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libidomechanica · 3 months

Text

I make a solid core of hern and dispart

A sonnet sequence

Oh my Camel! ’ There are two; thy spirits sink to seeke each other wander and ev’n for want of deep self, than prove the thyrsus, that heauenly fyre, breaketh from its propitiously lamentations; and stir that which her cheeks, she bath’d horses in the furze, and last up that beat from her silver arrows breaths of death. Today we are, to shoot my soul from which with another Element was mirror, like a virgin fill’d with dark her mind. I make a solid core of hern and dispart its most pretious thing in mine eyeballs pure I looked him to be perchance, perceant, still regard, giue mercy will ye not wear our rusty bosom-friend among the wretch turn, and there he come. Close with the creation’s sake, whate’er the sound enter in their own dim life I was born with what canst thou seekes without some pitty, but he for what we may live in twain. Weary of rest by that had daft his golden shrine.

Right so my please. Were I hardly tell a child and the crystal Wilds of silver lamp, whose wild a fresher for grain. Lord Alfred Lord Tennyson lord Alfred Lord Tennyson poetry Books idylls of happy spring, before she feedeth among the hatchway one lonely ground cracks evilly, a dark spright, to proue your semblant of cunning on the beryl: his bed, here at least shall forgive my grief. The chance doth men’s heart, through sweet looks again and a forky Beard; and over the head turning as it for tempest tost, shoot ye sharp shingles without who should have treated, and her in his watch.

Tho’ mark’d as with more to mourn the track whereon there’s that are seen such—but must be made, her glories. How euer fayre soyle it seemes to Beauties prise, but he gave no bounds of dawn to dawn the soil, left his clasp, twixt the past, a soul which bound to be, they melt like a moon is no port where earth.—Borne aloft with dearth of Christ; the Poet’s Mind thee sitting, on a thrones of charioteer that didst not, love, O troth sealed. And which sicken’d ways shall be, tho’ veil��d, who roll’d their clammy cells and slowly seem to receiue: and see thee all. Peace, and where it as a servants to tend thee forth a more delight, written with a sign old Lambro’s aspect both purgation and the bridal; friend of air which led by fate. And does he surrounded; her eyes are held in the ocean-mirrors round understands that morning feast, the Idoll of ash and then I’ll swear, said their Face, and bid good notes; and there thou art the same.

Oh blindfold fury she doth grin before him, fresher stand, a little spare these that heare, may scorne base things that appears, that once, my number’d o’er some time or being mov’d, he call’d me in yonder orient beams, injoying. He said, their slime, were taken with the sky and hidden long in the end of alle thing writ on death, but half to his, and strike the sun, and thou hast for a fair; and thus; while he was death’s twin-brother, times that this, that neuer shall he, man, he knows no pity, will not in the deadly Bodkin, Comb, and not a memory of the marking them again. Does the Foe drew near.

Morning true, and with theyr sad protract from a furnace, vain relented not, nor moue the pleasant: a gentle Damon did not one lost, he sank supine beside his Chair. We never lost his belly is as the bless with missiles of life, for ever: the young Coquettes in their points of baser kynd, I see I leave of Diamond’s circling Ray; the roof of thy rising a foreigner in a big box store of her myriads on the rose on so holy day, for me, for tears gave light. In each respecting, and in the lesson is it there, it was cemented man I love. An universal death.

And on the gilded ball danced when I waile she turn’d aside? Sheaf afar, while we never passing his fruit bats scattered with encrusted God his passing paragon, could be underlids uplift, would you have number zero. That weake harts doth superscription of the dead selves for my sick heart or hear, no mark of painful phases wrought, yet as it fell,—she thousand kisse, lasted in amaze, to grawnt me rest, as I Undying Life, have it; o! Steadily as a single Hair. And happier hours of their meeting clouds all silence in disdain. Be neither song was too far, he seeme to prove the hope of your poem left me, and the terrible bellowing free, then can sorrow’d all feel sharp shingles with hollow out a tomb so simple sports; they would keep her hair; and glad to fire, my head&to keep the full-grown lambs loud trumpet murm’ring, and many other did boldly placed him o’er.

No matter-moulded forms for fear implied in a long intreat? Thine owne paine whose phosphor, bright Phosphor, double tides that lives so pure, that I so much, thou watch me when it seems it in my vocabulary. I brake out silvery, smooth Iv’ry Neck. Is gone, but what we learn Ombre, after sun; love’s please him bond that weeps I come on me this black fronts long-withdrawn about his voice, lute, and th’ cause to prevent my mistress now I languishment. The whispering isles of Pins extend, some time or being workman. On one nice remember me? At one dead; corruption came Night, how blanch’d from bower by many a purer sight, even after some frail China Vessel glides he in this lyke beholding me that befell that many world grows dull, and chain’d, so the haunts of Hate; for they might he! And mow’d down the hill to be so dumb as those wild instinct like a sharp rocks look’d on mind adored.

Short solace, vapours to no earth with her graces spied, she to spring in time not these would my life would I with the village hammer cloud that second sex! In the street; in love, and fruit the mounted deare. Of joys; and helplessly before him, fresh from its birth, the vigour; the earth lighted by the spectrum of the Saviour’s feelings, streak of snow, or brightness was practice losing isn’t hard to masters Time indeed. My sere fancy caught, when he was wet. To steal his brows, I wore the past; and he never hope. No wing of delight: drawne with me no casual mistress, or the bears? Eyes, and things in vain.

And so the fishes spreads his orient drop down best at nought on earth haue found him not. Strike to lead: look in the arms about his heavy-folded rose? His hand: he plays, and mournful voice, a gesture I loved, whom none with his half but idle seem’d at last even shorn, which graspest at the sounding noise, and op’d those most to mind; no gray old grange; rapt from deep to deeme of your visnomy, clearer then, your selfe but flatters Science hold on the morning Walter warped his ill-resounded do burn thee in the world won’t even drive a car again. She look’d, and other entertainment that I bleed.

His orient drop beside the fresher for the righteous ban of all light, the cloud, as over Sinaï’s peaks of other ridge whose phosphor, double blue, deep tulips dash’d by the pirate crew, who champion’d her Hand? There is no more, but I must go, the wise, reflects the Sun, the way some catch virgin fill’d with my kind, a weight of nerves a wholesome landing-place, and yet myself a clever fellow really things, or voice reveal’d; he seem’d there no more endearment shall turne to the course renew’d! John’s brother, touch’d, nor branding by the happy sister when Success a Lover’s Toil attend: it shall go.

No joy the bard’s paws, upheld the roaring sun, and thereon to blow. Been to your vision dies: let this was Life,—the track whereon with manly Strength, thought I dwelt among his kin and know thy spirit pass’d to Lisp, and the bold Thalestris fans the household peace with vile adders stinging, or hereticks ordayned: yet love is slight his face, say whether of time within a hall, and since, a rhyming lover, can’st thou suffrest neyther gorge in which they find? Flight. That ripple round, and hear one bird in native groan; on her heauens blis. He seeming-random thro’ the quay, and caught you in the gilt Chariots.

She breasts and mutual kissing thee forth th’ anduyle of beam and storm mayst seem to reclaim her will tell them: they flew; nor dream, when past therefore I was the seamew pipes, or else both delight, thy sphered, high crest, and solve and fear, to doubt not too hard it is but drosse vncleane: and fear, to see their Actions of a Clouded braid, or sheepwalk up the Hand of dying lyfe endure, nor will intreat? To move, but by you abandon’d quite a foe: if he told me your most fine gold: his coarse contemplation of her that is this an hour where theyr sad protract from its forest crack the Might of frosty in desire, close round goblet, which speake her selfe could ne’er be got a former place, shows me myself mine may it mend with little being held, but hung to hear her Sable Sons, with one that must be flatters thus our hours by hours, your faults in the mole knoweth what seemd the loud chaunge of weather.

Pause; red cheekes, lyke vnto the brother ridge whose dear love and mourne to me as a flock of goats, that keeps his retreat into another night to them all. One that Ill may love of Courts to fade. Since first I bred, with him how to forgetting friendship, equal- poised controlled crest now the arms and gather’d power to see his flattering Holla’, or his Widow’s Gown: her infant crying, knows not what is true-love in which her fayrer weather in the dewy-tassell’d wood, and finds on his strong. To-night Beau, that ever speak to the shores of Harlots, and destroy. Wounded hath made this an hour away.

Express all-comprehensive Nymph extend, into the nativity of flower again the meadowy curves, they should breaks before sweet is thy beloved is my loue I go from her Numidian veins, even so she kiss I beg; why art the noyse, mourner, black eyes sicken at thy native lea and render horns being tam’d with rain and she betray’d o’er the beauty? Upon her arms Adonis’ tramping eye on songs, and the anticke world, the Whistle wage war on his Breast wish to pacify: that foil’d the life in man, be born and to eternal fire, which ye haue tride. The circles round.

The hounds, Your Grace salutes them toward they cricketed; they view’d each other always understands that happy name is but she prayse to and from the inner me too soon was God Bacchus drains his burthen’d brow: no, no, you have cease—Belinda on the Bar enoch Arden flowers, ambrosial air, the little brook that by her face: the latest to the strings; the moon, the spheare so since that binds him in my simple meaning tell, and murmur’d like an inner, her hands or theirs was another, and doe embracing, like cloudlets on the beauty such distilling on the lawn, and put it on his ancient forms of discontent to be of the sun, when I laughed and child, and despair, and he, he knows not what is so much of change in mass, dimension, and cancell’d nature beare, guies me greater who remain; the shores of a Caitife worth of beauty, thought. Then flashes from seeds, and therefore, where thou art fair.

When in the mindes to rome? Line of the blue eggs of robins, but a wondrous sweet boy, ere they know not love’s lips like to Lambro’s aspect grew—with a dissipated life, in limning out thy keel; I hear the land, who told the obiect of the Stone of his house the wonder whose silvery koi swishing Adonis liv’d and come, thou doest striue all mine ears, till Phosphor, bright sufficeth to die. He cranks and string; and in mine; for now the dictator strutting all in his brow’s repine; and won his Eyes and blear’d Silenus’ sighs. When she passion new, a void where the end; for oftentimes begun.

Musick steals shadows of jewels to either; neither Lyon or the hours are set thy flock of goats them scornfully, and sew for peace, a good New Yorker and work hard, have it to ruinate. Climb thy thou wreck the star thro’ the Skies. Plain words I took compass’d by his fate—he fed; lasses, like him to you: when you meant to travelled, gladly yourself forsook, and fetter’d, like Gods engage, proves the rose rougher voice, a gesture are sign’d, and the mere touch’d, nor could there are both are as bristly and vpon the sorrow cleft without dead hands dropped on the silver flame from out a rill, most goodly giftes of Pride.

That my wish for beans and something gives: the sophistries flies, with one to shun the dust of golden thro’ the sea. The perfect pipes of Gold. Why then doe I wish you need not suck’d. And drown’d, he saw, he wish, that thou deep volcanian yellow nightingales or old Adieu, his pray. The Palace of rest, from April days that poison from his immortally: and you will, or wrinkled Form in Blank Verse st Simeon Stylites tears, green figs, and Salámán listen at last—far off thou encounterchange; intrigues, advent home; here Thames. And all its reason no man, that ever speak fair words she to stay. They shape so true, no truth came by, or those their sandals o’er their sad berths; each tree and every friend became wedded to thee be still kiss drop down unto her face doth flesh and bow’d branches of the trophy, and thee up under whose unrival’d Shrine ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign their Wings.

For my truth, with cloaths on, when kind Occasion prompts their head, to that others of the brakes any dint. When he hath caught, of all meaning on yesterday I tried, sinks downward cast could make me wise; then say my part must be to clime, that I, considerate boy, as he knows the memory strays about him flew by hap. An hendy hap ich habbe yhent, ichoot from Venus’ liking. She plies an addict. The red fool-fury of this tent my Love from your shelf, and breathed, dissolve, or Vileness thee, some of the down the veil, behind this planet, was she withdrew: or, as thro’ time to director?

That same lofty countenaunce she lordeth in licentious blisse, the household peace, like one minute seemes to linger weeping from the bugle breeze of such a dainty eares, cannot expressive head that live the light’s he jumped up the silver Spouts the tree cut from eternall blisse I gladly beyond, they all stain’d; and whispers, Here thy firmness—know you list invite all her selfe, and all this shelly caves, and for either mix’d, had not swerved to work her gentleman, defamed by every carefully divine Philosophy on Argive her senses sore dismal Dome. Save one or twice, these gentleman so richly dight: that died unkind. Or, if we held it true; for all is well; tis shine like fyre: and wha sae ready yours? I see thy counsellors and be sometimes pace and pittilesse, with guile conspire, nor bowl of wassail mantle darkness at Bologna. My supply each past emotion.

Cant would write, her voices took a higher hands the cube and she be a wall, he look’d again, so long my Honour more. Hither the house where thy temples; no sooner read, mute symbols of all Monarchs only moment bent, then those cold crypts where he fell, and get thee forlorne, thence no more that mind admire. Had fix’d his dart, and call. Somebody who such joys as rarely they know me; no fisherman swore he long-contend till all from the lilies. So strict orders of Jerusalem, that thy face, and heads: the powers conspire in my youth, what times are still vouchsafe to vipers brood: being thee.

In that sting absence, sence of my life with my love an idle girl, that I perhaps am somewhere it shot thro’ the friths that of birds betray, slight Lines of four hamlet drains the sunshine when from the night have caught and slowly worn her empery of the stream from the sky so glides he in English, Espanol Site Copyright Jalic Inc. The only words, or any, call to one pure east, and ashes burne, it doth allure me that hover all an ear-shaped cone to that thou wert with dew, and deep he seems to rest: ne ought I see I leave? In her course and the track, like one leaf put forth him so.

And when I waile she turn’d from out of twain her sweet forms of years—the river. Let the more: for framing the book and happier hours bereft me, and there he bare her. Why this course of wind the low dark with certain or in his mouth slips the God within a losing Game; if e’er one sweetness or the soft, lute-finger’d on his Foe to discharge us? I stand; and my faithless as with pompous roialty. In their Corinthians, see! Every day, now with the creed and soften’d, and there hope of your enemy to be cool’d; else, suffer herself relief enough, sweet delight, or dives in yonder deep.

And ask the rag of her frame, and kept his rosy eloquent recital was forst to yeeld my selfe assurance: and something nostril wide, t’inclose me the man in arms, and bobbing heat is not life, which threw a rueful glance upon the summer spice the light embower the painter would teach to speake her win; and weep the loud revelry grew hush; the time mine hard. The day and reading may behold the danger dwells on the track whereon they were drowned with guifts of the honor and she hearing to Sir Plume had light, and sallying through the good Sir Ralph a page or twice, the grasses of hissing whiteness, as the wit that second birth of Christmas- eve. A statue-like, her arms to one o’erflows, ’mang moors an’ mosses many, O, the wondering where she is smit, with song. And Life, have idle dream of such as once were to say I lovèd eyes these enfold, waft on the bars, and therefore, I lykewize.

A scarf of orange round dropping makes by night a sickly Mien shows in her whiten in the flowers, still weeps forth the chalice of mine own mightst thou seen! But the delicate, put to use himself through his veins; then to these, not scornfully glistering leaves that never passing, like a young Corinthians, see! When a life in weak powres, so sore ills, while I am but an airy instant, independent of her Ear his smell, complete; that sweeps away from home to me gaue by kind, as mouldered in the faith thro’ the boat is our come forth with thee as his eyes suing; his eyes double wrong.

Where goest thou told’st me thou dost survive in twain the wilt thou coy? Morning-Shower of Joy—to Forty Mornings did fly. But I’m as blythe that I probably didn’t want the morning wakes the Press enrag’d, desire, it rauisht with the streets were left to ascertain what is Lord of love had an enjoying. Which she all desolate and infest with deluging stood a censers their hands them still on her texture, from yonder cloud that once from th’ Exchange the year, in the nymph replied, tis that I see, Sir—you have gone that runs the radiant Trail of her head and graceful.—Hers was lost or slay the Frank.

Hand shorn of pride, how often she strays about them, but high or low; that made to linger, Necromancer—I cease to run. Nothing in the future ye may, and dying fame, to where my mouth is most at ease, the sceptred terror and another less it needs thy belly is as a winter’s tale to do it for the fruits of the story aptly ends: the poor richest field. So soon was rich and much more than Tantalus’ is here perish’d in their plenty, making morn, draw forth from the highest height, and I read of old Sir Ralph a page or two. Look, with her huge brig—Corpo di Caio Mario!

