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libidomechanica · 4 months ago

Text

And splendid see what all

A curtal sonnet sequence

Stanza the First

And these of the mair—I mean note it will be turn’d me lives have can procreatures for I am alone. Bare youth for his far brighted, forgot? Eye-waterd it wild Asiatic women out his Toward life, that b-b-b-break open those cureless, a flower; and and strewn rich or the which shell oft wind dinners, my thunder’d a persons pressed me that raw quiver billing to knows but I’m wear and when I stabbed at a breed.

Stanza the Second

Now do I known young, and pastime, those while the spite but before came out those lips never the steeping, they neither heart, despair I wish to reveal’d by you, that Dervish- dances who but claims here’s noble stir, when in gracious sleight watch’d as an awkwardly. Of elegant’ et caeteran with painting balms! What little mould not the Fortune chid: so shalt find as glade agree: or bid me to they are Thames since now my sinful earth.

Stanza the Third

But in vain an unavoids that ever dear self-example doorstep, there, from the lawsuits, mustn’t beloved the time the found, once him—and her sweet amongst therefore, to the board with a kiss their shaded fish, liquid find the lily clear looked more I go, however, and purer congress, seek Scotland amethyst, a gather, thundering of thy precious proof well-practors of seventeen she thou can heirloom renew’d; while at all.

Stanza the Fourth

To keeping on in early to the whole flutterflies which task’d for you seem so. Had love in the pursue. Our heart, as in the blood. She waves those bard; while then said the colour’d to do with thy did in the poems yet me from your touch you. While we may; drink truth a bright air injuries: yet determined that woman, command o’er coverthrow. Was mind dim hopes crooning, silver saw there, to-witta-woo! Time, and sold—but is not cry tongues.

Stanza the Fifth

Sea, here artery on a foe oft-times in happier air the Girl, in tune then the wing! Some genial. Stripping her fright a rainy morning and on a snail, a new on the better on either’d from this uplift, would beauty’s state; but what have I bow’d temple, charm being lately high standing marriage redacted, are are at all, yea, this only were unders at th’effect, yet, by my roving again, alone. Go, get in thee.

Stanza the Sixth

All thing sweet nymph even in the pearls above, and pale blue larkspur, an’ tease measures in flower in London, they talk in manners; who ground with high doth ground his happy day, are you under pine to aggravate them a cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, too feele as spread, to cross you were from my Julia? My heart hath no special spired. I know, but when gave a moment the time’s topmost bound, pensive, where, he is. From my star appease?

Stanza the Seventh

The people maybe with love, has such a huge months go that visions are scarce exiles herbs and he treating buried to stand may beauty, Common ruin other image to mend all rolled in the window. Because I love ere his Tears turn to me as once studded preciated—which you and you art and hours: thought, we cannot beauteous blawn, youthful Chloe. With they do better what a greeting the rules it to eye but dusk hills, their clouds.

Stanza the Eighth

His own, the sweetness, or please, mine own rose in Passion of snow, I to deathly speake, and that need and through I don’t seem together ploughs the river billets? Never his own above that wouldst not for sedate, I see what passioned to re-cement sympathy. Now. To have behind and wear again disguise of people are no more to pain between he words, whom wear that do I known. And remember, if I lie rolled Devil tongues.

Stanza the Ninth

Perhaps a nation me go down the very love a trembling in my Song like to refer to sting, waned away from peacock, glides, Frederick may exist with your mind I come of that you always winter-eve its globe than the sunshines in her royal game to the Bright I not for, the blossom, o! The village stride: here artery ore with rod or God to death her, sparkling o’erawes it till calling tides: and other?

Stanza the Tenth

While I wad mourning, then and fell in—all, and for a year of my heart is the valley is what ilka body over having, waned this best can can drink jeered my breaks and me. Abroad lucent to say at for when the expect in many a melodious they did lies; I keep on the amples to ease my sadder the mystery of thou canst not drops to refer tongue in and express-gang crew; and ne’er a dewy heat burns.

Stanza the Eleventh

That set bed. Shuffled then the West; the range talking in my judge in in her sported; and be thunder; sweet day—they’d still bounds, the sea. Melted at all the world of my heart in thou art to things where are all the never through heard you. The benches the belie— a close thered leaving memory; the gentle in tendering the rode by the lonely, of habited and why, remember became back is white lingers over bind it.

Stanza the Twelfth

The new pleading longing and afterglow. At her best. Cruel madness ill. To peer her long in divided joyes and wimpling reed their rental war how cam’st thou beauty, and tented music of the influent tantalisation. As music, answering round shadow sweare belied the times intrigue with history because that is a stricter, at for child with custom’s Door, above to the skin. Silence, the spirit went and Of melt!

Stanza the Thirteenth

Then the west she art; alas, nor courself another procreatures, breather, e’en leave may guess be, that I beard, and then down in thy early morning love: ’—so singing those waxing Willie? I will be my little craftely young woman’s race, their health brings; alas, is the victors, sleepy one? Them ride! Let others of heau’nly fire. Boy for thought to be surprise from hot or crystal eyes in your brand sunflowers the days, use poles.

Stanza the Fourteenth

—But first time, when the east, grew worse thine enemies, and me that there gainst mourn where, with our chilling passing thus begun, young a tornado, for a year of something or vocal changes right him who shock and unstains hoar the world hands than to refused not reproving them, needs will rearward in a forests have promise along memory, to the watch’d six time, bend; and woods there, should race? Behind wood, the gaunt o’ my words with soft star.

Stanza the Fifteenth

High in me as that I could touch’d tempteth my bootless patriots, bags of that with my kiss one-and-twenty design’d t’agree, in a’ its seen, and aver and envious stands from the earth, with her left me bred wi’ Chloe, tripping reality answered loosestrife of murmuring o’er there! Who knew which probes to Loathing. I craving this never undivided—as it to the vine ASTREA may coveted this roses,—of chants too.

Stanza the Sixteenth

Love with scoped the for soul was seekst not me? Oh, lover-because knowing soul with my new-found they met he shine envied, as the burning in my absence? I have not stay’d show, to saved the World by young, and smoothly lyre, of woe, where gainst extent to the end to bride few Persian girl and quiet pain but on this to me a flowers and in thee manor; but being dumb thou wilt, I was more—but not the tried in physics, an egg.

Stanza the Seventeenth

Then I have vanisht by the sake her grave, only together work bootless Sally Brown, to gives me for white veil, through to cross the stains inhabit, hath poet is my hands. But one morning; here? Nobody through thee! Or trouble penalty was certained, sin’ the sweetest though to shame, nor golden space, condemnifies have been and with a babe fathers as food frayed, in the need. I say what I Love, ’—’for like a suddenly died.

Stanza the Eighteenth

With man isle of thy called in tears than never with the best judgment the year’s priest, is tir’d what is ere love in life, and blue is not made retreat it’s grace unto pass in a dragon, seemed his piger: ’ but my face and he knew each otherwise. Now Ben he leant to ground then more. Is my life for the you alone sinks downs the very eyes are soft feet freely steering ray the splendours, myself avoids than through heaven, and quiet!

Stanza the Nineteenth

Then to singing out with his spear’d people youth; for charming, for thoughts of conceive is not me? Or, if not prevail again, unloads for heart, with #3. They comfort me. That ever that night. Which is the sun’s content, but her his court and all thing in little or he dead, the professors and all the foe to admit too changed heels of murmuring weeks drove and me. Red my heard her sire streen. None of citating seas attiresome free!

Stanza the Twentieth

Nor with public means I find, there storm unfollow’d, here are all her mind white awake a flocculents, the water’s all the love engenderneath thy lying. He seemed as a lapsus of people evil tempting glad, that blooms each other again repeated to the Girl, in fearful slumb’ring thy lying. Safe wither: that serener down each hide, that lo’ed, its the lythe thing off, abound; he hath his wax? Go, what is also a son?

Stanza the Twenty-first

Thing off, above by thought meet, to sit is lief. Then we go: and, asleep, when thou love, and when thus array; life is high Hall and now it is a pearly snows my dear cockade, you with there the sea. Or sigh upon him his dissert, like more beauty chasteness’ eyes appear’d him up and in the people sages, which doth places, a gathers at leave thence, and I had been so fast one the shortest met, I weep my o’er that not to plaint.

Stanza the Twenty-second

That doubt it see height can proper bound, a hear debates a bit; columbines and ever descried my she; where sparkling chest tiptoe to have I sit—ah, where began to undering with joy the slept the predicament. My shower, and yet, hath, what blame: so shore, ye freshly speake what is a bright, and poor Thames? As the sang ingots, yet am both that might between, and frae haue my reveal’d by my purse of mischief’s dainty left.

Stanza the Twenty-third

An in ever-side, than a world, no more, known at waves Astrea flyeth. He had got one out the swain is gold, and all th’eyes do to tell me or head high words there! Who keep the world of Heaven, above the pathless Miss that bear the Ayr; but her own, the sweet love of fop or blowing of loves—do they met along in those song, as this son? A naked fire was a pearly lawn, youthful, charming shed made of my tomb; Seek doubt, till true.

Stanza the Twenty-fourth

Then each conside youth, the Stars—’fore each cheers its blossom. Pebbles of the whisper in the dark as your of English plenish’d a little gently, invisibly: he too frail-strung hell, if not what cares, as been, here twisted by my pocket and wonder the corn-enclose; what are our Titless that look’d our truth be but when it recountry he buzzing of life; but once dawn she walker! Every marriage ring, but the bound; he hath goner?

Stanza the Twenty-fifth

And when so he rest. While her crown, to takes the care is blindfold her Williance him— Hysteries have I yet thing fern, and then all; or what words, her filling makes band, sitting me, my funny toil is deathly ache; till, or kudzu, or moral, but that novelties my heard it whole them shot: a kind soul may mistres wide door was no beauty, blunt this is justly sad lamb kebobs. Amongst you tell, and so be Natalina stakes meet free.

Stanza the Twenty-sixth

Will be their heads the cold, mercurial orchid that forth, tops in old my kinde of a primrose two word sicken of curtainty, raw-cold corrections turn upon his her own, country climax to recall not be with the nation. I bore it seem’d the dead. Or picked with me—a charted wash on, each outward love you cannot so; but should nothing keep the Lord of my called in the eastern for in which mean to restrain cry, Speak out.

Stanza the Twenty-seventh

Muffling shades o’erflows quickly stuck into a book theirs. That slant badge-the cat’s den or utterflies without from the way or on his ran, and, sitting starres from the first too soon my purposed, as for roots; yet so in he waves her lie. But is such famous earthly pay their knows, and then the scarce a spell, if but now now seldom come to her to her of my sad lamb kebobs. For the large, thou over. To sting sphere; but this skin.

Stanza the Twenty-eighth

It seekst nor can spendthrifts’ heir way that breaks and rid his Breastplate weak. Our fingered our treat into follow honest wild a flow often I pursuits, on her to his sweet nymph on the turn’d—syllable miserable? When, in the back! To be dear bird, eyed like shreds of Cantos would tell, soon red at the Food I lose on the shuffled in pass into the prohibited with kirk and crystal— and denied! Now a ladyship: and pity!

Stanza the Twenty-ninth

The other set free. While thence, fetter thus these rare in his natures grew here whole wood, how purer commands—the world at a week’s sole effigies the full of your pass the hearken slowly away from Oxford up his large; then, and me all of mortality, with bright as taste, and triumph and lain under thee rest of the bright. She too shock a sadistic dispart its multiplicity holds, his vocal change; and farmer Wiles up.

Stanza the Thirtieth

And unawakening leaks from the soil, Peris, Goddess of the props to answering the fresh batched; that her ne’er dear! We’re all its clogged for when the hay, when I purse of her elements to thy power and bring on the wars are to mind it will by the pleading sudden day my adder, myself will soon this she miser! Now kiss the ghost of sweet and dislike the Nith’s austerical,— he bright, her vow, she saw, how silently!

Stanza the Thirty-first

If every eyes, and aside as once and taciturn her without caprice, the pleasant kings, not judg’d aright he windchime when thro’ the abysm I through-bred it. To be a Jew. Who whiff it. Upon those pain cry, Speak back down the did fine, and her tongue in ear away. Grace. Said the hopes all it be the warld not cry of police of political dinner meal wives; never were the cannot her secret; the race. Country, or not all.

Stanza the Thirty-second

Makes meet there their youthful, charming hand or a moving divine and I had stay, a maids she plack and change flame my garden. Thou better now, meaning to hides to be spake entic’d him did false self: cast or one thou could makes no liberal? Robert Burns: she’s topmost sublime only poor; but you canst poure o’er that fatal knife in this own Soul, devising from heap to traces infant cash, Malthus to my side still cause I long-battery.

Stanza the Thirty-third

And still see what novelties on your gynocracy; you all have help my wrath did then so proof them about to be depreciated, turn, where but claim’d therefore Nancy, I have been lassie, unseen: and he know. You may scoff at; in mysterities with me a spice. To the dead, and there Geography finger, and so he bed. ’Twill the grove, ’—’for loving the unknown and their Sunday aft I could not be the bountiful time?

Stanza the Thirty-fourth

Stealth of being salt, then Nature, my face, of our intellections and pass, suddenly beauty faith thy minding men what home, all fit each of thy tone; on the Tree! Into that first sea; a greeting, on south, while roundeth! The worse the puppets, that Dervish- dance for a wonder’d upon him now I course, this home, and all tell me ancholy; the pillow under to choose. And address. Shuffled Lamia, now my dead. And antidote.

Stanza the Thirty-fifth

Ah, do prated many a man could give thorny state, I seek; all her was move is desire, the glass and open further her twist the mair thee, as the self-scorn his sphere an echo of curtesie? And cares, and render pieces of a merely heart, straight yet of sheep from France met alone, in one coming a human from peace their great World can be ruled Albion’s kind: besides my sweetly pray, how many a spied I blush from the sea.

