don’t want me to have problems, huh?, how sweet of you…And with who are we going to have problems?”

You were about to answer when suddenly you’re feeling goosebumps everywhere and an inevitable feeling of safety, natural instincts kicking in without giving you a chance to decide for yourself, all accompanied with the great feeling that you get to experiment when hearing his voice in between dreams.

“With me is who you are going to have problems”

Immediately the guy loosens but still he won’t let go the grip in your forearm and back off just a little, intimidated by the taller and stronger alpha in front of him, even though they’re the same breed it’s the way that Jungkook carries himself and the way he won the respect, he won it how a good pack leader is supposed to, thinking in others before himself.

“I suggest you to take your fucking nasty hands off of my omega”

At the time he’s saying his powerful sentence you can feel his hot body against your own, hard with years of training for his position and right now ready to attack, hands of your own itching to touch him and to have your way with him right in this hallway.

That wasn’t really a suggestion, was a command, the other alpha knowing what was best for him and obeying, quickly turning around with this friends and leaving you there, frozen in your place and with a heavy heart.

After a couple seconds just standing there, Jungkook decides to talk and enchant you with that deep yet sweet voice reserved just for you.

“Won’t you talk to me, pretty girl?”

You close your eyes, praying to the gods above to save you from this pain to touch him or to simply help you erase that insecurities flowing in your mind and make him yours.

“T-thanks”

That was all you could say, not even lookin him in the eyes.

“Look at me baby, your alpha is begging you to show him your pretty eyes”

Your omega genes taking the best of you and giving him what he wants, but as soon as you place your eyes on his your legs decided to give up, but just when you think that yore going to touch the ground strong arms encircle your frame, just like the dream.

“There you are pretty girl, I knew you would give your alpha just what he needs, right?, because you’re such a good girl”

Your body reacting by pure instinct and hugging him against you with such a force that makes him chuckle, realizing just how needy for him you are.

“All this time trying to ignore the fact that you belong to me has had you suffering but look at you right now, throwing yourself to me like a bitch in heat”

And that’s exactly what your body is asking you, while you nose his neck as much as you can, burying yourself in the deep ocean of the comfort that just a mate can bring you to.

“I’m sorry alpha, please take the pain away, please, I-I will do anything you desire. Just m-make it stop”

Jungkook feels a little anxious since you’re still in the middle of a hallway in the school and your scent will be attracting more males which turns his eyes darker and his body tense, feeling even more possessive with what’s his, but at least he has to get you out of here.

“Let me take you out of fucking here at least my pretty girl, god… The things I’ll do to you”

The rational part of your brain is dizzy with the feeling of your men so close and the fears are suddenly long forgotten and all you want is him.

“Come on pretty baby, your alpha’s gonna take you to a warm nest to lay on, alright?, all you have to do is walk a little, at least until we are at the door, I know you can do that honey”

Jungkook has been waiting for this moment since the night he saw your pretty grey fur in the middle of the night, your wolf calling for him, so loud that he couldn’t even lie down and chill, so he was going to make sure you never forget to who you belong and what happens when you challenge the alpha trying to run away from fate.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches.

Next update: 1/03/21

All rights reserved.

[princessofcurses]

[1] Take it.

Part 2 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna My first post! I wonder if anyone will read it? It's kind of long. The sexy stuff starts happening about halfway through. This is just one chapter so some things might not make sense. Let me know if you liked it and want more! Preface: A woman sorcerer challenged Sukuna. Her technique was able to nullify his, ending in a draw between the two. Frustrated at his inability to kill her, he decides to “take her” in “another way”. The cocky brat rejects him easily but he’s determined to win her over little by little when she visits him the next day.

She left quickly after our battle. I wanted to chase after her. She hadn’t even told me her name but the way she mocked me riled my soul up. A fire began to burn in my core and soon, I felt it in all of my blood. I was almost unsure if I wanted to kill her or fuck her. I hadn’t met a Jujutsu sorcerer as strong as her before, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with me. And strong enough to resist me. I couldn’t kill her so right now, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. I can win in other ways. I wanted to earn her affection and make her mine. With her by my side, nothing would be able to stop me.

The next day, she came back to me. I was delighted.

“You thought about it, didn’t you? Did you rethink your stance?”

She replied to me with disgust.

“I’m here to waste your time and keep you from killing.”

I scoffed.

How can I win her over? After my ‘sex with hundreds of women’ comment last time, she obviously wants nothing to do with me. I can’t force her into submission because she neutralizes my techniques and she can use it against me. Should I buy her affection? Maybe gifts would do.

She noticed I was in thought and she used the pause to take a seat at the base of the mountain of skulls. She pulled out a book and began to read. She was bored with me again. She is so fucking infuriating. I wanted so badly to kill her but I couldn’t. So I thought I wanted so badly to ruin her and make her feel so good she submits to me. But she pretended I didn’t exist.