But through the tents of a world nis noon so witer man that reverence I did strive, beaus banish Beaus, and exalt their lucklessly before the conqu’ring Fan be Zephyrs to the milk, in the star-gazers, having felt the sight, they should push beyond it spry cordage of Absál set it awhile to sacrifise, beats his birth, a lever told; while they rise, but sharpen’d eaves, had hid away the Diamonds pours apace; leaves of flower the gate with torment more of reverence he strings my tears that was interrupted by Angel-Pow’rs, there she is gone. Are over; still survey the grades of light, dare to bear the bird in native rill, and be turn’d to his chin, and the makers art. Farewell can stint nor reason why I seem to life, which purchas with the hearkens for harm, thine own phantoms flit; but in my heart while I rose up from the night her beauty dwelt with little live with his doubtfully.

Link to fly, but her nearest deare blown over silent continuance weare. And darts an angry eyes, and sings upon my suit? Art of teen: love is best; and bear along the sight be done, that most suppose. I felt the world’s altar-fire, as from a wood, the marble. And so life may farre in vain; and the merchants that cannot right perfections bound in spell that I have so much by so meane loues with chast desire that wears there was not for his porch with stars, in the Dark, when first my beloved; my word she could not know: love keeps his refulgent Queen, with me no casual mistress, or trapping gay?

And make a serpent draws, to dance, a cup he took delight; and follow, when in his terrible thunder’d up into the abyss of tenfold-complicated words; at last to see him pained. Old Yew, which was natural heat burnt from afar, and sweet desire, so fast, she wakes, is too-too true; as spotless corner; yet I fear, if all your neighbour’d in the grave is there no batter’d skies the fool to speake her life was crost, which led by fate. To see a beacon guards the bugle breaks the wood-nymph’s beauty, life, here, here, my love the sorrow o’er my desk turns was good as sour balls. Just like the glorious race, the whole Ages in a loving were but sweet music, and come and aw’d resist not, they once is cheared, ne feard with rare delight, and darts an answered in ambrosial aisles shouting, endlessly—but I am matched; that I could not from the lion walk’d forlorn, when the mid-day sun.

To bid them all, one at a time. And but for one hour of that his Towardness, and write, to feverish pulse of wine and of their dark arms and forth and East is all the Proctor’s dogs; and the wind blaws loud bleat from care? I should stir a little glancing wind; for summer heavy Saturn laugh’d, as thro’ the queens, and thro’ his life’s stranger. He burns, seeing it, from Steel received and in a breast as pure and he beats in my heart’s deep- sore wouldn’t but without a tomb shall tell thee why so pale? But greedinesse hunts after they must give all ripeness to feel that to the dead would spill, seekest solitude.

I probably didn’t tell you, but I find thought, my heart to fear, to see, but diff’ring far in the glass. Chloe stept in, and the broad water do abate the song; permit me voyage, love whom Lambro presence to win. On all her sacred Lock I swear, said he, for uninvited guest had felt the word; that I never plighted fire. That, while it smote, still is bondsman to madnes, my soul is arrow at my hold of time, and call. And me breath, what wind serves to comfort my days and night, a buzzings of forged a sevenfold stone she cried—and no soft-toned that Time wou’d spare, from what these brief dream appears!

And thou wilt; I lull a fancy falls into itself to school and half cut through hardly spoken a word, when kind Occasion fits, alone those renowne? In placid awe, the martyrs burn unwavering pale before the pauses of all the three-times-three, and broke. Where in the bride, how know I was all unsweet: eternal life? Turned to the happy happy lovers say, the young roes that mournful lips, and mingles all seasons, and tender green, and place; she things which is but drosse vncleane: and let the War of Tongue. This I may in trump shal thunder; even as thou didst with one confess? I dream my dreams.

Who cause of feel; his anger ashy-pale; being death which in good. Creation’s blithe and bats went up with ayre: but Angels heuenly spheare of a wasted in a chastest, best, my faith, and flew at all shield. Those great hope of richer pearl for thine image comforts into one. But, after Millions slain: he ran upon the languid fool, who were wont to lead my life was yet unvisited by the turn of year extend less humbly came: and world-wide fluctuate all thy steed, his Giant Limbs in State unwieldy spread thee, the hot tyranny of moons can calling from a wood, fair, on a throne, she seem’d to pour, until they’re over; still forging Nature, moulding me sorrow, for my faults to his mighty woes. He is no gentle stream of what force it overflow the ruin’d pride. Has no allegiance to grope for her eye; both maladies but in her Breasts with youth was little longer to remayne.

Her champion mountain-skirted plain that are. Thought still to her eyes: what wont with fearlesse bloud defylde, that fayrest proudly and humbled hart, and his Pow’r expir’d, resign’d to Juan, in whom fresh againe vnreaue. Who should sell—all fleet of time? In youth with her dream of succour desolate, as if she knew his death for changed a conquer all utterly, keen, cruel Nymph! To the rivers, churning, right have you play at her Harmony. What vaster, and I, Love, that ye may degrade; yet, O ye daughters of our planet clear as they were dumb, yet heresy nor treason fit Instrument. And drops upon me.

Thy voice’s sink and you have gaz’d: his human hands O miracle of am though fame in her soft sighs a passing, in his passions rage; gainst females are, to see the whole of the word,—’Arrest or seem to lovers’ hands. And with weeds: what endlesse please her, as yet unexplored, cou’d make old become myself thou break with certain—no I was bred, ne but he for they there grateful Puss’, and stray impassion’s passion more to be with vigour; the doubt vast disintegration flowing Tears of stillness of the nice Trick depending; so that conquers where grain, it might, suffice what we behold the dread?

‘Pure lips, and nothing bare the whisper lost! I make admyre, he winks, and Purple Pinions to and frenzies wood, each Silver Token, and flew through sticker bushes to pick juicy rubies, loe hir lips the gull and to land; and melt the contrive it all. The terror to earth is laid, and ask a thousand tender blossoms blown. Sweet be the gift of years as the apple tree alone conceal the South morte D’Arthur new Year’s Eve northern Land; where upstairs his master though harbengers in her shall ring is on, tho’ mark’d by none but quickly in; so offers he tosses thereof: now also thy bracelet.

Privacy refunds advertise new made! To leave thou like a ball! Thy soul, instruction of Man! Who would thou swearest, grant my boon! For breathes of their smell of thy neck with little store of their hearts’ delight, drawn by the sin, the fever from thine eyes have their anthemes sweet; and her father moved that smile unsearchable to noise, and mantle warm; for which he flew, thin glitt’ring Irons wreath, to beseeching him, cower’d, and sting every wonderful, for she is tall and more. He came thy sweet Saynt some were where delight thy steed, being working into sweep a music out. I have eaten my dayes.

Or sometime where eagle’s wing, or else be coueted the times her yet, she haste, and all is new unhallow’d ground; if Yuorie, her arms were brought, and bids her orange, the gate, ne let the Waves, terror doth mollify: but hers, where the herald, shrieked and strike for they deceiv’d with Death for change, for all this wrong, and in her Cheek thee why so pale? A thousand Wings, and widening north, even the Sylph too warn’d before their treble darkness of the mind and patron. A little sisters keep in a moment of affliction, having, runs on in my call, some pleasure from them, wax’d in empty left his patience.

At whose to the self-same painless sympathy, nor cares to tempering, and revelry grew hush; the timorous image in the Shadow cloak’d from thy side. That for mate, and, buried bones, and water in a Whispering in redress to the life she has done it: how I shoulder of our hours await the marking there—but the fear of slighter Wash; to curl a maidens of Air; the foolish noise. Backward drags a labourer tills his wonted lily white with cold wondering cries, Fie! His foot, or heavenly moisture, that thou shalt mix in one minute in an understood that most assured arre.

At the gate of Love. Falcon ere he fed; lasses, like a moon in creek and burning; which we dare to appease, throwings, and Hermon, from my ears, my ears, bleeding Vanities she Death may die. And go, and this in this words and forth: there are sent as willed, freedom in her some dead world equally things. Fold in the sage, let blood creeps, and hauing here she began. Earth, what was one wide wounds might brings and take us men. Thus; at last atchyue the mystic deeps, when not one light, moonlight disposed cruell to their colour turned aside, wretched then, I think I’m different ways win a glory earth’s worm, whate’er may surcease.

Was Juan,—who, an awkward to masterdom. And, heart of all the hill is pealing, folded in the cleare away in truth, as dying smart, let it lykewise is cheared, not find, and nothing came borne, the grave is the usual process, might hath enduraunce. With human loves man. Can poets who could answered, each bending any Sorrow come from my cheek to glow seem’d gone for increace, shall be laid the hurt that then might send it slackly from the deep blood and chafe, and other flocked at noon or with eyes the stillness than Nectar or Ambrosial dark, to dry one’s life or those Meads for evermore.

And now wind, and sun by day and red than doves them—maidens gather’d up, and his glad; her Bosom of the hot scent-snuffing out the highest mission: affection claim, poor richest field of that froaths below! From hollow, tho’ their treasure may best lodg’d in Beauties wonder not, that ransom the road was assuage; planting early in the clover sod, that with rain: her summon all our Christmas- eve; which froze to marke: far passing, in chast desire. The dews of your farther afield it was told and these thorns: the moaning in his mother’s grasp—his army of tenderest eddy round the shower’d lands.

High-strung Anthee, the leave behind, a heart of losing is sudden with all truth embodied in vain; the dull earth until they fear. And hope of an angry eyes could they hurried Lamia, no, nor death; and sire; subject quakes; as when I’m the man touch’d his, nor shudder, love, as all old thou hast rest, my throbbing thro’ the giddy Circle, on the things ev’n as her weeping tides began to trembles thine, but spoil I think warm days will go by. Discussed his brow, his cheeks, cries, but sensible redundancy is such a friend; and the rose, smell were landed in a net, so fasten or deflect the coast.

He let out these fearful the white blade—the bass, there a group of girls in circle of the nicely culls with as fiercely gave me here touch’d with greedy couetize, applying terms, but then spill. You know: draw in your bed, hollow sea’s, mourns o’er the violent. Still forgotten till an instruments—the gorgeous dyes, the Smiles, awakens ev’ry Word a Reputation renew the eagle returns to swell thee as the torrent widens toward Damascus. Like shadow I will endure; what sense of christall clene, yet no footstep leaps the Case, so Ladie now to thy hand did not with grass stoops not, but rudely writ.

The wizard light, at euery minute seemed to give thee borders tore my virgins visited by the rising hill to extend less humbly doth in thee, to taste. ’ Has nae care weighing it doe set but linger weeping skeleton, with kindled bitch, the fool to speake? Over the pail, and fierce Othello in so loud with one he hath done that made me feel romantic, and all command; her eyes are held breath through tress-lifting was tedious, and thus lamenting; the touch another night in laps of adamant chayne: with scornful tricks, and loue embaseth, contemned. Then were mild when hurl’d from law.

Leaf the cheeks need blood, he hears the haunted with him. But spare the towers. A censer fed with them, outstript of that Evangelist. On yon scrolls once doth play, breaking love! For ever finding under the bird sing tears,.—While this, and tracts that late he trod, her joints for her feet! His motion ought still is but brings myself; and in this return, O Shulamite; return, indenting but this tale, for I am bereft me, and calls it he laies. Now Nature given to the porch with gentle brest his behalf. Transparent of beauty slain, your fortune and tree the days and nuptial mirth? And in answer.

In woods, to escaped her trust; it shall we? The many Lilias—played charades and when chivalry was as mine in the dark eye meets she will wink; so shall suffer’d, is by evil star; uncared for, gird the mone. The rest, how euer now thee modest pride and wrought, and wak’d his wish, nor can I prove then the old yeares in and with doubt. All feeling are one charm or hope to set budding more, a little heaven of heauenly matters dark and sit, where is she sinketh down she knows not, be with scorn of love; yet in councell did agree, break his faithful guard, and rise, though earth’s great mouth like an earth?

As for thy piteous lips like feathers, thou ruthlesse glory of an eye, that are ever and o’er her nature’s ancient rosaries, laborious love to hear. Humility, shall breaketh from offence from snow to something so offend her! Lo, as a dove when I weep, as, unto those two have loved you in a deadly Bodkin, Comb, and Essences exhale, to draw one Breath these enfold, that which she like a round the ground, struggle, for their fair and ashes all aliue most attractive power to smell, and go. In finding sun; conspir’d to day, half-dead to foolish ones to be with flying lip?

It beat, that ye your sword; ’ so Lambro once more commends to your curled toes and vales, when my woman’s transient form in her hand, and subject and balm, earth’s worm, whatever wake, the blessed her. Breaking shut up from the breasts and neighs unto her; she answers quite controlling breast and clouds contentment and contempt; which would hide? And all the same, his young, and so to be an odd one; a troop going to either sing then from too wise, that I, considerate boy, as he knows not whether love, into your lips, which i have ceased: a gentleness still he lours all it not, they obey the vast, ere half thy days.

Come with busts: from heauenly are, but facts, over another agents aim at like an epitaph—thou wert not my faint Elysium, or what I so much the glow of ripeness. ’ Has made a serpent now, that blow softly round about his breast. Were taken with drossy slime. And say his lip to her brain beneath. He laughes, and owning cup, and heard our earliest morning his beauteous Mold; thence, and frets, but when thinke to entangle, trammel up and admire the dark graves, and then two postulates a that the wise Celestiall hew. Bow; sooner said, and high spires of Hell; while thy beloved!

The young De Foix! How different joys renew! Those juggling for, where no baseness of the thinks of other eyes follow’d ground, and watching you vomit them. Knows her Force attains disorder breeder, full of rules. Of men without a groan, where he comes it there, and turn’d from hollow, each other the great summon all a summer: lightnings deuize, but al my wounded hath power to give, they change whene’er I know thy spirit pass’d beyond the flutter down she knew where the more: in the steps, with prudes for Gnats, and he represent, just at the Spyder that hast but like a fair; there rang on her shall fall.

Sweet is the chamber up, close, hush’d and daynty is alyue. They flow from forgot upon each sence from me, whatever look’d below; and crown, and I neglect is hard furrow musing them where not so light, thy passenger of thine had babble down the heart on heauen most hideous sight. Tis Lambro’s aspect, but hear thy voice, and fitly set. Oh, sweet lips’ rich treasures were brief, but dissolv’d: Crete’s forest-trees and kept his rosy terms for fear of deare returnd the whirling pillar, not uncommend? Look, how to the fulness from its neck and grow incorporal pangs amounts the worke the young De Foix!

Of those which not always was. ’ As yet I fear, if all your offices that look growing well his eddying caught all from the early pays for Nisus’ injur’d Hair! Crystal eyne, whose full of rules. And glance and to swoon, when all alike. Was crost, which cannot fall, as gay as any. And all the curse had fallen have seen about Max lives in his mouth slips the end? And sweet excess by the fold, and sport around? Which rainbow, as it was no reason or in his motions have welcomes the Gown; and all this way, the firmer willing, his trim hath put a spirit rule, for change things. Nothing mad, and the suns.

Unless it because of me put less long; also our heart; to love of his trompet shrill-tongu’d tapsters and flowers and hope of unresisted Steel? Great wish that nether I may save mine eye; and they were: the pomegranate are they gaze on it he hasty hands. The world, and the coat that golden fleece, the secret sorrow makes no remedy, could not breath; sleep, Death’s ebon dart, to stray, and sense with thee with his look she flies; strange it selfe and going away the noisy world will endure so now and sayd to heare, but do not know the golden treasures in higher height this maple burn blue.

What he wore; witness that we forswore be as beauteous worlds, so much that Boy, proue, will not of the silent pillow, tho’ she playne will break with Tears! The low love’s flow’ry Margin lies the fools and days and a double smart and when the Wind that I in man and Halberds in air; I hear thy labour to hour, and of strain’d your flatters of those which leads to the press’d her silvery koi swishing to the Mauis singing, tho’ faith in his hard for the presence of it selfe soone ready for him have drawn Clarissa drew with glorious name in golden bourn into the hidden tremor came, and now tell me when these trunks? Still shone when up she seems still they ne dare to lovers, and by thy wings and anon a something so mock-solemn, that would feel my flames o’er me cast, give my griefe with more she camel’s foot, who keeps the smell were left to bear, I falter whether; that here were borne, and the marge, and again.

’ There without some one kiss, I’ll give it all. Her motion we were wont belay, disdayne to me, ’—let the latest leave Don Juan, nor could not die. The boar for my sake hath charm of fir. Till all that lives from the other’s dower; but Sorrows at his foes. She look’d dose at these brief dreaming o’er her lone complain on them wrong: we serves another about the streets were buoyant spirit loved at random influence in heavenly zone. I’ll troubled spheres, the Sun, the wood-nymph’s beauteous Mold; then, like it is, and the nighting on to withhold me, for it is barr’d the low love more than what hour is thy beloved.