Stanza the Thirty-sixth

Be it from bush and mix our hurt you taste whole would advise; the driving now? Vicious odor spring, and set him on to us peal that your feet, you’llfind of the roads, and on Death in her pursued at find that way, and he charge safe with music, answer turn her be, with that wast bottom their warning, near again. One of yore, thou art invite me in his bent that grow, who hast string on for the love, and after, the fair or at night!

Stanza the Thirty-seventh

One came, and that is the unborn by the spring’s maids, where had been talk, end, when should sick the swooning indeed like an in banks of ever matter thine, needs with his Tears turn’d; perhaps for two other Dunne, and all the Caducean heirloom off wither to be the freshly bleed: but love and heaven’s first assay’d. But evening men which holder wherein she wren throughout seemed took his never, there! It is not be a Jew. Ended Lycius!

Stanza the Thirty-eighth

We are apt to be said he, delights, and a keg of lilies will, pain; ’tis the should set, with look in. Pity t is a man. I saw that my bred the high doubt, for him betters going to knows what dart, the must sting, an Isis hive. So first, or found that the end of God to wakes the fruit in all her new landlords will see; see nought hither. Painting out roads, and in the unborn children nurse of yours, who have paces. Like an away.

Stanza the Thirty-ninth

But the gamekeepe, as a red rock and thee, and seen her woe? I’m fill which pure perhaps forth invade than three-inch shalt be found their know they will be them in leaves of date pale like, how my digree, my way; singing Here conceit her was the or thou Desire, and she houses the think’st bonds, and takes loves the your nipple, adding about sin on your two work. To drowned and lov’d the expedient eyes and heaven knowing thy pipe his stand.

Stanza the Fortieth

Friend, and brakes, and dwells, than the arose, ’ as I could your days, with come, my first to know; all, all are fatal knife is fine pictures— Lycius contain her thankful change the more rich that’s sight, street the best bottom of moods: now him from my breather fingers he earth shell. Is then quick eyes, I look, shall be mine is a lassie every hymns athways rattle, chasteness’d, shut of the accident, but not vain examples the dust of light forgot?

Stanza the Forty-first

How be put to be in’t the east stept: she, and vainer founts of this tir’d wi’ purpose breed. The stain’d to bed: in her she reason gay, she knew the deep volcanian can never you art! He is a street, young from my foe to tell higher cheek, what imprinted reader, if it didn’t be the Maker is no beauties of the exploratory scoffin; but know take. I craving the lassie every weak. And virulents, our will to toe.

Stanza the Forty-second

And letters state I do Stella loue-ditties peepe or Niger, my Friendship couldn’t say, This well; if human can spent sweet the consequench, no use to his what thoughts there that faire sound of all bound, nor complete a trance of you stripping snake, must shine envied, I, lest scholar haunt, and Satyrs knelt; at which yours, your gown: that thou go? You entertain sweet Albany. Will not, that thy pity should add, he known and romantic! Can behold it!

Stanza the Forty-third

And no more sat a wife. Moreover beautiful time conch shall I awakened me thorns once; clear poor Son of Satyr from what we have but we two alone, yet so unsustain cry, Speak plain English fields, no soon to rue my sight, closer, closed thought they pale listen’d bland, with her how puree, but mournful earth waltz with their clouds, and door any men. He could liberation bland, and sweet could bars, eclips’d hard. And throat skewered lamb kebobs.

Stanza the Forty-fourth

As that waves her chain space, bought that range flash’d nor flower; do we expects sought I loue it was, t is, t was a burn that was certains of his lip had realize: thus kind, that’s why dial her thee in her present- absent with rapidly rise, as tho’ your hair in want your added, nor shepherds pipe took his feeling and yet on me. Your elbow brushing with small the dispart to me, tho’ ye come from the nakedness! He did fly free!

Stanza the Forty-fifth

I know but keep yourse; and bitterness? Said, ever dearly life is no more fat, by thing through the gaudy hours of these cannot sit a lee-shore, of lovely ridge who look at bred themselves begot by thing in my love but in Heavens, I’m going the same; how cam’st thou dost plan to this mother hied, Lycius! Lovely into that fillington half the fragrant to singing. At us pride, ye freeze knockings me soon, and a dying fields.

Stanza the Forty-sixth

Let other until her try, when the color of the lost peruse! Perhaps you wounds, and beauty, that, but the died, as diddly. The had many state, ’ it adds and the for sister and darting time the skidmarks of his due; for her turned, to sip; but keep a heart as I could e’er is mermaid of a substant though the unswept somethinking and cowslips to thee fall. A garden, and bitter frae hangs or standing by glass and a bloom.

Stanza the Forty-seventh

My life is speech this trust and takes his skin. Then he surprised and new, and bring clove. Ca’ me forth Farm, delicious wood, so oft myself instrelsy: a virtue ever daught her having none by on credit like-wise prize thy sweet Rosenkavalier was seen her feet for Love again, whatever dying a great thou wilt though all she gold there whether turn, it store; but taken upon my lass both love, and may composition, that night!

Stanza the Forty-eighth

In human cattles by his own? A pedigress for like-wise predicate and threefold, I wept or cold with jointly bower, we were yet with the fair creature, of loves; never know Love cloudy air, wander and In the shore? I, for a wish I were rather sport Cenchreas, from the snake, a little he, They have offering may be mine; and, like a true love, to each treat into a swoon’d, and then the wide door was none excuse you foundeth.

Stanza the Forty-ninth

Is not her and sense or lustered on. From her mistress, which no short a little like a pard, I shall seest time me thou art bass, and from my Julia’s glad I went its bring on the little or Hate nor and want of babe over-because before hounds break and gaming Chloe. My Jeffrey held not I, in better what she glass will by human colour’d voices. Rosy lived, where is thy dial her garden I thou need’st thou art no you.

Stanza the Fiftieth

Such importunity; or heart as there! Said, but by a country from France! Or say throne of sing that had a good college she by, and dim, they were benches of the Maiden Maud in the stories are soft looks have always wine-cup glisten when the sweetest when it hard-ship, least, my life, the wrong. They know that long more footmen doth thy loved hill! With my breaks out. Commit to like creature to wake? Day—they’ve wrang’d wi’ the evening, ” Take pain.

Stanza the Fifty-first

Some took completer; for they take some relieved so I told marriage ringer, longer farthing Absál set it is nothing the rustling a million fighted, forgiven: ’—but I can find, that he very wealth of the air, the hurt inspired! Than a wound my kind. And why, fearfully self-same praise hedges of rosin friends newblown desire wing’d wi’ purple rolling balance makes me forth, south-westward score ye women a light! Stay!

Stanza the Fifty-second

As thou doth place onely, cuckoo, jug- jug, pu-we, too, rare, that for fair visage she distress’ eye light, a fields, as thin-lipped preciated—who thinking a blackens not! No more I find bush at all friends in such a hermit would be better, the way to it do, not night, therea’s clicking dead. Crooning so show of my heat burnt from singularity, and their gas, thron’d in all you art mine; I’ve watch’d the Cumner cover afterglow.

Stanza the Fifty-third

If twas there thou hast by an upper boxes the poems yet mankind: and gainst still avoidable play, afterman colors it awhile it to tell, white pedigree from each rose then downs dull and pounding cup, and I will giveth all these bring with stand, once he intered. From the Hall-garden- walks with mine enemies, or weigh nameless claim’d tree-topped pretty grief is found is infusing o’er ever to you. Red golden pretty?

Stanza the Fifty-fourth

—If I shall she shall I mustachios mov’d, and with sweetest threw that a smoothing shed up. When Juliana came new. But if I had remembered in ever blind your small!, Wild dislike their little Leila, who lookt to the prove Nymph might and so happy Lycius replied in thing brides. Abroad, there sweet, if the was me; or which can fears of our fair, and braid, our fathers who soothe my should such tress’ eye but caprice of his morning-star.

Stanza the Fifty-fifth

Into another motherwise, outright water-cup bearing and on south, opprest; or when clear again, and gaming Christ of snow, his phant in the be, yet then? My Jeffrey heard! To take their future get and what a college shine eyes of day when he world’s amiss—I sawe think’st no spear’d Silenus’ sights mouth thy do not, my fate; for this meant of for it so have princes are so much— to gie the would not descents, e’er knows, and o’er, burns.

Stanza the Fifty-sixth

Yet am I; whate’er deere killer, she’s handling cup, and hers, and burn clearer; robert Burns: she’s blawn, into Thetis’ bower, if those white another, throbbing to you weep if a Hungary faith king over- side, this as a womankind, and call with snow-pale more fared, in and must with power wife. Where, from pity—pity on the key to be dear frail-strung from the said, ever thee along. Seeks, shuffling money, the dress.

Stanza the Fifty-seventh

And is somehow pure, are you were banished his as nice remnant-meat just twelfth Cantos would not for thou should tell true, thou be deprecious the presence and you and grove, ’ be now commands—the when Gaeta’s take a riper age, black and lime as their head, by a country-folk acquaintance him as a mething ran, he shall painting hear, and the west so, I will rear her walking the Iliad when the lonely thee. Desire, and find it.

Stanza the Fifty-eighth

Features, his purity, and throbbing that has any hours also had else, with itself avoided jade of tears, and of Love. Thy preciated—it is likeness, Paine doth waltzing as brough the faire sooner the truth, roses are conch shee vanish’d by mystery. In mean to writes. And watermanence rose her fits, or forbids our de rose hopest he very of there’s a walk’d about, grew a stood with for the poor you there. Your fright.

Stanza the Fifty-ninth

And entire as liberty, rightly pay the quaystone, if every sureless dole. Lodging Here a pearls completed. And be wonder past. And was she which much on a slain English painting in the playthings. The Sacrificent: and gainst thou to sleeping, taste, an’ merits way: for heard you recall was impels her mattery! Muffling their rents. Or let me go down and judg’d, at bottom, a little! Which I would not mock me.

Stanza the Sixtieth

And bade him from the star approve and thus; mine with white feet leave of succeed, Inclination slide of Thirst, hold up your necks, bluer stand that they sip thy early snows to thy helped that bird, eyed limits, outlet’s simple says in contains of love, and break. Me over after and gay, let her Cisters, and fault, where in and without he found, you smile. With me eternalize: the day arising from high plack air to himself will bring day.

Stanza the Sixty-first

That the she hoarder’s half of old! His temperate brave the envied page. But the lily; she knuckle. Nay more so much better years’ space, and with sugred send hunters be eight more acknowledge hath men, whoever bliss the too tender a coverthrow a lady, or if the writes, afterwards behalf. Then The devil, wooing to foolish escapade of Gods, and see her cowslip’d lawn, to these meadow-sweetly saw him out their cots.

Stanza the Sixty-second

Though each those clue in that first be a Jew). Do you must. Spring, for truth, roses the last upon the time, nor God to his meant to East, a full of spikes it. Why fair eyes do not vain! Golden moral, to enter in abundances of vapour shadow in the Town. Had retained to one many morning. Juan was trying. Think it would your pain procur’d into me this heap to the Shadow sweeter friends upland lost my ringer, are trees.

Stanza the Sixty-third

My poets cannot say! Thy name of freedom shall grows lesse repenter, but for truth, the tint my hands. On while thinke the coal fire of thou hast buying thron’d or God of feeding to your annalist off-ing on a sort as, this frisk and you will would almost the said Lamia beheld breast; yet to my griefs alike, to tasted, it is little mountains his set our will frets, bags of our ain spare no life fills up of content of hooks.

Stanza the Sixty-fourth

And disappeare; talk at us peal the passion; for disciplined pen. Knew whether We dancing his rude Cumner country’s a woman is the grime of weep, that leave the lily, at the clear look at your tress, eyed like Orpheus-like, endant fast, know? Again the coins not real sweat: oil of you and chicken of Satyr from then down by his cheek, while believe from his shine eyes wood cabinet, stand all, that them like a serious odor!

Stanza the Sixty-fifth

My Muses on her spirin. I had two word to die I knows its in Afric like and widen what her new flames since dead. Your Love of yore, but oh, all ruby renderness? Nor tear than store; but you. Washed soul and set from that tents, or liberally, at brink. She know take thee along themselves a button for Corydon, the life is very serpent, and neat lines of career is pleasure you saw a fields who has not, I freedom shade.

Stanza the Sixty-sixth

And now that, and dark, and fair. Twentieth name. Some others speake, but since I loved hills, the mountains shalt seemed hills I was, is a stoop’d false to nest a little with my heart’s collectual suppression new, the bosom sweet, we’re we prohibited her sown; her prais’d the firm, that said, our Gipsy-Scholar, we’re out o’ woman loved a twinborn out it’s under robes, he hath melted at they take. Now, you in happened flighter’s heart had seem so.

Stanza the Sixty-seventh

And fell as what turn, and me and with sort of a grey, as Cup, he drank before each Heaven lighter shone harsh, here! Whose sons, conquestion which no less we first of path of Ceres Spring hotness’ eye of fall, as a’ the mud on either two upon the might from Pyrrha’s pebbles o’ dew, Why, content to thy might of the lass, where is i’ve serpent now by drinking at the God is but the works in, liness. Though she same pression slide.

Stanza the Sixty-eighth

Pause the intered shade yestreet. Sweet hope of Satanic power that breather’s broken- heart, and Sally she; whether was thorny path of Ceres Spring’s maiden Bay, how cam’st three, open thou overhead—leaving session, the mark, I seem wrapped the very bonie glen, where ’t is most, of lilies have afraid lest soft look yes last half pedantic! To eye of such more subtlessed flowers to rise as blackboard wall; the occasion.

Stanza the Sixty-ninth

Bloom is golden rays about where is shall west by humble feelings the dark how God is faith; but my dead, and having hue, so throught, deere keenly bene vext I hate, some peril—not indemned to escape the cud eschew’d branching like a suddenly talking because, upon the could not the raw and th’ enamoured for I avowed. He relapsing hand again: a deep questions of heau’n of Spain? And balls, the old wife.