I jumped down from my throne to be closer to her.

“What’s your name?”

Without looking up from her book, she said just her first name.

“Akahime.”

“Oh? So you’re one of the heavenly twins. The red princess.”

“Mhm.”

Her one word replies irritated me. Women have died just getting too close to me and now there was one who not only rejected me but could stop me too. My usual approach wasn’t working so I tried being more direct.

“I want to talk to you.”

She immediately responded.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

“Please.”

She closed her book with both hands and put it down. I felt pitiful almost begging her just to speak with her.

“You’re annoying.”

I winced at her comment.

“What if we talked over dinner?”

“We wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without you being noticed. Plus, you might just try to kill everyone.”

“Then I’ll have one of my servants bring us something. You didn’t bring food, right? You’ll get hungry eventually.”

She put her index finger on her chin and looked up. She had a cute thinking face. If I could hear her thoughts, she probably cursed in her head that she forgot to bring something to eat.

“Okay, fine. I want an omakase from the most expensive sushi restaurant in Japan. I also want a bottle of sake. It better be warm too.”

This little brat. She’s a foot shorter than me but she treats me as if I’m the small one. I sighed in exasperation and I snapped my fingers for a servant to quickly appear. Akahime wondered where they came from.

“You heard her. Fetch. Quickly.”

They scurried out of the lair. I went to take a seat beside her. She looked uncomfortable and moved farther from me once I sat down. I sighed.

“I won’t bite. I just want to talk.”

She turned to me and smiled.

“Let’s talk over dinner!”

Ugh. She’s really cute, even when she’s nicely rejecting me. I was losing my composure. I was so frustrated that she wasn’t giving a single thing. I wanted to get on top of her and show her just why women come to me. But she might just leave altogether.

“Okay, looking forward to it then.”

I made my way back to my throne. I leaned my elbow against the armrest and held my head up with my hand. I wondered, what could I say to make her trust me? It felt like an eternity had passed once the food arrived. The servant laid all of the sushi out. Akahime and I sat on the floor. I poured her some sake and she took the small cup with a smile.

“Thank you, Sukuna!”

She could look so sweet. I was taken aback from it, considering how cocky she had been the entire time. She must really love this restaurant.

“Itadakimasu!”

We clapped our hands and she immediately went for a piece of salmon.

“I love this place! Oh, you ordered the omakase too? Wow, so you have money?”

Her personality completely changed.

“I’ve eaten at this place a couple of times. I like their omakase too. And yes, I have money.”

Maybe gifts were the way to go. I quickly wrote down some items for my servant to get.

She picked up a piece of toro and presented it to me with her other hand.

“This is my favorite.”

She plopped it into her mouth and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Mmm!”

The way to her heart is through her stomach, I guess. We continued our dinner and I kept refilling her cup. She drank happily, finishing it quickly each time. Blush started to form across her cheeks and nose. We had just finished eating too.

She sighed.

“Ah. I feel like I ate too much.”

Her words slurred a bit and she put her head down on the table.

“I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

I helped her keep her head up.

“No, don’t do that. I got you something.”

My servant entered and set down a futon for her.

“I got you a futon to sleep on. It’s stuffed with goose feathers.”

She looked at me and then the futon with amazement.

“Wow! I have to lay on it right now!”

She finished the rest of the sake in the bottle and crawled over to the futon. I had the perfect view of her ass and I could see the outline of her panties. A chill went through me.

She laid out on the futon and cuddled the pillow, which was stuffed with goose feathers as well.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really comfortable.”

Her smile was so charming and the way she looked up at me with sparkles in her eyes made me want to have her right at this moment.

“I got you something else.”

My servant handed her a white and flowy off-the-shoulder nightgown. She sat up and took it from the servant, who left quickly.

“I’m going to wear it now. Close your eyes.”

I covered my eyes but couldn’t help but peep through the cracks. She had stripped down to her panties and I could see her perky breasts and perfect ass. She clumsily slipped on the dress.

“Okay. I’m done changing.”

I uncovered my eyes and saw her unobstructed in the dress. She looked so dainty and was being so sweet. Was this the same girl I fought with? The same girl that I lost to? I examined her, thinking that she looked so innocent. I hungered for her. The off-the-shoulder part made her look even more enticing. I have good taste.

“It looks good on you.”

“Did you pick this out? I like it.”

“I did.”

We made eye contact for a few seconds and then she abruptly turned her back to me. She sat back down on the futon, swaying a bit from side to side. I thought for a second. Could this be my chance to close in? I didn’t want to respond. I might anger her and she’d tell me to leave her alone. I took a seat close to her instead.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?”

She was all smiles, not a hint of maliciousness or cockiness she had shown me before. My heart ached a little because of it.

“It was delicious and the sake is great! I feel good right now. Thank you, Sukuna.”

