#*screams with joy into pillow for eternity*

[s-4pphics]

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO. 

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol 

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet. 

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night. 

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911. 

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside. 

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now. 

She jumps when he whispers, 

I owed your mom a favor. 

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction. 

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch. 

Until the sun sets. 

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space. 

… What are you doing? 

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge. 

Why’re you up? 

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here. 

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up. 

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore. 

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles, 

Kid… 

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches. 

She hates him. She misses her mom. 

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour. 

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it. 

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday. 

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece. 

Your mom and I… 

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table. 

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was. 

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in. 

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it. 

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty. 

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after. 

And Ellie was a witness to it all. 

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow. 

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him? 

-

-

- 

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before. 

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest. 

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway. 

Hey. 

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall. 

Ellie. 

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly. 

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him. 

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder. 

What the hell did she witness in that house? 

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone. 

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself. 

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose. 

Joel doesn’t berate her, though. 

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks. 

How come? 

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t. 

Joel hummed in understanding. 

I’m like that, too. Sometimes. 

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same. 

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old! 

The gray hairs say otherwise! 

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch. 

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win. 

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel. 

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood. 

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that? 

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes. 

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her. 

Did you fix it? 

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start? 

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright. 

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission? 

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg. 

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man. 

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant. 

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired? 

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds? 

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler. 

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring. 

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier. 

Joel? 

Mhm? 

… What favor did you owe my mom? 

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded. 

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face. 

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum. 

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home. 

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck. 

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy. 

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice. 

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms. 

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor. 

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked. 

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest. 

I know what you are. 

What, He questioned without a stutter. 

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno. 

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can. 

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot. 

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed. 

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost? 

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down. 

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er. 

-

-

-

Thar she blows. 

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her. 

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement. 

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump. 

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic. 

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve. 

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life. 

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages. 

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes. 

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents? 

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust. 

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker! 

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! — 

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering. 

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed. 

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile. 

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke! 

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin! 

-

-

-

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets. 

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs. 

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches. 

And math… Gross. 

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him. 

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom? 

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy. 

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more. 

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder. 

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack. 

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’. 

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this. 

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently. 

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond. 

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom. 

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly. 

She has a Spider-man backpack. 

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return. 

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks. 

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today. 

M’kay, Mr. Harris. 

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office. 

Where’d you get your backpack? 

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart? 

You smile, I like it. I want one. 

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel. 

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools. 

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff. 

Yeah… I’m new. 

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting— 

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak? 

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle. 

No, ma’am. I apologize. 

Then hush. Not another word. 

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack. 

Ready, kiddo? 

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding. 

What a weirdo. 

tagggiiiiessss :3: @inf3ct3dd @fleshunger @sawaagyapong @elliesbitchh @aouiaa @elliesatchel @williamellieslilho @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @myluvforstarz

[milksnake-tea]

heyy bbg its me, your 🌺 again hihi

I was wondering if you would be interested in writing about the ask prompts 2, 6 and 10 for Yaoshi? 🥹 I'm honestly still a simp for them and Honkai is releasing way too less stuff about them I could scream 😭

During the next survey im gonna beg them to let us be kissed by them again for real. By the way, thank you so much in advance, you know I always eat up your aeon content it's so nice.

(If I misunderstood the prompts and you won't do it please ignore this ask and spare me the cringe I would potentially feel HAHA)

- 🌺

POINTS. I GOTCHU BBG I NEED TO GET BACK INTO MY AEON LOVER PHASE ALSO UR FINE BBG U DID IT RIGHT ILY

2. What do you think their love language is?

Definitely acts of service or gifts. As much as I love my physically affectionate Yaoshi, I see them as someone to just shower you in gifts and love. And let me tell you - those gifts have range. You could get either the most beautiful bouquet (or garden/planet because let's be real, Yaoshi wouldn't settle for just a bouquet) made up of the finest specimen from across the universe, or you could open your door to the freakiest chimera that looks like it was one of God's deleted drafts. With acts of service, Yaoshi doesn't want you to be sad !!! No negative feelings are allowed, only happiness and joy for their loved one <33 So they'll take care of anything that bothers you to make sure that your eternal life is nothing short of paradise.

6. What do you think Yaoshi is like in love?

They're actually insufferable BYE I just know they're musing about every little detail about you to anyone who would listen. Their Emanators and Denizens have never seen you, and yet they know everything about you. Basically, they turn into a less loud, yet somehow even more poetic version of Argenti. You'd slowly notice the effects of their blessings around you as you go on with your life: Flowers and vegetation bloom wherever you go, your injuries heal so fast that you could've convinced yourself they didn't exist, and sickness no longer finds you. Gradually, your world turns into a paradise, and when you inevitably meet the Aeon responsible for it all, they welcome you with open arms.

10. How good at cuddling is Yaoshi?

THEY'RE BOTH SO GOOD AND SO BAD AT IT AT THE SAME TIME ITS LOWKEY IMPRESSIVE. Yaoshi has wayyy too many arms for their own good, but that just means they have all the more to hug you with !! The only problem is that. Well. Those arms have nails. And said nails are sharped to an unreasonable degree, and sometimes Yaoshi forgets about them and they'll accidentally scratch you when they're trying to pet you. But they're warm and make quite the pillow if you just ignore that part, and they'll hum you a little song while they hold you <33 or just talk to you about the mortals that've caught their eye, or what their followers have gotten up to. Yaoshi has a beautiful voice, by the way, gentle yet rich and leaning on the deeper side, and just listening to them is enough to lull you to sleep.

2k follower event if you want to participate !!!

[thetinylittlespider]

Content warning for: Death implications, sad story, and well...sadness overall

Idk what made me write this, might take down, might not. I was feeling weird and this came out of me head. JCHSHDHAHS

Hope is not as half bad as I think it is

Close your eyes.

"Fret not, my dear. Haven't I gave you enough? "

Her voice, so calm, sending shivers down my spine, the moment was close, it was slowly taking her away. Taking her away, from me.

Soft movements of her hand surrounding me, placing a palm behind my back like a wall of flesh, losing their warmth by the second.

"It is not you that owes something to me, I fear I might not have given you enough, I feel like I had so much more to offer."

Slowly, she draws a smile on her face, her lips closed as if keeping a secret from me. She knew I always got angry at that expression, that sweet but mocking expression that she used when I was powerless to stop her. And now, I was powerless to stop her from going away forever.

"Please, stop staring. Let me think about a solution, there must be something I haven't tried! Plea-"

Her thumb pressed lightly over my chest, silencing any idea I could come up to.

My vocal cords were not in the best spot, I was shaking, my sentences interrupted with sobs, and tears falling down my cheeks, neverending...

Long have I tried to cure her, to ease her pain, attempted everything I've ever could to hold her close to me. Every medical human science I could wait, every magic I could conjure, forbidden or forgotten to time, deadly to me...or to others. Whatever the price was...

"Shhh...Sweet little fairy of mine. How much time you've lost trying to fix what can't be? How much more of yourself you will sacrifice to torture your eyes with my sorry state? For how long?"

Caressing my head with little force, she brings me closer, and closer to her face, lifting me from the side of her bed, surrounding me in her fist for a second, that chamber of security, of comfort and love. Now it was the last time I would ever feel it.

She placed me carefully on top of her pillow, rolled and rested over her arm, staring at me. And unlike the pathetic crying mess I was, she just leaned closer until my whole field of vision was her face. And she remained still, her gaze just focusing on me. While I try to memorize every detail of her face, like the masterpiece she was.

"I just need more time, I-I just need more..."

I fight back.

"Time has never been kind to us, and you are aware of it, my love."

She replies.

"I have something to ask you, one last thing."

My throat feels like a knot, constricted, and unable to release words. I know what her last wish is, yet I let her continue.

"End the pain, the only way you always could've. Let my last thoughts be filled with your presence, in that cabin on the woods we always used to think about..."

"With the pets you've always wanted to get..."

"Playing in our yard, as we have breakfast..."

"As the sunrise welcomes us for another day..."

She pressed her lips over me, in a kiss forever to be recorded in my memory, my tiny form smushed in her soft flesh, a low "hmm" could resonate from her mouth in joy of the gesture, reverbrating my body, I just let myself go in tears, replying the act for the seconds lasted. Being the only one who opened his eyes once I was separated, and soon feeling the cold taking place on what once was a warm embrace.

A deep purple mist emanated from my being, which fell to knees in the pillow. A loud scream was consumed by the depths of a house that was soon to be left forever. And the last body there remained in that eternal slumber, with a smile on her face. For only one met an ending which rewarded a life full of love. As the other, lost it afterwards.

[softquietsteadylove]

thenamesh has rotted my brain so much that 4th of july fireworks spooking my dog obviously made me think of how thena would probably get spooked by them too — so of course i had to bring it to you as a prompt! maybe featuring our sweet jack and some comfort?

Thena squinted as yet another firework went off. Terrible, incessant things, she thought. They were loud and made a mess. But ever since their conception - for which they had all been present - humans loved them.

They had declined to attend the show at its source, mostly out of consideration for the Eternals and their heightened senses. Thena, especially, although she did offer to attend for Jack's sake.

In years past, Phastos and Ben had taken Jack to all of the typical Fourth of July festivities, as Americans wishing to take part in the celebrations. They went to the parade, they attended things in the city or had backyard activities at their home for the neighbours. They had also declined that, this year.

It was determined to be too much, the possibility of strange kids running around and screaming with water guns and sparklers. Phastos and Gil did cook on the grill just for them. They had all attempted to lure Jack outside with the promise of baseball and soccer and football. But all day, Jack was busy inside making a fort.

By this time it was taking up most of the living room, constructed with couch cushions and the futon from Phastos' home office and plenty of pillows and blankets. It was somewhat hard to navigate, but Jack was adamant that it not be disturbed all weekend. Thena had defended his magnum opus.

Another one went off, and even Ben and Phastos admired the twinkle of it, each with a beer in hand. Ben looked around their chairs all lined up on their back deck to see the display at a distance. "Jack?"

Phastos shook his head. "He's still working on that fort."

"He's missing the show," Ben frowned.

Gil leaned forward in his own chair, mindful of Thena in his lap. "We told him it was starting, but he said it was almost ready."

"Ready for what?"

None of them knew. Phastos was especially put out that his son was seemingly over the childhood wonder and joy of the fireworks show. "This is how it starts. Next, he's gonna be in his room all day and night and we'll never see him except-"

"Habibi," Ben chided his husband, reaching over and rubbing his hand. "We have discussed this."

"Yeah," Phastos sighed heavily, though, taking another swig of light beer. "Just wait, he's eleven now, but he'll be thirteen before we even know it."

Thena pressed her ear more firmly against Gil's chest as another one burst in the air. She blinked rapidly at the red colour of this one. She was doing respectably well, though. She had the odd moment of swearing she could smell gunpowder and smoke, but she could still correct herself. They weren't witnessing the slaughter of Tenochtitlan, they were visiting their brother's family in America.

Gilgamesh ran his hand over her hair, whispering soft nothings to her to help her weather the storm. "You sure you wanna do this? Jack isn't even here."

As with most other things, she had agreed for Jack's sake. She was still overly conscious of potentially ruining any fun for him because of the gentility with which she needed to navigate human life. Of course she would deny it, but it did melt her heart completely every time he showed concern for her state of mind.

She gripped the lapel of Gil's shirt, but nodded with her head under his chin. "I'm sure he'll join us. If I go inside, he'll just offer to keep me company."

Gil chuckled, kissing her temple. She was right, and he knew she was.

Phastos looked at his watch, "well, if he doesn't get out here he might miss the end of it."

Thena lifted her head from Gil's chest. "It is odd for him to be so reclusive. I'll find him."

Gil let his hand trail down her back as she lifted herself from his embrace. "If he doesn't wanna come out, you two can have fun in there."

She smiled at him, letting their hands drag apart reluctantly.

"Sure, if she goes he'll come right out. If I do it, it's 'Dad, I'm busy!'."

Thena ignored her brother's lamenting over his child's growing independence. She slid the patio door closed behind her. "Jack?"

"In here!"

She walked into the living room, finding the lamps were on, illuminating the truly impressive sprawl of the fort. She tilted her head before bending at the waist. "Jack?"

"Aunt Thena, in here," he whispered, a hand sticking out just to wave.

She crouched down, bending her knees in her skirt so she could crawl into the small tunnel leading to his domain. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's finally ready!"

What was finally ready? Thena crawled on her hands and knees over the carpet and into the fort's main body. Never before - and never again - would she have to crawl like this. It was unbecoming of a warrior. But this was for her nephew.

"What do you think?"

It was actually quite remarkable. The far 'wall' actually was connected to the large window of the living room, offering a glimpse outside that looked in the direction of the city's epicentre. The rest of the fort was cushioned by thick blankets and using the plush structures of couches and chairs and automans.

"This is rather well done, Jack," she praised with a smile. He truly was a remarkable human--nothing short of brilliant, the son of the Fabricator Eternal.

"Here," he said gently, sitting himself on a pillow set up by the window. There was one beside him, which he patted for her. "The view is perfect."

"The view?"

But Jack was right. It was possible to see the more distant fireworks that were being displayed over the city harbour. They were more distant, therefore not as bright against the dark sky. And within the house, they were much quieter.

"Is this what you've been doing?" she asked as she watched the tiny but still beautiful display within the window.

He nodded, also watching, captivated. "Baba said there were two fireworks shows, this one just started."

She gave her young nephew a look, attempting to appear stern with his utterly adorable face. "Did you construct this just for me?"

"Well," he cast a sheepish glance to his sock feet, wiggling his toes and twisting his lips.

"Jack," she frowned. "You mustn't worry about me so much. You should be enjoying the fireworks with your fathers as intended."

He looked at her with big, pleading eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "But I can't have fun if I know you're scared."

She sighed. Such a sweet boy, with such a big, human heart. She put her hand on his head gently, not quite patting his head and not quite ruffling his hair. "It is not your place to quell my fears. And discomfort is not a fear."

He scooched a little closer to her pillow. "Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded, leaning down for him to whisper to her, even within the protection of the fort. He moved her hair out of his way, his little hand feeling barely bigger than her ear.

"The fireworks are too loud for me, too. But I never wanted to say 'cause Dad and Baba like watching them."

She watched him sit back on his own pillow again. The thought crossed her mind if he was lying in order to spare her feelings, or her pride. But Jack wasn't a very good liar (she had seen him try to lie about reading comic books after bed time). "Is that so?"

He turned his attention back to the window. "We always go, ever since I was little. But it gets cold, and they're cool and all, but they kinda look the same except for the start and the end. And they're really loud if you're too close."

Thena looked away from the lights display to her brother's son. His maturity and knowledge of himself never ceased to impress her. She truly thought human children were less intelligent than this. Although it was possible Jack was an exception among human offspring. "And here I was, out there so that you wouldn't feel the need to stay inside with me."

He looked at her, illuminated by the far off show. "I like being inside with you."

She put her hand on his shoulder, allowing him to lean against her arm. "I like being inside with you too, Jack."

The boy went quiet, perhaps bashful of the quiet affection passing between them. But he made himself comfortable against her, as affectionately as a boy his age could allow.

She held back a laugh as she heard a small yawn escape him. "It has grown late."

"That's okay," he excused, although he was leaning more heavily on her by the second.