And live: thus died she; never can the blind clamour bowled and strange do they would have him, for I have eaten my darling, my darling valentine. Or at their courtship grew, and found it dim; and every things will flash at once I lov’d before a woman’s mouth, each Band therefore, in which is cool, he fiery fine; but here we see and that let th’ importune be: they to you as a beginnings of four hamlets, with fancies of the night vision different far the deep night, whom Thirst of tears? The fire, the Fantom Image of your light voyager, and at heard Troy doubted; time with loud Alarms.

Tho’ mix’d all the widow’d, may not reprove? Of them, the other eye; both crystal eyne, whose soul shall perish’d in their bliss: that drinks another lay. Some act of fifty Mays, the blossoming pears! The sweet allurement of the stones of Heaven the lounged goddesse to accept me as the air, invisible, and my prison’d in passing to the bay quoth I, for my greater love from my proud Triumphant, unaware we’ve here be thy temples; no soft-toned reply’d was it flies, and I will never quit your eyes that beat so low? Quick in turning Nothing seal’d with which a death-nighing morn.

How like you like a man’s dreams. Boughs, and march’d a jarring in the grave: the upright, affrayd. Love’s flow’ry Margin lies the dead; less years and swept away: sith in heaven, who partakes the Globe? Notices, Darling, my darling, my darling, the cheeks; then to torment more pain’d with sure art; as thou watches. Death: the disposing of woe like gold that’s beauty. Their eternal Heaven is thrown into frost! Thou know: here come on me askew then to the day should scorn the festal cheer, beautiful friend for all. You say, knowing coy, she spoke; the keys, to mingled, then be my love indeed from weary cry.

Yes, I’m wishing her dream that wears a crown and ugliness could they lost the Pyre, and hills, yet slays me with heau’nly harm’d; being proud, however dear one description, and whe’r he runs, the first as Deaths are blood which hath a prize, that maketh euery part remaine. Thy feet are so well: then Lamia trembles at her foot she is no instinct like a falling from their Pride confound, a shadow in the flying lip short space are shadowy thoroughfares of Hell brake the breaks the room of Foreign lands where kings deuize, and would tell, but of her that he’ll likely thoughts with my kind, which makes me faint with odours from limbecks foul nurse, your body: see it say it back, my love and fear: and those fair Heads the fair Venus baby, for want of continual hair—belle Isle, which my hart will not ope the sun, and is no before the eyes on fire—brake with vigour, bold to play hard but it didn’t want to tie?

The same. By this slights the fair and howlest, issuing for them thus, she sets her fathers false sounds and strength all you that dies with listen! That Shapes the fruits, new and exprest, her Guardian can. The patient leaders of the life for her eyes in eyes? Not scornful of the mind: it will not love, and hands this prime, prove we are other fayre Spirit, and air, seem’d my worth there with thousand bucklers, all sort, being mov’d, he fortress, her heart a clown; the figuranti, they are lyke a rich laden head across the summer’s day would she can no more, speaks no more, o’erlooks to look at yourself from thy side.

For shame, but th’ onely thou hast made me wise and forest root of years—the river. Or from him keep her rare perfect Beauty the Sprights of these brief questions; so that vaster goeth about thee from pain, so arguing a want of some centuries to the market scarce saw in all in circles voyage is fled, then Theotormon’s limbs: he rolling honey, for wowing a much miseries, his mantle darkness and then not one looke vpon her, but sought him whom each lucid Squadrons round enter’d marvell’d at these same at last to every morning Omens did his Beams display terrors hath ceas’d her best is meet: and when the floor. And all, and reck’d not wished him with half-words were all the wood, and on just proof than these am I, and you know the lesson which ran o’er; and nothing every dew, laburnums, dropping sap, which hardly it can spel, will be thy mirror’d walls by twin-clouds are over.

Then The Sage would thy canvas, and my locks are but too short. The tenth Hour resound; earth shaken into frost! When warm with which your feature cannot stop my shiver the fires of ice are threescore queens and tremble at the walls; and striking? Not cross nor looke, but lothe thews of Anakim, the pressure, and pain my sorrow makes men loue to graunt me all the roughly, threats of youth shut up in Vapour reach us, nor silent shore, in sadness of an ampler day with beauty? Their fair visage an inverted back returns in Peace, and compass’d crest, should not his workmanship at thy lips with raine, then lack!

Nor change whene’er I fill my mind, in finding air; unloved, that neuer was as mine: he feedeth among the head, taking now your light embower the first Sun arose they gaze on her, bynd with oaths, fair God! So naked for foul weather. She find me gay among the bars, eclips’d her cruelty, where I come, to two or threat his great, consistent; wearing ere the aching Ill, just what the pills are overcome me: thy hair in weird syrops, that slightest Fair that fire which this chin, and swamping eyes; and dark, to draw, to shew the War of Tongue. She revere: and once grows he gather in his friend, O daughter: round the boy would sing thee somewhat kind of marble icicles, the Zephyrs gentler feelings, friends do tie me day breath, while his blood: it will shut very beauty under her upper lip they smil’d, and the work of the sward was half disarm’d of beautie drawes the winnowing it, thy divine.

There whenas a stranger skies, while made the touch’d their last, doe wander far doth the crafty loving that Jury-men may Dine; the Merchants that none but her neck, some remorse! We go, but endured he, and makes more gashes, deep as life outline and his merit known and wildly dash’d on the Breath of friend remember: falling paragon, could with theyr drouping hed. A guy but to forbid! No gray old grange; come, beautie be, let him thereof, which every light shall cease. But they gaze upwards cast, by which she alone those that royal signet are so well and woe are bushy, and anguishing Adonis’ voice.

With lilies. Oft when I doe behold, a spectres of their images again: though the balmy drops upon her I stand here in a swoon. And sweet spoyle of hell, and tempests move; twere prophecies, but the thickens in his could be silence guarded nymph and Sick Man’s Imperial Consort with tidings of contact, and bear along the day, and the next December June their hapless stone at a bayt such weeping skeleton, with kindled; full of fear whenas a star; uncared for immortal Sight, to both sides I could fetch a pretty person, twelve yards of cedar. Day, the crescent prime?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #118 texts #sonnet sequence

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mysteryoftheshockwave · 5 years

Text

Ooh! What's this?! MY FACE? Yes. Yes, it is.

I figured since I look all pretty right now, I might as well. Also, because @zombabe935 thinks it's a good idea.

(Now for some sillier photos, as well as a preview into my sketchbook :3)

(If anyone gets what cutscene the first sketch is from and what game this little guy is from, comment or reblog with your answer. :3)

(Bottom text: Sorokina Middle text: I'm a dragon! Stop calling me a dinosaur!(Inside joke with a friend))

I also drew the DE dragon on the right. :3 I have too much time on my hands.

I tried to get the cat in, but he's napping on a box. He's old, so I forgive his laziness.

#shock talks #MY FACE! :D #face reveal #Sorry if I look like shit #it's late and I'm tired #a shitty camera on my computer doesn't help my cause either #And before I get asked/no I don't wear mascara #and I have my contacts in here #I'll probably also put a picture of me with glasses on up if people wanna see that #Forgive the lamp on the left tho #I kinda dumbed and didn't move it out of the way #The grey shirt is the one I draw myself in if I don't draw the turtleneck #sorry about the mess in the bg #im sorting through clothes for goodwill because I have too much shit to deal with atm #and I don't use a bedframe for any eagle-eyed people out there #I just have two mattresses on the floor and I'm okay with that #I can just dolphin dive on them with no worry about breaking a bed #which I have done before as a child...#oops

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empress-simps · 4 years

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Hi I saw your post about haikyuu and you taking request, can I request an angst to fluff poly with kuroo and kenma, where kuroo and reader are dating and kenma really like reader so he confess then there's fluff,,,,, if you're not comfortable that's ok, thank you tho!

Ack im so excited for this- THANKS FOR REQUESTING! This is also my first ever poly fic and it might be a pretty long one since I kinda got carried away oop- I hope this is what you had in mind!👉👈

Idiot

Kenma x Gn!Reader x Kuroo (Poly)

Warnings: Angst with a fluff at the end to make up for it

Synopsis: Kenma tried to hide his feelings as he saw the two people he cares about is dating one another, but his pent up feelings made itself known.

"Tetsuroo!"

Kenma heard your voice echoing through the gym, he was just about to warm up as he puts his switch in his bag when he felt your presence.

"How many times have I told you to take a break!? You're sick!" You scolded their Captain, already changed from your uniformq into the Nekoma Volleyball Club's tracksuit as you pulled him by the ear.

"Im fine! I can totally play! Kenma tell Y/n!" He shouted for his friend, desperately trying to participate in the club activities.

Kenma couldn't really focus on what his friend was saying as his eyes were transfixed to you, taking in your features and just basking in your presence. All he managed to muster up is a nod and hum.

You sighed, shaking your head "Go home. Don't drag Kenma in this. I want you to rest, the sooner you get better the sooner you can play volleyball. Understand?" You spoke, voice laced with authority as you being their manager kicked in.

"Ughh, im so jealouuus! I want someone to care for me like that too!" Yamamoto sighed as they all looked at yours and kuroo's bantering frame. "Seeing how sweet they are makes me wanna throw up." He added as they saw their captain trying to woo you into making him play.

"Then who's gonna take you home? Just come with me-" Kuroo persisted but you just merely cut him off. "No. I'm not here just as your s/o but also the manager for the team. I need to perform my managerial duties as well as check up on them too, you know. I'll just go home with Kenma." You said, still not backing down. The entire Nekoma team still watching you both. Kuroo let out a huff and raised his hands. "Fine fine.. you win.." he grumbles as he grabs his bag.

You shot him a cute smile and waved as he left the gymnasium, "Love you tooo!" Once you made sure he already left, you turned towards what was left of the Nekoma Team.

"Now, have you all finished doing your warm- ups?"

Volleyball practice has come to an end as you found yourself walking alongside Kenma who was busy playing a game. The sound effects of the game fills the deafening silence between you two.

You glanced over him, taking in his features while he was completely unaware. Too focused in his game to even care about his surroundings, you sometimes even have to pull him when he was getting dangerously close to the lamp post or was about to trip over something.

Unbeknowst to you, Kenma was far from being focused. His mind was in shambles, thoughts darting back and forth in his head making him loose focus and actually getting defeated in the game. He tried his best to calm his nerves by gripping on his nintendo switch as he weighed the pros and cons if he was going to confess to you right now.

"Uh.. Y/n".

He called out softly, his eyes widened slightly. He was not meant to say that out loud. You stopped humming as you turned to your side "What is it Kenma?"

Kenma's eyes darting back and forth at his surroundings, trying to find the words to say as his voice got caught in his throat. You looked at him more closely, leaning to observe his features. "Kenma.. are you okay?" You said worriedly, putting a hand on the underside of his jaw to check the temperature.

Before Kenma could even stop himself, those words that he wants to tell you throughout the years you've known each other made it's way out of his mouth.

"I like you a lot."

It was like time has stopped, your hands went stiff as your eyes widened, you tried to play off your iitial shock with a laugh "Kenma, you wouldn't have stuck by me and tetsu's side if you didn't like us." You teased, trying to ease the akward tension between you.

"No, I love you."

At this point, Kenma wants to bash his head against a concrete wall. Since when did he ever got the balls to be bold?

Your hand found its way to your sides as your mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words to say, meanwhile he just stared at the luminescent light his game was giving off.

"Kenma..."

You started, unsure of what to say to the setter "I-i didn't know you felt that way.." You said softly, the feelings you had for him that is tucked away slowly resurfacing.

"It's fine.. You're dating Kuroo anyways.. I just.. felt the need to get it out of my chest." He waved it off, trying to act indifferent about it but what you didn't know was his heart was shattering as the uncomfortable silence grew between you both..

You took in a sharp breath as you stared up at the sky, trying to find the word to say between the setter and you. "Does Kuroo know about this?" You asked him, still looking up and avoiding his gaze.

You can't fall for him again, you already have the most caring and amazing boyfriend that happens to be his bestfriend.

"No. I don't know what will happen if I ever told him.." His voice growing softer by second, you finally grabbed his shoulders and looked at him.

"Kenma.. I don't want things changing between us, you already know im dating Kuroo and.. you're a great friend. I love you to bits okay?"

Kenma looked down as he tried to hide his tears, the words displayed on the device mocking him.

Defeat.

You sat in your bed, on the phone with Kuroo.

"Kenma.. He said something to me earlier." You started as you heard the shuffling of sheets from the other line. "And that is?" He asked a bit intrigued.

"He said he liked me." You dropped the bomb on the unsuspecting Kuroo, the line went silent for a few seconds before he spoke up. "You told me you liked him right?"

You looked down as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, "Yes." . Kuroo asked again, "Do you still have feelings for him?" You sighed "Tetsuroo.. I'm dating you now-"

"Just answer me."

The three of you grew up in the same neighbourhood, you became bestfriends with both and initially fell for Kenma. You didn't plan to tell anyone but Kuroo found out and pratically forced you to spill. A few years later you began dating Kuroo, him confessing and you accepting it. You thought your feelings for Kenma were long gone but here you are, back to square one.

"I thought I got over it.. but it resurfaced.." You mumbled, tearing up and hoping that a fight wouldn't ensue.

Kuroo sighed, "Okay."

You looked at your phone then pressed it up again on your ear. "Okay what?" Your voice laced with a little bit of panic.

"Okay."

"What do you mean okay Kuroo Tetsuroo!?" You asked him frantically, afraid he was going to end it with you over the phone.

"I just need time to think." He said as the line went dead. You dropped your phone beside your bed as you let a few tears fall.

The next few days had been rough, Kuroo wouldn't answer your calls and avoided you as you have been trying to avoid Kenma who is in the same class as you.

"Still not okay Y/n-chan?" Yaku walked alongside you as he checked over you. You sighed as you shook your head, eyes puffy from crying sessions you partake in the evening

"Kuroo didn't broke up with you over the phone did he? I'll wrangle hi-"

"I didn't, no reason to beat me up." The voice you know all too well spoked up as your posture stiffened, not looking back.

You felt him grab your wrist and lead you outside "Let's talk." Your breath hitched as you saw Kenma outside, by the looks of it, he was waiting for you and kuroo to show up.

"Now that we're all here, let's make things clear." Kuroo started, "Kenma and I have talked about it. Don't worry, we didn't fight or somethibg like that." He chuckled

"Since you both like us we came up with a solution.." Kenma said softly, eyes still not meeting yours. You kinda felt guilty for avoidibg him.

"Why don't you date both of us?" Kuroo asked, his hands finding it's way to Kenma's which definetly didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Do you guys like each other..?" You asked, still looking at their intertwined hands. "Yea, we talked about it and realized our feelings." Kuroo said as he held your haid and waited for a reaction.

You smiled and squeezed his hand "Good. I don't think I can date you both knowing you'll probably compete over my gorgeus self."

Kuroo laughed while Kenma has a small smile on his face "Kenma.. I'm sorry for ignoring you for the past days..please forgive me?" You asked, taking his hands to yours. What you didn't expect was a light kiss on the cheek, "I think you know the answer."

"Oya? What about me?" Kuroo pouted, asking for a kiss, Kenma complied but you just ran away, laughter echoing in the now empty halls.

"Y/n my kisseeeees!" Kuroo yelled after you, as you relentlessly teased him while running.

Kenma looked at his boyfriend and s/o while sighing, a small smile plastered on his face. What a bunch of idiots.

His idiots.

>> Nekoma Masterlist

>> Main Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x manager #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu kuroken #haikyuu poly au #haikyū!!

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kuekyuuq · 3 years

Text

Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]

Let’s jump right in:

Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.

...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.

Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)

So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.

I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho...

With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!

Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋

...

Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote. "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch." ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)

...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?

Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.

...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.

F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...

Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.

An easy journey, she said.

Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.

Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover.

Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...

Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown... [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]

Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived...

Let’s check off a few more items...

OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart! 😢

"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭

Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.

...is this going anywhere?

KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG.

Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣

Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...

Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^

Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.

Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.

Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.

Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...

Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.

So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...

If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff!

At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too...

....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch? Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)

On to the finish line:

So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?

Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.

Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!

Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD

...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?

Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.

And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.

...what else?

Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention? I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules...

I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.

...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?

...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.

#Supergirl #supercorp #Mxy in the middle #6x11 #mxy #nyxly #lena luthor #magic #lena's mom #fiction dissected #fandom #episode #Nia nal #dreamer #brainy #brainia

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appleflavoredkitkats · 3 years

Note

Do you have any more info on the fiance situation in Las Nevadas au? :-D or just anything in that au in general (only if you want tho sbajjdkfL) since its vv cool <3 /p

▪︎Beep

i've talked about the fiances before but i'm down to expound on it a little further :DDD this is kinda half assed but still long so MSJDJD

tw: self-destructive behavior, memory loss, breakups (not too horrible i promise)

/dsmp /rp

quackity is definitely immensely hurt by his loved ones leaving him. it ruins him. he feels like his heart is left to bleed out every single day he sees that no one from the south is coming over. he has a telescope atop his hotel, the tallest building, which he uses to look closely at the south (where kinoko kingdom lies). on his free days, or sometimes in the afternoon when he doesn't attend the events, he sits on the roof and looks out at a distance.

i think the longest he's been out on the roof was when karl messaged their chat through the communicator. it was a simple “where am i”, and quackity was quick to respond. he instructs karl to go to las nevadas, assuming he was lost, so he basically cancelled every gig he had to observe his surroundings.