She said my name again and a chill ran down my spine. I wanted to make some contact with her. Just my index finger to her face or putting my hand over hers. I fucking hated this. I was doing so much to make her comfortable just so she wouldn’t push me away. Never in my life have I ever had to work for a woman’s affection. It pissed me off to no end. Why couldn’t I just have her already? The dress on her was making me lose my shit. The soft outline of her breasts in it. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of her. I just wanted to devour her.

She gave me a look of disapproval and then put her hands in my face to obstruct my view.

“Stop staring at me like that! I’m not a meal.”

Her hands were so small. I wanted to hold them in mine but instead, I grabbed her wrist. She had a surprised look which slowly sank to annoyance.

“Did you want something?”

Since she didn’t try to break free from my grasp, I kept holding her wrist up. I thought of the right words to say. What could I even say?

“I want you.”

She gently took back her wrist.

“I can’t help you.”

I brushed the hair in her face behind her ear.

“Why?”

A look of innocence took over her facial expression and the blush from the alcohol reddened even more from the blush of her reservations.

“I'm no stranger to foreplay but I want my first time to be with someone who’s also never fucked before.”

The way the crude word escaped her lips while she looked like an angel turned something on in me. I started to get erect and I wanted to let myself lose control. I don’t care what she does to me. I just want to touch her once.

“I have a lot of experience. I’ll figure out how to please you quickly.”

Her look had a hint of sadness.

“I won’t compromise on this.”

God damn it. Why did I have to be such a whore? I can’t even remember anyone I’ve had sex with.

“Can I just touch you then?”

I braced myself for rejection. Her head tilted to the side. I wonder if she was actually thinking about it.

“Sure.”

I was shocked. I wanted to jump her right then and there but I had to control myself. I was being given a little and I was more than happy to take what I could get. She let me choose what position I would touch her in. I had her lay back on my arm and I cradled her like a baby. My hand just touching her soft skin and shoulders made me want to shudder but I needed to keep my cool in front of her. I raised my hand slowly to caress her face. We made eye contact and her glossy stare at me made me want to see what other faces she could make.

Holding her face in my hand, I tilted it and leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t protest. It looked like she was going to keep her eyes open during it, so I kept mine open as well. Our lips met and it felt like the air was knocked out of me. Her lips were so soft and I tasted a bit of her. She’s so sweet. I looked up to ask her.

“How was that?”

“That was nice.”

I kissed her again, taking the pace slow. I put my hand on her back and gradually moved it down. I stopped at her ass to grab it lightly and I think I felt my cock twitch just now. As we shared another kiss, this time I lightly put my tongue in her mouth and brushed against hers. She stayed still at first but then she kissed me back, just the way her tongue moved said to me that she knows what she’s doing. My thoughts corrupted as I thought about my cock in her mouth. I imagined her tongue twirling around my head. I began to drool. Some of it spilled down her chin.

She pushed me up. I gasped a bit being separated from her lips.

“Ugh. You’re getting your drool everywhere.”

“Sorry.”

I wiped it off of my chin and hers. I then leaned back down to press my lips against hers again. I couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted so sweet. I grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts and then I pinched her nipple and rubbed it between my index finger and thumb. She gasped. She was so responsive to my touch. I moved my hand under her dress to play with her exposed nipple and she let out a soft moan. I stopped kissing her to see the look on her face. Her eyes stared back at me with a lusty gaze. I needed more of her right now.

I sat her in front of me with her legs draping over mine. My hand found its way between her thighs. It was so warm and when I rubbed her pussy through her underwear, I felt the wet fabric. I shivered. I kept thinking that I needed to be inside her right now. I swiftly slipped her panties off and lightly teased her opening, coating my fingers in her arousal. She was so wet and it was driving me fucking crazy. I moved up to her clit and began to rub it slowly. Her eyes widened and she let out a sultry moan. Fuck. That’s sexy.

I quickened the pace, making sure to rub every little spot on her clit. Her moans were more frequent and her breathing was heavier. It became hard for her to focus. I pressed the issue by leaning into her and kissing the nape of her neck. She was so warm and aroused. I loved seeing how submissive she became once I started pleasing her. She had little to no protests.

I moved my middle finger down to slowly slide inside of her. She yelped softly and it took everything I had not to take her right now. I wanted to bury my cock deep inside of her but you know she would never let you. I was a bit eager so I put my ring finger into her as well. Her walls were warm and soft and she was already so tight on my fingers. I was about to beg her for her pussy right now. Instead, I started fingering her at a leisurely pace. She clenched around my fingers and I felt her moan down my spine. I whispered in her ear.

“How does that feel?”

I faced her. She looked like she was in a daze. She was struggling to speak. I smirked. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

“What happened, brat? Nothing to say now?”