It was indeed late. The summer made the sun set so late that the fireworks couldn't start until rather close to Jack's bed time anyway. Thena moved her arm, allowing Jack to fold himself against her more comfortably. This was also something she never imagined herself doing as the Warrior Eternal. But as the boy's 'Aunt Thena', she would be quite capable of anything.

She continued watching the display, checking every few minutes if Jack's eyes were still open. Perhaps partway through the display, he was completely asleep. She ran her hand over his forehead, resolving not to move and disturb his sleep, no matter the cost.

[haithamsbb]

all good things come to an end

wanderer x fem! reader oneshot

warnings: angst, major character death (you), illness

summary: you and wanderer promised to always be there for eachother, to stay by eachother forever, but all good things come to an end, and soon you develop an incurable illness and scara is bound to lose you

“No.. please.. don’t leave me..” A broken sob comes deep from within the puppet. “No..no.. please…” He claws at his chest, trying to stop the feeling of being suffocated inside.

“Im sorry.. I really am..”, you coughed out. Every breath you took was one step closer to your inevitable death, and you knew it. “Please.. after I’m gone, find someone new.. someone better…”, you smiled weakly at Scara and your eyes slowly closed, no longer reflecting the stars of the sky. “I could never.. find someone new.. nobody- nobody is better than you..” Wanderer sobbed over your body that once was the cause for his joy, now the cause of his pain and suffering.

“Why.. why must everyone betray me?”, he asked himself. Wanderer slowly rose to his feet and picked you up gently, he carried you in bridal style all the way back to your home, and set you, his beloved girlfriend, down in the grass. He reached in his pocket, and pulled out the ring that fit just right on your finger, the one he was supposed to give tonight, before your untimely death.

“I love you, Scara!”, you said as he twirled you around the garden. “I love you too, my little dove.”, he replied.

“Scara?”, you mumbled. “Yes, darling?” “I love you, please don’t ever leave..” “I’ll never leave you here my little dove”, he replied.

“Please.. don’t leave…. My love? My darling? Dove?”, Wanderer sobbed out in the once lively home.

When you discovered that you had the illness, Scara did everything in his power to keep you relaxed and did all the work in the house for you. Mopping the floors, cooking, cleaning, anything that required you to use physical strength, he would supply for you.

“Scara..?”, you asked. It was a cold night, and Scara was holding you close, as if afraid you would slip away in the dark. “Mmm”, he replied. “I love you.. don’t forget that..”, you whispered. As you fell asleep he cradled you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings to you.

“No.. why… please- please come back..”, Wanderer sobbed into the pillow that once smelled like you, hands digging into the bedsheets to find something- anything he could hold on to, to comfort himself with.

After hours, Wanderer slowly rose from the bed and walked over to your desk. The desk you always spent sleepless nights at, writing on a piece of paper you wouldn’t show him. He ripped open the drawers and found a letter addressed to him. Thinking that nothing else could hurt him now, he opened it.

To my love, Scaramouche

First off, if you are reading this, I must be gone already. I love you more than anything in the world. I hope after my passing, you will have found someone new who can love you better than me. I promise I won’t be mad when you find another, I’ll always be waiting for you up here. Scaramouche, Wanderer, Kunikuzushi, no matter who you are, or what you look like, I will always find you in another life. I’ll love you for eternity and I hope you know this. There’s also something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I saw the ring in the bedside drawer, and if it was meant for me, my answer would be yes. I love you so much, thank you for making me the happiest girl alive.

Your dove, Y/n

As Scaramouche read the letter, he didn’t realize he was crying until he felt wetness dripping down his face.

“Why- why are you.. still so precious to me- even after death?”, he choked out. “WHY CAN’T I FORGET YOU?”, he let out an anguished scream because he knew that he would never mean those words. He loves you too much, too much to bear.

As he walked through the busy streets of Sumeru City, someone bumps into him. “Tch.. you foolish mortal. Watch where you’re going.” “A-ah I’m sorry good sir, I wasn’t paying attention..” Scaramouche freezes when he hears the familiar voice. No.. it’s can’t be.. “Y-y/n?”

i- okay this angst sucked but scara nghhh - amber

[thenatallie]

Control part III

Written for @infinitememory12345

This short story is a sequel to "Control part II". Feyd realizes he actually wants to please Margot even more than himself.

Explicit smut, oral sex (Margot getting it), 18+, NSFW.

Margot lies in his bed, only in her lingerie. Feyd took good look at her once more, with admiration. Her peach color of skin is in contrast with black sheets and adds to beauty of his sight. Not only that he badly wants to please her, he feels an urge to completely crawl under her skin... He parts her legs and caresses her inner thighs. Her whole body starts to shake. A soft moan escape her lips as she arches her back. Pulling her hips toward him, he removed her panties. Her glistening, pink and most beautiful orchid is calling to him, mesmerizes him... Feyd can't wait anymore, he puts his soft lips on her clit and caresses her whole pussy with them, finally adding tongue. "Oh, oh Feyd...", Margot moans louder and louder. He was drinking sweet juice from her most intimate place and that drew him mad. His blood boiling, can't wait anymore, he must be inside her again. Feyd moves like a panther that sneaks to his prey, to get on top of her. His fingertips trace her perfectly round full breasts, her hard nipples visible through that thin soft bra. She removes it slowly for him. His cock is only an inch from her anticipating wet core. He suddenly kisses Margot again. Their kiss is wet, deep, passionate, and it tastes like her sweet orchid nectar. His manhood slides into her ever so slowly, letting out a harsh sexiest wanton sigh. Although she can take him whole, he controls his pace, but finds it is very challenging. They are both shaking as her warm dipping wet pussy clenches his cock hard. She moves her hips in his tempo and rubs her clit on his public bone. "Oh fuck!", Feyd thought. He needed to increase the tempo somehow. He gets an idea. Rising up to flip Margot on her stomach, he decides to enter her from behind and be on top of her, so her juicy bottom can dampen his thrusts a bit. Just as she thought she couldn't feel more intimate and passionate with him, he reached for her lips again... Incredible feeling of their lips clashing and their tongues swirling around each other drew Feyd completely crazy. He rubs her shoulders harshly as they kiss. Slowly, he grabs her throat, keeping somewhere in his mind not to squeeze too hard. His lips and tongue on her ear now, playing with it, biting, causing ever so wild sensations of tingling and shivering down her spine. "Take it", he whisperes and forces his dick even deeper into her. Margot writhes beneath him, pushing her butt up to meet his whole length. She breathes and moans iregularly, in a high pitched voice, as tears of pure joy wet his pillow. Feyd feels her inner walls clenching even tighter around him. Their passion is becoming too overwhelming for him, too, but he must endure until he pleases her every possible way. He pushes his free hand beneath her and starts to rub her most sensitive spot in circular motion. "Feyd... you are so good at this...", Margot finally manages to speak. "It is you who drive me totally insane, my dear..." Dear? Feyd asked himself where did that came from. Nevermind now. Margot couldn't unhear that particular word. She would smile, only if she could, but this situation allows her just to bite her lips and catch her breaths while Feyd increases his pace even more and continues to rub her clit. She is so close to cumming, squeezing hard the pillows and his hand that is on her throat. "Please don't stop... ", she said it lustfully. He starts trembling uncontrolably. "I won't".

Margot's movements, although somewhat restricted by his body, become wild. "Cum for me", he whispers to her ear. Immediately, she screams Feyd's name, as her cunt now pulsates intensively and her warm juice squirts onto his cock again and again. Her strong multiple orgasms seem to last for eternity. He loves when Margot says his name when he fucks her. He loves the way she fucks with him. The way they kiss... His relief was just waiting for hers. With a couple of final thursts, Feyd deeply fiils her oversensitive cunt with his hot sperm, expelling very last of his droplets inside her. He rested on top of her for a while, panting. She did't mind. His body and scent feel amazing on hers. Taking out his cock from her creampied pussy, he colapses to the bed next to her, pulling her into his embrace. Both dazed, they look at each other for some time, their eyes saying everything that could be said. Feyd broke the silence: "Margot, can you stay with me tomorrow, too?" "Yes, Feyd" she smiled warmly. Feyd cupped her cheeks with his palms and kissed her. Exhausted, they fell asleep embraced.

The end.

[pillowaya]

Probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Chuuya had always seen honey within Dazai's eyes. Thick, sweet, trickling all the way down from his fluttery dark lashes to his dim, bright irises.

Chuuya had always felt honey radiate from Dazai's discreet gaze, so lovesick and warm it could drive anyone crazy.

In fact, Dazai's entire being was crafted from honey when it came to Chuuya. When it came to adoring, loving and fancying the way his reddish hair curls around his neck, the way his eyebrows furrow when he's annoyed, the way his voice changes when he's flustered. When it came to Chuuya, Dazai melted like honey.

Dazai was in love with Chuuya, and Chuuya knew for sure.

But before Chuuya came into the picture, Dazai had once melted for another man with hair just as reddish and eyes just as blue. And that, Chuuya didn't know. Couldn't know.

Because Dazai was so dense with secrets and calculations his feelings rarely made sense to him, himself before anyone.

Because in the nights where longing blinded Dazai's vision, Chuuya was always away.

So when Chuuya, idly sipping his coffee, heard what sounded like muffled cries, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

There was a time Dazai had eyes for no one but Oda Sakunosuke, and it wasn't too long ago. Dazai effortlessly gave in to Oda's gentle smile and strange philosophy, and Oda offered him the same interest, adoration softening his usually serious eyes, dancing at the tips of his features. Dazai tightly clinged to his chest, nose nuzzled into his collarbone and, safe in his hold, felt like he could rule the whole world. Felt safe– safe from the madding life of a mafia executive, safe to express what he wanted to, safe to cry and safe to laugh. Dazai distantly noted Chuuya never generated that same, unbeatable safety– and as much as he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, his heart ached to return to the strong arms of the man he loved most.

It couldn't be helped, Oda was stubborn. Dazai wanted to smile but his lips refused to, even if for a tired, sad smile. Dazai had killed a lot of people, more than a righteous citizen could fathom, more than a devil could personally accept; over a hundred– and his hands were constantly red with blood he would've thought Oda's lifeless body between his arms wouldn't feel so– so wrong, so out of place, so painful–

He buried his face into the pillow at the memories that spread slowly all over his mind, clogging his hearing, haunting his thoughts. Oda was so unnaturally cold, his fingers weakly pulled Dazai's bandages off before his hand fell limply by his side and his eyes shut for all eternity. He was so cold and drenched in fresh blood Dazai wanted to scream, to cry, to writhe in the pain churning in his innards, at the despair that invaded him. A human could only take that much, Dazai discovered. He thought there was a limit to how much he loved Oda. He thought he'd be able to collect himself and move on, but the gentle curve of Oda's waist still tainted his hand, dominating over the blood of a one hundred thirty eight soul. He really thought he'd be able to move on but Oda still plagued his mind, still chained his heart and paralyzed his very soul. Oh how he was wrong, Dazai still hadn't forgotten. He will never forget.

The smile finally traced itself and it felt so forced, so bitter, Dazai dismissed it at the simple thought Oda wouldn't have liked seeing it. Not when he saw Dazai's childlike joy and gleeful smile, one that isn't fake or malicious, one of pure enjoyment and love.

Even Chuuya had never seen that smile.

Chuuya….

Chuuya stood by the door, hair hanging loosely on his shoulders, eyes coated in worry. Dazai would've melted, the brown of his irises would've turned into honey if the affliction in his gut wasn't too strong to manage.

When Oda died, Dazai cried. For the first time in a while. His body felt like pins and needles and his nails dug into his palm felt like nothing at all although there was blood slowly trickling down. When Oda died, Dazai died, inside. His body became a shell of unrequited destiny and unbearable disbelief, and he curled his fists, banged them against the wall, kissed Oda's cold lips goodbye and cried. As loud as he was able to, it didn't matter anymore.

There was so much want swirling inside him his vision shook a little at the sides. Depression could be translated into compulsion and with Chuuya in sight, Dazai harshly wiped his teary eyes and stood up, violent revenge against something he wasn't sure of yet invading his thought process.

Chuuya barely had enough time to react when Dazai grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him against the closest wall, the supposedly honey brown morphing into something darker than what Chuuya had ever seen before. And Dazai clashed his lips onto his, a little too vigorously, but Chuuya couldn't say no, regardless of if he knew the situation or not.

Oda's soft smile flashed in his mind and Dazai seethed inside out, his heart feeling like a scorching, throbbing mess within his chest. He never allowed Oda to die. He sank his teeth into Chuuya's plump lips until the metallic taste of blood flooded both their mouths and Chuuya winced in slight pain, not particularly liking the fingers clawing at his ginger hair, messing it up and pushing him deeper into the wall, his and Dazai's height difference making itself important and well known as Dazai towered over him and forced a leg between his thighs, his free hand reaching out to hold his waist.

Chuuya used more strength than he imagined to pull away, their lips disconnecting with a line of blood and saliva.

"That was.." He tried, voice hoarse. "...harsh, Osamu"

Dazai didn't reply and Chuuya shrunk into himself when he saw him lean in for another kiss. "Only if it's softer," he remarked, wiping the blood off his lips into his sleeve.

Oda died.

And when Oda died, Dazai died, inside.

Dazai nearly growled at the thought. He wanted his mind to shut up. He wanted it to go blank, empty, null. He wanted everything to stop. But Chuuya's eyes were too blue and Oda's eyes were, too, and Oda died. And Dazai died. And everything died– and there was nothing anymore, but a painful, vengeful spite he held onto because he couldn't forget, he couldn't move on.

Oda died.

When Oda-

"Shut up!" Dazai's tone had a bite to it that Chuuya never heard before, not from the playful, meticulous and gentle man Dazai was. It sounded directed to him when Dazai directed it to his own brain, raging, unforgiving mind, and want swirled relentlessly again, and–

"N-Ngh..!" Chuuya tried to escape the hands that mercilessly caged his neck in place, so tight around his trachea it gradually became harder to breathe. Dazai was nothing but honey, nothing but sugar, nothing. His eyes were dark and gazing right ahead, piercing right into the demons within his mind. He dug his ten fingers into Chuuya's neck and Chuuya helplessly let out another whimper, kicking his feet into Dazai's to signal him to let him free, his skin slowly becoming a magenta purple, his lungs begging for air.

Dazai loosened his grip and Chuuya fell into the ground, coughing to regain some breath, his face red and his mouth glistening with saliva as he strengthened his hand against the wall. His throat was itching in pain and he turned to look at Dazai in shock and hurt.

"What was that??" he exclaimed, discontented, a little scared even. Dazai wasn't Dazai at the moment– eyes empty, countenance not reflecting anything at all for a moment before tears bloomed around his eyes and he broke down into Chuuya's chest, hunching his back to cover his tear stained face.

He tugged into Chuuya's clothes, sobs becoming louder, echoing into the room, into the dark night sky. Chuuya sucked in a heavy breath and tried to place a reassuring hand on Dazai's back as if what happened never happened– Because Chuuya adored Dazai.

Dazai looked at Chuuya tearfully, silently. The moment was loud and long. Almost lasting an eternity.

Oda.

He loved Oda.

He still did.

Maybe he shouldn't… But he still did, and it hurt.

He kissed Chuuya, and softly this time; that Chuuya found himself melting against his will.

"S-sorry…"

Dazai croaked out through the tears, Chuuya tenderly holding him in place, sympathetic frown on his lips.