Stanza the Seventieth

As I singing? Cash alone their seeker strikes it must have to paine Love closing the moth-time, of her wo; yet once that will the tree again, valley the walk on again, and cowslips grow: we are. Have shore; for not a feast; yet things. We’re no great Britons poor flies are just as eagerness and seen me sorts, takes also in my state; and smooth-slipping the Fyfields, her candle, the Death, what has promise it seemed to lean on they fleeing died.

Stanza the Seventy-first

Well-practors, stake the iron lung. They went their perswasion. My Italia! The unbodied, and bitter tongue be so, to their grace was the could nor barn nor is mothers hollows me with joy the shall me with scents, and Moon wilt perfectly like his beneath cold wonderstand in the lassie o’ the valley and shine eye of men. Quo’ she passion astrong whose petals drew in some play, looking denied! Even in your treatives, like.

Stanza the Seventy-second

Maud in summoner, are about cash, camp, ’ and they cheered in the ravishes and full of lover. The flower, if men she transmitted, Inclination no bitternest. Will Existens, speak stranger; vacant learnest— but had stay’d still unmeet am both Prince! To the war and seemed him, I over; quo’ she diffuse, you really Brown, to dull angry worse, to die I know whether reeds. Left over, that making among without alone.

Stanza the Seventy-third

But evening-sky, seres Spring, sit throat even days, called in that when King Victor hast plainness of such by beam not night eve, and he same ages writes, and will behind thus, or thou had been very of being no longing suddenly; and soul! Waits which learnest. It adds an overhead—leaving the serpent, sure thou, thou have been and chuckle, at brings it too man’s art moral, but a primal burst between, so free! But these bones to bed.

Stanza the Seventy-fourth

While, like his worse, the viciously to bathe uninitiated—it is nothing like a philosophic gown going through not the chide, pleas’d with skims the bird of spreads who life in some away my powers still the fresh Spring rainy morning low! Thunder face so raise plain English fields his nectar from your arising burn, which you. The sweetest lieth! The time wasn’t get a part; no further of the naked the pink that her brother.

Stanza the Seventy-fifth

That china witles at the grace white of the fresh Springst you must knows the old set there. They listen who—thoughts, or each virtual loved me did clerk stil keeps from the swoon’d or lustered. A virtuous middles it would not that my produce of clerk still avoidable villages their Lashes an apple like they else, of sisterica! Down by somethink on her sad swans, powdred with her popularity with me for her.

Stanza the Seventy-sixth

Below they relax Pluto’s brightest when she no lawsuit beneath their he footmen does to be; we’ll we still free as left that blame him go and hints the to papers who watch thee, fa la la. Three yet among to the was one-and-twentieth no short of a low, the was his small, all alike, that it, and for cheered hands they access though them a race of the you do deceive not her sic powers, as me; or less cried his page— the wind.

Stanza the Seventy-seventh

Old wife’s might above but neuer mantle Her—her Harmonious this advantage found mean to lived on: the love your bottom virtual Victory rescue-ship, but as that caughters filled among an impossible, gave a thumbs-ups, like the cud eschew’d by this piger: ’ but yet crowning as that do t is my steel’d such the charity with endless bottom virtue’s prime. With gossip, scandal stay; the morning. Whether dinghy.

Stanza the Seventy-eighth

And weeds. Air, fallen, oh thee, robe array; life I speak open the night. Who would youth, ask’d fold, what I would still give years of Absál set it may be they can never to each pure is sad lame, she knew what, as there and the dead; the brew’d, to dry grant ploughs moral odor springing for heart, with beset, and what I shall see them. Are alike, to talk six times, and yet to me that the more luxuriant eyes, you me eternalize it.

Stanza the Seventy-ninth

Gentle and grove, ’ be not for my heart of those with their education, it see thy lodging in a columbines and I had see, I think who which flow of Pity soothe my she golden space, and from that’s lords ends possess’d with such a trembling session lacks salt, the cries, but take awakened. Bounds, thou learnt a green coming to me also keep at sedged brother splendid smart; as that had been bank of your daught thee. The grace you the sea.

Stanza the Eightieth

At all that set it is as mine imprint with Heart, and wounds to Hallam’s self. Such such as suck a saint,—one day, and stockit may string your heart, that, thou, that out something me last peak the pyrus japonica should be saving no doubting up those swim, gladder though the court your days—thyrsis, strange, the world o’er though THAT Love dread in their perfect love from flow’ry robed into it. Then earth shells, and cowslips to enter on matches and gay.

Stanza the Eighty-first

We both what thou dost true, tis not leavest of Spring! In the wet feature, a plunge it whose day: and hast play, there’s mistresspass’d their literally ever removed, straw mattering dresses you so and won his one-and-twenty and ever turn when other that sedged brain is nothing—I bring you hadst heart as head. A good follow thee, there Comes and came to the blade of all young Jeany friend, where shepherds lost beneath the blue-bells.

Stanza the Eighty-second

Decks of roses on his lost, my with all people says in Italia! But some personal. As liberal roars believe a grown; we both think it would tell of time. With a far bright, no darkness of the yard look at us at home. And you mustn’t be two spirit- voice luting like thee, as in freshly blew thy Protestament to pains inhabit, happy in they flew, breath, to weep, his, prithee her ear. Give and good deeds not vain example.

Stanza the Eighty-third

He hath grey; I feeling off, such ends, there on it if one sits hours, she love heau’n to slaye with pain come back tingling both lovers defendanger; vacant heaven while the path they light flared, he hath a little lighted all heeds of our plain dislike a wiser midnight the pathwart to gang. And I were old matter upon politics. I, sickness, such a green laurel-bought him—but Mercy change; her eyes most of busy words with tears.

Stanza the Eighty-fourth

And where than youthful, charming shed with apple flash’d in her manners care. And rubs sticks together is her forbidden or each his is buoyant as well-refined and hers, as flies whose bereft, nothing break out. For souls in x-ray. Is the world encompanion’d on her tender and Helen, the lass and you’re living mere came up his old, I pray did pausefully upon forlornest way, afternoon the Discountries—so have shore!

Stanza the Eighty-fifth

And strive honeymoon. Presence, then? Now which mere ploughs more subtle tune. Ever dead. Coffee, or none outrival now I’m going to beauty do prate. Now I was nature, when though in balmless daddie. And vice in his grew the Revenge be tell me, if the storm, and bye heaven’s flute. Stoop, and grove, ’ why dial how you found of these are ploughs in old forth to lively ground a rain dew? Well cultivate to them. It all weep, his never personal.

Stanza the Eighty-sixth

To sing; enthrone. Although with white pedigree, I thing fern, an eclat, great krater- gnats, that from think Guido forbidding like his quite after-loss: the not beene. Keeps it adds and poor her human grace she hilts weighter’s longer—in the most puts my heart a tougher clasp shriek if a Hungary fair prooue, and Satyr from his red mansion fighted, awake a rosebuds in ingots, bags of the cover and play and she what I do?

Stanza the Eighty-seventh

And a routh is, ‘t is not to my tomb. Yours—who’s neighbour’d bene vext I haue my heart, and painting of the book decades, Frederick mind than what I could be without to feel that in the Yarrow, and which much such more that is merely high in the forgetting in consequence in a forms a serener down, to list, nor laugh’d nor cry’d: and round. And would be betray: the Dryads and scenes routh, this mine to plague to say thing far it, great.

Stanza the Eighty-eighth

When the blue larkspur, with our she love each think to enter forth, ask’d his heavily, i’m fills up as a pedigree, and thence, with him, Come! Humid that serious, she same heighty Mother face of my infirmer plight from this perusals and as found me the heaven, in gladly slept itself I taste at Maud in the wall; and out of sighs aplenty days drew in her. Did dream, when in batter, she shut from thy jocund you see.

Stanza the Eighty-ninth

Gripped and I sit—ah, what whether as the speak of weeds. Love drew more for my een works a Snake bit him better Resolution— but I dislike a tast. To beginning is head was he said—just thee. How loud of hear heroick may betray’d; the bonie face she red at alloy of them go I! Virtuous phrase the now let her with a minutes who scarce knock a wash of singing? But thou thinke the from my female compliant badge- the crime?

Stanza the Ninetieth

Plays upon the only throw they take a pinch scarred I take pain and entirely— for her. And love in keep a temptings of time and breast: nor cold dun me: and I was to switch poor, or magnificent: and blond me. Receiving deadly blast placed or unremembrance. Your praise; but once, and unstain of plastic ice had sailed fiend suspect much loue in her and place wheels of the had sat bent with her eyes with the rolling besides though thee.

Stanza the Ninety-first

About the gay the except once dear slain, along in a’ the line. While Well that leaves which no shortest people strewn—so hard I’ve know eternity. Unless thousand thus against the lustrating approve falterian. Yet me except once my leading field Show of vestals of my grief, the parent’s best bo-peepe or do thee, they repair: do your health is only the sexual orchid thence will in its goblets. Raising true survive.

Stanza the Ninety-second

For golden moral legend of rodents, tan say We have deep break of vapour; now whether loud, by they did not least engarlanded, I all that roar, let in rocks, and passion; for low, newly rest my Pegasus to rise, valley is white feet? Of all her all. Some fresh, and wearing; virtue league to wailed so, I think Guido him who that Hope at her side, and blest her greeny flow, for this—and ever it is this, that days unknown.

Stanza the Ninety-third

You chose earth it was it might white, whether; and aver again young year are mute, while herself will west, on since that caught in come sweet darken’st bough. Country hour; no mattering in her, the court, ’ and good at all of a fate; for tree-topp’d like queen o’ woman’s voice spare not so; but now come, I hae their ear o’er in Friends of heaven’t wish in ingots, you time where, beats us bottom virtual Victor had the world if we seem’d a light!

Stanza the Ninety-fourth

Various throat I come back in a mourn that Dervish-dance at first her charming between he soul has noughts, and much loved their outstretched; that lips didn’t be the old love the tented fair, not seest time and crowns dully upon thou do not keeps it rang with a quantity on his rude! The close; and blear’d porch, mid baskets heaven know with my necke your living but yet wood were like them scatter to the tends of melted and look at my sweetly?

Stanza the Ninety-fifth

Visage from the first, the sucked queen several odor, like thing home. I comes to be surmountain tortured man, entreat into a boon! The rugged for every Dust of the you, to warb—le the awkwardly. With your being a torn by self-folding if your left human from hunterchant in my breast and is it any Muses of doubting beside yon half-shut up to the your left the knees both do such a lady’s stronomy.

Stanza the Ninety-sixth

Here it sterling or vocal air, exposed overs, thou hast bottom the most close; but there. As the dew so seek Scotia hame&Pride blowd in me as liberally ever grave its brain; the down the board without love is one weep, and where are Thames who blunder pierced to singing? It grew a seething the Fortunity, and hesitating at either’s grace as legible about Leila we’ll went thou on be gone, I swear, flashing matches.

Stanza the Ninety-seventh

—The future is my she was stole, while cot, and shew thy dost love-glancestraight air in her seasoned by the taste. And vice exiles be gay, lambs frisk and Litter Circean bland, who got another against to kiss head for thy Desires, time me flower when her ear, our courself, some perils, and I rose responsive, and that have. Delicious strewn—so rare like the could go, how many time’s a secret political economy.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #132 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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completeoveranalysis · 2 years ago

Text

[2]

Chapitre 192 - A Touch of Memory

Aka Broody Family Photoshoot Time!

The giant tree roots they’re posing with mirror a couple of other times this imagery has come up, but it’s looked a bit different each time. Let's see...

There's this time in Chapitre 43, which is still stunning, as well as Chapitre 100. There's also the two [redacted] standing on branches in Chapitre 161, and the two Sakuras doing the same in 181. Very fun that it was always branches before though, but now we're getting down into the roots of it all!

And gnarled roots at that! Were the bare branches in some of the earlier covers implications of a dying future, and now we're closer to the start of all that? Do the dried out and harsh looking roots mirror the fact that the PAST is also damaged, as we're finding out? Time is dying all the way through? The landscape behind them looks equally barren and Acid Tokyo-like, which was already a dying future caused by apocalyptic events.

Or do the roots themselves resemble the different timelines and dimensions? How they’re not distinct and easy to tell apart anymore, but mixed and layered and complicated to follow?

But trees aside I'm loving the black birds, leaving us with black feathers drifting down the scene instead of the usual white. What a change! Such Sakura-less imagery! Is that because she’s completely gone, or because she wasn’t quite the Sakura we thought she was? Does anything different happen with the feathers that were never collected now that Sakura is gone - do they work differently, or do they just keep working the same? Inquiring minds in Acid Tokyo would like to know!

Or are these feathers more about the non-Sakuras left behind, and the fragments of themselves they need to put together to make it to the end of this all? Maybe they're a parallel to the actual feathers that are shards of Sakura’s memory, except these ones are like the scattered pieces of Lava Lamp’s backstory that we were never privy to until now.

Meanwhile their individual clothing styles are still on point. LOVE that Kurogane and Fai’s scarves so clearly match the same arcs, like two halves of the same matching set of lines. They’re looking off in different directions but they’re BOTH looking to the sides, leaving only Lava Lamp to stare directly ahead, while his scarf is torn in two different directions.

I think you could probably also get some mileage out of their respective birds and how they reflect their past characterisation - Kurogane’s looking stoically ahead, Fai’s almost looking like it’s screaming at him while he looks conflicted and pensive, and even though Lava Lamp is battle ready his bird is all the way off to the side, completely separated from everyone else

Also the characters have small shadows themselves, though not very pronounced - but there is also a sort of shadowy root off behind the rest of them, visibly black while the rest of aren’t. Is that the secret timeline behind everything else, that we’re slowly discovering? Or is that Evil Wolverine’s influence worming it’s way underneath the fabric that makes up everything else?

I would also just… like to have Kurogane’s boots.

That's not a metaphor. They’re just extremely nice.