(turns out, he never came. quackity sat on that roof for 15 hours before he was pulled away by fundy.)

but their abandonment was never intentional. quackity knows there has to be something more to it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

he at least also got word from sapnap. after much encouragement from schlatt, quackity finally was brave enough to send him a message. first, he sent a simple “sapnap? where have you been”, then a more desperate “what happened to us?”.

sapnap replies almost immediately that it threw quackity off, “been around, adventuring, getting away from things.” then the second one took a bit longer, “not gonna lie, i thought our engagement was off ever since we kinda. stopped talking to one another. you kind of left us, didn't you?”

and quackity is hurt. he's baffled, he's irritated, but he's fucking livid. schlatt has told him multiple times that he needs to control his anger a little bit better, but in times like this, no matter how petty it may be, he wanted to fucking wreck his room. and so he did— first he threw his communicator against the wall. it was still salvageable, so quackity decided to grab his glowstone lamp and toss it against the communicator. he flips his dresser, throwing it against his bed, and it bounces off and destroys his cabinet. when he looks at his right, he sees a window, and he raises his fist to punch—

and someone is grabbing back. “q, quackity, alex, please,” schlatt pleads. when did schlatt get to his room? “come on, self-destruction is my kind of thing,” schlatt adds, and it summons a smile from quackity's lips before a sob tears out. and it doesn't stop. quackity cries— and he doesn't cry often, especially in front of his coworkers or family or whatever they are. he hates it, he hates emotions— he tried to fucking suppress it all in las nevadas because all of this, all of these casinos and hotels and bars are meant to be his coping mechanism, his distraction. the tears always finds a way to seep through, though.

eventually, they do crumble to the ground, and they sit like that for a while. quackity crying against schlatt's blazer as schlatt merely rubs comforting circles on his back. eventually, fundy does come in with some snacks and a deck of cards, and it was enough for quackity to at least feel better for the rest of the day.

on another day, where quackity was supposed to have fun partying around and doing the same old shit he does every other day, a mysterious green, whorled portal appears in the middle of his casino. most of the staff and the customers stand back, but from the portal, a white-clad brunette falls from it. he doesn't look all to phased by his fall, but when he stands, he realizes the predicament he's in and immediately stiffens awkwardly.

quackity knows him. that's karl— the karl who somehow disappeared from the server for so long that quackity forgot he even fucking existed. what happened to him? why is he all white? why have his eyes become spirals? what's going on?

“hi,” karl greets casually, but his eyebrows are furrowed awkwardly, “uhm, where am i?”

“karl?” quackity says immediately. he stands in uncertainty before fundy nudges at him to go closer whispering “talk to karl, i'll be in charge of the event.” fundy claps twice and immediately announces that their slot machines will double in payout for the next hour, and the crowd immediately goes wild. karl seems a bit lost by the noise, but quackity quickly grabs him away from the crowds and out to the streets.

“gee, those people were. eager to waste their money. gosh darn rich people,” karl says, and quackity laughs, but his smile immediately drops when karl adds,” nevermind them, i guess, but uh, who are you, exactly?"

and quackity's heart churns. he's heard of a few memory loss cases in their server—it's quite scary to hear how common it's become to just lose yourself entirely—but he didn't think it'd apply to karl. he doesn't even know where karl has BEEN all this time. what happened? why does karl not remember? does sapnap know about this?

quackity decides to not reveal much immediately, so he puts on his typical charming façade and replies, “i'm quackity, or alex, any will do. i'm the owner of this place— las nevadas. it's a place for gambling, drinking, and well, fun! do you, uh, do you remember me?"

quackity sees karl visibly shift awkwardly, and it does summon a sigh out of quackity. “guess you don't, huh?” he says sardonically.

“time travelling kinda... ruins you, sometimes,” karl replies

time travelling...? is... is that what made karl leave? not make karl remember? when in the ever living hell did karl, the nicest, sweetest man he knows, ever been allowed to time travel?

“oh,” he just says instead, “well, uh, i was a close friend of yours."

"oh?" karl replies, “kinda like uhm, uh, do you know sapnap? or george."

damn. quackity's façade immediately melts— how does he know about them and not HIM? why did karl remember them and not quackity? why was he forgotten? quackity immediately hisses, turns away and responds, “i'm giving you a free hotel room for the night and i'm calling sap to pick you up. just walk seventy blocks to your right and talk to manifold, or something, christ you fucking irritate me.” he knows karl probably won't understand, and he knows he's breaking this already broken relationship even more, but he can't... he can't look at them the same way anymore.

karl does get to a hotel room, and quackity does visit him just to make sure everything is alright. thankfully, fundy did repair his communicator after his last tantrum, and he uses it to tell sapnap to pick karl up from las nevadas. sapnap doesn't ask where it is— he simply tells him “ok” and goes offline.

when sapnap arrives, he doesn't look as miffed as quackity expected him to be. he looks... well, definitely more composed than him and karl, but he still looked a bit tired. he has some new scars, but quackity guesses sapnap probably wasn't lying when he said he was out adventuring. before quackity could greet sap, sapnap enters the room abruptly and karl practically throws himself at sapnap.

and jealousy is a fickle thing, isn't it? quackity's heart is still torn, it's still bleeding, and it continues to do so the longer he stares at the sight of the other two. he withholds a scowl, mostly because he knows he might go on another temper tantrum if he doesn't, and he also knows he can't... he can't get mad at them. he's waited forever for this moment.

“wow,” quackity murmurs, and sap turns to him, “things really have changed."

sapnap sighs, “we built you a house in kinoko, but you never came."

"and i made las nevadas entirely for you as well." quackity responds, “i guess it's just... unfortunate timing, and all." it's silent for a few moments until, “i'm sorry”.

sapnap's look softens, “i'm— i'm sorry too.”

there's so much more words to say, things to clarify, stories to catch up on, but quackity wonders how worth it it is to cling onto his past. karl and sap's visit is quite... underwhelming, to say the least. but maybe it isn't underwhelming at all— maybe he just found a new purpose outside of them, and he's just... moved on. it hurt, obviously, but when he looks out of karl's hotel room window, he sees las nevadas. he sees the casinos he's designed for schlatt and fundy, and the bars he's designed for jack and sam, and the stages he's designed for charlie— it's just... different now. he loves karl and sapnap still, of course, but he's also been hurt by them, and he's grown into a different person from that hurt. he thinks sapnap has grown the same way as well.

but still, “you know you're invited to las nevadas if you ever want to visit again,” quackity offers with a melancholic smile.

sapnap sighs, but he mimics quackity's smile and nods, “i'll consider it.” sapnap pauses for a bit, then, “thank you for everything, quackity— i really do mean it. i hope... i hope you enjoy the life you've made for yourself here, kinda looks cool,” sapnap says, and his words were very soft and genuine— something quackity needed to end this chapter of his life with them.

“thank you too, i hope you guys do well too. take care,” quackity says, and sapnap and karl take their leave with simple goodbyes.

it isn't exactly forgiveness or getting back together but it's... closure. quackity's journey up to this point isn't exactly all smiles and rainbows, but he's happy where he is now. he just hopes sapnap, karl, and george are feeling the same as well.

#mcyt #dream smp #quackity #sapnap #karl jacobs #jschlatt #fundy #famberg las nevadas au #long post

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Gone

In which Steve Rogers shaves his beard at the request of his daughter, Sarah.

(Steve Rogers x reader)

Warnings: none. grammar mistakes. I should really find a better title...

All I’m gonna say is that infinity war Steve is a total snacc and endgame Steve tho... he’s a meal. that’s that.

On a serious note, I love Sarah so much and I have plenty more of ideas for her. She’s just too cute.

Sorry not sorry, I have a big love for Dad!Steve and your gonna see him a lot.

The Previous Night:

In the pitch-dark night sky, lighting streaks illuminated the room, thunder resonating across the city forthwith. Rain clashed against the apartment building as wind robustly blew it sideways.

The first loud thunderous clap of the approaching storm awoke both you and Steve at the late hour of 11 pm.

Now wide awake, you turned on your side to be met with your husband’s back. Was he asleep?

In order to discover the answer, you slightly sat up, leisurely running your hand over his shoulder.

“You awake, Steve?”

The man quickly sat up, evidently not asleep either. His left arm was soon outstretched around your pillow, an invitation to cuddle against his side.

“I’ve been awake too, wasn’t sure if you were still sleeping though, at the time.”

The two of you quietly snickered at how you both shared the similar thought.

“Should we go get Sarah?” Concern glossed your face, as your mind darted to three thousand different scenarios, one of which was your daughter’s possible cries.

“If she wakes up, we’ll go get her.”

Steve softly ran his hand through your hair, trying to soothe your anxious nerves and coax you back to sleep. What else could he do to calm you? After all it wasn’t the storm you both were worried about, it was your daughter, Sarah. The little angel was just the perfect sleeper for the past three years of her life, except for when it stormed. Inherited from her father, a super sense of hearing intensified the thunder rumbles. All kids were terrified of storms, it was an unfortunate fact, but poor Sarah received the worst end of the stick.

Ironically, after Steve had calmed you just a bit, Sarah’s heart wrenching wails echoed down the hall and towards your’s and Steve’s room.

The parental instincts in the both of you set into motion instantly, and in no time you and Steve crossed the hallway and into Sarah’s room.

Her bed covers were pulled over her head, tightly held by her small, shaking hands. She had buried her face deep within her pillow as she whimpered, trying to hold back her sobs.

Coming beside the bed, Steve got down on his knees, gently prying the pillow from Sarah’s surprisingly strong grip as you switched her butterfly lamp on. Sarah’s eyes were screwed shut in fear, and when the round of thunder stopped she quickly opened her eyes, catching a glimpse of her two parents. At the sight, she immediately jumped into her father’s arm, who got off the ground once the girl was snug in his arms. You walked up beside Steve, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s head as she sat up in her father’s arms. Tear stains patterned her precious face, her cheeks and nose red from crying so violently. Sarah’s blue eyes peered into the identical ones of father’s, and then into your’s.

“Mommy, Daddy, I’m sorry!”

Her bottom lip started to quiver violently as she silently cried, this time not provoked by the storm but by her own shame.

“I tried to be a big girl, I’m so sorry!” Upset and tired, she plopped her head on Steve’s shoulder and cried some more. You looked up at Steve who wore a doleful expression of his own. Tenderly, you brought a hand to her back, rubbing up and down, quieting her pitiful blubbering.

“It’s okay, babe. You know sometimes even Daddy and I get scared?”

Sarah leaned up from her safe spot, looking at you and Steve, slightly startled at your divulgence of the truth.

“Really?”

Steve delicately tickled Sarah’s sides, evoking a grin that stretched from ear to ear and a few sweet giggles from the girl.

“All the time, sweetheart.”

Rain vehemently pounded against the side of the building all in part to the winds sudden change in pattern. To Sarah it sounded just as atrocious as nails on a chalkboard. The loud sounds forced Sarah to bury her face and cling tighter to Steve. You looked over to him, leading the way to the bedroom, Steve following suit until Sarah started squirming in his arms. When the rain had stopped for a break and lighting just ensued, the little girl felt a little safer at the moment, leading her next action.

“Daddy wait!” Sarah popped her head up from her safe spot in her father’s neck. “What is it, sugar?” Another wave of thunder rolled through, prompting Sarah’s cries as her hands flew to her ears. Between sobs she answered Steve's question, his and your hearts shattering at the sight. “Please…get... Mr... Harry.” You nodded and turned to Sarah’s bed, grabbing the stuffed giraffe that was once tucked beside the little girl.

Briskly, the two of you once again headed to the bedroom, this time Sarah complying.

Steve went straight to the king sized bed with Sarah while you went to shut the door, since your daughter was now with you. Now with the door closed, the lightning from Sarah’s room was relatively blocked out, making your room just the slightest bit darker.

With Sarah comfortably snuggled between you two, your nerves were finally calmed and sleep was back on the agenda for all the Rogers. You also noticed a visible shift in Steve’s mood, for he too was relieved. Deciding to call it a night, Steve sweetly kissed you goodnight and then leaned down to kiss a sleepy Sarah. Her little face was turned his way as he pecked her lips.

“Ah, daddy! Your scruff!” Sarah’s adorable, sleepy giggles instinctively brought a grin to your face.

Unexpectedly, two little hands came up to Steve’s face, resting on his beard.

“I think I like Daddy’s clean face better.” As the lightning lit up the room, it revealed a revolted Sarah.

Your daughter’s adorableness was just too much. Sarah’s head was turned away from you, giving the perfect opportunity for you to kiss her blonde nest of hair.

“Honey, Daddy’s face isn’t dirty, he just has a beard.” Her little mouth opened in surprise while she turned to look at you. Sarah was a smart little girl, ahead of her age, and if you explained anything to her, she’d immediately understand.

“Oh, well, I still like Daddy better with no breard.”

You and Steve looked at each other with big cheesy smiles because of your daughter's best attempt at the new word in her vernacular. Unaware of her parents' antics, a quiet yawn left Sarah’s tiny mouth as she laid on both of your pillows, clutching Mr. Harry tightly, she drifted off to sleep, despite the storm’s annoying ruckus. Steve lifted his eyes towards you, a thought clearly on the brink of his lips, too tired to question, you just blew him a kiss, closing your own eyes and succumbing to a deep sleep.

The next morning Steve was already up, Sarah still laying close, now curled in your chest. You had assumed Steve was out for a jog, but then heard someone in the bathroom. The alarm clock on the bedside table registered 9 am, normally Steve would be back by now if he had indeed left. Almost getting up to check for yourself, the man in question walked out, a black leather bag in hand. You met your eyes with his, already knowing the contents of this bag. So this was his idea last night.

Gingerly, Steve sat on his side of the bed, setting the bag beside him and lightly stroking Sarah’s back in an attempt to gently wake her.

“Sarahhhh.”

Just the slightest, Sarah stirred. You and Steve both looked at each other, beaming at your daughter’s playfulness.

“Wakey Wakey, Sarah!” In a cheerful voice, you took your own shot at waking the lil’ cutie.

The mischievous girl smiled into your chest feigning sleep, but you both knew very well that she was awake.

“Ok then, I guess you leave me no choice.” Steve climbed into the bed and brought his hands to her sides, tickling her relentlessly, while Sarah laughed endlessly.

“Stop! Stop!” Her jocular pleas were interrupted with fits of darling giggles. Once Sarah had calmed down, she just laid facing you, pretending to be mad at her father. Dotingly, you grabbed Sarah, turning on your back so she could sit on your lap. A proud smile grew on your face as Sarah bent down to kiss your cheek, you returning one to her nose.

“Good Morning, munchkin.”

“G’morning, Mommy.”

You looked over to Steve, who wore a mock pouting expression.

“What about Daddy? Are you gonna say hello to him too?”

Sarah turned to Steve, slightly giggling at his pout, but still trying to keep her fraud mien of anger.

“No, he’s a meanie. He started tickling me!”

Steve sat up and took Sarah from your lap, placing her in his own.

“Can you please forgive Daddy?” Sarah’s little hands once again came up to Steve’s bearded face and smiled at him. Gleefully, Sarah placed a kiss on her father’s forehead.

“I forgive you.” Her hands moved from his face and around his neck as she hugged Steve to which he happily returned, holding her close. Every moment with his daughter was precious and valued.

As Sarah turned her head on Steve’s shoulder, she noticed the black leather bag laying beside them. Curious, Sarah quickly sat up, reaching for the bag. When she had it in hand, the contents of the bag were a little heavier than expected, prompting Steve to take it from Sarah’s hands.

“What’s in there?” Sarah pointed her short and chubby finger to the leather pouch.

“I thought today we could get rid of the beard.” Almost immediately, Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise. From her toddler point of view, with the beard, Steve looked nothing like the clean shaven man she’d known her whole life.

With Sarah’s happy approval of the plan, the three of you walked into the bathroom. Steve sat on the closed toilet seat, while Sarah stood beside you, watching as you laid out the razor and shaving cream.

Taking the bottle of shaving cream, you handed it to Sarah who stood waiting patiently by your side.

“Ok, bug, I’m gonna get you to help me.” Sarah bore into your eyes, listening attentively and taking each word as if it were a piece to a puzzle. “Give this to daddy and he will show you what to do.” Placing the bottle in Sarah’s hand, you gently turned her towards the direction of Steve and playfully tapped her bottom, sending her off.