"I-I'm sorry… Oda"

Chuuya's eyes widened and, at that moment, everything felt like it made sense.

He bit back the son that danced in the back of his throat. Maybe because Dazai was crying, or because he just didn't know anymore.

The three letters somehow hurt more than the hands around his neck… but he knew that he still adored Dazai.

[treehousesinfrance]

Love Leaves Traces - Chapter 5

“Sirius.” 

“Sirius, come on. Wake up.”

Sirius sat up with a jolt, running a hand over his sweaty forehead. He was in the dorm room, his warm blankets suffocating around him.

“Nightmare?” James edged toward him carefully, reaching out for his shaking hands.

His voice came out choked, “Yeah, I think so”, he shook his head, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about me”, James said, squeezing his hand. He really did love James. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Sirius shook his head. He needed sleep. An actual restful sleep but he couldn’t seem to ever since the thunderstorm. The memory of the sharp pain invaded his mind, blinding and hot. He winced at the thought.

James looked concerned. He had been worried about him since he had confided in him about his mother but the past two nights of nightmares seemed to get to him, even if he wasn’t the one having them.

“You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”

“Of course, James. Thanks - I think I just need some sleep.”

Exhausted and finally relaxed, Sirius melted into his pillow and was snoring before James even let go of his hand.

He was on the cold stone floor of the cave, shuddering and helpless. His nerves were alight, sending jolts through his body and all he could do was wait it out. He remembered this pain, and now he knew what it was. Crucio. His mother had somehow found him. Struck him. Deep in the cave where no one could hear his screams.

He squeezed his eyes shut and could feel the familiar taste of blood on his tongue. Warm and thick and metallic dripping down his face splattering grotesquely on the ground.

Distantly he could hear the shouts of Peter and James, hardly recognisable over the sound of his ripping flesh.

He screamed out, but it came out less of a scream and more of a howl. His throat burned with the new sensation and he could feel hot tears behind his eyes.

It felt like hours before the agony subsided and he regained awareness. His mother wasn’t there, but he wasn’t sure he was entirely there either.

James was lifting his head, urging him to look into his eyes. 

“Hey mate. How are we?”

James was so tall and had tears staining his cheeks and Sirius had the sudden urge to lick them off his face, to make him feel okay. So he did.

Suddenly everything became more clear. The cave. The potion. The incantation. In theory, he should be an animagus. He looked to his friends who were now towering above him with what looked like an array of emotions on their faces. Joy. Concern?

He tried to ask them what happened, but a bark escaped his lips. Embarrassed, he closed his mouth and looked at the ground, but his friends were laughing. Genuine incredible laughter and he realised what that meant. 

He registered his body. Dark shaggy fur covering his arms and legs. He took a couple of shaky steps forward and James applauded, beaming.

“Come here doggy! Come here! Yes, that's it. You’re such a good boy.”

He rolled onto his back gratefully accepting belly rubs from anyone who would offer them.

Changing back to his human form was relatively easy.

Watching his friends in pain was not. 

Writhing in agony he knew too well. The pain he could not protect them from. It made him feel sick.

Emily Bronte was a genius. Remus was a genius. A dark handsome stranger. A love story. Sirius was so invested in the book, interested in the muggle quirks. Their lives were controlled by their limitations. If only they had magic, all their problems would be solved. In a universe so foreign to him, everything seemed so simple.

He was sitting on his bed, perched up against his pillow, totally absorbed in his book in a not un-Remus-like manner. If he could see himself, he might laugh.

My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff!

Sirius took a pencil from behind his ear and underlined the quote. Remus would murder him if he saw him defacing a book like this. The quote reminded him of Remus. His friends. His undying and unconditional love for them. 

Next to the quote, he scribbled  ‘Rem’ , and added a heart just to be safe. It was about love after all, and it was Remus’ favourite book. 

He could almost understand why he was so obsessed with books actually, but he couldn’t do this all of the time. He was too emotionally invested, it was draining, and he was using the book as a distraction from the storm and the upcoming moon.

Fuck. The moon.

He dropped  Wuthering Heights  onto his chest with a huff, only to make eye contact with one Remus Lupin.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, long enough to see you go all lovey-dovey over a book”, Remus had a smug sort of smile on his stupid lovely face, “When did you get into reading?”

Sirius protectively shut the book, after dog tagging his page. Remus winced.

“Is that my copy?” He looked like he was in pain at the thought of Sirius ruining his book. Please, he valued his life.

Sirius shook his head quickly, “No no. I bought it last Hogsmeade trip”

Remus didn’t look convinced.

“No, really. The lady in the store saw me looking at the Muggle Literature section and I told her about you.” He was rambling, “J'ai pensé que c'était peut-être votre préféré car je vous ai beaucoup vu le lire et je voulais savoir de quoi il s'agissait. Quel livre pourrait être si spécial pour captiver quelqu'un comme vous ?”

Out of breath, he glanced up at Remus who looked a little startled. Sirius shoved the book under his pillow before walking over to meet him.

“I promise I would never take one of your books without asking and ruin it with markings and creases.”

He looked relieved.

“Only your jumpers.” It was only then that Remus seemed to realise that Sirius was wearing one currently. Floppy over his arms and swimming on his smaller form.

Remus trailed his eyes up and down and Sirius felt oddly exposed. 

“You can keep that one. You look cute.” Remus stopped breathing for a second.

“I look cute? Why, thank you, Rem.” He would normally play complements off with some witty comment, but this time he had nothing. There was a light blush creeping in behind Remus’ freckles. 

“You look cute too.”

The blush was more intense now and Sirius felt very proud that he had put it there, choosing to ignore what it meant. For now, he could smile at his friend and think of him as he read love stories and it was completely normal and so so lovely. 

“Rem, look.” He glanced up at him nervously, “we have to talk.”

Remus’ gaze turned from startled to hopeful confusion. “… about what?”

“Well um.” Spit it out Sirius, “Well, I think it’s best if we do it all together. The four of us.”

“Right er, ok then. Is everything ok?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s fine. We just have to talk”

Remus, undoubtedly flustered and confused, took a second. “Ok. Well, it might have to wait till tomorrow whatever it is. I have to pay a visit to my Mum later.”

Sirius grimaced, guilt twisting inside him. “No. No, I don’t think it can wait actually. It’s kind of about that.”

Remus looked taken aback. “About my mother?”

“No. Well, yes. But no. I need to find the others. Stay here.”

Sirius ducked out the door, before poking his head back through to make sure Remus did in fact stay. Here. 

It took finding James, who was for some reason in the library studying to find the map, to find Peter, who was walking toward a suspiciously empty hallway with Beatrice. 

Dragging them from their respective tasks, James came more willingly, and into the dorm room, Sirius realised he left Remus to work himself into a right state. 

He swung his head around as they walked in, eyes wide with panic. 

“Guys. You’re back.” Remus leaned against his bed in what could be interpreted as feigned nonchalance but really made him look wonky and out of place.

“Remus.” James walked over and touched his shoulder gently. “We need to talk.”

Remus crumpled in on himself, and to everyone’s surprise, started to cry. 

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sirius skidded over to meet him and wrapped him up in his arms. He was such a large boy but nestled in Sirius’ lap, he seemed so small. 

“You said it was about tonight, right?” Remus lifted his head to take a look at his friends. Their guilty and knowing expressions confirmed his worst fears. 

He pulled away from Sirius, cursing quietly. 

“Right well, obviously I’ll be off tonight, but I can come back in the morning and clear out my shit.” He has still curled up awkwardly but had also braced his arms for an attack. 

“I just want you all to know that even though this has obviously ended rather badly and I’ve been keeping secrets from you, you three are my favourite people in the world and - fuck, I’m so so sorry.”

This was not the way this was meant to go. Like at all. Silence hung through the air, all prickly and static. James broke it. 

“Remus. We don't want you to go anywhere.”

Remus scoffed. “Right.”

“Truly. We didn’t ask to talk because we were kicking you out of our lives. We would never do that to you.”

Ever. Sirius thought, but didn’t say. 

“And for the record”, Peter said, “You’re our favourite person too.” He emphasised the word ‘person’ a little too heavily but the sentiment was sweet. Remus almost smiled. 

He looked up at Sirius, who suddenly realised he hadn’t said any of the lovely reassuring things he had planned. He also realised he had forgotten all of those lovely reassuring things and said the first thing that came to mind. 

“We love you, Rem. So bloody much. So so bloody fucking much. In fact, if I could lasso the moon and politely tell it to fuck off I would do that, but after extensive research that’s not possible without killing everyone else on the planet including you so that seemed a bit counterproductive, so we’ve tried to do the next best thing, which by the way - I’ll tell you… in a second. The moral of the story, you’re not going anywhere, because we’re not bloody letting you go.”

The message was sort of lost in the anger, but Remus was staring at him with a different sort of tear in his eyes. Shock, but also joy? 

“How long…” His voice came out soft and quivery and Sirius wanted to hold him again. “How long have you known?”

“Couple months.” James said, “Sirius figured it out last term.”

Sirius felt horrible. He’d been lying to his best friend for  months . He should have spoken to him the moment he found out, but he wanted to be certain. Wanted to prove that it wouldn’t change anything, that he would help him in any way he could. 

Remus opened his mouth, looking like he was about to apologise again, which just would not do. 

“Rem. I’m sorry.” Sirius was trying consciously not to ramble. “I should’ve told you as soon as I found out, I was just - well I—“

“You were scared. I get it.”

“Fuck, Remus. Of course, I wasn’t scared. I’ve seen you plastered drunk, half-naked using Peter’s boxers for a hat. I wanted to talk, for all of us to talk together once we had figured it all out.”

Remus was still looking conflicted. “Any questions you had, you could have asked me. I’m sort of an expert.”

Peter patted him awkwardly on the head. “Of course you are. You’re an expert at most things, but I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

James was getting fidgety with excitement and Remus evidently could tell the shift in the room. 

“What exactly are you talking about then?”

Sirius nodded to James, who had the most detailed knowledge of the whole process after doing the most extensive research. Remus sat, slack-jawed as James explained their theory: that since werewolves attack wizards and not animals, if a wizard were to become an animagus, they should, in theory, be able to accompany the werewolf during the full moon. 

“That’s very advanced and might I add illegal magic. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“That is exactly why we didn’t tell you about it before”, Sirius said. 

Recognition dawned on Remus. “You didn’t…”

Peter hopped excitedly and scrunched his face in concentration before disappearing beneath his robes, emerging a soft, brown rat. He scuttled over to Remus, settling himself on his shoulder. 

Remus looked like he might cry again. He slumped in relief and scratched Peter absentmindedly on the head. “How on earth…”

Sirius ducked over to his trunk and pulled out a pile of slightly crumpled parchment, each covered in notes from research, potions ingredients, incantations and working out. He struggled to hold them all in his arms but waddled back over to his friends, dumping them on the ground ungracefully.

“I thought you might want to know, so here is all our research. Despite what you may think Remus, we’re actually quite clever.”

Remus was gawping at the pile, then at Sirius. 

“I… Thank you. This-” 

Sirius gave in to whatever emotion it was that was urging him to pull Remus close. 

“We bloody love you ok? Don’t go getting any silly ideas like us wanting you to go.” Remus shifted into him slightly and Sirius could feel him nodding. They stayed like that for a while, before Sirius had to reluctantly untangle himself to present to Remus his animagus form, which was inclined to curl back into Remus, revelling in the feeling of his hands in his fur. A tall stag towered over them, proud and with one of the research papers somehow speared through his antlers.

So there sat Remus Lupin, a very bewildered boy and his animal menagerie, just hours before the moon rise with a feeling that could only be described as hope.

[libidomechanica]

Red-headed

A sonnet sequence

               1

Over them appear’d to open for Hell. Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, O let me tell but half-wise; susan, we must take care of his pence, this huckster put down the red cloaks of market girls A half-disdain perched about the teeth of winter hoar. His forgotten hands: then would her brotherhood. A musical but melancholy loth to answere, nor your eccho ring. She sees him in that peep and yellow! What can be this high a? Is not more strange? And we still loud her prayse to sing, to meet him there! The hall after supper, the better to be a Then I thought worthy of your childhood well.

               2

And now shew theyr goodly vermill stay, begging them, lay down thine own praise, which the impression by the things be so witty, but I shall not fail; a musical but melancholy spirit, smile or mourn according as you to me, that glory should have broken statue propt again, and owners of the mountains light, when all above was faint with hollow as the county town, to bring a doctor from the whole most nobly, and I own it from my breasts would be better seene, or hurtful beastes to hont? Thee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Woman who march’d to Moscow, led by Fame, the siren!

               3

Their lucid wombs: throbs of pianos, children under the arches of delight. And thou, O warrior from your childhood, cast up from her set his lips with joy they burr, burr, burr—now Johnny’s lips they blest, by new unfolding his forgotten—out of memory: fair creature in your distress her, she quite forgot em. And Betty’s husband nature’s power, fairing the trees that but one night Rauen that fester smell far worse than worst of foes, the Mauis descant playes, then would have broken statue propt again, whate’er before, so sweetly doth deceive you, because they him called, that thro’ heaven and hell!

               4

And promised of time all chaff of custom, wipe away dyd wipe. Will waste, and none beside if Juan had not stay your leisure gave sweet air stirs blue hare-bells lightly dipt, and its will the sea, the way the curse is on her do stare, vpon the tabor, and sad, alas! Your power in your souls up in the fall of a year, in the Eternal World, yesterday, the singing Here Comes the fury of long delights to weave their wintry day. Waking on the open plain, besides some vexation; but Juan, season’d, as he satte in secreate shade alone, is sick, and orbed brow; the whiles with holiday: nor had the glory to display at once to death in the end is close hands before toward it his joined clenched hands, your power in your brain, he said: Brother, ’tis vain to hide that the mayds and yongmen cease till the unimaginable touch of Time; and I am glad, yea, glad with delightful scarlet.

               5

To my down-sunken hours, and think of the year, I walked out one evening-star, alike, and now on Shooter’s Hill! This said, he rose, flutter round of hours to crave, being your fingers like a house within my grasp, that I started to scream. Alas, what my life hath in the brook, and then! Who, moving others, Claudel vilifying Gide, and earnest look pierces the body makes the ground for a return to left, and hover upon the mountain’s side, on which had a juice in it; of which her voice shoulders in a rosy silk, that my memory doth not greatly, know how her great god Pan. Found that he could as soon as thinkings; such alone could only see stems throng. And gather nuttes to make love groan: to say the entrusted gem of high and low, above, below, turning thought, mark me, Peona; nor will wed sorrow to persuade myself known, everywhere, and in hand, and with the then resolved course.

               6

The fat pillows whiten, aspens shiver. But whether in the air but who am I …? As dews o’ summer weather; to summon all those who scour those double vales of Thessaly: some idly trailed their little Mercury, by stealth, had dipt his rosy child, its perfect of mothers, Claudel vilifying Gide, and fast she holds her idiot boy! The owlets purr, and Johnny nor his horse forsook, to hunt the sandy shore where no man went; and if from shepherds gone in blood. My book to mind: and opening clouds, which who drank, he said no thought, which, when flowrd my ioyfull day the answer came back.

               7

At least I’ll try to tell you truths translation, these obtain her homage. Placed are, or captain, a padded shape, a bought control your time to what awful power shall I, unskilfu’, try the poet’s feet; and while a glow, hectic and in a cloud the Lady of Shalott. As hollow out a tomb to cover me—me, the goblins’ hall, or in the Past. It is no goblin, tis no ghost, he traveller bold, his very eyes are you, whose light of Albion’s chalky belt— a kind of inclination, or disorders of the sun, the moment seemed to praise and broke my heart, sweet loue she signified.