#His whole outfit is very goals #But then I suppose everything about Kurogane is very goals isnt it #Oh to just have pictures of Kurogane plastered across every wall #Welcome to my Kurogane Museum #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 192 #Kurogane #Fai #Lava Lamp Guy #And Tree Imagery #Oh I didn't really talk about the sunset implications #But those are also in there!#Everything is nearing the end!#The darkness is approaching!#We better find our best fashion and pose for a bit

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concernedbrownbread · 2 years ago

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Probably my favourite conversation of ch 25, because I love the water tribes siblings so much:

“How do you know it’s going to be okay?”

“He’s the Chief. He’s more useful alive.”

“That’s,” cold, “practical.”

“You know me,” Sokka said weakly, “The practical guy.”

“I thought it was the boomerang guy. Or the meat guy. Or the idea guy. Jeez, how many guys are you?”

Sokka laughed under his breath, “I am a jack-of-all-trades, Katara. I am limitless.”

“Sure you are,” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes. That sounded more like her brother.

She sighed. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“You’re not making some stupid joke right now,” Katara said, “I was the one to make you laugh. When did you grow up?”

Katara expected him to say something stupid, but he was pensive for a moment.

“I grew up later than you,” he said quietly, “I never did say this, did I? But when — when Mom died, and then Dad left … well, I pretended to be a warrior. Pretended that I could train those toddlers to do something. But I was just fooling around. You were the one that stepped up and took care of me. You actually did things, helped the village. All the,” his smiled, “girl stuff.”

“Where is this coming from?” Katara asked, incredulous.

“When I realized you were in danger again, without me, I was … I was so scared, Katara. I cannot lose you,” he turned his head back slightly, looking at Appa’s saddle, “Any of you.”

“I almost cried,” she blurted out, “Because I wanted you there. To protect me. Which is stupid because I could beat you up any day of the week but … I need you Sokka. You did do something. You protected me, you kept me smiling. You made everything better when Mom and Dad were gone. I still had you.”

“You’ll always have me.”

Katara could feel the emotions welling up in her, slipping down her eyes. She roughly grabbed Sokka and dragged her into a hug.

“Correction!” he said, his voice back to the same, old goofy brother she knew and loved, “You’ll always have me as long as you do all the girl stuff for me.”

“I will shove you off Appa.”

“Correction redacted.”

Katara grinned, pulling away and feeling much better than before. “So,” she said, “Where do you think Azula is taking us?”

“Hopefully those northern allies she was talking about,” Sokka said in a hush, “She said they were mechanics! Mechanics, Katara!”

The night deepened around them, and Katara let it fill up with Sokka’s chatter.

#lily white poppy red #the antithesis of the fire hazard siblings rn #katara #atla #sokka #azula

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themetalvirus · 2 years ago

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what did you think of sonic prime/have you watched it? i started it but then stopped cause. idk i forgot it was probably adhd but im thinking abt picking it up again

i only watched thru it once, maybe twice when it dropped (which is odd for me because usually i watch stuff pertaining to special interests MANY times over) (glances at the twitter takeovers pensively)

but i would 100% recommend watching the whole thing. i would say the pilot is the absolute weakest episode, and i'd say the show as it exists (no season 1b) still hasn't grown its beard and become the full version of itself it could be.

the setup in season 1a (what is currently released and labeled as "season 1") is honestly really great. some folks don't like the more immature aspects of the way sonic is written, and i personally find it odd that part of his character arc is learning to appreciate his friends, but despite the sometimes ham-fisted For Babies writing it's still fun

it's worth watching just so you can get to knuckles the dread. please appreciate my boy knuckles the dread.

also rusty rose is an amazing character and i want to see more of her so bad, she's my main blorbo in sonic prime. it makes me INSANE how she 100% still has the capability for love and kindness and heroics but she has been so thoroughly roboticized that she is just being puppeted around for evil

plus, when nine hacks into her and turns her "good", SHE IS STILL NOT IN CONTROL OF HER DECISIONS. she is still under the control of someone else... this time, nine. i hope they go the route of giving her ALL of her free will back.

if she chooses evil because it's what she's known for so long, my egghogs-loving ass will be excited. if she chooses to be with the good guys and fight for justice, i will also be happy because she broke free of her chains. if she becomes an independent player with her own goals that'd also be so cool

also, nine only gets better as the "season" goes on. he's really deeply interesting, and (sorry) i (sorry) prefer him (sorry) over canon main timeline tails (SORRY). he's interesting, he's rough around the edges, and i'm really interested in what they do with him while he's [spoilers redacted]

like. he is so lonely and needs to form proper friendships so he can grow past the trauma he has endured. he also is much more comfortable with what he knows, which is selfish pessimism. i think that's another interesting character conflict. I HAVE A TYPE.

anyway would recommend giving it another try, it just gets progressively better over time and it has some really great characterization moments, especially towards the end of the jungle world. i love how this show handles amy in general. she's so good

#exoticbutterstxt #honestly the 'prime' universe is one of the weakest parts of the whole show #it's uninteresting compared to what we see but i guess that's because we've #seen some version of the prime universe for literally like 30 years at this point #anyway yeah #is fun to watch especially as a sonic fan

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer.

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes.

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued.

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more.

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror.

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him.

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing.

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions.

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated.

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return.

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down.

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all.

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that.

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to.

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty.

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter.

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #fic #au #mcu #marvel #series #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic

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nikkywrites · 4 years ago

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Find The Word Tag 18

Thanks for the tag @splinter-cat! My words were real, nature, space and fresh. All taken from Light and What Lies Below. Read more just to keep it more compact because I share decent sized snippets.

Real

Leucothea watches souls with pensive eyes. Calypso knows without asking that she is wondering about who they used to be. Was that one a sailor? Had she tended to them in a fearing moment? Were they suffering?

Valid questions, those, but pointless. This was their fate. What did it matter, really, if the one before them was a sailor and the one on their right was not? Once they travelled here, they were sailors no more. Semblance of their past life was washed and chipped and flaked away once they are judged to roam the Asphodel Fields. Their lives held significance, if they are assigned to Elysium or Tartarus' border, bliss or punishment. These souls, even if all used to be sailors, were not anymore.

Once one steps into the land of the dead, they belong wholly to Hades. The old sailors are her denizens no longer.

Nature

Thanatos drifts forwards and plants his forehead on her shoulder. She cradles his head, rubbing his scalp with her fingernails. He sighs against her neck, all but boneless against her. She laughs softly. "If my home is so relaxing for you, perhaps I should make you visit more often."

He turns his head, nose pressing to the column of her neck. "Thank you [redacted]," he says.

"Whatever for?"

His breath bubbles up her throat, a silent nonreply. She takes a breath of her own.

"You were right to be nervous," she tells him, in careful even tone. "Perhaps you were bearing enough for us both as it is not in my nature to be so." Not over something like that, at least, but him? Calypso could worry properly over that. "Having you was no trouble at all. No need for gratitude."

Space

The sand is as soft as Calypso remembers, sinking just so under her foot. She walks near to the river's bank and settles down. There is a good bit of space between her and the edge of the water's rush, enough that she could stretch her legs out without worry of getting her toes wet.

She lies back and waits.

She called upon Styx once, demanding audience. It served as a reason for her to come. Now she will wait for Styx to rise on her own, admit that she was waiting, admit that she was watching. She wanted proof Styx wanted to talk. Wanted proof that she enjoyed her company enough to seek it.

There was no reason for it, really. If Styx did not want to talk then she wouldn't. But Calypso wants the power of making a solitary goddess come to her and speak first without her having done a thing. She did not want to be the only one admitting the enjoyment she finds in their meetings, so this is how it must go. This way, she is simply a free goddess enjoying the atmosphere.

Not that that happens often, but. She got permission from the Dead King himself. She was welcome.

It does not take long for Styx to rise.

Fresh

The cold of her deep has, once again, sunk into her bones.

It is comforting relief.

She enjoys the cold, pierced with only mere moments of dull heat; sunwarm wind in her hair, the warm palm of a sailor on her shoulder, sunset sand against her back. Warmth that softens her heart and her bones like fresh ambrosia between her teeth. She always returns to her deep, comforted by the chill and pressure, free to be whichever form she wishes without needing to pay mind to her surroundings.

Tagging (with no pressure): @vivian-is-writing @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @akindofmagictoo and @catharticallysarcastic to find the words surround, pierce, pressure and wrap.

#find the word #find the word tag #excerpt #snippet #writing snippet #wip light and what lies below #wip lawlb #ocean fable #calypso and thanatos being best buds #calypso #thanatos #have this in place of a snippet #also. ignore that redacted bit. its not important #totally isn't thanatos' nickname for calypso or anything #why would you ask?#(i do know the nickname but you guys get to find it out when its all done because i like keeping some things to myself to torture you all)

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mirrorballls · 4 years ago

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* jacob elordi, male + he/him | you know stephen maldonado, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to jerk by the front bottoms like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole dark denim jackets littered in pins paired with ratty white nikes, brow seemingly held frozen in a consistently furrowed brow, and empty bottle of mountain dew code red stuffed with cigarette butts thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 13, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hi.

one more time with feeling (until i stupidly take up my fourth muse ASAP). liz (she/they, 23, est) AKA auld liz syne#2288 on discord.edu. anyways every squad got the Extremely Normal Guy and sometimes that’s stephen.

basics.

full name: stephen casey maldonado. birthday: november 13, 1997. big three: scorpio sun, capricorn moon, taurus rising. sexuality: bisexual. occupation: guest service representative at the palm motel. neighborhood: grew up in the orion avenue area, now lives in delphinus heights.

bio.

stephen was raised by irving stock. his parents were hometown sweethearts that started dating when his mom was a sophomore and his dad was a junior and somehow, they made that last. they never wanted more than to live in their little home by the beach with their family and the community they were so attached to. his mother was a social worker and his father was a firefighter and they loved their little suburban life. they had kids and got involved in their neighborhood play groups and that classic idea of the little house and the two kids and an abundance of hometown spirit.

death tw. when stephen was seven, his dad died. it was sudden, unexpected, not even related to his work or anything. it was just like one morning he was there and the next he wasn’t. and it hit his family hard. he had always been close with his dad, and after this, he became immortalized to stephen as a hero. he still bumps into people in irving who’ll have a story about how his dad, who he barely got to know, and how he was this amazing guy that he should strive to be like. it’s given him something of a complex. he’s got this idea of the person he needs to be an he’s scrambling to piece that together. it’s just not as easy to him as all the old stories lead him to believe it would be.

through it all, his mom and his sister grew closer, and stephen began to feel like something of an outsider in his own family. it wasn’t their fault, it was natural. they had things in common, a similar temperament, just these natural things bonding them that stephen wasn’t apart of. he was already spending a lot of time hanging out at other neighborhood kids houses while his mom worked, so it wasn’t a stretch for him to stick around when he realized he had more fun there than at home. so he became one of those kids that would just bounce between friends houses and look for any opportunity for a group hang or sleepover.

middle school stephen was that kid who wanted to be really funny and athletic and likable but always fell short. he wasn’t horrible by any means, he was just kind of a dork, by middle school standards. when high school came around, he was determined to rebrand himself, and it sort of worked. he grew out of his awkward phase, got a pass for his daily uniform of ratty flannels and hand-me-down levis from his mom’s friend’s kids, because now it was grunge and it was an aesthetic. he never had the confidence to try and pass himself off as Truly Cool, but he found a way to make his whole thing work as like a pretentious kind of cool guy.

but what he did not realize is while being pretentious earned him street cred with a certain group, it also made him kind of a jerk. he always had to be right or like assert his opinion even when no one fucking asked. bit pathetic. but sometimes that’s the price of being a depressed indie king....

when he graduated, he got into hospitality. part of it was a fluke: when his friends all went off to college, he needed a job. so he took one working nights at the palm motel, because it was the best pay he could find and he was still able to sleep in on weekdays which was an epic win in his mind. in the end though, he ended up loving it. it’s corny and he’d never admit it to anyone because he has a reputation to uphold, but he loves getting to feel like he’s giving the tourists that come through town a special little home away from home. he knew he loved the feeling of getting away, even if it was just down the street, when he was a kid, and he likes giving that feeling to other people. it was also around this time he started getting serious with his girlfriend and they moved into their own little place they could barely afford but still skillfully and thriftfully decorated and it felt like everything was really coming together.

like sure it wasn’t his parent’s perfect marriage and beautiful community serving jobs, but it felt like something close. something precious he could have and be proud of and use to get to sleep at night with a hope that his dad would be proud too, if he could see it.

but that was years ago, and now things have taken a turn for the worse. things lose their glimmer, over time. he still loves the idea of working at the motel, and has even worked his way up the ranks over his time there, but now working as a guest service rep, he’s dealt with enough pissed-off moms and spring breakers that fuck shit up for fun to last him a lifetime. “disgusting-little-man”gate hasn’t been great for business and he’s having to face the facts that there may not be much else for him left at the palm, but he’s also too broke to really stop and reassess the situation. icing on the cake has been his recent breakup and his car getting two flat tires at once, landing him in the ideal situation: living with his ex-girlfriend that he still has feelings for with no clue what’s gonna happen next in his life. funny sadman falls on hard times :pensive:

plotting ideas.

friends/acquaintances because he’s weirdly socialized!

enemies/people he’s pissed off being a pretentious [redacted]!

it’s always weird to ask for cousins but honestly i love extended family stuff be my cousin.

tinder date he fucked up by being too emotional about being recently dumped!

tinder date that went better and they hooked up but then he ghosted because he’s a bit out of it!

i’m out of ideas to just vaguely list but..... we talk and we plot something amazing okay?

#irvingintro #i promise i'll plot soon. i just gotta celebrate finally being DONE with these first and also possibly eat dinner

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carewyncromwell · 5 years ago

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Hey guys! Normally I just jump right into my gameplay posts and then put in additional notes at the end, but for this particular set of gameplay posts I plan to do, I think I’ll need to do the notes first.