She tilted her head to look at me with scrutiny and I knew it wasn’t time for that yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

We continued on and I used my other hand to rub her clit. Her moans were so loud and they provoked me. I pressed in different areas of her pussy looking for the perfect spot. Each time I had touched a new place, she moaned even louder. She was so sensitive and it excited me to no end.

We were face-to-face.

“Look at me.”

She tried to focus but she was too lost in the pleasure I was giving her.

I took my fingers out of her to snap them. We then made eye contact.

“Look. At. Me.”

She nodded and I put my fingers back in her. I was just about there. I pressed on that spot, what do they call it nowadays? I don’t know. Well, it’s the spot that evokes orgasms. I pinned the spot and her eyes widened.

“Sukuna…”

“What is it, princess?”

She gasped and she whined out.

“You’re so good.”

My heart stopped for a moment from her sweet comment. Fuck. What is she fucking doing to me?

I fingered the spot harder and rubbed her clit faster. The way her pussy sucked on my fingers alerted me that she was close. I had to see the look on her face once she cums. Then I would have won one of our little battles. I varied my movement to keep her engaged. I would switch from rubbing her clit up and down to rubbing it in circles. Then I would alternate from softly fingering that sensitive spot to playing with it roughly. The air was drowned in her moans and it was so satisfying to finally get her in my hands. This was the grand finale for her.

We made intense eye contact with each other. She was in ecstasy but she also looked a bit scared. She knew what was about to happen too. I wanted to establish a little bit of dominance right here.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t hear me, she was too lost in the feeling.

“Say you’re sorry for being a brat.”

Her head perked up and she was a little confused. She looked a bit nervous and she seemed choked up. I touched her slowly and I gently smiled at her. She was struggling to speak.

“Or do you want me to stop?”

With a worried look on her face, she shook her head.

“Then say it.”

I gave her a cold and stern stare, and tears began to form in her eyes. I picked up the pace in my rhythm again, rubbing her clit agonizingly and fingering her pussy. I wanted to let her know this was just a preview of what I could do to her. I held her right there. I’d push her over the edge as soon as she says it.

“I’m… I’m…”

She stuttered but she was about to spit it out right now. Half a second before her orgasm hits, she bursts into tears and cried out loudly.

“I’M SORRY!”

She wails as her orgasm consumes her. I pulled her close to me and embraced her while she came. It started in her pussy and traveled in waves to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was shaking. She tried to catch her breath and I felt so fucking satisfied. I held her while she cried and whimpered. It must have been overwhelming for her.

I took a hold of her chin and tilted her head to give her a kiss on the lips.

“How was that? Has anyone ever touched you like that?”

She looked down, shy and embarrassed.

“Not like that...”

I gave her another kiss. Her eyes were still teary and I wiped the moisture from her cheeks. I wanted to take it further so badly but she looked exhausted.

“Are you going to bed now?”

I hoped she wouldn’t but she laid out on the futon.

“I think so.”

She yawned and squeezed one of the pillows tightly in her arms. I pet her head once then got up.

“Good night then.”

I walked away wondering if I should contact one of my concubines. I was dying for Aka’s touch but I wouldn’t get it and I desperately needed release. If she found out though, I might ruin the little bit she was giving me. Do I really have to jerk off tonight? Me? The King of Curses?

“Sukuna.”

She sat upright and her head was perked up, watching me leave. I turned to her in surprise.

“Yes?”

She wanted to say something but she was struggling. She looked a bit frustrated but then she shook her head.

“Good night.”

Drive a fucking stake through my heart why don’t you? I walked to my bedroom and laid out on my futon. My erection was poking through my kimono, trying to free itself. I rubbed my erection through my underwear and kimono and I thought of how soft her lips were. I let the garment drop to the floor and slipped my underwear off. I grabbed my cock and groaned, stroking it up and down. I closed my eyes and imagined her crawling over to me in her dainty dress. How she would look up at me with her hungry eyes. The face she would make as she slowly sits on my cock for the first time.

I stroked myself faster, focusing on the head for a bit and then going down the entire shaft. My breathing was heavier and I got closer and closer. I started to think that maybe I should have asked her for a hand or blow job. I knew releasing myself would leave me nowhere near being satisfied. I felt pathetic. I felt like I was stooping so low for some brat but just picturing her smiling at me steeled my resolve. In my thoughts, she asks me to cum inside of her. I think of coating her insides with it, her virgin pussy being filled up for the first time. I groan loudly and blow my load all over my thighs. I then picture her thanking me for fucking her and I breathe deeply, trying to catch my breath. My cock was still upright and unrelenting, aching for more. I knew this wouldn’t be enough. I sighed and went to clean myself up.

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

[matthewbeilschmidts]

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

-

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

-

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

-

And so their friendship starts.

-

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

-

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

-

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

-

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

-

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

-

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

-

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

-

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

-

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.