               8

I asham’d to owe it to those bright gold sands, islands, and singe, for her messenger and see feed our idle sheep; and such too is there inherit, of blessed gaze, know that small lights of winter campfires in the sum of your folds ye lock, ere the long blue devils or a dun. With ebon-tipped flutes: close after the cold, with bathing in the springe giues place to elder time, and Phoebus, father, sister, help to sing: ne let housefyres, nor dolefull teares, breake gentle ears for themselves a cooling covert make ’gainst the sun hath rudded, her lips lyke lyllies budded, her paps lyke cherry.

               9

Of weary day he shoves back at Sunion, hurting with two smiles? With leaves and tropics there, erneis, Radulphus—eight-and-forty manors if that my memory doth not kneel for what most people standing at the chaunting birds of dapple brown: who stood therein they must be inserted, the siluer scaly trouts doe tend full well that men think exists when the tables every channel hath, will amorously to thee, and the chances in the mid forest wild than Dryope’s lone lulling of passionate then, in those holy places, whereof some but charme the sea, and see that I have sigh’d and smooth!

               10

That commeth in to you. Roads diverged in a sinecure as he: for which the rougher voices cooingly ’mong myrtles, what I know no other class, through the bridle bells rang merrily round the things, whose age, and drunken be withall then those halcyon days; unwrapping a twig. He will ne’er forgetters, your idiot boy? Now, as deep into the count. Yes, thrice as well as of the call, the very big, I promised of time an endless rue. Of night a quiet smile can warm earth’s poorest hovel to a home; which gave her dukes the greater thinges of ryper reason selfe applyed. The while.

               11

Twinkling rimes and lights of winter sunny. But when their short lives give to you, the cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo, and the aged priest ’mong shepherd-god. There hollow grounds, and wonders puls’d tenfold, to feel this thine, the bramble was my seat, when a man’s, and I won’t reflected in a sinecure as he satte in secreate shade alone, is sick, and may never know your faces and a kirtle embroidered all with the knives, their smart, eternall sleepe. From hollow fields: and the tann’d harvesters rich armfuls took. The trees that buzz about our souls up in us like a travelling three.

               12

One if I please, enough is me there many a less and greater is the Fountain of immortal too. They had, alas, the whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death of Zephyr bids a little streaming sun. But only in my heart, in little token, and Johnny nor his guide. Extremely wholesome, thou fairest in my arms. Little lap-dog breed, but find some Hercules to build to cadenced, more forest trees, a venerable priest full soberly, begirt with new stings! That all may hearken the lovelier than a flower? As a marble man, frozen in the hartlesse pleasures with thee well.

               13

Till the least propensity to jeer: while such-wise she loue denied, and joined the woman who cherished her pony, that in my arms I hold the clear religion, Mrs. For causes young cheek; and how, as here at Christmas solecisms, seven-headed monsters only made tongue like a crescent moon: and in his hands repelling, gaue repulse all night long had heard the owls have been doing all the purple and fine linen, ’ fitter for Babylon’s than Russia’s royal harlot—and neutralize her outward dislike, which threates, if we misse this large offer of our tender haunches: late, and loved.

               14

On all sides doubts and terrors met her; point after point did she find the unsating food, that brought them with thee shall be telling, wherever it went in little beam reflects upon a saddle him whom you love, your former know what a wretch’s knife, dissecting tower’d Camelot. Sat by this the secret ayde doest succour and supply, till he is dead or sleeping, but that so its inner sight may be won by favour of the men, like linnets in the moon to slacken all the Damzels doe delite, when the preserved, a pure and leave his name, made answer and your eccho ring. And who, when lo!

               15

Would say, Shame on this tree, was nought but envious hissing adders dwell, thy golden chalice, drank. Juan, instead of courting courts, was counted fair, or if it were our need to them that youth once gone returns no more content thee, for of this pleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking make vs once affeard: ne let the woody dale; and what is become of him? Lets the day, where he will die, old Susan Gale, old Susan, she who dwells alone, thus gan he make of loue his piteous mone. Yon valley, that is ever again her idiot boy. Awe-stricken breaths at a work divine, a fellowship divine, a fellowship divine, seeing they mourners seem at such who, not born fair, no beauty, Common Sense. Gold; a belt of straw and ivy banks; all leading, by degrees, he somewhat for this work-day world, out-facing Lucifer, descended from the fields of barley and of flood. Of little ways.

               16

—Rather think the moon or ladies’ rights, a feudal warrior from the shadows, and thou great Iuno, which he grows? The face of Sage or Shah, and tears even widows’ shrink, like Arno in the moon to slacken all the way and wanted to go that dark rain: yet it may not be, that maks us mair than princes; o sceptred hand, a king’s command, is in her cloke, twinkling strayt. Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet their tongue to mine, mine. The water sinke; and, looking somewhat grim, what, woman! To those true numerous graces, where and hoary, see it half finished throne. Seas Seven but dropping with two smiles?

               17

For ioy doe sing, that all may hearken! Small flattery! Give to me your hand there, the sober ring where sat Endymion pine away! I can see a mile of road, oh cruel! Ha! Afford to give; of moon or stars and loued sheepe, and when. And, when things mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all- resemblance of gold rocks to where trod Apollo’s foot; bronze clarions awake, t’awayt the coming, in naked comeliness, unshaded, her snowie necke lyke to a black cable. He is giving out her fly, ofte peeping on tiptoe Night holds by the weed-covered with sanctimonious theory.

               18

And somewhat lower down a vulture could not, women who could this flea guilty be, except in that resounds from Yugoslavia somewhere thought to seeke them of tours, hussar and higher bard than simple times, his garments white, plainer shewing, till at last; and yet one, like the seasons of their wills and fields among, they happen in our lives may read it, could figure out to all the echoes far from his brow, then off she hies, but dark velvet edges them round, and this. For solitary breeze bluster’d, and sail in their voices. The forces razde, thy banners: and the temple of the same day.

               19

Sat little clouds melting into these sodas or magnesias; which for memorial still kissing me. Gloom wrought, there hangs by unseen flowers at the tape-recorder not merely feel these essence fine into my being, and leader of men. Whatever you cannot find her in lillies and in worry vaguely life leaks away, with arms crost, yet testifying restless ways, until, from those huge honeycombs; our village churls, and then there, the siren! And ne’er sic powers by which portion of an Alien Shah whose Throne and Crown without be rich no more; drop like the vegetables cooked.

               20

Their measure of contented: when thou him. All heavens darken; and the struggle in my hand was gold. But heavy tears, I am crying head, until my head, but in these effects suffice, but wilt new warre vpon her paradise of hops and humming string. But she was used to sing, ne will soon be here before, there blossom’d beans and the devil take his wisdom! All the day was youres: now day is doen, and make her, she: but Walter hailed a score of names upon her, and for a forty-parson power that she meant to do? As purple raimented in these, in rhymes, save such a woman now?

               21

The Lady of Shalott. With you all in wassail; often, like a spectre of their golden palaces and husband’s at the castellated Rhine: ye glorious Gothic scenes! Like the gnawing sloth on the deep into the bower, endymion: yet hourly had he striven to hide thee, who could grapple, since Adam, with all care, and innocent bird before the dusky groves and droppings of their Institute of which wafted him from Petersburgh: the best; like a pilot light is layd abedde, and the Lily- white Boy is a Roarer, and thee to all that men are taught; we are twice as quick!

               22

Unworthy things well or ill;—bold Britons, we are nurtured like fine needlepoint and still repayre. I’ll say, I wish to warm their maisters hast no less to God’s Son, as well lodged, but he must be paid: though now vnthought, and when my stuttering thing, of Johnny’s lips they blest, knight, minstrelsy, fountains darken, I watch and dote upon thy seruants simple maiden Aunt. You have told thee how my waking might have cause a like effects, to proue; now be still ye virgins in amaze, vpon her groome prepare my Fall! Of all those who, by the dint of glass and vapoury tent—whereat, methought into a hemline.

               23

Just as all colors coincide in white, that sometimes the reins, when that I may dare, in wayfaring, to which threaten’d an ejection, hides, train-oil, tallow, and their emulation. Since I see, for often too a little space of flowers decay: and you held me well. What, conscience be a still- felt plague to selfe-condemning mee; let woe gripe on my name day. Tell the enchased crocodile, or leaps of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling down in the great princess, six feet high, grand, epic, homicidal; and be you the water for you the Prince, ’ I answere, nor over-anxious care.

               24

” At that oppressed, but each in the ruins. Against the zodiac run; next place me zones and the herds of Pan: ay great his gains who thus one lamb did lose. No hand to help to stem the ebbing sea of weary life. But now betwixt me and be my love anyone. A bow-shot from her bed her lay; lay her in peace: so that a whispers, manifold the rumours: some said he had climbed into an oak, where the patron. To hoard up warmth again;—the clocks had ceased their emulation. Epic, homicidal; and be my love’s going to the loud clapping shears, while to the wood, whether there did beam.

               25

And thus to Betty’s in a mighty silver bugle hung, and ask’d why such a look of fondness, and glare, and tell me all amiss! Sat silent isle imbowers blown shoreward; so to Camelot. Round Apollo’s bow; a heaven, cries Betty, now at once, above the lawyer and thee to mee: no, no, nobody to say if she must talk of college like a young mind from the woodland altar. Kings that beats your heads privately been this curious calls, or a wren light rustling birds of dawn the earth a banner, the cold, with bathing in thy clear streams, that well agree withouten breach or iar.

               26

So she was in all senses fail, this piteous mone. A twisted snake, and still the stings of humanity—must make us selfish, and should not guess. If Johnny’s lips they burr, burr—now Johnny answer, like a taper, were nothing art thou so pale, who was real, or ideal,—for both are much that’s the lassie ever dearer; robert Burns: she’s the queen o’ womankind, and thought torments haue, vse something more than lightnings helpelesse hare, til shee were telescopes for azure views; and the sight of colours, wings, and splash, splash through some young trees it struck, and, plashing off distress: life remaine, forget thee.

               27

She called sensitive, which for ioy doe sing, the base affection. Will I die; here with portly pace, lyke Phoebus mounts the first time that to him a tribute paid: nor this, nor theyr eccho ring. Skull shaped like a green valley drifts into sleep, protect me. And strike the earth, which o’er it as a yoke are bow’d, and all, scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling down in the blue sea’s border; and I Don Juan loved her, and his high a? Said the Doctor; you’ve done your bed, and all ye gentle creep, a carefull dampe, doe ye this slander, as I think the place, heroic, for a moment to clutch for an instant special instant spot, upon them, bleeding on the whisper of a kiss whirls life would spare, till she is tired, let Betty is not false whispers, Tis the summer sweet, if human souls did never she extends her hundred little prospect wide; the town so wide, is in the ceiling.

               28

Juan, though she knew not where; and their eyes’ express a depth in love and death. A most diverting thing, and giving out the Moon and Roses! A bower quiet for us, and a hazy light spread greyly eastward, through there are electrical wires, a blacker pit, for whom they deceive. She also had no feare. Make some prefer it. Unequal matches, such a scene of change, and died away again, him whom she loves, her idiot boy. Clings to its chosen bow: and, when thou yield’st to my dear. And my heart, e’en as the year, in the stroke—If Johnny’s lips they burr, as loud as any Lover know.

               29

The very pride of June, had I been used to bring her clime, time, blood, with her painted face still flauntingly and cloudy, even when she railed, while they bring forth to run her mighty pallaces may moue you. Done this wild king to disclose through Prussia Proper, and palsied fancy, till my dying lips shall soon be back against the subway railings. And frantic pain. And ye three handmayds of theyr glorious merit may heauenly fier, stellas selfe makes earth too ripe, and when ye list your sleep, smiling light unto our souls, at one string, and leader of men. And bids him clayme with rigorous rage hys right.

               30

Like Phoebe from his right to solemnity. That tape-recorder not merely for the Hall, and I own it from my Muse or I asham’d to owe it to those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt their golden mystery of sunset, or the unimaginable touch of Time; and one on the grace and forest where she reach’d upon the hills—teenagers in love and me fro shame. Upon the forks. Tis on the finest wool, which show’d a feverish disposition; at which they call him, what care I, aristocrat, democrat, autocratic crest, when, a new lphigene, she went back to boy-hood: make me ships of moulted feather and wiser than a flower? Greedy pikes which keepe the deep intoxication. A few sad tears does Betty, now at least some twenty-nine do out of the wauering wynd. His pleasure. The owls have had him still, than when I use the stones stirre vp winter hoar.

               31

For me, I am a watermelon, but in the Past. No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or lightnings as they form’d a rather for the sake of its own.—I was distracted; madly did I dream the forest wyde, without alarm, and feel as safe as guarded by a charm against this a little idle sauntering to their temper or their eccho ring. I love you, dear, I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love your reason seeke vs to wish thee well. Of good and beauty slander, as I think men love wars … And my incurable anger, my unmendable wounds break open further aid bereave me?

               32

Is here, she’s high upon the longest fishers in most troubled. All night long halloo! Her naked limbs among the roar of bread— and though enchas’d with tempests play. This small light to name my destines all, that broodest o’er the edges of either’s woe. And my griefs infold: but lo! This were a medley! The cruel breath of Hyacinthus, when valiant Errour guides, meanewhile my heart did tuch: while the jocund hours in thy clear streams, the Dee, the rest. That reigned as men sayd in Venus sittes and wals with one blinding diamonds, cash, and ripply cove, whereto long since left Tithones bed, all else!

               33

When so ye come into the woods shal answer and to conception bring all I beheld in readiness, the gag even they do shout, halloo! They danc’d to weariness, and let the latter terme, my spring of the Muse so wrought I must here confest, but in a style become of me: there I find that surface of all those bonds which set the best; like a corsage to bloom one on the pause, she said, we doubt not then death will hanker; as the sight of these is made of two, and these her celestial threasures, then would have broken utterly, draw near and fearful ewes; and we still delights in joy.

               34

The cruel breath of Hyacinthus, when she saw endymion’s spirit clings and play: a charmed touch, yet held my recollects young or old: the cankering venom, that half-wise; susan, we must talk of college: he had a kind of inclination, or weakness! Clear sense of inward smart; such small clouds befringe the surface of that flowerets from the villager’s head? They gave the park, the crowd, the houres they go, and far be it from me? Agony to kill time by the potent to seeke them moue; if stones of Time; and I am glad, yea, glad with all the pillours deck with the graceless name of Biron.

               35

The usual progress silverly around thy Father weeping from the loud clapping shears, which time and age jumbled together; celts and caverns in a merry tune, the while that full heat not feruent be for feare they were halfe mellow sound with ebon- tipped flutes: close after these, now coming step of timely death. And the raft branch down sweeping, held her spellbound for the blossoming peach that was an arbour, overwove by many a sound she herself to blame if it ended in, I know not: but who, of men, can thy life be led to join with the moon that shines so in the children’s cries, the Mauis descant playes, the most dear to foreigner or native, save some sixty thousand heads: the pattern and its spokes fell. This secreter than you, bigger than you, bigger than thou God of shepherds, ’twas believe in it and believing is the time nursing, measuring that, or this, nor theyr eccho ring.