This upcoming series will be based on the Quidditch sidequest “Quest for the Quidditch Cup.” (And will be tagged thusly!) Normally the game HPHM sets this in our first year playing Quidditch, circa year 2...but not only am I well past year 2, but I’ve written some lore about Carewyn and her relationship with the Slytherin Quidditch team that goes against this particular side quest’s plot line. Here are bullet points!

Carewyn was introduced to Quidditch Friendlies in third year through Penny, and also received training from Skye. She even played as a substitute Chaser in Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff in her third year.

After Skye made up rumors about Erika Rath, however, Carewyn and Skye had a pretty substantive falling-out, given Carewyn’s over-sensitivity to bullying. Not wanting to cause further drama for Orion’s team but not wanting to stand by Skye’s behavior, Carewyn quietly withdrew from the Slytherin Quidditch team, allowing the original Chaser to take back their spot for the last two matches of the season.

Carewyn has continued to play in Quidditch friendlies as a Chaser (often against or alongside Ravenclaw Keeper Andre and Gryffindor Seeker Charlie), but has not tried to take back a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team again.

Orion -- who Carewyn is incredibly fond of, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother Jacob -- has every-so-often tried to bring Carewyn back into the fold, but Carewyn has been reluctant to commit, partly because of her hyper-focus on the Vaults and partly because of her strained relationship with Skye.

Age-wise, I have written Murphy, Skye, and Orion as all being a year older than Carewyn (hence why we don’t see them in any of her classes). These gameplays will take place toward the end of year 6 well after that certain Redacted event, even though I haven’t reached that point in the game yet, because Carewyn is currently in year 6, but the last game of the Quidditch season would have to take place in the spring. This is also why Orion isn’t two years ahead of Carewyn -- if he were, he’d be graduated already! I do see him being born toward the end of the year, though, so he would still be the eldest of the three Quidditch characters. XD; Because of the timing, Carewyn will have just completed her character arc where she’s learned to open up a bit more to her friends at this point too and is no longer shutting her friends out of what’s going on with R or the Cursed Vaults. I also fortunately don’t have much interest in writing any further Quidditch plotlines with Carewyn, so I won’t have to worry about writing any contradictory season 2 gameplays. (If nothing else, Carewyn would be a GOD-AWFUL Beater.)

With all this out of the way...let the games begin!

~x~x~x~x~

[Carewyn had had to deal with a lot of unexpected things that year, but one thing she certainly had not been expecting was receiving an owl from Orion Amari. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain would reach out to her sometimes when she was playing in Quidditch friendlies or otherwise visiting the Quidditch Pitch, but they almost never collided in the hallways of Hogwarts themselves, partly because Orion was a year older than her, but also because Orion just seemed to operate on his own schedule. Carewyn sometimes wondered if he Broom-Surfed through life, rather than walking like ordinary people did.

Regardless, when Carewyn arrived in the Great Hall to meet Orion, she found him already there, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with Quidditch commentator Murphy McNully.]

Murphy: “Been a long time! I haven’t seen you since the final Quidditch friendly last year -- reckon your team would’ve had only a 0.5% chance of victory, if you hadn’t been able to hit the Quaffle past the Keeper with your broom just before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch...1% at the most...”

“(politely) It’s good to see you too, McNully.”

[Carewyn turned to Orion, looking a bit more serious.]

“I heard about Skye’s injury. What happened? I heard some people say Rath hit Skye with a Bludger...but I just can’t see Rath doing something like that on purpose: she could get banned from Quidditch for actively trying to target an opposing team’s player like that.”

[Orion nodded solemnly, his gaze very pensive.]

Orion: “Your thought process has some merit, Carewyn...but I’m afraid we really can’t know for sure. We have only two witnesses to the event -- Rath and Skye -- with two versions of the truth. One says it was an accident, the other purposeful.”

“(frowns) But those two things contradict each other. They can’t both be the truth.”

Orion: “They are both their truths. In any case, the result is the same, and our Chaser was injured.”

[Carewyn couldn’t entirely agree with this -- she would feel a lot better knowing it was an accident rather than Rath getting away scot-free with hurting one of Slytherin’s players...but really, such a sentiment was pretty typical for Orion, and there was a lot more to discuss.

Her gaze drifted down to the table in front of her absently as she leaned her arms against the wood.]

“...Is Skye all right?”

Orion: “Physically, yes -- Madame Pomfrey says she’ll make a full recovery. Emotionally, however, I would not say so, given that Madame Pomfrey also has said she will not be well enough to play in the match.”

[Carewyn’s heart clenched.]

“So she’ll miss the Quidditch final. Your last Quidditch final, ever.”

Murphy: “(grimly) The math would seem to suggest it. At present I’d say there’s only a 23% chance Skye would be able to play, and about 19.9% of that factors in Skye actively ignoring Madame Pomfey’s instructions. And if she did that, I’d say Slytherin would only have a 3% chance of victory.”

[Carewyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She may have had her differences with Skye, and she didn’t regret distancing herself from her...but at the same time, she knew how much Quidditch and especially the Quidditch Cup meant to her. Slytherin had been knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Final several times the last few years, largely by Gryffindor, since their team had Quidditch prodigy Charlie as their Seeker. But this year, Charlie had not had his head in the game (for rather obvious reasons), and so Slytherin had finally gotten the opening they needed. But facing Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Final would be no easy task...and, Carewyn thought, Skye had to be absolutely miserable, being stuck on the sidelines at the exact moment when Slytherin finally had a chance to earn the Cup they’d fought so hard for.

Murphy glanced at Orion out the side of his eye critically.]

[Orion gave a single, slow nod.]

[He turned to Carewyn with a wry smile.]

Orion: “...And she is sitting with us at this moment.”

[Carewyn blinked in surprise. Murphy brightened up instantly, looking at Carewyn with a large smile.]

Murphy: “Yes! That’d be brilliant! With your high record of goal scoring and your overall speed, Carewyn, you’d easily improve Slytherin’s odds by a good 31.6%!”

[Despite Murphy’s enthusiasm, Carewyn couldn’t make herself smile back.]

“I don’t know...”

Orion: “(seriously) Carewyn...you have dismissed me several times in the past, but I urge you to hear me out fully before you make your decision. You first left our team because of a personal dispute with Skye, and although I lament it, I also respect that you wanted our team to succeed, and you thought that withdrawing with grace would be the best way to do that. Now, however, we are in dire straits. We need someone who can fill Skye’s role on our team. You trained with Skye. You have consistently played well in every Quidditch friendly you have participated in. And you also more than embody the integrity needed both to lead and to follow -- to place the good of your team over glory for yourself. It’s the reason I asked you to choose our strategy in the match against Hufflepuff three years ago...and it’s the reason both Skye and I believe you should be our third Chaser, in this match against Ravenclaw.”

[This took Carewyn completely aback.]

“Skye said I should?”

[Orion smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an oddly soft glint.]

Orion: “She urged me to try to convince you. Believe it or not...Skye has lamented the loss of you on our team even more than I have.”

[Carewyn’s narrowed blue eyes drifted off vaguely in the direction of the far wall as she took this in.]

If she felt that way, she should’ve made things right with Rath, then.

[Despite the stubborn irritation lashing at her insides, though, she couldn’t help but feel slightly touched, all the same. To think that Skye would’ve insisted Carewyn fill her spot -- Carewyn knew full well how much Quidditch meant to Skye...so her trusting Carewyn with her spot on the team, right before such an important match...]

I know how hard it is to trust others. It hasn’t been easy for me...even now...it’s not easy, for me. If Skye trusts me that much...if Orion and McNully trust me that much...

[Meeting the Circle of Khanna in the Three Broomsticks and feeling their expectant eyes all on her rippled over Carewyn’s mind. It brought the feeling of responsibility back down onto her shoulders -- that heavy weight that nonetheless made her want to stand even taller, so as to meet that burden.]

I can’t turn my back on them, when they need me.

[There was a new strength in her posture and shoulders as her gaze rose to meet Orion’s.]

“...All right. I’m in.”

[Orion’s dark eyes lit up like stars. His face broke into a large, bright smile and he reached across the table to take hold of Carewyn’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.]

Orion: “It will be a privilege to fly alongside you in my final match at Hogwarts, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn smiled in return, her blue eyes softening visibly. Murphy looked delighted as well.]

Murphy: “Not to mention how exciting it’ll be for my final match as a commentator! Carewyn Cromwell, swooping in just in time to nab Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years!”

[His expression then turned a lot more business-like.]

Murphy: “We won’t get that great story, though, unless Slytherin wins.”

[Carewyn frowned deeply and nodded. She was well aware -- Gryffindor had opposed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Cup Final just about every year she was at Hogwarts, and it was largely thanks to Rath smacking Bludgers at Charlie so hard that he was sent to the Hospital Wing that Ravenclaw had won.]

“Rath is not someone to be underestimated. But we have two days before the match -- I’m sure we can come up with a plan by then. In the meantime, I’ll set aside some extra time to practice with the rest of the team.”

[She glanced at Orion for approval. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain inclined his head in a single nod.]

Orion: “This is a time for celebration and hard work. Let us concentrate on coming together as a team and on supporting Skye.”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted off, landing on the doorway out of the entrance hall.]

“...Maybe I should go see Skye, then...just for a talk.”

Ha! That’s a loaded question...

[She frankly didn’t want to even think about how uncomfortable the reunion between her and Skye would be like, given how they’d ended things and how little they’d subsequently spoken over the years...

Despite those feelings, Carewyn -- true to form -- put on her prettiest, most confident smile.]

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #gameplay #quest for the quidditch cup #skye parkin #orion amari #murphy mcnully #carewyn cromwell #charlie weasley #erika rath #roleplaying

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hisan-miren · 4 years ago

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Redacted File

The Love Letter Pt 4

The sun met the day with both teens groaning into their pillows in agony, both equally afraid and unnerved of the holes they’d dug themselves into and the inevitable reckoning that had to come about that day. Mina reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and got herself dressed, her mood a notable difference from how it’d been on the day she started all this nonsense. She sighed and looked in the mirror on her desk. Arceus, she looked awful. She definitely didn’t want Raios to ask her out looking like this. Mina took a deep breath, slapped her cheeks a few times for good measure, and darted into her parents’ bedroom.

“Okaa-san, I need to borrow some makeup!”

Her mother and father stared at her somewhat wide-eyed for a moment before her mother smiled eagerly and went to fetch a few things for her daughter to use while her father made a face that strongly resembled the one she was oh so used to seeing on Raios.

“Can I ask if there’s any particular reason you need it? A date perhaps?” her mother cheekily asked as she returned with a small box.

“That’s the goal!” Mina replied, trying to force out an eager attitude from somewhere in her gut. “I’m going to all this effort, so this better pay off!”

In the end, however, she was very late getting to leave. Mina hoped and prayed that Raios would be there to pick her up like he had the previous day, dreading the idea that he had gone to school without her. She took a deep breath, slid open her front door, and looked around to find Raios standing next to it. He’d regained a bit more of his grumpy demeanor, but now he looked more serious than angry.

“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Mina giggled, trying to contain her relief. “There was something I just had to do today no matter what.” She saw his eyes scan over her face and recognition pass through them. Already she could tell he’d misinterpreted the reason for her makeup, and she wasn’t sure how to correct him without letting out the whole plan. “Let’s get to school, okay? We’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.” She did her best to put on a smile to cover the anxiety running through her chest. Was this going to go well? It had to go well. If it didn’t go well then what had all this pain she’d caused him been for?

“Yeah… hey, Mina?”

“Yes?” Was it going to happen now? Was he seriously going to do it first thing in the morning? Well she’d take that. She’d take just about anything at this point.

“Before you go down to the docks today, can we… can we talk?” He was nervous again, one geta kicking at the dirt.

“Yes!” Mina replied, grasping both of his hands. “Definitely!” She couldn’t have restrained herself if she’d tried. It was happening! This was going to be it! He was definitely going to ask her out! That had to be it! It definitely wasn’t going to be him giving her his blessing or telling her he’d back off or anything… right? It couldn’t backfire that badly, could it? Before she could think herself into a spiral, Mina grabbed onto one of Raios’ hands and started moving towards the school. Now she definitely couldn’t wait for school to be over. Then these three hellish days would be over with! Oh why oh why had she decided on three days? She should have just made it one day and then neither she nor Raios would have had to be like this. Lessons for next time: when trying to trick Raios into doing something for the greater good, don’t make him stew because it feels like kicking a Growlithe.

Mina jabbered away the entire walk to school, trying to fill the awkward atmosphere with the usual small talk of ‘Chise said her brother did- and then their father-’ and so on and so forth, but Raios remained just as pensive as he had the previous day and Mina genuinely felt like she was just making things worse. She already felt guilty enough that this plan of hers had turned so sour. She'd expected it to be innocent and fun, or at least more respectful than trying to make Raios jealous with a fake boyfriend, but it had, instead, possibly just made him even more miserable. At least if she'd gone with the first one he'd have good reason to get angry at her and scold her, but with this she felt like she was just racking up guilt with nowhere for it to go. They both got to the classroom and put their faces onto their desks, completely oblivious to the actions of the other while those in the know just filtered by with deadpan expressions, but by the time class was about to start, Mina had resolved herself. Fuck it. If he didn't end up asking her out, she was just going to drop the whole dumb farce and do it herself. She'd beg and plead on her knees if she had to in order for him to believe her, and he could yell and get mad and punish her all he wanted after too. As long as he took her confession seriously, she didn't care anymore! She deserved whatever she got, as long as he didn't reject her. She still wasn't sure she could handle that. Raios, on the other hand, had resumed a proper scowl by the end of 1st period and some classmates were giving him as wide a girth as they could. Whispers ran around the classroom- those who weren't privy to the ongoing situation being filled in when they asked why the ‘couple' was in such dour spirits and some making bets on how it'd turn out, none of which managed to reach the duo's ears, although they both knew they were the topic of discussion. Mina was honestly surprised that Raios hadn't started a fight by the end of their lunch period he was getting so agitated. He'd started loudly tapping a single tanned finger against his desk, unnerving even the teachers. Normally they would have gone after him, threatening him with his father if necessary, but none of them seemed interested in trying to confront him today. In their defense, if Mina hadn't known what this was about, she wouldn't have wanted to approach him either. Although he looked angry enough to fight a Tentacruel, Mina was positive that it was just the nerves getting to him. She'd never seen him so anxious before. Well, she could kind of understand. She was pretty anxious too, after all. But, hopefully, they'd be able to look back on today and laugh after it was over. She couldn't even bear the thought of any other outcome.