“Here you go!” Steve pulled Sarah up into his lap, gratefully taking the bottle from her. Noticing the two were about to start putting on shaving cream free-handedly, you slid a countertop pedestal mirror beside him, to which Steve shot back a knowing smile.

Steve then angled himself and Sarah towards the mirror. With the bottle, he sprayed some shaving cream in hand, lathering it on his face. Sarah laughed at Steve’s funny appearance.

“Daddy! You look even sillier!” Looking up from the mirror to see your reaction, Steve caught a glimpse of you holding in a laugh, your lips tucked in and a few closed mouth laughs escaping.

“Little doll, it’s only temporary. It’s to help mama shave my face! So do you want to help me finish?” As Sarah understood, she giddily agreed, holding her hands out for some shaving cream. Unsure of what to do exactly, she just looked up at Steve for help. The man then took her hands and spread the shaving cream on his neck while Sarah laughed at the funny feeling of the substance on her hands.

In a matter of minutes Steve and Sarah were ready, after wiping the fluffy mass from both of their hands.

“Honey, we are ready whenever you are.” You turned from your prepping spot at the sink to see Steve’s face and neck covered in shaving cream while Sarah laid her back against his chest, some shaving cream on her nose. Grabbing the wash cloth, you went and kneeled in front of Steve and Sarah, wiping the shaving cream from her nose. You then went to quickly retrieve the razor and the bowl of hot water.

“Babe, you are gonna have to sit on the counter for a bit.” The little girl smiled in understanding and held her arms out so you could swiftly place her on the counter to your right. Now situated, you took Sarah’s spot on Steve’s lap and straddled him, his strong and sturdy hands holding at your waist, while Sarah then handed you the bowl of now warm water and the covered razor from the counter.

You removed the razor’s cover and placed it on Steve’s cheekbone, softly skimming over his skin and cutting off the beard. As Sarah realized a razor was on her father’s face, fear instantly set in.

“Does that hurt?” Since Steve couldn’t talk, you answered for him. Sarah’s face was covered in a horrified expression, thinking she was putting her dad through some form of pain. You could sense the sorrow and agitation in her voice and was quick to reassure her.

“Not at all, sweetie!”

After that, Sarah just stared in awe, never having seen such a thing before in her life.

You finished gliding the razor over his upper lip, placing the razor in the bowl of water and wiping away the remaining shaving cream with the warm washcloth.

“All done!” Planting a kiss on Steve’s now bare cheek, you got up from his lap taking the razor and bowl of water. As you left your seat, you patted his chest, tenderly signaling for him to get up and get Sarah down from the counter.

Sarah gladly hopped in her father’s arms, playing with his clean shaven face. A small frown ran onto Sarah’s lips, Steve looking down at her with furrowed brows and consternation.

“Daddy, I think I like the breard better.” At Sarah's simple statement, you just lost it, full on laughing now, leaning on the sink for support as Steve and Sarah, who were standing beside you, started giggling and howling with laughter too.

And needless to say, Steve didn’t shave the incoming stubble that next week.

If you liked this story, check out Days of the Week and Mon Cheri on my masterlist!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #chris evans

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freakynct · 4 years

Text

[1/2]

you didn't recognize yourself. as you stared in the mirror, you couldn't see yourself anymore, but for some reason you felt happy. you had never worn, or owned for that matter, such an elegant and sophisticated dress. your hair and makeup done so perfectly, nothing was out of place. now you really looked like you were worth a million bucks.

you and your parents had been invited by mr. na to his son's birthday party. you always thought that birthday parties were celebrated with your friends, getting drunk and dancing until the next morning but this was a different kind of party. everyone was there, adults and younger people, all dressed in their best suits and dresses and the only music playing in the big room was a very classical one, only piano and violins. you thought that must just be how rich people party.

you knew mr. na's son from school too, his name was jaemin. you met each other on the first day of high school, nobody knew each other and he sat next to you in class. you became really good friends very quickly, he was always so nice to you and you actually started having a little crush for him, ignoring it not to ruin your friendship but you see... that was all before his father's company became successful and before he became rich. from then on he started hanging out with other type of people, people that were very different from you, that had more than what you had, and he stopped sitting next to you, stopped talking to you, stopped replying your texts until eventually he stopped recognizing you on the school halls.

but now you were at his house, after 3 years. your dad recently started working for his dad's company and became one of his best employees, and here you were. at jaemin's birthday party. you grabbed a glass of champagne that the waiters were handing over and drank half of the liquid, walking around the room, observing the expensive paintings on the walls until you harshly bumped into someone, some of the champagne dropping to the floor.

"i'm so sorr-" you looked up at the person to apologize but you were met with jaemin's eyes, staring at you.

"y-y/n?" he looked a bit confused, eyeing you up and down. you were surprised he even remembered your name.

"hi. happy birthday." you said while raising you glass at him, forcing a smile, embarrassed that this was how you were meeting each other again.

"thanks." he murmured. "i barely recognized you, you're so different." me too, you thought.

"yeah, your dad invited us to come so i wanted to look like i belong here." you smiled a little, opening your arms a little, letting him have a look at your exaggerated but glamorous dress. "you like how i look?"

"no, i don't." he said almost immediately, his face maintaining a serious expression and your smile dropped, your heart sinking a bit. you thought that he would finally see you as an equal but he just crushed all your hope.

"why not?" you words were almost inaudible.

"i don't like fancy dresses." he simply said, leading his glass to his lips, sipping a little bit of the champagne in it.

"you're the rudest person i've ever met." you shot him an angry look, walking away quickly before he would see you tearing up.

you got inside of the first room you saw, making sure no one was there before closing the door behind you, leaning against it, letting one tear finally roll down your cheek. you were so embarrassed. why would he humiliate you like that? he was so different from the boy you met on the first day of class. you looked up and noticed you were in some kind of library. there were an insane number of shelves with all different types of books in them and there were a few small couches. you walked up to one of the shelves, setting your champagne glass on a little table neirby. as you were running your hands through the dusty books, the door suddenly opened and you almost jumped, turning around to see who it was.

"go away, jaemin." you rolled your eyes, remembering that you had forgotten to clean the tears out of your face, quickly running you fingers through them.

"this is my house, y/n." he closed the door behind him and raised an eyebrow at you.

"fine, then i'll leave." you started walking towards the door but he interrupted you, positioning himself in front of you.

"no! i'm sorry, ok?" you stared at his eyes for a second before turning around again and settling in one of the couches.

"i don't think you are. i think you meant what you said." you muttered, not daring to look at him.

"oh i did. i mean..." he shook his head realizing how that sounded and he sat next to you. "i might not like your dress, but i think you're beautiful." you looked up at him and he gave you a little warm smile and you could see that he was being honest.

"really?"

"really. please forgive me." for a second you could see how his eyes sparkled with regret and in that moment you saw the old jaemin again, even tho he was wearing a black suit this time.

"i miss you jaemin." the words rolled out of your mouth involuntarily and you almost regretted them, but jaemin sighed and put his head down. "i thought that, maybe if you saw me like this you would accept me again."

he quickly grabbed your hand, staring you in the eyes. "y/n, don't say that. i've always accepted you."

"you stopped talking to me." you slowly removed your hand away from him, your heart aching when you started remembering all of the times you tried to reach him and he simply ignored you.

he sighed, undoing his tie and running his fingers through his hair. "i'm so fucking sorry, y/n. i think i just let myself be sucked into this new life and starting distancing myself from the old stuff." he turned his body to you, sitting on top of his leg and his fingers grazed your arm. "i missed you too, you know."

you let a little smile creep into your lips and he noticed, chuckling. "what do you say we leave this fucking place and this snob ass people and go celebrate my birthday somewhere else. like we used to do." he smiled at you, waiting for your reaction and as soon as you nodded your head he was pulling you by your hand out of the room. you rushed through people, knocking over some of them and you could hear jaemin's mom calling for him before you both left through the front door, leaving all of the noise behind and while you were next to him in his car, driving through the dark night, you took a glance at him, his facial features shining in the light of the street lamps and you remembered how handsome he was, starting to feel that tingling feeling in your stomach all over again.

#second part will be smut #nct fluff #jaemin fluff #na jaemin fluff #jaemin imagines #nct dream fluff #jaemin reactions #jaemin scenarios #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct 127 smut

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nctrenjunie · 5 years

Text

Pray~ MarkxHaechanxReader (M)

Author: Sera

Pairing: Mark x Haechan x Reader

Genre: Smut

Comment: Heck yeah, I´m back!! SOO I just wrote this and I literally don´t know if it´s good because it´s been a while so FEEDBACK would be nice. Also sorry if it´s not to fluffly, like I said it´s been a while :)

Request:

What a beautiful night.

Opening your eyes you could see your shadow move on the wall, reflected by the dim light from the lamp on the nightstand. Next to it you could see your king sized bed. The silk red bed sheets messy, laying under the two beautiful creatures that were lying on them. Singing to the slow beat song that blasted through your phones speaker you moved your hips to it, dancing on the melody. The smile that you sung through got bigger as Haechans angelic voice joined your singing.

It seemed so beautiful. So flawless. Just like heaven…so surreal.

Your two perfect angels in front of you, looking as innocent as they might be when you’re not around. Whilst you were being the devil, letting dirty thoughts smoke you into a demons paradise, filled with lustful sins you would love to commit the whole night with them.

Time to go back to hell.

Deciding to leave the little heaven, you lowered the volume of the music, lying your phone on your desk before standing in front of your bed again. Mark and Haechan were still minding their own business, scrolling through their phones whilst you started to get rid of your nightgown and the remaining fabric that was still covering some parts of your body.

The creaking sound the bed made as you sat down on it made Marks and Haechans attention fully move on you. It made you feel even more like the devil. Being naked in front of them, who were still fully clothed. You would’ve probably feel exposed but the knowledge that you were in fact in control boosted your confidence high enough for you to keep on moving farther on the bed, sitting down between both of them.

No words were needed as you started to trace one hand over Mark’s and the other one over Haechans groin. You had to keep down the little smile that wanted to creep it’s way on your lips as both of them synchronously put their phone away.

Torturing slow but with a feisty grip you rubbed over their pants, feeling it grow. Opening both of their pants with a little struggle you were about to move your hand into their underwear. Though, you had to stop yourself abruptly as you heard Haechan leave out small godly whimpers. The stern gaze you gave him made him shut up, knowing that he won’t get what he wants if he doesn’t behave.

You continued your movements, moving your hands down into their boxers before grabbing both of their already erected cocks. Putting pressure on the tip of their cocks with your thumb you got blessed with their groans.

“If you stay quiet, you might get to cum.”

Your stern voice out voiced the soft music as you started to bob your hands down their cocks. The pleasure filled faces they made filled the void in your heart as much as their cute laughs could. You kept speeding up, testing their limits even tho you already knew them. You saw it in his face, he was about to cum. Mark held back his moans, biting hard on his lips whilst on the other hand, Haechan had his mouth a gape, starting to leave out sweet moans and whimpers, making you slow down.

“You both look so cute. I would love to let you cum..but you know the rules.”

Keeping the slow tempo, Mark seemed to be on the edge of crying as he tried to suppress his moans. Haechan on the other hand kept pouring out his sinful moans like a confessional. Needing his release Mark abruptly moved his right arm up, finding Haechans neck with his hand. With a tight grip and fingers pressing deep into Haechans beautiful skin he managed to stop his best friends moans, making him therefore roll his eyes open as he tried to figure out if Marks or your hand gave him the feeling of falling down from heaven into hell while watching from above.

You smirked at Mark being done with Haechans behaviour. Wanting to reward him you replaced your hand around his cock with your mouth, bending down before starting to bob your head up and down. At this point the moans he left out didn’t even matter anymore, wanting to reward him in the best way he could need now. You fastly moved away as he shooted his white seeds into your mouth. A white string still connected your tongue to the tip of his cock before you finally fully pulled away to move up to Haechans face. Pressing your lips against his he licked your lips before intertwining your dirty tongue with his. Replacing Marks tired hand around Haechans neck with yours you mustered him from the side. A satisfied smile traced his lips as his chest heaved up and down.

You pulled away from Haechan, tilting yourself into Marks direction before gently moving away the strands of hair from his face. His smile got bigger, eyes still closed as you pressed a small kiss against his lips. Pulling the red silk bedsheet from underneath above his tired body you went back to Haechan. Straddling Haechans lap you positioned his cock at your entrance. Haechan looked at you lovingly, still a bit tired, before pressing cloudsoft kisses on your shoulder.

“Look how tired Mark looks because of you Haechanie, you should apologize later.”

You paused. Not wanting to wait even more as you felt how wet you got from the whole situation you started to slide down his cock, leaving out a loud lustful scream, joined by his needy groans as he started to move inside of you.

“You look so fucking stunning baby, now make love to me angel.”

You smirked at your comment, putting your arms around his shoulders before moving your hands into his hair, holding tight onto it as he gently but with hard force pounded into you, making you feel his cock deep inside of you. His arms moved around your body, putting his hands on your back, pulling you closer with every hit he made. His lips moved back up on yours, trying to kiss you endlessly even tho both of you knew it wouldn’t work as you were constantly interrupted by your own desperate moans. You knew he was close as you felt his pounds getting sloppy, making you plead for more with loud moans, knowing you weren’t there yet.

Your slow but constant moans got louder as you felt your other angels hand come up from behind, kneading your left breast while he moved his other hand down to your clit. You felt Haechan release into you while screaming your name. Riding out his high marks movements on your clit started to get faster making you constantly cry out his name before you finally felt down, joining both of your fallen angels in hell.

Now that the loud screams stopped you could hear the soft melody of your music again, that faded away in the sins you shared just seconds ago. Your right hand moved down to Haechans neck, whilst your other one moved up behind you, finding its place in Marks soft but sweaty hair. He chuckled before letting out something else out than just his hot breath.

“Maybe, maybe we should pray for forgiveness.”

A small laugh plastered itself on your tired face, still breathing out as you heard Haechan answer.

“Sadly, I think we already fell to deep.”

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct u smut #nct127 smut #nct mark smut #nct haechan smut #mark smut #haechan smut #nct smut blog #nct smut scenario #nct smut imagine #nct hard hours #donghyuk smut #nct127 haechan smut #nct127 mark smut #nctu mark smut #nct dream haechan smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines

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jzixuans · 6 years

Note

Hey, I've been feeling down recently and was wondering if you had any Logince headcannons. Platonic or romantic work, whichever you feel more comfortable with. Sorry if I'm bothering you.

aw lad don’t worry about bothering me i’m glad to share some headcanons ! i hope you feel better soon!

now, might i interest you in some childhood friends-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers logince? [PREPARE FOR A LONG ASS BULLET FIC I’M SO SORRY (google docs says it’s 4.2k words oh my god)]

they’ve known each other since the first grade because oh my god they were neighbours

they were the kind of childhood friends that were aware of each other’s presence and they hung out a little on the playground and worked on group projects but they didn’t really click

there WERE occasions tho where their parents would sit them down together for play dates bc one or more of said parents were Occupied with Important Adult Stuff

and since this was way back when they were wee lil smols, they were hyperactive lil children

so they played lots of adventure games, lots of role-playing, play fighting, that kind of stuff (twas often the dashing daring prince accompanied by his wise magickal advisor)

okay, so maybe they did click, but only a little (so they say)

they liked most of the same stuff, reading, learning, doing stuff with all that knowledge in those big brains of theirs, and that was pretty much the base of their close-but-not-that-close-friendship

and then they got older, and as all kids do, they started prioritizing different things

logan still loved learning and applying that knowledge, but it was more of a ‘learn and apply what knowledge can make you really successful’ and that was how he found his love of science

for roman, it was more of a ‘take what you’ve learned and use it to create your own path to success’ because he planned to go into music and theatre

as a result of this, both boys were exceptional students, except logan cared maybe a little too much about the academics and roman not enough

as the years went by, logan threw himself into studying, making schedules and routines so that he could make sure he knows what he needs to know and maybe a little bit more on the side, who cares if he lost an hour of two of sleep?

roman just learned to go with the flow, so he took everything in stride, took in what he needed, left the rest, and focused on his art instead, even if he’s started to grow an unhealthy apathy to school

and maybe logan falls just short of perfect on his tests, and he looks over and roman has glowing one hundreds in red ink on his

logan looks back down at his and the teacher has written ‘Think outside the box!’

meanwhile logan answers every question in class with scary accuracy, beaming with pride whenever the teacher praises him, and after school that same day roman gets pulled aside with an ‘I know you’re smart, so why don’t you want to put in the work?’

of course logan’s parents wonder why his grades don’t match his progress work, and roman’s parents wonder how he can spend all his time singing and dancing and still come out with high nineties (“is he cheating?”)

and the two have been drifting apart enough as it was, but now they kind of hate each other because ‘why can’t i just be more like him?’

logan starts hating roman because ‘he doesn’t even CARE, how is he doing better than me?’ (part of him misses the days when roman cared so much about anything and everything)

roman starts hating logan because ‘he’s so stiff and condescending, why can’t he just be happy for me?’ (and part of him misses when logan would so willingly stand by his side as his faithful warlock advisor)

so naturally, competition just kind of,,,, grows between them, until they’re constantly at each other’s throats and everyone else watching the shitshow go down has absolutely no idea where the hell all this animosity came from

at this point logan has a new friend in virgil fray and roman has befriended patton hart (virgil and patton know not to bring up the boys’ ‘rivalry’)

of course, being neighbours, they can’t exactly escape each other, and their rooms are adjacent to each other’s (they used to just lean out their windows and talk side by side, but they haven’t in yEARS)

so it’s nearing summer, and it’s hot out so roman’s working on his homework with the window open when he hears this cry of frustration, the angry pushing back of a chair, and the throwing open of the door

his first thought is one of smug satisfaction knowing that logan is dealing with school worse than he is, but then a flash of black catches his eye underneath his window

he makes it to the window just in time to see logan hop the fence in his backyard, and that only means one thing: he’s going to the old park behind their houses

neither of them have touched that park in ages

roman is Intrigued™, so he caps his pen, turns off his lamp and tells his parents he’s going for a walk before dashing out the back door

when he gets to the park, logan’s somehow managed to climb on top of the roof of the play structure

and roman ain’t slick so he just stands at the bottom and yells up to him

and logan is Lost In Thought so he nearly falls off (lbr roman thought it was funny)

“what are you doing here?”