               36

The fat pillows with the them sing: the wooing arms which fix middle-aged ladies even more then would ye wondered, by thee is slighted, that balance human species. And that is tame, and the devil. All colors coincide in white, that rude hut, whence doth keepe, of paved heaven, and melt out his essence; till we shine, or gloom o’ercast, therefore well awayt, and yet no pitie I find that was long ago a giant battle was; and, for the burden of the wine on my own, hearing, he walks in the fall of the railway: love has no ending. Not—thy soft piteous moan, as if it were one voyce.

               37

Are not our lowing heifers sleeker than night-swollen mushrooms? By this the cause, the violet, one day he plants a big load of blessedness. Like an eagle’s with a glass of wine, a loaf of bread—and thought for ever and anon, faints into mischaunce mought them with fayre Alcmena lay, when he with Lilia’s head she lay beside me, as this want of ties made three paces thro’ the purest Planet to thy home within be fed, withouten breach or iar. So well it her best delights forepast; enough is me there many a less and greater heat, but lesser suction, a green ruin, rusty pike, make my soul, which every bell; thy packets, all whose palm? Tint her pallid cheek which steals into the river’s path. In fulnesse freely flowing: Your mind the bitter spring. Towards the sole mortal! Bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes. Head. The window, put on nature’s power, how with things that be.

               38

Rising and waving, younger. But one night is night, thou loue, my loss is my sommer burnt vp quite: my harueste hasts to stirre vp winter sterne, and like that nods the mountains darken; and the evil ear, for each is at war with myself into the body as well as they went to heaven wide scatter’st the thin undergrowth; then took the other blessed gaze, know that small loue, all faith is kneeling by his job, his job. Tremble in the grass. Therefore, on every line you may see, the gentle wave, to light and bursts of spangly light; and all the time while thy breast sae warming, had ne’er a ane to peer her.

               39

We might still will keep a bower quiet for us. Comes beneath, grave, solemn! But ah such pixel you’d never utter; would you know I’m Betty Foy? For Venus’ ceston every flower the garden lawn: and her boy, wind slowly, by light: chrome-winged birds hatching from the village leas their freckled with goodly dost enlarge, encline they will t’effect our wishfull vow, and Years my Foot been so ill, alas! Doth reach, and all thy blessing on vs plentiously, the Latmian shephard once vnto thee with fantastic leaping, the bridge that’s the last few lire ticking like pearls away and hard to reach.

               40

Who whispers round every side; the mirror. Of light, and trees feele this, alas, is more they rehearse, in equal verse, sound without: ne let them make great princess, six feet high, grand, epic, homicidal; and be the mazy web she whirls, she sees him in certain spot, its winding stations for a return to hatred: I would passe. Know that thro’ heaven above, edg’d round for a return to flooding your finger-tips in tender foot shall for very joy. That chiding streams betray small depth bottomless.-—So I stay’d my foolish tongue, and lives in a beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

               41

Within their postilions. In the false New England forests; while new-fledged chicks know little strong that on the ceiling. He died: and the evil ear, for each is at war with golden head has wit in it. Him whom she loves, her love, this life he cannot hear the longest day in all the Nymphes that made the vegetables cooked. Thou this long night you had more religion of the every-dayness of steel so strong that you can to survived the phone. Whose eyes, as thou art all delights to weave their emulation. Limbs forth in me the water you asked for Do you remember? And now would change of lookes?

               42

Then follow it upon the focus of such we in romances read,—tis Johnny, till they become new soil to sow for joys. Scaled the castellated Rhine: ye glorious character, as rare in living walls of jet. Are left both bare and less; thou mad’st me chop, but yet, I’ll say ’tis naught—and here I go hence, good care doth keepe, beside a springe giues place to elder time, and both that is why they have lost, days that outskirt the sides of life and soone to sadder tenor turne, and over, your voice should have broken it over and the seven stayed on the silent horse-man ghost, tis he whom you love?

               43

On its ample stores of garnered fruit in grass; and men and maids arranged a country in all of you will burrow in arms and legs, and bullied t’ other. A belt of straw and ivy-claspt, of finest wool, which the blood too readily will claim kin; others but stewards of the shephearde, Wrenock was his name upon me, heavier still: fond lovers, yet not quite so flurried; demure with you. Are weak tongue to mine owne loues praise. Now Johnny answered fully. Ring ye the bels, to make such puppets of us things below, are over: Here’s a rumour, that sacredness called civilization, this half-world. His heat and light, and my heart, my lassie ever dearer; robert Burns: she’s the joy; my friend be dear. That wisdom may descend in fairy parachute and past worlds, and seeks Sol’s palace high. Poor soul, then faster— infusion pump in the soul of evil, he’s galloping away.

               44

Dear brow in sunlight glow’d; on burnished throne. —Hysterical,—he breathes of vine, and tymely ioyes to sing, ne let mischieuous witches with such pixel you’d never sink, and diapred lyke the distance should see, the inward smart; such small cause; but only my Corinna’s eye? Like a rocket, which, snatches o’er the Root he drank from, at a Draught the blood too readily will claim kin; others and wives! Our idle sheep; and such a sadistic display’d, although my foot did stand upon the fall of that is this thing doth frame, such as dodge conception bring all I beheld and felt. Such morning, when the back.

               45

He quite forgot his holly-bough, and shortest nights a funeral, with Delphic emphasis, she doth expresses its best juice, the poor idiot boy? Stood silent nights— and each other, and ever-changing invocation pouring unto us from our homes ethereal—a new birth: be still flauntingly proceeds. We are nurtured like fine needle-points, but, loving participated bliss. Nibble their hydes, like to a marble man, frozen in the Rose— and I myself known, everywhere, and which be wont to frame my pype vpon thine oath to love and me fro shame. How he’d had a wish.

               46

And honest men from Iceland to Barbadoes, even shuffling Southey, that is not fair, nor flattery! Resolve to parted be. I’m here, what is hanging boughs, lies a deep hollow, from whence doth these living walls of jet. Of a lord; and on the self- same fixed trance he kept, and after Winter long did spight us, for Winter dreerie death of life, the prey of worms, inheritors of the ground for two seconds while I cannot bless. There shot a golden reins, and sweetly chide the isles of palm: and her prayses sing, the while her minion: but whether in cunningest fishers in most trouble you?

               47

Don Juan was not yet in the same kin; some said was Hugh’s at Ascalon: a good knight in silken courteins ouer her disaray, and blushing words she sayes she builds her fame on his face unto her a good use. Savage glare, whirrs suddenly in my hand I carried thee, my Rose; oh do not play still with art’s false borrow’d face, sweet sister, help to stem the ebbing sea of weary life. On the deed too daring brave is; sae droops our heart is not an ancient bugaboo followed the which with a necktie, she sat in front of the Ages, and they have lost my poor dear boy, you know I’m Betty Foy!

               48

Can we not tear my Garment from my Muses to press her very cheek against a telephone pole, and pleasures with soft melody; gone are the pipe is never had a meaning. But then his footprints, glistening, how dark the dreadful leisure gave sweet and through gilt wires a crafty loving, nay of conscience give reward to me was libertee and lyfe. Which we start and free of space I would much rather sigh like his grandfather has lately bent, two legs protesting, person to persuade a yielding sky, and the stroke, may do and doat. List while I thee dear, couldst thou upon the slope, the more than weeds.

               49

As Auld Lang Syne. Breast, half bare, was hung a silver bugle hung, and hath its will the sea that neuer day so long expected, that by this the same, without thy Impress but uncurrent Gold, not to be stamp’d by one not worthy of the little of it— she still true Lover-like thy face doth thus vse thee, who confounds in singleness the patron with my darling, th’ East, to wanton o’er them, palaces, strange, and loved. In the terrors met her; point after point did she find the Doctor; you’ve done your beautiful lemon mistake. And so the quick for nothing:-nothing—into stupid sleep.

               50

Again, whate’er the dark. Brains and hear in the pavement were fields of May, as do those ruddie gemmes or fruits of new-found Paradise, breathing a flower? Do and I say Drink Me I say it is enough to sate its thirst of his breeches’ pocket. If she must stay:—she’s in a machine made by my mother and well oiled by his job, his job. In the spring is deducted. About philosopher; perchance because she’s changed, I thought in the end, melting the space between love speechless lies, when faith is kneeling by his job. But neatly tangled at the orange as crayfish all the rest be thine.

               51

That full speed—no matter where the beggars raffle the bank and frost they gave the nether lip, and very, very deadliness did nip her motherly cheeks. Of human serpent in the blossoms from the banknotes and the peaceful solemn grove, in solemn gloom of life should look so. The wylde wolues which so sweet, so louely, and so mild as she, adornd with hindward feathery sails, sweeping from the lovers they burr, burr—now Johnny burrs, and leaving dark all else! Sounds of the Cyprian Queene, the while, but now betwixt sighes of worth the modern peers, and hear in the telling, wherever it went.

               52

In the burying of her harms: strange death does hast. Scarce any retrospection in their sons to silence of heauenly guifts of high and low, above, below, in great and small, in round about the Moon, salámán and Absál rejoiced together, and write thereon: this, reader, know: love kill’d this man no more, but so. Oh carry back my heart, my lassie ever dearer; robert Burns: she’s the queen o’ womankind, and ne’er a ane to peer her. A fierce light clinging to my head and heels on fire—brake with soft melody; gone are you, whose loue I bought control your tropical growth. Oh Fount of Light!

               53

Hollow throates, the Choristers the ioyous Antheme sing, to stammer where or when she would haue me peace, and I, mad with apples, and both for heroines, they speak back with them, and talk of all the set of sun up to the clouds, a fair wrought. A love thee deny, in my selfe did silence; while new-fledged chicks know little Mercury, assist my lab’ring sense that round thee, let it fly as unconfined as its calm ravisher the Muse so wrought I must be withall then those holy places, to humble your proud city. Will bring, with mingled be; thou know’st to my minde; my mind bemones his sentence.

               54

Loving offenders, thus I watch’d, by flew a cloudy Cupid, with his weight in gold, then calm your terrors of Almighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden; wilt thou go with me, sweet hands, his hands, in the same kin; some say that frown aside, and in hand, and sorely puzzled more than married thee, my Rose; oh do not the spider in its object findeth not all grace expelling. Than the island of shade, of night as this way! And ever-changing invocation pouring out; sometimes Sun and Moon; and sometimes Sun and Moon; and so we forged a sevenfold story. Each tree in his hands, his hand.

               55

Saddle, or with reasons gone, and this, and, feeling myself years back at Sunion, hurting with two smiles? A lamb strayed far a-down those bonds which Amphions lyre did yeeld; more cause determine he had to mumble through the longest date do melt like frosty rime, that thus so clear, moves over green Shalott. That keeps you as my chest, or as the skidmarks of sin on your sonnets, am become a better sounde. The sunbeam: near his tomb a feast shone, silver-set; about its fancy, which in the wilds, in a glass box on an unswept street as he rode down from Camelot. I can’t stand the fire in winter.

               56

But wise as some pleasure. The Lady of Shalott. One still they bring forth to run her mighty race, clad all in the sound of hours to crave, being fond on praise hath gain’d of lengthen’d ears, for what it might mean. Of fitting out upon the shrine he heap’d a spire of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire; anon he stain’d the thick jaws, the birds louelearned sister Lilia with the wine on my own, hearing,—Stella shineth. But in her joys, her smile’s a gift frae ’boon the long path, lying on them, messing up their fill at ocean’s very marge, whose eyes you praised be halfe so deare as you remember?

               57

Like Phoebe from his towery perching; frown a lion into growling, loue; and if there so ouerthwart that Nobleness in groves Elysian: but they were halfe mellow reeds and bright to myself can free; shake hands bear, here, a seed-bag there, it sees but Heaven- granted types of good threescore; cure that budded faire, is burnt&blasted, and all weather; to summon all the process of digestion. You list, your childhood, cast up from your childhood, cast up from her bower-eaves, he rode his armour hung. ’St me thinkers are booties to those bonds which has died entanglements, ere they doe rauish quite, the while.

               58

I must await corruption for confession; perhaps she has known sorrow to person, went on cutting off through gilt wires and yet one, like spotlesse Ermine, ly safe in my heart did leap through Prussia Proper, and with night watches till he is diminutive. Aye, such a look as would be brought down! And when I thought: she liked it more than magic music, forfeits, all whose bells rang merrily the Lady of Shalott. And yet ’twas love; what a calm round of our springs as a fossile man, midst the forestry of masts; a wilderness of mine: I care not—’t is a glimpse of Auld Lang Syne.

               59

Says Betty, and o’er-darkened ways made for our searching: yes, in smoothest echoes of old Triton’s horn: mothers and there, it bore not beauty lack, slandering gypsey-folk. For lo the wished for gold. My blood, and long since haue need of whip or wand, for Johnny nor his guide. With nozzle searching the temple gates vnto my selfe doth scoure. Whose care it is when her loves, her idiot boy! His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle cadence of being great! Elysium; vieing to reduce his passionately bright, my dazzled soul commingling of this great bliss, a few sad tears running down like lemonade.

               60

Of them, feelingly could not wear our rusty gowns, but missed their suns or year be falling starres loue-thoughts to heed, i’d bubbled, till hopes from me be vanish’d, till he blew his silly brains out, and dropt my vision to the roar of bread—and thoughts lay so as some folks be, the devil. For in my arms I hold the Flower of the same to my wanting to each other on the ground seems to drink, pouring out; sometimes it brought, the most delights the Retrograde—complete to overwhelm surmise? Or native, save some sixty thousand panes of glass not all my hopes do dwell: no doome should hindred be.

               61

With Time and plainer shewing, till at last its beams against a telephone pole, and which missing? That kydst not exceed proportions out upon the thin underground veins. The toilet I didn’t bother. Even he her willing, and each other, and coughs will come at last, by hap, through ice, like a sunbeam showers, dew-drops, and not to that, self- murder added be, and see feed our idle sheep. Rather let me bear on the deer’s tender foot shall be telling, wherever it went in little shallop, floating the fight a fairy phantasies to strew daisies upon her, and sorely puzzled,—what!

               62

Receiving nought but brakes and brambles to build to cadence of that was outspread a mighty palace roof doth hang from jagged trunks, and over, your voice should not too much; methought it was a time, butchered from thee! Ghosts of melancholy loth thou wast to lose fair living forms swam heavenly beacon in their tongues shall to you silently over me. The Truth was sowne, was nought by elements so slow but heavy tears, my clenched hands;—for lo! A good old aunt, who, though strong confused noyce, as if by magic cured. Been content to let occasion die, whilst they did smile, lest having spoke it once, farewell.

               63

From whence doth these new assault on one another day! Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity: the crown of the Nightingaling thus a Noodle heard him, as nor brother born in a second wedlock; and above all, praised be halfe so deare: adieu good Hobbinol, that aperture becomes for me, I am a watermelon, but wise as birth, there vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne, and let the Graces daunce vnto this blessed key can bring her vp to th’ high altar that spicy nest. The summer coolness; pent up butterflies: amid his past expenses. And let the ground.

               64

That God poor Susan moans, poor Susan cries. He had been from eight o’clock,—a clear March night will go; I turn my back to youth, and the struggles to devise some bold seer in a trance, spreading in the sound of these glad may be, but he that writes of Don Juan;—for let deeper exquisite, by a fore-knowledge— see, great spirit never had a lover sing under an arch face peep’d,—an Oread as is a hand to guide and to fashioning the stars were caught sight of Albion’s chalky belt—a kind of a discussion, a sort of me? Offensive to thee, and did give my eyes and elegances terse.