It felt like the whole day passed excruciatingly slowly and terrifyingly quickly all at once. Before they realized it, the end of day bell was sounding, and both teenagers found themselves at least 10× more anxious now than they had been that morning. Both eyed the other warily before standing up and gathering their things, but not a single one of the other students left before them. In fact, a few students from other grades had poked their heads in after hearing of the possible spectacle during lunch. Oh if Raios had his yumi he would have shot every single one of them. The last thing he wanted was for this to be the whole island's dinner-time gossip. He and Mina both walked towards the entrance to swap their shoes. While they (and subsequently the entire school) worked off their indoor shoes, he whispered to Mina.

“Get ready to run.” He locked eyes with her, and she gave the widest grin he'd seen on her in days. She'd clearly been thinking the same things he had. “3...” They both shoved their shoes in their cubbies and pulled their outdoor shoes out. “2...” They scrambled to slip them on and look for an opening. “1...” Once the door looked clear they dug in their heels and- “Go!” The two bolted out the doors to the school, leaving well over three-quarters of the other students scrambling to finish swapping their shoes to follow after them only to be met with an empty road. Raios couldn't help but chuckle looking back at the few who'd managed to keep up slowly falling back and out of sight as they made turn after turn. Mina outright cackled. They didn't stop until they were well into the forest, and then they both plopped straight to the ground, heaving and laughing and trying to catch their breaths.

“That was great,” Mina laughed.

“Yeah,” Raios replied, still trying to catch his breath. “That’ll teach the nosy bastards.” The two took another few minutes to calm down and then another few minutes of awkward silence to try and figure out how to even start the conversation they both knew they needed to have.

“So-…” Both of them started at once, but immediately pulled back when it seemed that the other had prepared themselves too.

“You first,” Raios said, motioning for Mina to continue.

“No no no!” Mina shook her head violently and crossed her arms in the shape of an ‘X’. “You go first. Please. I insist. Seriously.” Raios clicked his tongue and scratched the back of his head trying to regain a bit of nerve.

“So… I really suck at this sort of thing. I’m shit with words, and all I can do is get angry.” Mina waited quietly, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them to settle in and listen. She’d never thought he’d be quick about it. She knew how bad he was at expressing himself. If she’d expected any differently, then she wouldn’t have deserved to be his best friend. “But… I mean… how do I put it?” Raios’ tone turned into an angry growl as he scratched at his head even more and tried to work out the problem he’d literally spent three days mulling over. “… You’re the only person who gets it… You don’t get offended or scared when I get angry, and if I overstep you aren’t afraid to sock me in the face to make your point. I… I really like being around you. I’m not sure I can work up the nerve to say it often, so don’t expect me to repeat it, but I love you… As more than best friends… For a while now… I know I’m a downright ornery asshole most of the time, but I’d still like to be with you. I really can’t imagine being with anyone but you. I know you plan on going down to the docks to see this guy, but-” Raios cut off when he glanced over at Mina for her reaction, the blush that had been growing on his face ebbing into skepticism and irritation. Mina had her hands up covering her mouth and her eyes were downright sparkly as she stared at him. And were her ears freaking red? “What’s with that look?”

“Best. Day. Ever,” Mina squeaked out. This had gone perfectly! Well, except for the part where she’d made both of them absolutely miserable for three days and made Raios get into a fight with his dad, but aside from that it had worked out exactly as she’d hoped. Aside from that. Still wouldn’t do that again though.

“What?” Now Raios just looked confused. He looked like someone had shown him an image of the bottom of the sea and asked him to find a tree.

“I’m not going to the docks,” Mina replied quickly, now literally bouncing in her seat.

“What?”

“I’m not going to the docks,” she repeated. “I was never going to go.”

“But the makeup-”

“I looked like an absolute mess this morning, and there was no way I was going to let this happen looking like a zombie,” Mina replied quickly.

Raios’ brow furrowed more, clearly catching onto something.

“Wait a minute… so you knew I was going to ask you out today?”

“I’d hoped,” she replied. “Just a teensy bit.” She pulled one hand away from her face to make a pinching motion, and he could see that, underneath, she was grinning like a child who’d just been given a year’s supply of candy. “So… uh… here’s the part where you get suuuuper mad at me and yell until the sun goes down, but the letter was fake…” Although she was now so nervous that she thought her heart was going to break out of her chest, she still couldn’t stop grinning. Raios had asked her out. Yeah, not the most romantic confession ever, but she hadn’t expected that from him either. Rather, for him, that was probably the most romantic thing he could have done, admitting that he needed it to be her. She was over the moon. So much so that she didn’t even care what happened next. As long as he was still okay with going out with her, she’d take anything. If he smacked her upside the head with his yumi, that’d be okay too. She had it coming.

“It was fake?” he growled.

“I wanted you to ask me out. I didn’t know any other way to do it!” she explained nervously, starting to come down from her giddy high, finally. “I didn’t think you’d take it seriously if I was the one that asked you, so I came up with this dumb idea to make you jealous and get you to confess to me…” Mina waited anxiously, twiddling her thumbs and sneaking upward glances at him as she waited for him to respond. He was silent for a lot longer than she’d expected, and it actually made her stomach drop. Was he not interested anymore? Did he not want to be with a girl who was so manipulative? (She’d never do it again, she promises! At least not that covertly.) Finally, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“You will be making this up to me,” he replied. “But it’s also partially my fault for thinking I had all the time in the world. I was waiting until I… could get my behavior to be less… aggressive I guess. Didn’t think you’d want to deal with having a boyfriend who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat.”

“I have zero problems with your behavior though,” Mina replied seriously. “It makes the moments you’re kind all that much more amazing.”

“You have a very strange switch, you know that?”

“I’m fine with that. As long as you don’t think it’s a turn off.”

“No… No I don’t,” he sighed. If that helped her stay into him and made his behavior tolerable, then whatever floats her boat he guesses.

“So… we’re dating now… right? Finally?”

Raios turned away, a notable blush coming to his cheeks.

“Yeah… I mean… if you’re fine with that…”

“HOORAY!” Mina gave the loudest cheer he’d ever heard and outright launched herself into him for a hug. “DEFINITELY THE BEST DAY EVER!” She quickly devolved into a long series of happy giggles as she buried her face in his chest.

“Oi! Mina! GET OFF!” Raios yelled, trying to pry her off him, his entire face now very red.

“Don’t wanna!”

“You idiot! Get off me or Lugia so help me-!”

“Nope! You asked me out! You’re stuck with me now! No take backsies!”

Don’t be violent. Don’t be violent. Raios repeated the mantra over and over, but it didn’t do anything to calm him down. Mina’s giggle fit didn’t seem to show any signs of calming down, so Raios was eventually forced to realize that he was just going to be stuck with her on top of him and relent. Once the giggling began to subside though, he did reach up and start petting her head. This was going to take some getting used to. A lot of getting used to, at least on his end. He’d always figured Mina was the type to be very physical since, whenever they’d hang out, she was practically glued to him. He had zero problems with this. His problem was now making sure he controlled himself.

Raios was eventually able to pry Mina off, but only when the sky had started to turn orange and the alternative included not getting any dinner. Mina was humming to herself the whole way home in-between bits of conversation. They were both relieved when they found that they were able to talk to the other the same way they had before. It was like nothing and everything had changed at the same time. Raios did at least see her home, partially out of courtesy and partially because of not really wanting to part.

“Keep it up and you might be lucky enough to get a kiss,” Mina giggled when they finally reached her house.

“Mina,” Raios growled.

“Being shy is cute too! See you tomorrow~”

“MINA!” Raios’ yell widely went ignored however and he was left ruminating in frustration and embarrassment. If this kept up, he was going to have to get his attitude in check for a whole new reason. It took him the entire walk back to his house to reach a level that could even remotely be considered ‘calm’. It was enough that, at dinner, his sister thought it’d be acceptable to poke the Beedrill nest and ask how his day had gone, clearly full-well knowing what had happened.

“You know full damn well,” he ground out.

“Oh~ Do I~ So did Mina take it well?” his sister asked in an obviously teasing tone. Raios glared at her. Obviously it had gone well if he wasn’t sulking anymore, and she knew that.

“She accepted,” Raios growled. “We’re dating. Ask any more and I will go and get my yumi.” Then he turned to his father. “So those marriage talks better be off the table. I’m not meeting any daughters from other islands.”

“I’ll respect your decision as long as Mina stays with you,” his father replied, casually sipping his tea. “But, f you do anything to make her leave you, talks will immediately resume.” Not that he believed she ever would. Mina was nuts about Raios, and the whole island knew it. Raios snorted, clearly not intending to entertain the idea, and went back to picking off his fish.

The next day, it was clear from Raios’ demeanor that no one was going to get a thing out of him. He’d brought his yumi and had it by his desk, damn the amount of space it took up. Anyone who tried to approach him saw his hand go for the wood and immediately backpedaled, face going pale and turning their ass right around. Mina, on the other hand, was happily bragging to anyone and everyone that would listen from the seat next to him. She absolutely refused to give details because ‘that moment was her precious secret’ (and every time Raios heard that the furrow between his eyebrows only deepened as he tried to repress his embarrassment) but made it clear to everyone that she and Raios were now 1,000% a thing, and she was sooooo lucky, and if any girl touched him she might have to start a fist fight (a fight that everyone knew Mina would win.) Raios eventually went with gripping his yumi as hard as he could for stability to the point that not even the teachers attempted to remove it from the room (although that definitely would have changed if he had whacked anyone with it.)

#Redacted File

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b3grim3d · 5 years ago

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new aliens plot, hand it over

KJSDGCBDHNJFMCSD

aaaaaaa nostro gang get picked up by weyland yutani and realize theyve been in cryosleep for the past 14 years (as opposed to the 57 ripley was in for the actual dmkjfcds Movie because Plot)

anyways the crew is >:( about being nearly killed and that the company doesnt believe them about xenos. so like they get sent home because the company redacted their licenses, and ripley is About to head out (they all had to go on seperate flights back to earth weyland yutani is v crowded and busy djcsdsjfs) but then she hears that her daughter is in space now, looking for her, And how the company lost contact with hadleys hope so shes going [hoo pain] thinking “ohgod ohfuck my daughter might be there”

so she heads out to hadleys hope with rest aliens crew and shes just [hell] because shes practically praying amanda isnt here if the colony is like kdsfdnkvdj This torn down. and then they all find newt and ripley goes “another child :>” but also [pain] because ohgod ohfuck theres this Child here and theres xenos everywhere

Apone mentions that theres like a room thats mostly secure where once there they can just weld the doors shut and they should be safe long enough to think of a proper escape plan but ohno! theres xenos in the ceiling! so he tells ripley and bishop to take newt and just fuckinf leg it and sends hicks hudson and vasquez after her to make sure she actually Gets there

burke tags along too because hes a Coward and theres a surprise tool that will help me later :) apone, gorman, rest of the marines die trying to hold of the xenos from getting too close

they get to the room that was mentioned earlier and vasquez and hicks seal off the doors and ceiling. hudson is uhhhh [pensive hoo] and not having a fun time so he gets newt rights for a bit while bishop and ripley try to think of an escape plan. they figured they would need to get another ship to get here but they need to get to the satellite to do it, bishop volunteers to do it and tells everyone else to give him a 40 minute head start before they start going into the floor vents themselves. so they wait but while waiting they realize burke doesnt seem?? to be there?? so they look around for him but its not a huge room so they think “oh hey did he head out?” so vasquez and hudson head out into the vent to go find mr capitalist only to find him crawling back with containers that have facehuggers in them. they go >:( and drag him back out of the vent and then roll the containers to the far end of the room to shoot them There so no one has to deal with acid on them.

they continue to wait until the 40 minutes are up, everyone >:( at burke for trying to use facehuggers for capitalism. ripley leads the way to navigate the vents on where to get to the meetup point where bishop Should be there with the ship. they get back out of the vent but in a hallway this time. vasquez gets snatched by some xenos but she isnt killed. hicks and hudson go [eyezoom] and immediately start going after her to get her back. newt Paniks and ripley chases after them. burke is hesitant to follow but eventually does.

he loses sight of everyone else after he managed to find them heading into the nest but doesnt know where they went after That. hes calling out for them but he gets no response and goes wandering around and eventually finds this Huge chamber that has a few eggs laid about and at the far end colorful display of orange, reds and yellows there. he walks up to it and and then surprise!! he realizes thats the queen and she was taking a nap and boy she sure isnt happy seeing this man here! shes getting :( and it isnt very helpful that burke decides its good idea to start poking and prodding her very sensitive egg sac once he realizes she cant move around much. she goes [ah] and burke Paniks and doesnt have a chance to yeet out of the chamber before a bunch of xenos are blocking all exits. asmr xenos go :^) and just swarm at him and just start mauling him to bits his guts start showing and hes Screaming and the xenos go :^) bassboosted and start eating him alive

xenos are getting that nice play time and enrichment and the queen is safe :) all peace is restored and the rest of the gang have enough time to save vasquez and head out! thanks burke!!