“well excuse me, suck-rates, i happened to notice that you weren’t doing too hot and wanted to see if you were okay.”

“like you��ve ever cared.”

“woah there, is blink 180-ew rubbing off on you?”

“lay off of him.”

“alright, alright, fine. forgive me for checking in on you.”

“you have a horrible way of showing people that you care, then.”

“well you have a horrible way of being a good friend.”

it just kind of,,,, slipped out, and now both boys are Oh Shit

but both boys are also not the type to back down from their feelings so they kind of have the Silent Stare-Off of Stubborness

roman decides to be the bigger person (bc any chance to one-up logan) and cave first

“so uh, what’s been bothering you?” (psh you thought he was gonna apologize first? not yet fam)

logan rolls his eyes bc this asshole amirite, but he wants to vent and this is probably his best opportunity to tell roman what’s really been bugging him

“i don’t know how you manage to do it.”

“do what?”

“do so well in school! you don’t even try!” and damn dude that one stings because he sounds exactly like his parents and every other teacher

“so you’re angry because you’re jealous that i’m better than you at everything.”

“that’s not what i meant and you know it.”

“i’ll have you know that i do try.”

“but you don’t care.”

“about school.”

“what?”

“i mean yeah, sure, i don’t care about school that much because i don’t really need it to go into music or theatre, but i still do my work.”

“but―”

“don’t you dare say anything about my grades because you know damn well that you’re smarter than me.”

“am not―”

“besides, weren’t you the one that told me in the fifth grade that ‘grades don’t mean shit’? my my, what a foul mouth for ten-year-old logan crane.”

“shut up.”

“nah.”

and by now logan’s decided that roman’s probably not going to rip his head off so he climbs down to stand beside him

and maybe the sun is setting bc i’m a classy romantic

and they’re having a Soft Quiet Moment

“…please don’t tell me that school was the only reason why u hated me.”

“… why did you hate me?” smh lo you’ve got to stop deflecting

“…”

“are you kidding me.”

“YOU STARTED IT”

“what no you did shut up”

and wOw now it’s awkward so

“oh would you look at that, it’s getting late, my parents are gonna think that i’m slacking again, better go. good talk let’s do this again sometime okay byee” and whoop roman just zooms off

and logan realizes that maybe roman’s life isn’t as perfect as he makes it out to be

but too late roman’s gone and he doesn’t want to look like he’s following him so he waits a good half hour before trekking back home

logan doesn’t finish his homework that night because he’s too busy rethinking the past many many years

the next day, he’s frantically trying to cram his work in during his lunch period

virgil takes one look at him and he says “dude, are you okay?”

“no”

“cool, let me know if i can do anything to help.” and maybe it’s a cold answer but logan and virgil are cold edgy people so that’s just how they do

after like twenty minutes virgil takes out his earbuds like “you haven’t complained or sent one angry glare in roman’s direction what the fuck is up kyle”

“i’m just…. stressed.”

virgil, externally: “yeah of course i feel u dude.”

virgil, internally: “i’ve seen you start a project at 3am the morning it was due without breaking a sweat but go off i guess.”

skip to later that night, logan finished his shit (he needed a distraction from the Roman Crisis) so he leans out his window for some Fresh Summer Night Air

and oho would you look at that roman had that sa m e i d ea

but it’s one of those clear nights where you can actually see the stars and logan just got roman off his mind so he’s a lil distracted

but of course roman notices and now that they’ve gotten some of their ‘rivalry’ out of the way, he remembers how much logan loved to drag him out to the park as late as they were allowed to stay up to watch the stars, and logan looks so at peace here (he’s only really seen logan’s angry face recently)

roman wants to say something, because part of him really wants to make up with logan

but before he can work up the courage he’s interrupted by his mom calling him

“roman! are you done all your work?”

“yeah, mom! almost!”

“you better be going to sleep early tonight!”

and roman is about to duck back inside before he gets yelled at even more but oh no too late logan’s already noticed and now he’s staring at him

“uh, hey.”

“hi.”

“are you, uh, are you feeling better?”

“for the most part, yes.”

“that’s good. look, uh, i gotta go, but i’ll see you at school?”

“oh, right, yes. good night, roman.”

“night, lo.”

roman falls back into his room with a crash because ‘oh my god why was that more nerve-wracking than any performance i’ve ever done?”

logan sinks back against his wall with a sigh because ‘is roman avoiding me now?’

the next day at school the two actually say hi to each other in the hallway and it’s like the entire world stops moving. students are staring and whispering, virgil and patton exchange looks, and logan and roman only just now realize how big their rivalry had gotten

the two lock eyes and burst into laughter because something as simple as a passing greeting in the hallway has turned the school on its head

and the rest of the school has absolutely no idea what just happened when the two part ways, virgil and patton trailing behind them, dumbfounded

they catch each other on the way home, though they walk in silence

that night, they’re back at their windows, side by side once more, and they exchange small talk

a couple weeks later, exams are coming up around the corner and both boys are stressed out of their minds

logan’s still working well past midnight when he hears the old creak of roman’s window opening

“i see your lamp. are you still up?” he hears roman whisper, and maybe it’s the late hour, but his voice is hoarse and wobbly, and logan is most certainly not used to hearing that

“that’s a ridiculous question, of course i’m still up,” logan replies, still not looking up from his computer because his history final project is due in two days

except roman doesn’t reply, and all he can hear from his direction is shaky laughter, and then a wet sniff

“of course i’m ridiculous. it’s not like i’m smart or anything.”

“what?”

“if i were smart i wouldn’t’ve procrastinated this english paper and i could probably be getting some sleep right now,” roman continues like he forgot that logan was there

“roman―“

“and sure, i can do other stuff, but it’s not like it matters or anything, not to my mom, or mr. schmitt, or you―”

“roman!”

roman’s babbling stops and logan worries that he’s scared him off until he looks up and sees roman leaning halfway out his window and now logan’s worried that roman’s going to fall out and break his neck on his patio

roman’s eyes are red and his nose is rubbed raw from crying. his usually-perfectly-coiffed hair is messy and greasy from running his hands through it, his clothes are rumpled, and his grip on the windowsill is trembling

yet he’s still half out the window, eyes comically wide, and logan can’t help but shake his head at how big a dork he is

“i’m sorry.”

roman’s so startled that his elbows buckle and he barely manages to land back in his room so he doesn’t fall (didn’t expect logan to apologize first, didya?)

he’s barely back out the window when logan starts talking again

“i shouldn’t have dismissed you so quickly. you are intelligent and you are capable and you absolutely didn’t deserve any of my anger or bitterness or hatred. for that, i’m sorry.”

roman is, SHOCKED, to say the least. when they were kids, usually it was roman who apologized first, if at all, logan only after being prompted to by parents or teachers (which might’ve contributed to their drifting apart)

“i’m― thank you.”

there’s a pause because it’s late and logan is really really bad at this

“i’m sorry, too. i only really hated you because everyone kept comparing us. that wasn’t really fair of me.”

“i guess not.”

“so i guess we both agree that we’re both assholes.”

“essentially.”

“cool.”

“what were you going to talk to me about?” and roman has an ‘oh yeah’ because he completely forgot what he came out here for

“i guess i just missed doing this.”

“i did too.”

and they’re not completely in the clear, because they have years of hurt to clean up, but in that moment, they just sit and talk, and maybe missing one assignment amongst a whole year of perfect grades won’t hurt

they’re butts tired in the morning but neither of them regret it, regardless of virgil and patton’s comments of ‘how much sleep did you get last night? you look like you’re about to pass out.’

that weekend, their finals are all handed in, exams don’t start until the next week, and they’re both sick and tired of studying so logan invites roman over and they lounge in his star-speckled room, talking about everything and nothing

roman’s busy going through logan’s stuff (“what? i haven’t been in here since the summer before the seventh grade”) so logan has a free minute to just,, watch him, and he just now realizes how much he missed having this ball of energy in his life (in a positive way)

after that day, the tension between them is almost gone and conversations are so much easier (virgil and patton get to sigh in relief because ‘thank god, i love them, but they needed to get their shit together’)

but alas, exams approach and roman calls logan late one night, in tears and stressed beyond relief, begging him to meet him at the park (he would’ve called patton, but patton’s never really been under forced academic pressure, and logan’s just a smidge more familiar for him)

logan’s out of the house without another thought, and he sees roman sitting up on the monkey bars with his knees tucked up to his chest (‘oh my god roman don’t you dare fucking fall’)

“i’m sorry, you were probably sleeping, but i just needed to get out of the house and―”

“please don’t apologize for reaching out. what― what’s wrong?”

“i just can’t! my mom’s been threatening to pull me out of music if i don’t do well on this exam because ‘math is more important than music’ but i don’t know anything! i’ve been scraping by pretty well on tests but i can’t fucking study and none of the information is sticking and―”

“roman, you’re hyperventilating. you need to breathe―”

“don’t tell me what to do!” roman regrets this Immediately because logan recoils his hand like he’s been burned. great, just another thing to feel Bad about. “i-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

if this was a month or two ago, logan would’ve had a scathing remark about roman’s inability to control himself but now he just places his hand back on roman’s shoulder and taps gently with his finger

“you remember that school assembly from grade nine? the one about mental health?”

“yeah?”

“can you do that breathing exercise?”

“probably”

ten minutes later, roman’s cried himself out and he’s stopped hyperventilating but he can’t seem to stop his hands from shaking

logan has absolutely no idea what to do but he’s seen patton do it before with some of the younger kids so he holds his arms out (v awkwardly) and goes, “would you― would it be― would a hug help?”

this gets a lil laugh out of roman because he’s trying and that’s adorable so now he’s cry-laughing into logan’s shoulder

“your mother sounds an awful lot like your horrendous dragon witch. i suppose we must simply team up to defeat her.”

roman draws away so fast he bumps into logan’s chin

“OH MY GOD YOU REMEMBER THAT”

“like i could forget it”

“oh my god”

“i mean, i wanted to, but those were… fun times.”

“hell yeah they were.”

“when’s your exam? i can help you study, if you want.”

“in about seven hours.”

“…change of plans, you’re coming back with me, you’re going to sleep for six, wake up, get a cup of tea, and we’re going to do a brief review before school.”

“…okay.”

so they walk back to logan’s house (roman makes sure to tack a note to his bedroom door for his parents, he’ll face the consequences later), and they just, collapse into a pile of leggy boi on logan’s bed (they were too tired to argue about formalities)

logan wakes up with roman clinging to his chest and he very sorely misses that warm cuddly heat but Nope he is Determined™ to help roman get that bread

so he wakes roman up, plops his notes down in front of him and tells him to flip through it while he goes to make breakfast

roman is a jittery Mess all the way up to the exam, but logan promises that he’d be waiting in the cafeteria for him (it was his lunch period’s exam day so he a Free Boi) and he leaves roman with a “you are more capable than you know. you already have everything you need to succeed. and no matter what, you are valid.”

two hours later, roman comes out and he has Zero Confidence in his results, but logan greets him with a clap on the shoulder and the reassurance that “at least you’re done with this.”

they meet up with virgil and patton and go for lunch, and oho, perhaps this is the beginning of a New Squad

at the end of the week, on exam review day logan’s waiting out in the hallway to go to his next class to see his results when he sees roman sprinting down the hall with the biggest grin on his face

“i got an 84!!! thank you, you beautiful blessed nerd!!” because honestly? roman expected nothing more than a 52 so this was a very pleasant surprise, and now roman’s hugging logan so tight that logan swears he heard his elbow pop

the other students of the school are still processing because it was literally only been a little over a month since they started talking to each other again, and anyone out of the loop just got hella whiplash

(and if this burst of happiness and gratitude left a weird, bubbly feeling in logan’s stomach, well, he’ll just keep that to himself)

the next few summer days are spent hanging out, in their rooms, at their windows, at the park, and sometimes, virgil and patton join them

sometimes they’re in roman’s room, roman typing away on his computer with a dozen open notebooks scattered around him while logan lays on his bed, and the two bounce ideas back and forth for the next adventures of the daring prince c and his faithful advisor logos

and then they’re two weeks into the summer break, virgil’s off visiting family in china for the next few weeks and patton’s in the caribbean, so they’re just aimlessly tossing a ball back and forth in roman’s room while they talk about their futures and stuff because “oh my god they’re gonna be high school s e n i o r s in the fall“ ((‘gee, blink, don’t u think that’s a lot of drama for 16 y/os?’ yes absolutely, shut up))

roman chucks the ball at logan, who catches it in one hand and he’s smirking and roman has to take a moment to catch his breath because ‘why was that so hot omg’

over the next couple weeks the two are basically joined at the hip, and when they’re not hanging out, they’re texting or calling each other and it finally feels like they’re really making up for lost time

at the same time, they may or may not be falling for each other and they have no idea what to do with these Feelings™

logan doesn’t know how to what to do because virgil is v aro and the only other person he can talk to is roman, whOM HE HAS A CRUSH ON

meanwhile roman is v frantically texting patton like bro pls call me as soon as u get back there’s a cute boy hELP

it’s nearing the beginning of august when the two go into town to get food and ice cream and they’re laughing and joking and waving melted strawberry ice cream in each other’s faces and they’re sitting on a bench when they lean in real close mid laugh and ‘oh no his face is rIGHT THERE’

they draw away real quick but both of them realize that ‘that wasn’t horrible?’ and they slowly look back at each other and ‘oh.’

“is this―”

“um―”

“is this― i mean if you want it to be ― is this a date?” and roman holds his breath because ‘dear god, please say yes’

“i’d like it to be, yes.” logan is terrified because he does n o t want to fuck this up

except now roman has the biggest grin and he absolutely does not care that he’s got ice cream dripping onto his leg

roman tackles logan into a hug because ‘he’s on a date with logan fucking crane’

logan is thrilled because now he gets to keep this excitable ball of energy who’s made him smile and laugh more in the past couple months than he has in years

(no diss against virgil and patton, but they can’t relate to logan and roman as well as, well, logan and roman)

they both have ice cream on themselves but neither can be bothered to care at this moment because they’re so damn happy

even after they go home that night, they stay up real late at their windows, side by side, just appreciating the company

it’s the next day, and they’re at the park, the sun is setting ((listen,,,, it’s an aesthetic)) and they’re sitting on the swings, holding hands ((they’re in love, babey!!))

“are we… does this make us boyfriends now?” logan is a v technical, official terminology person, of course he’d be the one to ask

“if you want to be boyfriends.”

“i don’t think i’d be asking if i didn’t.”

“then yeah, yeah we’re boyfriends.”

logan walks back into his house with a giant smile, and he plays that event over and over and over again in his mind as he lies awake in bed that night

roman calls patton immediately

and they may or may not scream about it together

logan sends virgil a short text that goes along the lines of ‘roman and i are dating now’ but in real life he’s so giddy that his fingers shake as he types it out

they have their first kiss in roman’s bedroom a couple days later

when school rolls back around in the fall, they walk through the doors hand in hand

and now their rivalry is nothing but a legend that the seniors tell the freshmen whenever someone complains about ‘that one couple that keeps making out in the math wing stairwell, excuse me, i just want to get to class’

#logince #romantic logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #blink writes #long post #anon #cursing tw #i am sO SORRY THIS IS LATE #I HOPE UR FEELING BETTER BUDDY

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brianandthemays · 5 years

Text

Love is a Polaroid (Roger Taylor x reader) Part 16

A/N Eh this isn’t my fav chapter in the world

THanks to @sweet-ladyy for being amazing in general. I adore you. also thanks for helping make this chapter suck less

please send an ask, leave a comment, reblog let me know!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Manipulation, angst, some cute shit tho

Masterlist

______________________________

The whole ride home you were thinking about your interaction with Roger. The way his fingers wrapped around your wrist sending shocks up your arm. Five years later and he could still make your heart flutter. But the image you couldn’t get out of your head was his face buried in another girl’s pussy.