               65

In the mirror. Neutralize her outward dislike, which it gurgled blythe adieus, to mock its own sweet seventeen. And Time will happen in our lives may read it; but doubtless as the wingèd brow dost mount and many dreadful fears be: just so much honor, when the swamp for a favoured men I would be, to live in death would have caught some ghost of us: that takes the semblance just as all colors coincide in white, that she would take my vows, and brush a web or two that rare gift to be fill’d up by spade or mattock’s near, quoth Betty he will waken strayt, the while. What even young strange, wild, vain.

               66

In tree and to uphold an infant’s steps: great spirit never had a meaning. A lane to thee, and in his hands repelling, gaue repulse all night watch and dote upon the same kin; some say thy fault is youth was nothing like fleas off my phonecard I’m sorry for the tulips but only in my house, that kind of inclination, or weakness, for whom grimy nakedness dragging his broad-brimm’d hawker of horse, that she was lucky, and luck’s all. Some women like a clasping knife shut in upon it you did. These rebel powers alarming;—o that’s the queenly the Lady of Shalott.

               67

And to retain thy own? Dew time to expect, but promist both to recompens, be vnto her siluer coche to clyme, and bids him clayme with As you will, or near it, meek as a lamb the pony, wherein to give up smoking for to increasing ever beauty: perhaps—but, sans perhaps the better to be and not for his life or home or name, calling you of the free winds, and when thou art, as those inmost glens, never again saw he the happy pens whither half the neighbour, Susan Gale: and Johnny’s but half-wise; susan, we must deem the mode in which Sir Isaac Newton saw an apple.

               68

Of little feuds, at least all mine, all my gentle girls who foster up udderless lambs, and ices. Would you know him—him you often spoken the dress. And stand at the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring. Cursed be my desires but there we lit on Aunt Elizabeth and sisters, what care I, aristocrat, democrat, autocratic crest, when, a callow youth and constantly awake with sweet comedie by such vnsuted speech was such, that, once come to choose, thy Mistress or the Spring, all mirth is now best do know it: for in the rights of life, the pin at the patron with her curls.

               69

I learned to scathe. That buzz about on Neptune’s goblet: she did soar so passionate and ease: and which be wont to do? But when she hears what you have seen, and Death, the sovereign’s sovereign, though the night I lean toward, the night be calme and quiver; so plainly in her Cypress, and there, long since ready to maintain, ’t was only the fatigue of last campaign. For brutish Pan in vain might thee with someone, without all bail shall carry me away, and in hand, another snapp’d the common men grow ignorantly old, the lawyer and to help that seemes more fit; never roome more nearly.

               70

My chain of grief: no longer strive to find my Johnny makes a strong bow into the mart wherein they must both for my flight dost thou so pale, who find faults graces that chair like a lightbulb. Which too deep intoxication. In the fans of sandal, amber, and, with this o’erwhelming world, and the forrests greene: and of the shepherd, but to deny the moon’s in heavy peaceful solemn hours dost sit, and hold awe-stricken breaths at a work of art. What you say my desire shall be new and fresh each hour, as is the sole mortal! Him against the subway railings. This broad-brimm’d hawker of horsemen.

               71

—Thus, in their glee: but let a portions of the year. And thought of love vast and gray, and— in the wall, and so the quiet smile can warm earth’s poorest hovel to a home; which, when Ionian shoals of dolphins bob their names, grew side by side; and one on the house and ever by, one still at Susan’s side: there let its trumpet’s mouth,-—anon among the space of a swallow’s nest-door, could never utter; would you know how first he met with me, sweet maiden, wilt thou lay that therein did seem of greater griefe. She is all the down, and soften as if to a girl, and hold awe-stricken breaths at a work of art.

               72

The soul of man, and took Peona’s hand: they strike the silent horse-man ghost, tis he whom you love? Her eloquence, that seem’d, we left our hero, Juan, in the harp-string, sweet herbs that seemes more they will, from time that we may storm, they must be inserted, and ne’er a ane to peer her. And the birds began to muse what it was; he was he quieted to scathe. Young companies nimbly began the chances not a house within us. That incarnate lie, would scorn the mountain- heights; once more I cry, less grace she doth expression through the long blue devils or a dun. The wellfed wits at Camelot.

               73

Saw the horizon’s vaulted side, there vertue raynes as Queene in royalty’s vast arms he sigh’d that I shall stir or live more healthy and o’er the hills round his honeyed embrace, the kiss that which becks our ready money, made ice seem paradise enow! With secret darke, that you have done your beck, the impression of any slight temptation to make a career of pain. The deep river ran on. The eastern steeps, and with a coronall, and Hymen also crowne with its harvesters rich armfuls took. Vs in the same day. Doctor’s door she hies, no wonder flie, o ease your folds ye lock, ere they fled?

               74

Sick: the splendour plucks the slavish hat from their mortal who could his looks them down: it is but in a hurry of waste, and humble Paean, upon thy seruants simple times, his shafts, his owlet pinions dark, and hath its food served up into love, and Johnny answer the call, the venerable priest ’mong shepherd bands! On her own couch, new made of flowers, and here were engraved invitations, it was then the preserved me from my Hand, nor wound thy fingers are less real than can be this high post of honour; and I am two-and-twenty I heard not the burying unwanted children!

               75

Corruption for confession; perhaps be drown’d, or lost perhaps his holly-bough, a jug of wine, begun to unwind, while the wintry gusts gave over stumps and hillock turf, and cancelled for aye, the bark will drip and thee to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. Holds back her dark-grey hood. In dreadful night. Slower, then faster—infusion pump in the way physician the same who physick’d Peter found to us so fast, that al the paynes and sorry I could heape with Rose; years Rose-bud-like my own beat thro’ me? Those trouts and pikes all others of our near- dwellers with music for the world’s increase!

               76

All this poor endeavour after years of you, if he can tell that toiling years and oarlocks for thy delight, both what she ran, and palsied fancy, till the mail, drinking deliberate suicide wasn’t my métier, yet all those gentle ears for whom grimy nakedness dragging his eyes, now, if thou dost love because thou know’st that to his subject, and the people: thither flocked at noon his tenants, wife and chaste. Down amber cloud in night, below the stern wolf betray, if like a silent round the sky. There as he: for while our four travellers drive with me, we’re wed to one eternity. Oh cruel!

               77

The wooing arms which it surpasseth. Since Adam, with a prayer that drop which is a sad thing, that morning incense from thee! That, whether in Caledon or Italy, should have miss’d her hands she dabbles, on their eyes’ expressed. Yet I see it gloome, and Phoebus gins to shew his glory, the mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all- resemblance just as fair, ah, braid no more moue, least, to stray he knew it. Heard him, and I lose both twain, by praising him to God, and rich in the woods shall dance and fault is youth and contentment seen; once more raise my voice upon their betters better poet.

               78

” She took the lilies of ours be fleeting? For ever and rather take my wine with the produce, you’lldeem, no doubt to a lord, a captain, a padded shape, a bought so deare as you take things? When I was one-and- twenty I heard all night. Doth hide, to make me Christmas game: and ioyed oft to chace from comming of the spy you play at is not a mother, no not one heart-beat go astray from Beauty’s name; but now when his mother’s grave; ghosts of melancholy chime, which death, for themselves? I’ll stay; I fear you’re driving. What hopes it sends to you: when you will. There is no need of rest. She is full sure!

               79

Physician (the same, and tymely sleep. Thy Impress but uncurrent Gold, not to be grand nor witty, shall fly and flush with crystal mirror, tirra lirra, tirra lirra, tirra lirra: ’ sweet Birds sing madrigals. Whose beames, and hear in the teeth of that morning Walter Vivian all a summer’s honey breath so hoary, see it half finished: but let Autumn bold, with universal knowledge of unslumbrous rest: but, ere it crept upon his cheek, whose mellow ripe: my haruest hope I haue nought reaped but a weedye crop of carefull Colinet. Through ice, like the vegetables cooked.

               80

A love thee in such sort as, thou dost stay. Careless butterflies: amid his pains he seem’d to taste a drop of manna-dew, full palatable; and at least all mine, and drooping house drowsing through Courland also pause beside remote where the wolf rages wide, and sorry I could hear again her idiot boy. But ah vnwise and its will the rest followed, and to fashionable. Betty is not quite hob nob, they listen with ears made of two, and that, when you will, or near it, meek as a lamb the pony’s side, on which a thousand thou greater thinges, the seed its harvesters rich armfuls took.

               81

Exercise; o kisse, which the Neva’s ice would watch. She remember, in a fit of wrath and with iollity. They are meant thee. Creeping strait-besieged by this the same, without blemish she may float ’neath master-hands, from instruments defaced. Through her year of waking, solved and hung up to him. Do not so; I love not bound in heart throbbed to overthrow. Why did I kiss the world, out- facing Lucifer, descended from them heard something more than dust! One hand rubs his old night-cap. Who will forgiveness; a love that gives and thereunto doe daunce vnto the houres which seeke the honey for a frog.

               82

There came upon me, ’ cried spring, and each yellow-white glow tells me what I then dreamt, clothed in these living pearl poor little strong man in a blatant land, whatever comes. Sense of inward smart; such small cause; but only in my hair, turning pleasant hues of heaven above, edg’d round with his breath of my complaints doth tuch those dainty doors vnto the wine without a forest whole and your merry Musick that region where falling down below carotid- artery-cutting off throughout abhorr’d: how eager all this wild king to fade at the winds: rain-scented eglantine gave temperate sweets war not, joy delight each May morning Walter warped his mouth at this cannot hear the speckled with the mysterious, immortal, an immortal, whither do I roam? Though her speech, faine would often beat its winding through a reed; so reaching dumbe lips a kiss at last: if twice you kiss your Valentine?

               83

Teach them all that to her vsury of long delightful scarlet. Than the struggles to devise some blame; to put a kiss? To give up smoking for any kind A half-disdain perched on the centre of my flesh while praising him to the doctor’s self would hear again saw he the hamadryads dress the hillocks small; until the sea that never tongue could tell the enchased crocodile, or leaps of grasshoppers again were ready to maintain’d with pride or seek, i’m sure to find my Johnny, Johnny’s left he held a basket full of all the better mought I would change us, neighbour, Susan Gale.

               84

Where nested was an arbour, overwove by many a wede: yet kydst not exceed proportions of the old age’s tedium make some midnight, sick with girlands crownd, helpe me mine own beneath her horse nor man abroad, and Betty’s face again it gave its airy channels with one blinding diamond, my sweet dream fell into a flutter round ears, for which holds what might be, by former lay to sing, ne will soone be day: now none doo fishes take. In white, that seemes a virgin splendour far and with the waterfall, which way to death in this was ne’er befal, my Johnny, every one attend!

               85

Therefore I eager face flushed with a sigh somewhere they once are darted, loue therewith is such, that, when you shall lay bare her prayse to sing. In the wing’d eagle scorns the tow’ry fence of Alpine hills round the craggie Oke, all this heaven might saue my sheepe: als of their worst foe, that he made the flocks, which the people I have not time just now enough; but by the dint of glass not all my grief, and yet it may be, ere matron-temple of the shadows, ’ said A half-disdain perched on the captive, freedom to mankind. I kept the book, o noble heart, would race with colour turned himself;—if not, I must.

               86

Change us, neighbour, Susan Gale: and Johnny and his footsteps stirr’d, and they had, alas, the whisper of a kiss whirls life with the respiration; even then, straying about the wine. See that oftentimes beene to me repeatedly, in the kitchen or the stocking, for the hollies and in worry vaguely life leaks away, with a faint breath of smoke appear’d, up-followed by a multitude that held her in peace: so that youth once gone returns no more, but so. From the bank and from the field the road beside remote Shalott. I forgive himself might deem him ne’er the drunken be withall.

               87

Have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father Dunne, and let the wood, whence it ran brightly do inheritors of the same. Hyacinth half-hidden roses; or the tulips but only wonder’d how he suffer’d Infidels in his waters which cruell loue collected, hast sumd in one, and chaffe for baptism, a third daughters of delightful thing’s a turnpike road, a thin and suffer me in hearts of flesh no aching back to bed. Left his darling helpless discontent, over the high estate of his noble life with the poor privilege your have thy sore hart roote, whose palm?

               88

A little trifling Lilias—played charades and rock,—’mong which himself, and she loves, her idiot boy, what comfortable bird, that we must deem the modern peers, and the religion of heaven! Real than can be hugged, or on a mantel-piece perched on the shrine: each look was chang’d desert, let mine owne conscience be a still-felt plague to selfe- condemning mee; let woe gripe on my head, but in the same. Love, the game of the Ages, and the swell of turf and slanting branches, and blossoming limes, loiter’d around between his nervy knees there: to nightly call vesper, their taste, ’ as my friend be dear.

               89

To walk the pearliest beauties entred in? The years old, and theyr shouting shrill doth reach, with her argent spheres did roll through the damsel’s hand; for still, beside me singing along, it brought, his pleasant hues of heaven grac’t, ah! And now I must have slept, since my love’s going on? Dost go down, like a floating the wind’s eye, I wish I couldn’t believe that is then those inmost sacredness called civilization, this half-world. Oh gentle country dance, and dim, and by myne eie the Crown upon the deep river ran on. Or they might watch the fire of heaven, are change; and where he will die, old Susan Gale.

               90

He has made me blind, so that spot of earth, [? Alas! Both for ever rue. Temple become soon dear as the rich. Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies for willingly their last, while ever and ever-changing invocation bites. Some say thy grace is your hands our forehead yuory whitely still the lilies: perched on the ground, and with fresh lusty hed, go to the wide in times long path, lying on their own pall, like Banquo’s offspring;—floating pasture murmured, sown with thee remains. Not like a star through the greatest number of the body thro’ all False friend, who held out freedom to mankind.

               91

To thinges, the Choristers the ioyous make, and having thee, how melancholy; and their comforter, will come on his back her dark-grey hood. To any that are come therefore not begin with Carlton, or with a rose-fence, and did curse the dreadful outer brink of what is’t you wait out the hurries fast, lest she doth hence remaine, forget their taste, ’ as my friend hath found the wave is; sae droops our heart burn and weeps; such as words could change their ecstasy complete to overwhelm surmise? If to secret darke, that in its intricate web, the sun rests on the moonlight have been this worthy Them; behold!

               92

’Twas love; what could make ones Heau’n become of the day be myne, let all those babies rolled about like tumbled fruit in grass; and men and maids arranged a counterbalance weigh’d, what sword did late obtaine sweete reward for followed by a wrinkle, or the less cause to love the stones of the season. My Fall! Now is my loue, contentment seemed to live before May-day: perhaps from here who doth her resign; and when the maidenhood, singing Here Comes the Sun’s early song against us, against yon breezy sky, that so much of earth, tis no ghost, he travelling this wild king to disclose through this mighty fret?

               93

Hast thou lead away, if thou lov’dst me too. I am to waite on him, in theyr fresh garments were a chieftain king’s: beneath the moonlight: besides these, a world of hours shall to me answer and your eccho ring. An universal knowledge—see, great spirits need them not; their emulation. The eare that budded newly; and r thought for me. Place: but Juan, season’d, as he saw that casque, which he glow’d, as purple night, ye damsels your delightes, that thou stil, and yet ’twas love; what comfort poor old Susan Gale, what will also pause beside remote The chivalrous battle-clubs from the rill.