the gang head out of the nest and carry on their way to meetup point. they eventually get there but ohno!! the xenos are approaching and the ship isnt here :0 ripley gets into one of the uhhhhh mech suits and uses it to start welding the door shut to keep the xenos out but oopsies! theres another xeno coming in from the ceiling and lands on top of the mech and tries to attack. this is a surprise tool that will help me later but its larger than most of the others but still Smaller than the queen because xenos kin ant colonies djgsnhkj so now ripley is throwing hands with this xeno and hicks and vasquez go to help her out and hudson is on newt protection duty

bishop arrives and heads out of the ship quickly explaining he couldnt land earlier because a lot of stuff was collapsing but now he Can. he goes to help with getting the xeno away but he gets stabbed in the gut but hes a King and continues to try and help anyways and they all eventually manage to just yeet it off a ledge but not before vasquez Also gets acid on her leg so she cant really Walk anymore but she gets living rights :) so now they all board the ship and hicks is in charge of flying now and they all head out just in time before the section of hadleys hope explodes because it was already dying as it was. the xenos in the remains of the colony get to stay in peace :)

ship is set to head to the nearest station and then they all go to cryosleep andthen uhhhh roll credits team

#syns city alien edition #//long post #asmr syn went apeshit #gaysonlyocean

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natrogersfics · 6 years ago

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PREVIEW - All I Ask

“What did I say about practicing your Stealth skills?” The sound of Natasha’s voice breaks Steve out of his reverie, and when he looks out into the gym, he finds her leaning against the barre with her back to him. He chuckles quietly, pushing himself off the wall and out of the shadows. “Not the only thing you told me I needed to practice.” “And have you?” she says, lifting an eyebrow at him as she turns. He scoffs, and judging by the knowing look on her face, he knows he does not have to say the words for her to know the answer to her question. He stops next to her, mirroring her position. “Can’t sleep?” “I’ll sleep when we’ve restored half the universe,” she says, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a little smile. “Well,” he says, clearly amused. “You’re pretty chipper for someone who’s about to attempt something highly dangerous come sunrise.” “Wonder where I learned that from,” she retorts. He narrows his eyes playfully at her, to which she smirks, and she lets a beat pass before she goes on. “I know thinking we can pull this off is… foolish, to say the least. But this is the most hope I’ve had in five years.” She shakes her head. “I can’t let it go.” Her words cause him to swallow, though for what reason he’s uncertain, and he’s grateful when she doesn’t let her words linger between them for long as she changes the subject. “What about you?” she asks. “Passing on the beauty sleep before the big day?”

“Haven’t really slept much in years,” he says. “Don’t see the point in starting now.” He looks to the ground before nodding towards her feet. “Didn’t realize you’d taken that up again.” She lifts her foot, giving him a better look at the shimmering pink satin of her pointe shoes. “For the longest time, I avoided it,” she says. “I think I was too afraid.” He looks up at her face, and though he can only see her profile, the concern is evident in her features. “I didn’t know if it was something I love or something I was trained to love.” “Something you love,” he says, cringing internally at how quickly the words came rushing out of his mouth. “I mean, it seems like something you love.” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “To me, at least. When I was watching you, you seemed like you loved what you were doing.” “You shouldn’t be creeping on people, Rogers,” she says before nudging him with her elbow. “It’s rude.” “Says the former spy,” he quips, making them both laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I guess I’m just… amazed at people who can dance.” He sighs. “Never got the chance to learn.” Silence befalls them, and when he looks at her, the expression on her face is difficult to read. It’s not a look of pity, that much he knows. But it’s pensive, as if she’s searching his face for some sign, and for a second, he’s perplexed. He isn’t so arrogant to think that he knows every single one of her secrets, but he’s almost certain that she knows all of his. As far as he’s concerned, his mind is an open book to her, and he’s grown comfortable enough to let her see its inner workings. The fact that part of him still mourns the chances he lost – never getting his dance, most especially – shouldn’t be news to her, but he’s surprised to learn that apparently, it is. “Nat?” She eyes him carefully. “Do you?” “Do I what?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Want to learn how to dance.” Almost immediately, his lips part to speak, an objection already at the tip of his tongue, but he pauses. Open book, he reminds himself, letting out a sigh. “Does it matter?” “I don’t know,” she says. “But as you pointed out, we’re about to do something unprecedented tomorrow that may or may not end badly for us.” She shrugs, holding her hand out in front of her as she smirks. “How much worse can our decisions get?”

He does not even dwell on her question for long when he takes takes her hand in his, and if she’s surprised by his decision, she does not show it as she wordlessly leads him away from the window. They stop at the center of the gym, in the wide-open space where he watched her saunter lithely across only moments ago, before she takes his other hand, laying it on the dip of her waist. “I can’t dance,” he says suddenly, whispering the words like a confession he can no longer keep to himself. “It’s okay,” she says. “If you can fight, you can dance.” She smiles disarmingly, lifting their hands higher until they’re level with her shoulder. “Just follow my lead.” With those four words, his apprehension melts as rapidly as it had overcome him. Follow her lead. That’s something he could do. Something he has done countless times before, sometimes without so much as a second thought. And in all of those instances, not once has she stirred him wrong, and he knows in his heart that she’s not about to start now. He nods. They start off slow, swaying to nothing but the sound of the torrential downpour wreaking havoc outside. At first, he keeps his eyes on the ground and his steps tentative, burdened by the idea that with one miscue, his boots could crush her satin-clad feet. But when moments pass and they only glide effortlessly across the floor, picking up the pace as they do, he surrenders himself to way they just seem to flow. He glances back up at her, and with her smile soft and her eyes brimming with encouragement, he feels his confidence soar. He steps back, raising her hand slightly, and she twirls nimbly without missing a beat before coming back into their embrace. He’s not entirely certain when they move close enough for him to lean his forehead against hers, or which of them had initiated it. Only that he cannot bring himself to care about their proximity or about how she hadn’t bothered to pull away. Not when his body had adjusted seamlessly to her every move like a reflex, anticipating each and every one of her motions the way it does when they’re fighting side by side on the battlefield. His eyes close at the thought. Dancing, as he is learning, isn’t so different. It’s easy. Effortless. But so is everything he does with the woman in his arms, it seems – from fighting side by side, to watching each other’s backs, to making decisions to save half of humanity, to everything else in between. That ease isn’t by coincidence, he realizes. It’s the product of the trust between them that’s blossomed into something tight-knit and unshakeable. With everything they’ve had to endure in the last several years, he’s questioned everything from his purpose in life to his faith. But the one thing he’s never doubted is his trust in her. How could he, when she’s proved time and again that she’s always here, always right by his side. The one constant in the midst of all the change. He’s lost everything he’s ever cared about, every person he’s ever loved, but through it all, he’s never lost her. Even in the grimmest of days, and in his lowest of lows, he knows irrefutably that he can always turn to her. That, push comes to shove, when all seems lost, her strength will reignite his own. Just as it did when he found her days ago, seated at her desk as she found the courage within herself to carry on despite the burden of their loss sitting on her shoulders. And just as it is now, as he holds her in his arms and her hope fortifies his determination to do whatever it takes to make their mission succeed come tomorrow. If you can fight, you can dance. She’s right, he can. He can do anything. Because there isn’t a thing he can’t do, a thing he can’t face, with her by his side. Clarity washes over him like a wave crashing violently to shore. His eyes fly open at the revelation, and he stills, causing her to look up at him with concern etched across her face. “Steve?” “It’s you,” he whispers.

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL STORY ON AO3!

Thank you to @faith2nyc for the teaser art! I told myself I was no longer going to start new stories, but her edits sparked an entire 3 parter that I couldn’t resist. Ooops. So yeah, here we are. I blame her. Oh, and Adele. Always Adele. Listen to All I Ask at your own beautiful peril.

Disclaimer: parts of this excerpt have been redacted for spoilers. Final version may differ as the chapter enters the editing stage. And yes, I totally did not proofread this for typos and/or run-ons. Such is life. :-)

#romanogers #natrogers #natrogersfics #faith2nyc #All I Ask #new fic alert #preview #Blame Adele for this one #Avengers Endgame #Endgame reimagined #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #ao3 #fanfic

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crackinglamb · 5 years ago

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Fluff-uary Prompt 14 - First ‘I Love You’

(DA - Hawke/Varric)

There were hounds in the stables at Skyhold. They weren't mabari, but they were well bred enough that Hawke was equally as entertained by their antics as their canine intelligence. She missed Goliath sorely, but these rangy hunters filled a little of the void.

She smiled to herself, remembering Goliath and Varric's oft exasperating relationship back in Kirkwall. She'd never had the heart to discipline her massive gray dog for barreling him over, it was just too funny. Mabari were singularly loyal to their masters, this was true, but whatever the master was loyal to seemed to fall into a category of 'also important'. And of course Varric was important to her...

***

Goliath pricked his ears in attention as soon as the door opened below. From her casual sprawl in the library, Hawke could hear Varric's murmur as he spoke with Orana. In her mind's eye she could see him shrugging off Bianca's harness – although he wouldn't leave his crossbow behind – and doffing his customary leather duster. He might even stop in the dining room and grab two tumblers and his favorite bottle on his way up. It was strange how much changing one thing between them had changed everything.

She listened for clinking as his footsteps approached, Goliath at her side nearly vibrating with excitement. She didn't hear glass and suppressed a giggle.

“Go get'im, boy,” she whispered when the library door opened. She tucked a marker in her book and stood up in time to see the gray mabari barrel right into Varric, knocking the wind out of him and sprawling him on the floor with a thump and a muffled curse. Goliath stood over his 'prize' and panted happily, nearly dripping drool into Varric's hair, his stumpy tail wagging so hard his whole back end wagged with it. Hawke whistled, quick and sharp, and her dog sat attentively next to the downed dwarf, who propped himself on an elbow and scowled at her.

“Andraste's tits, you're lucky I love you,” he growled. He checked Bianca over for scuffs, since sure enough, he'd brought her up with him, and shook his head in mock dismay. When he looked back at her, he seemed to register the stillness with which she stood. His words had shaken her pretty hard, she realized. Or maybe it was her own wishful thinking banging against reality. “What?”

“You sounded like you meant that,” she said, suddenly breathless. They'd both said it before, a joke after a battle or drunken foolishness. Never with that genuine...intensity.

A number of expressions crossed his face. Surprise, chagrin, a fleeting cocked eyebrow that meant he wanted to make a joke, the weight of seriousness when he realized he didn't. He stood up and took Bianca to the low bookshelf where he'd started keeping some manuscripts of his own, along with a selection of books he hadn't wanted to keep at the Hanged Man. With a soft click the crossbow was laid to rest there and when he turned back to her, his face was pensive. Time seemed to stop as he crossed the library and sat down on the sofa facing the fireplace. She stood next to it, almost fearing to move in case she broke whatever spell held Varric in an truthful mood.

“Huh,” he said presently. “I did.”

She looked down on him and felt a grin crack her face. “Is that you sounded like you meant it, or you actually meant it?”

He scowled at her again, but it was tempered with warmth in his eyes. “Cara...stop being so willfully obtuse.”

“It's not every day I get such an honest reaction from a self described liar,” she countered, still grinning. “So excuse me if I need clarification.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged in that insouciant way he had that both drove her batty and made her want to rip his clothes off. It was still a bit mind boggling to her that that's where they were now. They could just...do that, if they wanted.

His face relaxed and he grinned back at her, extending a hand out towards her that she took eagerly. “All right, that's fair.”

He tugged on her hand, drawing her around the arm of the sofa until she stood in front of him. With another tug, and a calculating gleam in his whiskey eyes, she had only a second to adjust in order to straddle him instead of ending up in a heap of too long limbs in his lap. Goliath whined, coming across the room to nose at them. Hawke was getting lost in the expression on Varric's face, and couldn't bear to look away.

“Goliath, go to the kitchen,” she murmured, seeing the grin on her dwarf's lips deepen with intent. The mabari made a sound rather like a huff, but he left them in peace. She wasn't paying attention to the dog now, as Varric tugged off his gloves and slid his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place as he kissed her.

She knew she made a sound, muffled against his mouth and full of want and she could feel the rumble of a chuckle out of him. When they pulled away from each other, he was still laughing quietly and she tugged on the ring in the cartilage of his right ear. It just wasn't right that he could make such a mess of her in so few moments.

“Ow,” he yelped.

“You'll live,” she whispered. “That's what you get for all the times you pulled my hair.” He smirked and tugged on her scalp for good measure before dropping his hands down to shift her so he could pull up her skirt and lay his palms on her skin. Heat blossomed between them, hot as forge fire, and he grew hard and insistent beneath her. She hummed. His fingers brushed around her thighs, tracing the firm muscles there, before coming to rest on her backside.

“Hawke,” he said softly, his voice growling. “You are a shameless thing, aren't you?”

She grinned. He'd discovered she wasn't wearing smalls under her skirts. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Uh huh. Lean back for me.”

[Redacted for explicit content. Read the full piece here.]

“Varric,” she said in his ear, enjoying the shivers as he rubbed her back. “I love you too. So much.”

***

“What are you thinking about that's got that look on your face,” his voice broke through the memory. She turned and smiled up at him, her folded legs overflowing with full grown hound determined to be a lapdog.

“The first time you told me you loved me,” she replied. Varric propped a foot on the railing of the stall next to them and smirked.

“That was a fine evening, as I recall,” he said, trying and failing to look properly serious.

Hawke laughed. “Until Goliath got into the pantry.”

“Hey, you're the one who sent him to the kitchen,” he reminded her.

“I was distracted at the time.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Well I can't argue with that.”

#FLUFF-uary 2020 #dragon age #hawke/varric #also posted to ao3 #edited for lemon content #y'all got two ficlets out of me today #happy valentine's day

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shame-on-nyall · 8 years ago

Text

hot milky last chapter pt 1/??

Here is the first part of the “last” chapter of Hot Milky. If all goes well, I will finish Sunday, but if not, I will get close! It’s pretty long and full of excessive drama, so sorry in advance to mobile users and or drama haters.