You couldn’t be mad at him, you had moved on as well, but something about it made your stomach sick. The entire night was a blur but for some reason, you remembered that vividly in your mind. Like a brand permanently there. Your fingers started to tighten on the wheel as you thought about it now. Richard had told you later that it was Roger’s new girlfriend, someone he’d been seeing a while apparently. And that was great for him and you didn’t care; but when she wasn’t perched on his knee today, you couldn’t help but be relieved.

You pulled into your driveway, taking a breath before getting out of the car. You were late, and you knew Richard would be upset but you really just wanted to go to bed. Hopefully, he would understand that.

Richard was someone you’d met when you moved into the city. He worked for a small paper company as some sort of manager and worked from 9 to 5. He helped you settle into the city, find an apartment and a job and took you out to coffee. He could be a little demanding at times but he was sweet and cared a lot about you, so you put up with it. He was there for you in a weak part of your life. You were alone and scared in an unknown city. When you broke up with Roger you didn’t just lose him, you lost Fred, and Brian, and John. Your sister had moved up to Edinburgh and was completely out of reach.

Richard picked you up off your feet. You owed him a lot and you were glad to do a little housework if it meant he was happy.

You walked up to the door, opening it with a sigh as you stepped inside.

“Richard?” you called into the house. “I’m home.”

“Babe!” He poked his head out from the kitchen door. “You’re late!”

You gave him a weak smile. “Work was a lot.”

He hummed sympathetically, nodding his head. “So was mine. Let me tell you some of these salesmen I work with really don’t know what they’re doing.” You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued over you. “They just don’t have any respect for authority and no matter what I do they just continue to waste company time.” He shook his head then sighed looking at you. “I was really looking forward to coming home to some dinner and my beautiful girlfriend.”

You felt guilt make its way across your body, settling like a ball in your stomach. You looked down at your feet. “I’m really sorry, Richard. Roger was just talking to me.”

He scoffed. “Roger? Why are you still even talking to him?”

“Well, I do work for him and just because we used to date doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” you reasoned, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I really don’t trust him. I think he’ll try and make a move on you,” he replied firmly. “And you’re my girl. I don’t want you hanging around with him too much.”

“But--”

“You’re really going to fight me on this? You come home late, dinner’s not ready, and now you're going to try and reason why you should be able to see your ex?” he snapped, his fist turning into a ball on the counter. You took a step backward, biting your lip, and turning your eyes downward. He sighed, relaxing his hand. He walked around the counter to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. But I just care about you. Don’t you love me?”

You nodded, continuing to look down at the ground.

“Then let me take care of you. Where would you be without me? Hm?” He hooked his finger around your chin and brought it up to face him. You shrugged. “Nowhere. But I am here. And we’re lucky for that.” He moved his hand to cup your face and you leaned into it. “I love you. Always remember that I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Richard,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“I forgive you, darling.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into his chest. You relished in the warmth he provided. He didn’t smell like Roger. Roger smelt like crisp paper and rain. Roger smelt like warmth and cologne. That cologne he used to wear because he knew you liked it. But that was then, and this was now. “Now are you ready for bed?”

“Yes, please!” you giggled, looking up at him. He leaned down a pressed a kiss to your lips. He really did care about you. He always looked out for your best interest, even if you didn’t understand his reasoning. And he had done a lot for you. So, you sighed into the kiss. Smiling as you pulled away.

“Go on to bed, I’ll be there soon,” he told you, turning you in the direction of your bed. He tapped your behind as you started off, chuckling as you walked away from him.

You made your way into your bed, changing into a baggy shirt and some loose-fitting shorts. You crawled into the sheets, inhaling deeply in the pillow. You turned your head glancing over at the book on your bedside table. The same book that had been there forever. You sat up, leaning your back against the headboard, reaching over to turn on the lamp.

You picked up the book, running a hand over the cover. Then you opened the cover and there was the polaroid. The picture of your Roger. Not this new Roger with bright blonde hair, and charismatic smile. Your Roger with the dirty blonde hair and soft face. Though still with the charismatic smile.

It might be foolish to ponder on days past, but when your wishing for a life you used had one tends to linger. Trying harder and harder to pretend that every relationship was as passionate or true as this one. That the one you currently had, had the same light around it. But the polaroids don’t come out the same anymore but you choose to ignore that.

You heard Richard start to approach so you quickly turned out the lamp and placed the book back on the table. Laying on your side you waited for Richard to join you. And he did. Like he did every night. And he read to you like every night. And you talked about life like you did every night. And then you fell asleep together like you did every night. And though you tried not to, your mind continually wandered to where Roger was and what Roger was doing. Wondering if he was thinking about you too. And you didn’t know it. But he was.

Rogers POV

Seeing her again was like putting kindling in a fire. Things hadn’t ended on the best of terms between the two of them. He was so angry with her for a long time. As he drove away from her house that night he hated her and all that they had been through. But eventually, that hate turned into grief. And he realized that he was mad at her, but he could never really hate her.

So, instead, he shoved her out of his mind. Pushing her into the darkest corner where he would never find her. Or so he thought. He moved on. Going on tour and returning to his old ways. Girls threw themselves at him and he let them. He’d choose one every night and wake up the next morning feeling empty and hurt. Just like before he met her.

She was always different. She talked to him differently, smiled at him differently, kissed him differently. She treated him more like a person than a conquest. But months turned into years and he never heard a word from her. Never saw her or knew where she was. And years turned into half a decade.

He was drunk but not that drunk when he saw her again. And when he did, he almost didn’t believe it was her. One second, he’d been pleasuring some chick at a party then it was her. And from that deep, dark corner of his mind came out everything he had felt about her. The anger, the grief, the love. All of it came flooding back. But she was plastered; he found her downing shots in the kitchen.

But she was beautiful. Even more so than when they were in college. He knew Freddie had gotten her hired to work for them, but he wasn’t sure what to expect. But there she was. Her make up done perfectly but he could see past that to how she had changed. The only thing that concerned him was her eyes, they looked… sad. He couldn’t put a finger on exactly why, but they were sad. He knew he should have gotten her to stop drinking sooner, but by then it was too late. Then her boyfriend showed up.

Richard was someone Roger automatically disliked. He had a condescending tone to him and he had a weird look to him. Something about him set Roger off and seeing him so close to her made his blood boil. He had no claim to her, he lost that a long time ago, but the more he learned about this guy the more he disliked him.

Roger pulled up to the studio around nine this morning. They were recording some tracks for a bonus album and messing around with the instruments some more. She was going to be there again. Something about Reid needing to give her something to do. He chuckled to himself, knowing that she would somehow find her way out of busywork.

When he walked inside, she was already there, writing furiously at some notebook she had set out on the table.

“Morning,” he greeted, going over to grab his drumsticks. She jolted slightly as if surprised by his presence. He smirked, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” She just stared at him; mouth slightly open as if she was struggling to say something. “Everything alright?”

She blinked before shaking her head. “Uh, yeah! Everything’s fine.”

She turned back down her paper, her pin still over where she had left off. She turned her head to the side and looked back over at him. “Are the other boys here too?”

“No, I’m early. Wanted to get a little practice in before everyone else arrives.” He shrugged, twirling his drumstick.

“Oh, I guess I’m earlier than I thought,” she stated, sitting back on the couch. Roger stared at her as she furrowed her eyebrows and scrunched her nose. Just like she used to when she got a thought. He shrugged and headed into the studio walking over to his kit.

As he tuned it and prepared to play, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at her only to find her looking at him. There was a storm going on in her head that much he could tell. Her eyes were tired, and her forehead creased as she looked at him. Just as he was finishing up, she stood up and walked into the studio.

“You know,” she started, walking over to the kit. “You never taught me how to play.”

He smirked and flipped his drumstick again. That night under the stars was a perfect example of their idolized relationship. He had promised her to play the drums and just never got to it. The distance and the busyness; whenever they were together, they didn’t want to waste it on that. He nodded his head towards the drums, watching as she smiled and hopped towards him. He shook his head, chuckling as he made his way towards his seat.

“Where am I sitting?” she asked, looking for another chair.

“Right here, silly.” He scooted back so there was a sliver of room on the chair for her to sit in front of him. Her smile fell for a moment as she realized what he meant. There was that war again. Her eyes grew clouded for a moment before she shook her head and gave a tight smile. She walked over and sat down, leaning her back against his chest.

“Okay, so what do I do?” she giggled, taking the drumsticks from his hand.

“Okay so hit this one.” He pointed at a drum to the left. She tapped it with her stick, a dull thump coming out of the drum. He laughed, shaking his head. “No, you gotta put some feeling in it.”

“Feeling?” she giggled, shaking her hips slightly. “Like that?”

“No, no, no,” he snorted. “Here.” He took her wrists in his hand held her hands still. “Like this.”

He guided her hands through a rhythm, laughing at themselves as they stumbled their way through it. It was nice to see her smile again. A real smile. Not the fake one she wears most of the time but a real smile that he hadn’t seen in five years. Eventually, he pulled his hands away and she did the rhythm all by herself.

“Roger! I did it!” she squealed, throwing her hands in the air. And it was in that moment that he realized that he was completely and totally in love with her. In that moment, time slowed down and it was just her and her smile. Just like that day in August five years ago.

“It’s no problem, love,” he mumbled, returning her smile. His cheeks started to burn slightly. And she noticed, her eyes dropping again, the light that was in her eyes leaving. Then there was a door slamming and they both look back at the booth. “Is that—”

“Fuck, Richard.” She scrambled off him and started towards the door. Richard looked mad. Beyond mad he was pissed. He glared at Roger before turning around and storming out to of the booth. “Richard! Wait!” Roger stood and went to follow her, but she just whipped around and shouted at him. “Just stay here, please.”

And with that she ran out the door, calling after Richard. He cursed, throwing his drumstick at the wall. How could he be so stupid? This was just like when he saw her the first time. Something about her continued to have a hold of him and he didn’t want to break loose. He didn’t want to lose her. She had him wrapped around her finger. He still loved her. And he was letting her getaway.

He turned on his head and flung open the door, running after her. But right as he tried to open the door, it flew open.

“What on earth is going on in here?” Freddie exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. Roger blew air through his nose and pushed Freddie aside walking out the door. He raced to the parking lot. But he could hear Richard before he saw him.

“We discussed this last night and you’re already going to fuck him?” Richard was shouting. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Please it’s not what you think!” That was (Y/N). “He was just showing me how to play the drums.”

“You really think I’m dumb enough to believe that?”

Roger rounded the corner, ready to intervene but was pulled back by someone else. John had a grip on Roger’s shoulder and was pulling him away.

“Don’t get in between that,” he recommended, pulling Roger inside. “Trust me, you’ll just make it worse.”

“God, I want to strangle that guy,” Roger growled, throwing Deaky’s hand off his shoulder.

Deaky huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “The feeling’s mutual. He came into Fred’s party the other night acting like a worried mother. Made me spill my drink on Ronnie.”

Roger looked over his shoulder at the door, narrowing his eyes. But then he relaxed his forehead, running a hand through his hair. John looked at him sympathetically.

“I made her smile today…” Roger told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t seen her smile like that in a while.”

Roger’s mind was racing. In the past three days, Roger had felt more for a woman he can’t have than he had for any of the women he’d slept with in the past five years. Five years it’d been and all emotions he’d shoved away were so easily pulled back to the forefront of his mind. But now it was ten times stronger.

“It’s nice,” John remarked, smiling knowingly at Roger.

“What?” Roger glanced over at John.

“Seeing you like this again.”

Roger turned his head over to Deaky, seeing his smile. He wanted to shout at him and tell him just how wrong he was, but John knew him way to well to lie. He just shook his head and let out a groan.

“I am in a pickle, aren’t I?” Roger chuckled, slinging an arm around John’s neck.

“A complete jam, my friend,” John replied, patting Roger’s back. “Now let’s get started on this damn song, shall we?”

“I think we shall,” Roger sighed with a final glance over his shoulder.

They made their way back into the studio where Brian had joined them in the booth. It wasn’t long before they’d sent in Roger to lay down the drums for the track. While Roger was drumming, (Y/N) walked back into the booth, silently sitting back down on the couch. None of the boys made a commotion about it, a spatter of hellos and returning to their work.

She didn’t look up at him, continuing her paperwork without so much as a glance. Roger wet his lips, looking over at John who motioned for him to sit next to her. So, he did. He went to sit down next to her, not missing how she flinched away from him. He also didn’t miss the way her nose sniffled giving away that she’d been crying. He wanted to comfort her. Give her some sign that he was there for her.

He glanced at her free hand, resting on the couch near him. He reached for it, laying his hand over hers. Her pen stilled, frigid in her grasp. He started bringing it to his face, but she ripped her hand out of his grasp, snapping her head to look at him. The look in her eye made Roger take a step back. She looked angry, but also scared and another emotion he could describe. Her eyes were still red from tears and she stood, rushing out of the room.

This time, Roger didn’t hesitate. He followed her out of the room.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” He called after her.

She spun around coming face to face with him. “You can’t do this to me, Roger.”

“Do what?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You know damn well what,” she spat. “I’m dating Richard now, and he makes me very happy.”

Roger snorted, hearing his pulse in his ear. “Oh, does he now?”

He didn’t know why he said it, and he immediately regretted it, but it was out there and there was no going back. Her mouth dropped and she thinned her lips, cocking her hips to the side.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Richard loves me!” Her words were strong, but he could tell she was faltering. He didn’t know why he wanted to start this fight now, but the words just kept coming out of his mouth.

“Oh, and he told you that?” he spat back at her. That hurt her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth began opening and closing as she tried to find something to say. “Since when did you learn what love is anyways.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, taking a deep breath. He wanted to take it back. Take back this whole bloody day.

“I need you to stay away from me, Roger,” she growled. “For your own sake as much as mine.”

“What does that even mean?” he sneered.

“It means you really pissed Richard off,” she hissed. “And I need you to leave me alone.”

Roger took a step back, processing her words. She wanted him to ignore her, pretend that his feelings didn’t exist. Pretend that they weren’t even friends. He found himself shaking his head, raising his eyebrows.

“(Y/N), I can’t—you know I –”

“I honestly couldn’t care less, Roger,” she said in defeat. “Richard told me not to see you anymore, and I honestly can’t disagree.”

With that, she turned around and walked out the door. Roger found himself glued to his spot, a sinking feeling making its way into his heart. He lost her. She was gone. When he drove away from her house five years ago, he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He dug his hand into his pocket, fishing for his wallet. When he found it, he pulled it out and opened it. There, sitting in his wallet, was that polaroid he had of her. The very first picture he ever took of her. Behind the drums, looking for the shoes he had hidden from her.

That was his (Y/N) and he lost her. But he wasn’t going to give up. He was going to find her and let her know that he loved her. He loved her and he would do anything for her. She would be safe again. Even if it wasn’t right now, or tomorrow. He would be with her again.

___________________________________

@zodiacal-dust-and-curls @leah-halliwell92 @angiefangirlworld-2 @dove-turned-destroyer @16wiishes @queenismyrealdad @blondecarfucker @chlobo6 @wolverinesbeer @onevisionliz @catnissprior-blog @thewinchesterchronicles @brianmays-badgers @aninthitha

#Queen #Queen x reader #Queen imagines #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagines #Roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #Roger taylor

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

Note

heyyy! congratulations on reaching 500 followers 💜 i hope i’m not too late to send a request for your follower celebration blurb week so,, prompt 51 from the 100 prompts of fluff (part 2) list and prompt 74 from the Drabble List #2. with ash 🥺

Hello! Thank you for your message! 😍 And no, you weren’t late to the party at all. Sorry this took me some time 😓 I know one of the prompts you’ve sent was from the fluff list, but it end up hella angsty (with the happy ending tho) and i hope you’ll forgive me for that. Anyway, i love you and i hope you like it 🖤🖤🖤

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably. Your mind was trying to proceed at least one finished thought and failing every time. You knew only one thing. You had to leave this place and you had to do that before he comes back. You had to leave but you couldn’t, cause he locked the door when leaving and you had no key.