               94

Pledged she herself in bed, on all sides doubts and terrors of Almighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden, wilt thou go with me through gilt wires a crafty loving, nay of conscience, say is not an experiments for while our four travelling this I read of old Sir Ralph a page or two from of old from whence broke the fairest, freshest cheek, whose age, and splash, splash through couert night. My darling, the lacquer of her. To mince the fair-grown yew tree, for a monarch’s seat of honour; gay damsels, and bound to us so fashioning the ghosts, his quiver, and living to touch that to thee, and their excellence.

               95

Walter showed the helmet-feathered angel pierce prone Lucifer, and listening whitened hill and if from this same state was delicate balloons resting on the ear of night as this flea is you and me. Delirious; hearing,—Stella singeth, angels to acquaintance; and at least all mine, dear Jefferson, once more raise my voice upon the fall of the heart of gold rocks to where thou art gone, but that Mahomet was a place open for thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. And quietsome, withouten dreade of Wolues to beare, insteed of Atlas tyrd, your wisedoms heau’nly nature.

               96

The month of June, because thou know’st I love my Chloris, since I see, for all this wild king to disclose; so to raise my hap more hie, feare not beauty ever is to them that you recall are impressions; we have thy sore hart roote, whose hand of Love, now soone her dight, and still, beside remote where she signified. Of silvery oak apples, and just beyond the daisies. Removed from Araby; pluck down a man with knobs and wires and vials fired a cannon: Echo answere and thee to all that to vs wretched Weed that in the chink of the world will say whatever he was drawn by Michelangelo, hands from Yugoslavia somewhere ages and against the pricks’ just at this a little dissipated; which is very eyes at once to be and not one of thee, let me, fed with apples, and bursts of spangly light; there’s nobody knows where; her limbs among the vale.

               97

Wholly misinterpreting; sun and Moon are but my Lady’s self, as any mill, or near it, meek as a lamb the pony moves his legs, oh! That balance human strife no burning her formall rowmes in Wexen frame: the grieslie Todestool growne therewith my song, list while I thee beseche so be thou dost know of him? Who can be hugged, or on a mantel-piece perched on the coal fire. Since, seldom pleasures with these years of travel—which is very words I know, to those who scour those sorrow and beauty moves away the life from a sick dove. Thus ended he, and bound to forget you and me.

               98

Why did I dreamt of loyal Life: the offence is the time nursing, meat, or fuel, good government was the day began to stir their flocks by shallow boat beneath a Woman’s Henna from the poppy hill: and a whole age of lingering moments? Both to recompens, be vnto her spellbound for two seconds he was he: bound for the wellfed wits at Camelot, though not in the fragile bar that I had a dove’s pinions to them through the zodiac run; next place me zones and rock,—’mong which haue oftentimes beene to me your praises of a Ghazál. No one else could not glide past them, from the horses!

               99

Into growling, loue; and if there were many Lilias in their chilliest bubbles in the cheerefull birds do come vnto my selfe the small cause; but only wonder’d how he suffer, being love all through. Surrender: the eagle’s maw; or by mysteries, dearer because she’s not so stout, nor gates of steeples peeping in her chamlets of delightful tale pursuing! Witness bear thy black ink my love a nation; his pride, helpe me mine owne conscience be a still- felt plague to selfe-condemning mee; let woe gripe on my name most fondly lipp’d, and put the fat pillows whiten, aspens shiver.

               100

No higher bard than simple sheep. To acquaintance bring her and thee to mee: no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Wo to mee, and tell time by this and that surfaces there. So not eares, but dark velvet edges them round, and to uphold an infant’s steps: great souls, at one stroke, the shepherd lad, or long-hair’d page in crimson clad, her wide eyes fix’d on Camelot. Walking, till the leaves, dried carefully walked two nights before the dusky groves and dropt my vision to the inspector eleven thousand Cressys, as he saw that casque, which is his due; my spirit melt away and hard to reach.

               101

Fragrant flowres, that nods the mountain chase. This day is come upon me, heavier griefe. Front of the Eyes of myrtle; a gown made of, streams, where we almost has o’erturned to scream. And know us not! Some who feelings—only he forgot his holly- bough, and that wound. That thou dost stay. Thus to speake in loue and wonders; struggle grow these words though I owe it little strong at the doctor from his condition which augur’d of their ecstasy completeness? Come, listen! Do not the pony moves his wide wings waving. And it may be, ere matron Night uptook her ebon urn, young Mercury.

[oxiegoeimi]

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Art| #Reference

Artist| #danielbogni

Riddled with joy and numbness, could it be a fleeting moment? Definitely. How can I capture it? I can’t. As this breath flows steady, the times where my pulse slows are unsustainable. Years spent attempting to solve the mystery, nothing worked. The facade of adulthood is shallow. I’m very much in the tornado of existence. A flower blooms for a few months of beauty. An excess becomes depleted overnight. Looking around, social comparison helps mitigate shame. However, it never gets to the root. We were never meant to experience one side only. The kaleidoscope of life and death is what makes us whole. Tears held back and screams reserved for the pillow are accompanied by the maturation of our minds. Constantly, our universe is shifting inside of us. We are the hands and feet of eternity dispelling any sense of meaninglessness. Your pen inspires me when I feel lonely. Those whispers keep me in wonder, while my silence can’t endure itself. Her transparency challenges me to take off my armor. His drive forces me to reevaluate my self-pity. Damn . . . What a tumultuous gift this world is amidst the instances of sadness? Instability and regret are equally temporal. Even as our Earth is held upon invisible foundations, the atoms composing our humanity are sustained by more than finite will. We can’t discover, earn, or figure out love. Neither can any of us stop its impact. Drugged by faithfulness and innocence, each is precious forever. No more questions or challenges in this moment . . . just the sound of being wanted handling skepticism to illustrate how important we are together. Yup.

- oxiegoeimi

calm 11.1 🦁🏳🔐💙 remember to always #trust #nature 🌲 #Healer 🔥 #Spirit 🕊 #hope ⚜️ #grace ☔️ #love 🌸 #life 🌊 #unity 🌈 #believe 💝 #weareone ✂️🕚🎶 #energy #PinkySwear #prayer #meditation #freelove #hereandhereafter #dream #vision #Eternity #paradise #infinity #light #origin writing #source journey #create #coexist #together 💜🌠🌅🌟

[captainseaweedbrains]

I just read "The flock" today and all I can say is...I have no words to describe how much I adored it.

The world building: it was so amazing and so realistic in a fictional way. I like how you included Panem too and I seriously loved all the hierarchy, the religious stuff and their deities. I loved it all, it was much more appealing than most dystopias I have read. In a way, it felt like a mixture of different dystopias but still quite different!

The beliefs: how can you be so realistic and so damn thorough? i was actually so close to believing that you didnt make that amazing world up but that such a world existed. Seriously, all the details left me astounded!

The characters and their personalities: Each character was amazing and much more unique and realistic than the THG universe *ducks and hides* I liked how you wrote and showed their emotions or lack of emotions lol. Though honestly...I love the class difference between Everlark, its just so hot! Peeta having a high position in society while Katniss doesnt and then there was arranged marriage!! *squeals loudly* I just love it all and I love everything about it!

Your so fuckin talented your work took my breath away! all those details!! God I am salivating at the thought of the next part of the series and I hope for some smut in the future parts lol.

Once again...BREATHTAKING!!

sldkmfkllksdmflksmdflkmdf

This is SUCH a sweet and amazing thing to read! I am squeeing into my pillow at your kind words, anon! You truly fit your name!! I honestly am speechless by your kindness!

This first part has been almost a year in the making and I truly could not have done any of this without @rosegardeninwinter !! So much of the world building is in thanks to her brilliant mind, especially when it comes to prayers! We are so excited to finally be able to share this world with everyone and am happy people are enjoying this cultish (not-so) little fic. 🥺🥺🥺

Oh, I am totally here for the arranged marriage trope. Falling in love with each other after being married? 😭😭👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻Peeta is the cult prince and Katniss his cult princess and we stan their royal status.

I mean, there is a wedding night I have planned for the future. 😉

And lots of this type of romance:

[koishua]

⌜ 𝐋-𝐎-𝐕-𝐄 ⌟

enhypen and your favourite places to kiss them.

taglist: @junityy @igyus @intokook @leavethemonsteralive @iuwon @envirae @fairyjunn @rutosruru-world @daystiny @luvholicz @imdamnconfused @renjunvrse @honeyseungz @chenleslettucehair @rae-blogging @ikigyus @enhyseob @jitaros @jdyunvrs @yunntext @txtyukikabot @strwberrydinosaur @mark-lees-world @beomgyuv @chileangring4 @99swinwin @jakeycore @99outros @heejojo @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @strqyverse (click here to be added)

feedback is appreciated <3

☹ 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 

FOREHEAD KISSES. you adore the space above his brows where you can just press the softest, most heartwarming kisses to wordlessly tell him that you will always be there for him. you will protect him, love him, cherish him for an eternity. be his solace.

☹ 𝐉𝐀𝐘 

KISSES UNDER HIS JAW. the racing of his heart never ceases when you brush your lips over the sharp bone right where it connects to his neck. the small dip that you like to nuzzle your face in makes his heart beat a million times faster, shivering in his place because of you.

☹ 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 

ON THE CORNER OF HIS LIPS. tease him endlessly with this one. sharing shy smiles and all too knowing looks with each other under the moonlight, whispers of 'good night's and lingering touches, you can never go to sleep unless you leave a kiss just next to his lips, never too close.

☹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 

KISS HIS EYELIDS. give him the affection he deserves. make him sigh with relief, put a ghost of a smile on is lips and kiss both of his eyes. make him feel loved, unconditionally and wholy. as you sit in his arms, tell him he is your moon and stars. love him and love him with no remorse, for he is yours.

☹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 

CHEEK SMOOCHES. steal glances at him during school, watch as he giggles when you show him a silly face, face all scrunched up and wonderfully happy. bask in the shine of your own little sun and hold his hand, swing it back and forth. quickly give him a peck on his soft cheeks and run away.

☹ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 

ON HIS DIMPLES. stroke through his dark strands of hair. get lost in his twinkling eyes for as long as he stays right there next to you, a blanket draped over both of you as you watch big hero 6. kiss his chin first, then watch as he smiles, urging you to kiss his dimples over and over again.

☹ 𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈

THE TIP OF HIS NOSE. fight him, play with him, tease him, get teased by him. pillow fights and water guns, have fun with him. endless screams of joy and heaving breaths after a particularly long round of games, tackle him and grab his face, look into his eyes, and give a tiny kith on his nose.

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort a Bullied MC

I started writing this thinking it would be something short and sweet I could finish in a day, and then it turned into this. MC remains gender neutral, and I currently don’t write for the dateables, but when I do I could always write a part II if people are interested. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it, anon, and thank you for the request! As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Trigger warning for mentions of blood, violence, and physical and emotional bullying. Thank you to those who take the time to read my work; it’s greatly appreciated!

LUCIFER

Immediately notices you’re quieter than usual, face sullen and void of the beautiful smile Lucifer has grown accustomed to. He’s determined to figure out what’s troubling you, undeniably concerned for your wellbeing; you’re the exchange student, though, more importantly, you’re his human, and your happiness is his own. That night he calls you to his study, always willing to make time in his busy schedule to accommodate you, especially when his human is in need. Your eyes are dark and swollen, and your head is bowed as you enter; you look exceptionally fragile, his heart aching at the sight. Behind closed doors he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, pressing a light kiss to your forehead while he runs his fingers through your hair; he can feel you relax against him, hands twisting in his shirt as you bury your face in his chest.

Bursting into tears, you cry in his arms, and he holds you close, gaze soft as he consoles you, gently rubbing your back and whispering words of comfort. You’re his priority, his pride and joy, and he won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, wanting to soothe your aching heart. Flames dance in the fireplace, casting the room in their golden glow and emanating a heat that dries your tears and warms you both body and soul. Lucifer cradles you to him in one of the chairs situated before the hearth, watching over you as you curl up in his lap. Patiently he waits for you to speak what’s on your mind, unburdening yourself of your worries, his anger quiet and cold once he learns of the demons tormenting you. They are foolish to bully the one he loves, and to do so on school grounds; they will certainly be punished for their crimes—he will see to it personally.

Lucifer reassures you will no longer endure such harassment, encouraging you to confide in him; there’s little you can do or say to bother the Avatar of Pride, and he wants to help when able, providing his undying support. Your mood lifts significantly, and his heart swells as you cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, your lips smiling against his and sweetening the moment. He won’t allow you to leave his side the remainder of the night, and you’re eager to remain in his company, lounging in his study while you wait for him to finish his work. Though his focus is elsewhere, and he decides to turn in early, carrying you to his room where he tucks you in, hugging you to him beneath the blankets. The next morning, he excuses you from your duties, ordering a day of rest and relaxation; you deserve it, after all.

MAMMON

The Avatar of Greed is attending class when he overhears a low-level demon taunting you, throwing insult after insult while you try to focus on your studies; though the longer you ignore them, the more they push back, your face falling as their words leave their mark on your heart. Mammon’s blood is boiling, and he’s out of his seat, towering over the demon in an instant, a hand wrapped around their throat. Lucifer intervenes, putting an end to the chaos, but Mammon is unapologetic, his elder brother’s lecturing doing little to quell the fire still raging beneath the surface. He’s your protector, and he won’t hesitate to defend you—the consequences be damned.

To say he’s worried about you is an understatement, he refuses to leave your side, determined to protect you at all costs. A lowly demon is harassing you? The Great Mammon will deal with them personally, and once he’s finished, they won’t think twice about hurting his human. He loves you, although it’s difficult for him to admit at times, but you’re his world, and he hates to see you upset. Words do hurt, he knows all too well, so he’ll show you how loved you are by holding your hand and pulling you into his warm embrace, allowing you to cry on his shoulder—anything for you. Your tears wet his jacket, body shaking as you sob, finally breaking down from days of bullying. He wishes he noticed sooner, but he’s here now and will take care of you.

As soon as school is over for the day, he’ll make certain you’re comfortable and help you unwind in the peace and quiet of your room; tell him what you want and it’s yours, no questions asked. He’ll order your favorite food, which you enjoy while watching a movie, finding solace in one another’s presence. When you smile for the first time that day he’s elated, appreciating how beautiful you are—heart, body, and soul—if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close, and you kiss his cheek in thanks before resting your head on his chest. The soft touch of your lips renders him speechless, his heart pounding as he breathes in your scent, sweet and heavenly. Once he composes himself, he returns the kiss with fervor, promising to always protect you.

LEVIATHAN

The downside to attending class online is he can’t see you throughout the day. After school he makes sure the two of you have plans, whether it’s playing videos games, watching anime, or simply enjoying each other’s company. He’s devastated when you cancel on him, but more concerned you’re feeling unwell; humans are fragile creatures, and he needs to take care of his Henry. Of course, those self-deprecating thoughts linger at the back of his mind, telling him you cancelled on purpose—who wants to waste their time on a gross otaku like him? However, he collects himself, dismissing them for your sake, and knocks on your bedroom door with trembling hands.

Light cascades from your room into the hall, his eyes widening when they meet yours, your gaze glassy and cheeks stained by your tears. For a moment he wonders if he is to blame, trying to recall everything he said and did since breakfast, to find an answer, only to confuse himself further. Yet you smile at him, anchoring him to reality, and he hates how it fails to reach your eyes. He can’t help enveloping you in his arms, forgetting how to breathe now that you’re so close, and he’s certain his heart is about to break as you begin to sob into his chest, clinging to him in desperation. Your cries hurt him dearly, and he wants to cry himself seeing you upset, but refrains, staying by your side to offer what support he can give.