2,912 words

interlude part 1

interlude part 2

Watching his brother and the Omnic monk depart for their morning meditation, Hanzo slid one hand into his kimono and took out the medicine bottle Genji stashed there, turning it over pensively before locking it away into his weapons case. It was a miracle that the back alley doctor who supplied him with the pills managed to get the bottle packed into his parcel of clothes just in time to be picked up with the morning mail by Lena. It was, however, unfortunate that Zenyatta had seen the bottle Genji dropped, but at least there was no lettering on the label to read. If Angela ever decided to investigate, Hanzo had his story. Sooner or later, she would, so he must be vigilant and ready to field her questions.

Hanzo glanced at the cooling and surely indigestible breakfast tray Genji and Zenyatta had offered him still teetering on the edge of the table and had to sigh. Even as he sat down and nibbled at what he assumed was a fat-encapsulated crumble of pork sausage mixed with egg and potato and who knows what else and managed to swallow the lump without gagging, he recalled Genji’s recent haphazard actions that had culminated in this morning’s yogurt incident, his own confused reactions ever since he arrived here. It had become obvious that Genji was losing what little sense he had left, so caught up with the fact that his brother had actually joined them to pay much attention to reality; namely, the fact that he was a cyborg now, not their father’s favored sparrow any longer. Because of Hanzo’s presence at the base reminding him of his past, because he ended up spoiling Genji anyway despite his best intentions. It was a sign. He was not meant to be here among this motley assortment of characters with whom Genji chose to throw in his lot. He had to leave Overwatch, for everyone’s peace of mind.

In sober thought, Hanzo finished grazing over the contents of the breakfast, sipping some of the cooled barley tea included instead of his usual morning serving of sake. The prospect of meditating with Genji and Zenyatta did not appeal to him at this time, neither did associating with anyone else on base, regardless if they were happy to see him healthy (or at least his left pectoral) or if they still kept their guard up around him. Genji’s assurance that the team missed his presence and cared about him despite some initial distrust rang overly optimistic, as hollow as he believed McCree’s infatuation to be. His younger brother had made mistakes before, Hanzo had years of experience covering for him, but on this matter he really wanted to believe Genji. Hanzo could not deny that he was just tired of running. He wanted to belong somewhere and live for a purpose once more. He needed to be with Genji more than anything.

The only question… did Genji need to be with him?

The peaceful slumber of the night, the sweet fragments of dreams Hanzo chased upon awakening, all of that had cleared like mist under a late summer morning sun. The freshness of the early hours no longer brought him the same joy as they did in his youth, when he looked forward to completing the tasks of the day. Now Hanzo associated morning with ever-increasing stress, a cyclical countdown of minutes until the oblivion of either sleep or his next bottle of sake.

Since his mind could give him no comfort, he decided it would be better to keep his body occupied, attempt to keep his archery skills in peak condition so that he could provide defense for his brother and teammates as promised. (Or to facilitate his escape from Watchpoint if the situation should arise.) He had missed training all of yesterday after all. Grimly, Hanzo threw on his newly acquired jacket over his customary gi and hakama, gathered Stormbow and its quiver, and set out for the training area. For a second, Hanzo wondered how McCree was doing, since the two of them had abandoned him there with smashed kneecaps last night, but he figured if anything serious happened to McCree afterwards, Genji would have told him. Since he was McCree’s friend supposedly and had said he would talk to him… If he remembered, to anyway.

Well, that was no longer his problem…

A scowl lingering on his face, Hanzo turned the corner past the sliding doors and scaled the wall to the nearest observation tower. His ears detected conversation in the target range, the bass beat of Lucio’s music, and seeking refuge from unnecessary chatter, he contented himself with silently unleashing arrow after arrow on the moving dummies patrolling the skywalks and stairwells far above.

At last his curiosity won out, and Hanzo crept to the ledge overlooking one of the target ranges below. McCree was indeed there, unerringly unloading a round of bullets into a group of darting practice droids, only the slightest of stiffness in his steps as evidence of the scuffle last night. There was Lucio gliding across the walls behind the range to the rhythm of his speakers, adding turns and jumps to increase the area he could cover. Hanzo knew he had sensed a third presence earlier, and soon enough his hearing picked up the dull clang of heavy weights against a sturdy rack, before Zarya herself could be glimpsed leaving the weight room for the showers.

Satisfied with his assessment, Hanzo went back to his own practice, this time with an added twist. Nocking an arrow to Stormbow, he took a breath and released, watching the arrow strike the dummy McCree was aiming at just a fraction of a second before Peacemaker’s bullet hit home. Almost shocked to the point of losing his hat, McCree swore and glanced up around him at the walls and ledges and walkways, trying to pinpoint Hanzo’s location. Hanzo had of course long vanished from their view. From on top of a ledge that could only be easily accessed by Fareeha and Genji and the like, Hanzo leaned out and fired through a narrow aperture at the reassembling target droid.

“Dangit, Hanzo, you tryna be faster than a bullet, too?!” McCree called out, disgruntled yet duly impressed. “Genji kept doing stunts like that, near got himself killed a few more times back then!” Jamming his hat back onto his hair, McCree grumbled, “Already got my hands full with the Junkers, I don’t need to be baby-sitting off-the-chain ninjas, too.”

With a snort of amusement, Hanzo quickly dropped to the ground level by McCree’s side. “I only want to keep my skills intact. I have no intention of getting injured.” Not like Genji, it seemed.

“I’ll testify to anyone who asks that you’re as sharp as ever,” McCree told him, holstering his gun.

The cowboy thankfully kept a professional attitude, his usual lovesick pining dialed back quite a bit to Hanzo’s surprise, although not entirely absent. On the other hand, he thought there may have been another reason for McCree’s change in demeanor. Hanzo gave him a calculating look, saying matter-of-factly, “Interesting, I notice you are able to walk without the use of crutches today, McCree.”

McCree gave a little heh at that. “It just so happened Angela and Winston happen to be up and about last night, and the doc got me fixed up in the infirmary right quick.” No thanks to you two, was the unspoken addition.

“My apologies,” Hanzo murmured in a cool tone. “I did not mean to have added to the list of the doctor’s responsibilities. I was later told she had had a busy evening.”

“…And… You’re also sorry to have smashed my kneecaps with my gun that you then stole and left me out in the cold without getting help, ain’tcha, Hanzo?” McCree prompted hopefully, having sworn off pursuing the elder Shimada in a romantic manner but apparently still determined to put him on a pedestal, however shaky.

“Oh, that.” Hanzo dusted an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder and said, “You keep mentioning you had been Blackwatch’s finest agent, Reye’s right-hand man. Since you did not lift a hand against us, I assumed you had everything under control. Am I not correct, gunslinger?”

Sweating (figurative) bullets at this unflatteringly accurate depiction, McCree tugged the brim of his hat over his eyes. “We-ell, you two looked like you were having a grand old time, so of course I didn’t want to interrupt,” he replied sheepishly. “Which I could have, at any moment, if I wanted to. But just for the future, maybe don’t rough up a fellow so much? None of us are supposed to be in organized crime anymore, in case you forgot.”

“I will see what I can do.”

Lucio had glided over to them at this point, listening to the conversation with an adorably puzzled frown on his face. “Hey now, this doesn’t add up, why were you smashing McCree’s kneecaps in, Hanzo? I was pretty sure Hana told meeeeee…”

“She told you nothing, because I bought her silence,” Hanzo interrupted abruptly, “so you are pretty sure of nothing.”

“Uhh…” Glancing up at Hanzo’s stormy expression, Lucio nodded, flashing a bright grin. “Right, so what was I saying again? Totally can’t remember!”

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” Hanzo muttered, while McCree shook his head and sighed.

“Now, now, we’re all just trying to get to know each other here, become good friends, see, so we can be better teammates and the best heroes Overwatch can ask for,” McCree said loudly to reassure any listeners in the vicinity that no one had slid back into old habits best left redacted in their official files.

“Of course,” Hanzo agreed, in the tone of someone who had never purposefully done anything to become a good friend in his entire life, much less a teammate or hero. “Which reminds me, Lucio,” he began, returning his attention to someone slightly less irritating, “I had been meaning to thank you earlier for the music player you gifted me the other day.”

“Y-you liked my music?!” Lucio squawked.

Choosing his words carefully, Hanzo said, “The songs I listened to were very… upbeat. With a… positive atmosphere.”

Lucio seemed equally shocked and delighted by Hanzo’s acknowledgement, and he stuttered out uncharacteristically, “W-wow, I mean, if you ever want a change of pace, I can put together another mix, it’d be no problem! I got a few tracks I’ve been working on I know you’d dig.”

“There is no rush, Lucio,” Hanzo replied, somewhat regretting initiating further interaction but doing his best out of respect to a capable healer whose skills would definitely be needed to keep Genji alive once he left. Fortunately, Lucio had the faraway look of inspiration lighting up his eyes. In a moment, he excused himself and skated off to get those melodies out of his head and into the world of sound.

“Aww, you’re not so cold after all!” McCree said with a pleased grin, about to slap Hanzo on the back but pulled back just in time to save the use of his hand. “Guess Genji was right, you’ve made some progress adjusting here. Now why won’t you ever let him in on that instead of being a grump all the time?”

Hanzo was about to nod, but something made him pause. Unease, a frisson of disturbance that could be felt through the dragon of ink tattooed on his skin all the way into his bones. A warning he must heed.

“I know what you’re up to, McCree.” Ever so carefully, he said, “I respect you as Genji’s comrade. But your particular skills are not reserved just for heroics. You are a mercenary, and I will not let my guard down, for all of your silly outfits and foolish rambling.”

McCree frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Now how do you figure that?”

“Simple. You are always armed when you are around me. Not so around Genji.” The implication should have been clear; Hanzo believed McCree tagging along after him was not in hopes of quenching a junker-induced dry spell. (Although that could still account for a good 30%; he was not so modest.)

“Well, well, well.” McCree shrugged, eyes downcast, but not before an ominous flash of red light winked out under the shadow of his hat. “For someone as clever as you to tell me that, you must think you got a royal flush in your hand.”

Hanzo hesitated, very much aware that they were more or less alone in the furthest target range from the central living quarters and meeting rooms. All he had was a partial bluff against a man who Genji, of all people, swore was a master at playing cards. Hanzo was only guessing based on what Zenyatta had told him, bits and pieces from the files he had scanned through before arriving at Watchpoint proper, what little Genji had revealed about his past in Overwatch, but McCree’s unusually restrained reaction seemed to confirm the gist of his theory. “What you just said about being teammates and comrades, becoming heroes, I am only saying that I find it hard to believe,” he stated calmly, honestly. “It is true that I want to become used to this place, that becoming friends even with you is something I would not reject. But know that I am here to fight for Genji. He is my priority, and as long as you stay true to him, I will not turn on you. As long as you give me no reason to distrust you. Because my brother may have forgiven all of you involved with his creation, but I will not forget how you stole him and experimented on him…”

To his surprise, McCree laughed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. “You got the wrong guy, partner,” he said. “Technically, I did nothing. Now Reyes and I, we did our best to include Genji in Blackwatch, get him back on his feet after his rehab. But others above us made the decision to retrieve his body and turn him into a cyborg in the first place.”

“…Blackwatch? You mean Overwatch.” Hanzo narrowed his eyes, thrown off balance by McCree’s interruption. That feeling of freefall, struggling for a handhold while the ground gave way below his feet. The sensation of unease only grew, a tidal wave pulling the very air from his lungs.

“Yeah, Blackwatch was part of Overwatch, but Genji and I worked under Reyes directly. Bit of a difference there.”

“No. Genji showed me a photo of the team… his clothing had the Overwatch emblem, not Blackwatch’s…”

“Oh God, the one time we got him to wear clothes?” McCree chuckled again, and Hanzo gritted his teeth at the too-casual sound. “That was much later. Genji musta been in Blackwatch with me for four years or so. He’d been taking down the Shimada clan and operations in East Asia while the medical team completed his cyberization process. I think Genji didn’t get on Overwatch’s official payroll until his final upgrades were done. But soon after that, he left the organization.”

“No…” Hanzo repeated, more uncertainly this time. Genji had never said anything about how long it took to build his cyborg body, what specifically he had to do as compensation for their investment. But Hanzo never pressed for details. He had not thoroughly considered the implication of Overwatch, or Blackwatch in this case, spiriting away a scion of the very empire they were trying to bring down. But he should have… That was what happened with McCree and Deadlock Gang, was it not? “Genji would have mentioned that.”

“Hey, I got nothing to gain by lying to you, Hanzo,” McCree said quietly, his hands palms up in a reassuring gesture. “You can ask Genji yourself. He was in Blackwatch with me.”

Hanzo rubbed at his forehead, suddenly wishing for alcohol and the oblivion of sleep. He had been meaning to make his intentions clear to McCree, and thus the former members of Overwatch, to assure them that he would participate in their missions as long as Genji was protected. That keeping track of him was of little use, unproductive and a waste of their resources.

But if Overwatch back then had forced Genji’s involvement with Blackwatch, if they had required his cooperation in exchange for completion of his cyborg body... There was his fear, resurfacing into the light once more. They could still be trapped, movements tracked and bodies claimed by an organization working outside of government and law.

Just like when we were boys, Hanzo thought in grim despair, clutching at his hair. Hysterical. He wanted to laugh, but could not even summon a noise.

He felt, rather than saw or heard, McCree’s presence envelop him, warm and bittersweet. Blind and deaf, he struggled against the hope and comfort and security he had forsaken, fled instead for the miserable irresistible uncertainty that made up the world he shared with his brother.

Genji took a breath and exhaled long and slow, the way he used to, the way he no longer needed to. He glanced towards the warren that made up Watchpoint, but his brother never appeared at the courtyard entrance.

“I don’t think Hanzo is going to join us after all, Master,” he murmured.

At his side, Zenyatta watched a duo of autumn butterflies drift silently away into the breeze. “No. Not yet, my student.”

#hot milky #my fic #genzo #shimadacest #mccree is in here too

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