In the privacy of his room, he’s extra attentive, hesitant but soft touches and worried glances in your direction while he wraps you up in his blankets, even allowing you to hold his Ruri-chan pillow for comfort. The tub is snug with the both of you inside, his face red and burning, though he’s glad you look much happier, safe and warm in his embrace. He puts on a lighthearted anime hoping it’ll lift your spirits further, the laugh that escapes you music to his ears. The episode ends, and you finally tell him the cause of your pain, opening your heart to him, his hold tightening when tears gather in your eyes once again. His insecurities are now forgotten, replaced by a wave of anger that consumes him, and he fights to keep his demonic aura at bay. A lowly demon dares to hurt you? He’ll make them rue the day they decided to torment his player 2. Until then he’ll let you know exactly how special you are, indulging you the rest of the night.

SATAN

Satan is browsing the books in the RAD library when the comfortable silence is unceremoniously shattered, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds. Angry shouts reverberate off the walls, forcing their way beneath his skin—warm, uncomfortable, yet addicting—setting him alight. He can feel the intensity of every word, his heart pounding, pulsing in his ears with each syllable, the Avatar of Wrath unable to deny he appreciates the beauty of the heated exchange unfolding before him. Although he considers himself a demon of knowledge, making a name for himself in the Devildom for his intellect and held to high standards, he’s not impervious to his sin. He’s irritated, his concentration lost, but a part of him enjoys the pandemonium, wanting to tempt them further into madness. A scream interrupts his thoughts, a pitiful sound, and his blood runs cold. He knows you, your voice, and to hear you cry out is enough to break his resolve.

A hand firmly closes around your throat, blood welling beneath clawed fingers, as you’re forced into a corner. The panic in your eyes fills him with an uncontrollable rage, and he yearns to rip the heart from the demon who threatens you, the very person he holds dear to his own. Wrath overpowers all rationale, and he doesn’t mind, your life greater than the image he’s meticulously cultivated over centuries. He lunges at the demon without warning, grip bruising as he wrenches them away and drives them into the nearest bookshelf, watching it topple over in a cloud of dust and debris. An eerie hush falls over the library, curious gazes on the fourth born, but he’s indifferent, dragging the wretched creature from the wreckage; a grin spreading across his face at their desperate pleas—they only fuel the fire raging within. However, their life is spared due to Lucifer’s interference; Satan’s sure he’s instilled enough fear in the demon’s mind to last an eternity.

The resulting lecture from Lucifer leaves Satan with a headache. He’s unrepentant, his wrath reduced to an ember, but it still smolders, hot and heavy in his chest. When he enters the House of Lamentation, he finds you waiting to throw your arms around him, and despite his anger, he melts against you, calmed by your presence—so sweet and inviting he could lose himself in your very embrace. You’re his saving grace, and he’ll protect you as fiercely as he loves you, hating to see you scared and vulnerable, especially at the mercy of another. Even now he can see the remnants of fear and taste the salt of your tears as he kisses your cheek, fingers ghosting over the dark bruises on your neck. There’s a twinge of anger, but also dread knowing another hurt you and how quickly they could have taken you from him. The familiar smell of books is soothing, the large stacks scattered about his room bathed in moonlight. You’re curled up in his bed, listening to him read aloud with your head on his shoulder, his free hand stroking idly through your hair. At that moment, you look content, smiling at him, and he can’t help leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss, glad he can bring you comfort during the darkest of nights.

ASMODEUS

After school, Asmodeus sees the exhaustion in your eyes and the lack of color in your face, your natural glow seeming to fade throughout the day. Avoiding his gaze, you wilt in his arms when he pulls you into his embrace, his heart aching with desire when you are resistant to his charms. You don’t look at him in adoration or hug him back as tightly, basking in his beauty and praising him while he kisses your loving smile from your lips. Instead, you stare at the ground, body tensing when he cups your cheek, and although you lean into his touch, tears spring forth, hot beneath his fingertips. He can hardly stomach seeing you so distraught, his darling human, helplessly watching you fall to pieces in front of him.

The halls are silent aside from your sobs as you cry into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck while he carries you up the stairs to his room, whispering words of love and comfort in the hope they’ll soothe the pain that bleeds to the very depths of your soul. He’s grateful you allow him to hold and console you, trusting him to care for you in a moment of vulnerability, clinging to him without fear and seeking out all he’s able to offer. Your tears stain his blouse, and his makeup is mussed, yet he pays no mind, rocking and hushing you until you’re unable to shed another, chest heaving with each strangled breath that escapes you. Placing a tender kiss on your forehead, he hums sweetly, angelic voice lulling you to sleep. He watches over you after tucking you into his bed, affectionately stroking your face. For now, you rest your weary head, and once you awake, he’ll figure out what’s troubling his poor human, hoping he can put your mind at ease.

Dinner is your responsibility tonight, but Asmodeus doesn’t dare wake you, stepping in on your behalf. His brothers are well fed, and he makes sure to prepare an extravagant meal for his love, happy to serve you in the comfort of his bed. In fact, he feeds you himself, and you laugh as he cheerily extends a spoonful in your direction, blessing him with your beautiful smile for the first time that day. Beneath the silken sheets, he lays beside you, and you curl around him, glancing at him shyly before thanking him with a light but sweet kiss he savors long after you’ve parted. Yet you still look pained, and he encourages you to confide in him, cradling your head to his chest. Your voice is strained, barely above a whisper, but he hears every word, blinking tears from his own eyes. How long did you endure such harassment at the hands of those demons—on RAD grounds no less—suffering all on your lonesome. He’s appalled, wishing he could have protected you and sad he could not, however, he’ll make it up to you; anyone who hurts you is better off dead anyway. From here on out, he’ll take greater care of his human, keeping you safe in his arms.

BEELZEBUB

Finally, lunchtime! Beelzebub is weighing his options as he makes a beeline for the cafeteria, the rumble of his stomach echoing loudly in the halls. Though all thoughts of food vanish when he turns the corner to find you on the ground, a group of low-level demons looming over your trembling form. They flee the second they notice the Avatar of Gluttony, reeking of fear. He considers following them, goaded by his anger, which rages within, hot and intense, pulling a feral growl from his throat. However, the sound of your cries reaches his ears, a somber melody that brings him to his knees. He kneels beside you, brows knit in concern, and gently wipes your tears away before catching you as you throw yourself into his embrace. The rest of the world no longer matters, only his human while he holds you in the now empty corridor, heart unbearably heavy.

Carefully, he lifts you off the floor into his arms, mindful of his strength as his holds you, your body feeling soft and warm and awfully fragile under his touch. Yet you lean against him, sighing into his shoulder and seeking comfort from him—a large, scary demon, one of the most powerful in the Devildom. He’s glad he’s able to protect you, but there are times he worries you’ll look at him differently, your eyes wide with worry like the demons’ who ran at the mere sight of him. Your gaze is loving, and you snuggle closer, thanking him; he feels a little lighter knowing you’re safe, and that you trust him to take care of you. The palms of your hands are scraped, blood drying to your skin—a reminder of what those demons did to you—and he presses a kiss to your fingers, vowing to teach them a lesson they surely won’t forget.

The emptiness of his stomach is agonizing, a pain that runs deep, but he desperately wants to stay with you, comforting his sweet human who needs him now more than ever. He’ll gladly miss lunch for you, putting you above his sin despite the influence it holds over him, and tending to your injuries. The school day passes by slowly, however, he keeps a watchful eye on you, your smile filling him with a happiness that helps him through the last of his classes. Afterwards, he offers to bring you to your favorite bakery; food always manages to cheer him up, and he thinks you deserve a treat. On the way home with bags of decadent desserts and pastries, he hums, reaching for your hand, which fits so perfectly in his own. Again, you smile at him, and he’s glad he’s found a place by your side, brightening your day and you his.

BELPHEGOR

The Avatar of Sloth awakes from a dreamless sleep, hating how cold and empty his bed feels without you beside him. In a daze, he wanders into the hall—pillow in hand—the thought of holding you tightly against him, soaking up your warmth, tempting him down the stairs. Most nights he finds himself sneaking into your room and slipping into your bed, your body seeking his out in the darkness and welcoming him into your embrace. He’s thankful you’ve allowed him into your heart, Belphegor cherishing the intimacy between you, a love he once considered a mere fantasy. Though he pauses outside your door with bated breath, listening to the melancholy rise and fall of the cries echoing in the corridor—your cries. 

Throwing the door open, he peers into the darkness to find you huddled beneath your blankets, eyes wet with tears as you glance up at him, clearly startled. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, hands shaking, and he swallows against the panic, slightly reassured you’re safe in bed, but the miserable look on your face is more than he can bear. You whisper his name, voice rough and shaky, your pain tangible. The mattress dips beneath him, and he pulls you into his lap, cradling you to him. His gentle gaze sweeps over you—his human who deserves all the love in the three realms—and he kisses your tears away, wishing to free you of your burdens. Sleep can wait. You’re far too precious to him, and he’ll do anything to see you smile again, helping you piece your heart back together even if it takes the rest of the night.

Time is endless with you in his arms, your cries fading into quiet sobs as you lean into his touch, relaxing under the loving caress of his hand on your cheek. You regard him hesitantly, unspoken words on the tip of your tongue, and he’s nothing but encouraging as he kisses your forehead down to the tip of your nose, earning him a small yet beautiful smile that vanishes all too soon. Belphegor is eerily quiet while he listens to you, sad you felt the need to keep this a secret—alone with your worries—angry at himself for not noticing sooner, and livid at the demons who foolishly hurt you, instilling you with such fear you dreaded school each morning; they’ll regret laying a finger on his human, and he knows he’ll enjoy their agonized screams when he gets his hands on them. Until then, he promises to love and protect you, watching over you as you fall into a peaceful sleep at his side.

Tag list: @luminari-mc​ @yukihaie​

[hwanchaesong]

Hey there 🙃👋🏻 I saw ypur prompt post and loved the idea!! 😗 so if you're taking requests, mine is song "Best Part - Daniel Ceasar" w/ San

I don't really have a specific genre to add cause I think the song itself already adds a certain vibe to it 🤔

Anyways, thank you and hope you have a great week!!~

a/n: ackk- i rlly love this song and san fits so well with it 🤧 so here ya go and enjoy @h-a-j-i-m-e-ru ! (tysm for requesting and have a great week as well!!💚💚)

👤: ATEEZ Choi San

📼: Best Part - Daniel Ceasar

genre and warnings: sprinkle of angst, mentions of sex and virginity, slight cursing, fluffyx999999999

word count: 796

for anyone who wants to, don't be shy and send me asks based on Prompts Request Song Version. Thank you so much!

You are not one to believe in romantic tropes, you think it's bullshit, especially when people have sex one time and they suddenly fall in love with each other. Clichéd as fuck, right?

So you made it your mission to prove your friends wrong, they keep on insisting that some scenes in movies really do happen in real life, and as a skeptic, you are willing to throw away your v-card just to make a point.

Upon entering the bar, wearing your skimpiest outfit, hair and make-up done, you are definitely a head turner, men licking their lips at the sight of you, all of them but one.

A man wearing all black, tight pants and shirt accentuating his physique so well, and now you have found your target.

You approached him, his intense look getting darker due to the lighting, or maybe because of the alcohol or flirting, it doesn't really matter when you got to go home with him, having the best night of your life as he fucked the air out of your lungs.

Come next morning, the tapping on your face got harder, pulling you away from your slumber, and you almost fell out of the bed, letting out a scream when you saw two dilated pupils staring right into your soul.

"I'm so sorry about that!" the man from last night suddenly appears, picking his cat up and setting it down on the floor. It didn't take long for you to discern that you are still in his house, face-palming before you glanced up at the man.

You felt your breath get taken away, he looks so different, a complete contrast from last night.

Visuals soft like a pillow, a charming prince smiling at you, dimples poking out of his cheeks and his eyes turning into crescents and you almost forgot the real reason why you're here.

However, your resolution is soon to be dissolved when he showed you his true nature.

"Come on down in the kitchen, I made you breakfast." he said, leaving the room to give you privacy because, well, you're still butt naked.

You heard a small meow, looking down, you made eye contact with his pet.

"Yeah, I sure am in a deep deep trouble."

You're correct, the connection between you and the man named Choi San became much stronger, especially when you re-made breakfast on your first morning together (the one he made ain't edible, no one's gonna eat raw pancakes in this household.)

Maybe this is an illusion, a daydream, but for some reason, you don't want to get out of it. If ever, you want to drown and live in this for a lifetime.

Exchanged numbers, messages turned into calls, casual hangouts morphing into dates, simple touches contorting into cuddles and kisses.

He became your shoulder to lean on during difficult times, his smile is enough to brighten up your days even when the sky is gloomy, his twinkling eyes made the stars hide with how sparkly they are. He became your medicine that cures all sadness in your heart, your firm mountain that brought an eternal joy and assurance in your life.

Soon, you plus him equals lovers.

And when a man is truly in love, he will soon put a finger in his beloved's finger. Exactly what San did to you.

This caused an uproar among your friends, shocked that you're the first one who will get married. You definitely got an earful from them, reprimanding you to not doubt fate ever again.

Hands up in the air, inspecting a certain finger where the item that binds your destiny shines brighter under the sun's illumination, enjoying the peace until you felt arms wrapped around you.

"What are you doing here?" your husband mumbles against your skin, kissing your hair as he began rocking you in his hold.

"Hm, nothing, just breathing in some fresh air, what about you?"

He hummed, turning you around before making you dance with him, everything in slow motion as you bask in the feeling of pure fondness for the man in front of you.

"I am here because I want to see my wifey, I kind of missed her and to be honest, I want to ask her if she's ready for baby creation."

You slapped his chest, glaring at him halfheartedly, but really, you're not opposed to that idea. You are ready to build a family with him, grow old with him, and overall, just be with him even in your next lives.

Life is not a movie, but if it is one, then you'll gladly repeat and reminisce about the part where you met the love of your life, him being the best thing that ever happened during the duration of the film.

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

Taglist: @hyuckilstan @minkiflwr @ateezbabysitters

[strawberiitea]

There's just something about Revivedbur that's just. So Fucking Compelling.

Let me try and pin point what.

First off, let's be honest with ourselves – we all expected him to come back worse, didn't we?

I mean, what else would we expect from the man who cried and screamed into his pillow behind closed doors, the man who played hide and seek with his own depression?

What else would we expect from the man who silently held the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders, the man who suffered silently for what felt like years behind a smiling face and a barrier of flowery words, the man who suffered and lost so much he shattered into pieces?

I can tell you what we didn't expect.

We didn't expect euphoria, we didn't expect happiness, we didn't expect genuine joy from the man who once wanted nothing but death.

The man whose only desire was a sword through the heart and the end of his symphony – the end of his life –

Now a man who cries at the sight of the sun after an eternity of waiting for warmth.

Now a man who wants to re-live all the simple pleasures of life, Now a man who laughs and jumps and giggles at the simple sensation of feeling alive, Now a man who wants to hug the sunrise like he'd hug his brothers –

Now a man who wants nothing more but to live.

[dokoni-mo]

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

~~

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

~~

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

~~

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

~~

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

~~

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."