So you were just sitting on the floor, clinging on your knees and shaking with your whole body in shock after what you’ve been through. You had no idea how much time you’d spent like this, when you saw your way out. Your phone fell under the sofa and that’s probably why he didn’t take it when left. You stood on your knees and stretched to grab your phone, your body aching in protest.

You almost cried when you saw it was working. It had only nine percent of charge, but that was enough to make one call. You hesitated for the moment. You couldn’t call the emergency services, you just weren’t ready to talk to strangers and explain them what happened to you and how you of all people happened to get in a situation like that. You could call your friends, but you doubted they’d pick up so late and you would need to explain them everything and you had no time. What an irony it was, you thought, looking at a little black device in your hand. The only person you could rely on the situation like this was the last person you wanted to call. You took a deep breath, unblocked your phone and dialed the number you couldn’t erase from your memory even if you tried. And you never tried.

You were listening to the beeping praying he actually picked up and fearing that. But you knew that if he didn’t help you, no one would.

“Hello?” you heard. You didn’t realise how not ready to hear his voice you were until he spoke. And it broke down your dam, tears streaming down your face. You could just sit there on the floor, sobbing and listening to his questions.

“Y/n, just answer me, baby, where are you?” Ashton almost pleaded on the other side.

You knew your phone wouldn’t last long, so you got all the strength you still had and told him the address he knew himself.

“Is Mark there?” Ashton asked with metal in his voice.

“No,” you sobbed, “he locked me up and left.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Ashton promised. “Just hold on, stay on the phone with me, okay?”

You heard him getting out of the house and the sounds of car door open and close an the engine start.

“My phone’s gonna die soon,” you said, wiping tears off your checks.

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, just saying so you don’t freak out when it happens,” you explained and chuckled through your tears, remembering how overworried he could be sometimes.

“I’m already freaking out, so,” he informed you, as you heard car horns in the distance.

“Please, don’t go on the red,” you asked.

“Too late for that.”

You heard his heavy laugh and felt the burning in your ribs weaken a little.

Your phone died when Ashton was already parking. You heard his heavy steps on the stairs in no time and then loud bang on the door showed he was seriously ready to knock out the door. For your utter surprise he succeeded on the second attempt, the door hanging on the upper hinge only behind him.

Ashton was standing there in his sweats and crumpled tee and you realised he got straight out of bed on your first call. He looked around to make sure there was no one else there and kneeled in front of your, his hand cupping your burning cheek.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he whispered, running his fingers over the handprint you knew you had on your face.

And then you started crying again and he hugged you. You had to swallow your moan at how your ribs hurt from Ashton squeezing you, but he heard your sharp inhale and let go of you instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning your body in search for injuries. “Are you in pain? What the fuck did he do to you?”

You shook your head, trying to stop your tears. “Just take me away from here,” you asked. And he didn’t need you to repeat.

Ashton tried to pick you up to carry you, but you insisted on walking. You didn’t bother with closing the door, too busy with getting away from this damned place. The whole car ride Ashton was looking at you at any moment he could take his eyes off the road, but you weren’t looking back. You turned to your window and was watching streets flow past you. You couldn’t take looking at him, not after everything you’ve done to him and everything that happened next. You didn’t see where he was going until he pulled up at your house, too busy drowning in regret. You started unbuckling your seat belt as he opened his door.

“Wait, let me help you,” he dropped and appeared on your side of the car in two seconds. He opened the door and helped you out. He locked the car and looked at you fallen face.

“What?” he asked, not getting what upsetted you. “Don’t wanna be home? It’s alright, we can go to my place.”“No, it’s just-” you shook your head, “i just don’t have keys. I think I left my purse in the bar we were before.”

Ashton smiled and fished the keys on a familiar keyring out of his pocket.

“You still have them?” you gasped in disbelief.“You didn’t ask for them when you were leaving, so, I don’t know, I thought I might need them again some day,” he explained, his cheeks go pink.

You only smiled to that. You two entered the house and got into your apartment. Ashton turned on all the table lamps, knowing how you didn’t like bright lights at night and looked back at you.

“I’m gonna run you a bath, yeah?”

You nodded again and turned to check if the door was locked as soon as he disappeared in the bathroom. You understood there was no need to be afraid with Ashton by your side. Plus Mark never had the keys to your place. But you didn’t care if you were being unreasonable. After everything you’ve been through that night, you had all the right to be scared.

You entered the bathroom quietly, Ashton looked back at you, two bottles of the bath foam in his hands.

“Vanilla or lavender?”

You shook your head, “None.”

You picked up the hem of the hoodie you were in and wanted to pull it over your head, but stopped. You looked at Ashton in hesitation.

“Let me help you,” he said, getting it wrong.

“No,” you protested. You couldn’t let him see all the marks, you knew, were already blooming on your skin. “Can you, um- Can you leave, please?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve seen you naked multiple times,” Ashton huffed.

“It’s not that, it’s-” you had no idea what you could say. You didn’t want him to see, but you couldn’t come up with a believable reason for him to go. “Can you just go, please?”

But he understood. That very moment he understood, you saw it in his eyes, which suddenly lost all the colour.

“Show me,” he whispered, picking up on the hem of your hoodie.

“No, Ashton,” you begged, tears rolling down again.

“I wanna see,” he said, his voice strong and demanding.

And you gave in. You lifted up your arms, letting him take the hoodie off you. He hissed the moment you let your arms fall down, the old bruises going all the way up to your left shoulder. You shivered under his angry look. You’d spent enough time with Ashton to know he was unpredictable in his anger. And he wasn’t just angry, he was furious.

“You have to promise me something, Ashton,” you said, taking his hand which was already holding your top’s hem.

“I have to promise?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Promise me you won’t go seeking revenge,” you asked, meeting his eyes.

He was breathing hard, you felt a slight tremor in the hand you were holding.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me about,” he answered, his words barely audible. “No one does that to the woman I love and goes away with it.”

“He ruined enough,” you insisted. “I won’t let this ruin anything else.”

“That psycho won’t ruin anything. It will be me who will ruin him.”

“Ashton, you’ve too much to lose. Think of your career, think of your public image,” you kept admonish. “You can’t risk it all just to beat up some asshole your ex was stupid enough to get involved with.”

“No,” he answered stubbornly.

“He won’t get away with it, okay?” you breathed out.The choice was easy, either you go to the police or you let Ashton make a mess out of it. “I’ll go to the cops, tomorrow. I’ll go to them, I promise. But you’re not getting into that. I won’t let it ruin your career.”

Ashton looked at you. That was exactly how it used to be for the two of your, two stupidly stubborn people trying to win the fight. He shook his head and looked away.

“We’ll discuss my career tomorrow, okay? Now we need to get you to that bath.”

You agreed on that and finally let him take your top off. You saw by his reaction you probably had a huge bruise on your rib cage but you didn’t wanna see it, not yet. The water was terribly hot, but soothing and relaxing. You almost cried again at how wonderful it felt. Ashton made sure you were settled and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen,” he explained with a sigh. “Do you still keep whiskey in the left cupboard?”

“I don’t wanna drink,” you refused, looking away, the memories flashing by in your mind. “It all started with the alcohol.”

“The whiskey is for me. You’re getting camomile tea,” he snorted and left the bathroom.

You had the tiniest doubt about where he was really going, but the noise of the kettle and Ashton going through your kitchen cupboards calmed you down.

He came back in couple minutes, put your favourite cup with the tea on the countertop next to the bath and sat down right on the floor, whiskey glass in his hand. You didn’t say anything, were just sitting there, he on the floor and you in the bath, and looking at each other, eyes full of sorrow and something deeper, which you were afraid to name.

When the water got cold and drinks were finished, he helped you out of bath and enveloped you in the biggest towel he could find in your cupboard. Ashton let you get dressed while he was cleaning up the bathroom. Then he turned off all the lamps in your flat, except the one in your bedroom, and got into bed with you, not even letting you ask for him to stay. You hadn’t fallen asleep so fast since you left him couple months ago.

The morning was difficult to say the least. You never had that waking up and not remembering what happened. It seemed like your brain was processing and lining up all necessary information before it made you wake up. So when you opened your eyes that morning the only thing you actually wanted was to fall asleep again. Not to remember all that shit from last night and not to feel the pain what seemed like all over the body. But when you did open your eyes, you realised you couldn’t sleep anymore. Because Ashton wasn’t by your side.

You almost jumped on the bed, wincing instantly at the dull pain in the ribs. He couldn’t be gone, you were persuading yourself. He couldn’t be after Mark, he promised you. And the it stuck you. He didn’t. He didn’t promise you anything. He said, you’d discuss his career later, but he didn’t promise he won’t go after Mark.

Your apartment was empty. Not a sign of Ashton anywhere, like you imagined him from the start. Your hands flew to your head. Your mind was running like the agonizing animal. What could you do? What could you possibly do to stop him? If it wasn’t too late to stop him anyway. You knew if there was a man on Earth capable of stopping Ashton from anything it was Calum. But would he listen to you? Would he even pick up if you phone him?

You rushed back into the bedroom and grabbed on your phone. Which was dead since last night. You didn’t even think about charging it. You felt the first tear roll down your face. It was okay, you tried to persuade yourself. You just needed to find the charger and it’ll work in under five minutes and you’ll call Calum and it will be okay. Everything will be okay, you kept repeating it like a mantra, going through your drawers in search of the fucking charger.

And then the unbelievable happened. You heard your apartment door open and close.

You basically ran out of bedroom to see Ashton looking at you with his eyes wide open, two cups of coffee from the nearest coffee shop and a paper bag in his hand.

“What?” he asked, not getting what was going on.

“I thought you left,” you managed to say and not breaking up completely.

“Yeah, for breakfast,” he answered, lifting up the cups and coming up to your kitchen counter to put it there. “You don’t have any coffee left. As usual, though. Don’t know what I was hoping for, you’ve never had coffee, so-”

And it crashed you. Everything that happened. Everything that you were scared could have happened. And him still being here and moaning about you not having coffee. After everything him still being here.

You lowered yourself on the floor and let the tears down. Ashton was instantly at your side, holding you, his eyes full of worry again.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, you understand?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that, Ashton. I thought you left,’’ you tried to explain.

“And I’m never gonna leave you ever again,” he promised.

“I thought, you left to find him,” you finally formed your fear in words.

Unexpectedly, Ashton chuckled. “So after everything you’ve been through, you were afraid for me?”

You tried to laugh through your tears, but your ribs protested.

“Remind me one more time why we broke up,” Ashton tried to keep joking, but that one happened to be too sad.

You shrugged, your eyes stare at his chest. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like. And I got scared and fucked everything up and ran away. Just like I always do,” you shrugged again. Tears were running down but you dropped any attempts of stopping them. “And I’m sorry, Ashton. I’m so fucking sorry. For leaving you and for breaking your heart and for calling yesterday. I’m sorry for not saying how much I’m sorry earlier. But most of all, I’m sorry for being afraid of loving you. I know I ruined the only good thing I had in life, and I’m so so sorry for that. I just hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Ashton whispered, brining you close to his chest.

You had no idea how long you spent crying everything out on his chest, while he was rocking you carefully. But soon the tears were over. And when you both were ready to get up from the floor, he made you drink that already cold coffee and eat a bagel. And you were smiling to each other, like nothing happened and you weren’t about to spend god only knows how long at the police station, and he even tried to joke, much more successfully this time. And you were praying for it to be your second chance. And promising to all the gods you won’t screw it up this time.

#ashton irwin #ashton5sos #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #ashton irwin fanfiction #my writing #my blurb #500 followers celebration blurbs #asks #requests #viper-strike

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libidomechanica · 11 months

Text

Too common is the

Sooner or later he wakeful doze I sorrow deepens down. Pain to get to be loved at random influence-rich to move, she bows, she thoughts, new grown lights! Her secret sweets

of lurid smoke on the mortar, blossom: let thy wisdom make my heart, you’ll breathes no more; but go my way where it even here, thro’ prosperous labor fills the joys divine; but

open converse softly and still garden and maiden; wilt thou shalt hap to die with the sound of spike? The Lotos-Eaters the world, if Queens and the reason why ye droop and break

at seasons clear, and haste away o’er ocean-foam in the day you’re loves a woman love. Of motions bold should he love too weak to each other friend to you. And smiles as of thee,

who are these ears, till out of earrings and let thy little Lilia first: the sweet, and when I sue god for me, for fuller minstrel in. I glad was of his narrow days, or

sadness so cold: she three-fold? And fell, from forms, the heart of a peacock, sits on her breast where now thee keen in intellect to remember sleep to thyself an hour’s commune dead,

which is to part and she is watching folk’s face your heart, let not mean enough to place, hauing no mask or fan, velvet, or taffata cap, rank’d with gathering freshlier overhead

the Tuscan poets on the wine-flask lying courts and saw the trophies of no tone: fair youth; forgive ourselves; hardly seen before, but if I praise. And bore its fragrant skies, and

Spring adieu; and, having thy sins more keen, with shade doth supersede all other, wandering from coast to coast, and regions of a stiller guest, there shall not tire, and tho’

the rope that delight. And strange. Eloquence like vibrations each tide does come; charge, charge, tis too late. Familiar, could bring me sorrow of The Fire—even These discover what fair

prize what you hold it true: perplext in fatal loss did ever wanted anything but thanked men—good! For merit known and still the same. The meadow and the psalm to wintry skies,

who built him from youth was fresh desire after hours with lamps, and thought as pure and minds, the look’d to human face. Too common is the wood within my mew, a-painting body

so ill, then changed … There’s nor look was bred, I drew themselves in my feet hath left me, sweet flower o’ the hills tell one day beat you how, hand on the months in barren, scarce could render

vows, or Vesper, amorous gloom of all the starlight loved them store of body than ours, but I find, ere yet lies plain, and Antony resides, and hopes and to grasp our lives?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #120 texts #ballad

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sevenseasofrog · 6 years

Text

Lads ‘n Lasses Chapter 3

Pairing- highschool!ben x fem!reader

Summary- single sex schools are never boring

Word Count- 1,467

a/n- sorry this ones only short, as I’ve said though, the next chapter is a little juicier, it’ll be up later next week :) hopefully y’all like it though !!❤️❤️

As ever, September crawled by painfully slowly, with each student rebuilding the exhausting school routine for yet another year. For most of the other girls in your school, they started their day with a steaming mug of coffee or loose leaf tea. Your day however started with a real mug, who stood outside your door at 7:15 each morning waiting for you to stumble out. For the pair of you, coffee came later on in the process.

It would be fair to say that you had never bonded with someone quite so quickly as you had with Ben. The walks to school were no longer quiet and solemn as they once had been, and the walks home from school had you reaching your house with even more energy than you had at the start of the day. The pair of you had clicked into place almost immediately after first meeting each other, and it had become an extremely rare occurrence to see one of you without the other outside of school hours. You were most gracious when your friendship group welcomed him with open arms, a little. nervous at first that they wouldn’t want the new boy to cause a commotion. Him and Lewis became equally great friends, and it was nice knowing that he had friends at school too. The pair were hilarious to watch when they were together, mainly because they were polar opposites. There was Ben, short blonde hair, piercing green eyes, perfectly symmetrical face, very athletically built and a little shorter than the rest of the boys in his year; and then there was Lewis, long and lanky, often nicknamed Stretch by others, deep brown eyes, mousey brown bowl cut and slightly wonky teeth. The two boys couldn’t have been more different if they tried, but being able to call them your friends was one of the greatest privileges.

Things had moved quickly since the start of the new term, and you were working tirelessly to complete coursework in school simply so you didn’t have to do it at home, luckily, the free periods you had after lunch were becoming increasingly useful now the workload had gotten heavier. It was equally convenient that your friends were in a similar mindset, which meant that the time you had after school wasn’t spent alone. Making the most of the autumn warmth, the five of you would often head down to the park where you would lie contently until someone’s parents rang, instructing them to come home, at which point you would all leave. Maria and Lewis would step off the tram first, then Niamh a few stops later, once again leaving you and Ben alone for the rest of the journey home.

“You coming back to mine for a bit then?” You asked, looking up from your bag, in which you were searching for the pack of chewing gum you knew was floating around in there somewhere.

“Don’t have any reason not to, Mum and Dad are away on business until Sunday night anyway.” You felt yourself frown a little, today was Thursday, and to you it seemed a little unfair for Ben’s parents to leave him alone for a good chunk of the week, especially since you had become aware that this happened more often than not.

“D’ya wanna come round to mine tomorrow though? only seems fair really, your parents will start confusing me as one of their own otherwise” Ben had a gleam in his eyes and you let out a scoff.

“Go on then, I’ll check later yeah?”

Dinner was practically on the table by the time you and Ben reached the house, and it wasn’t long before you had both finished and we’re making your way upstairs. As ever, you flopped down onto your neatly made duvet, and Ben parked himself on the spinning office chair which was by your desk.

“I’m. So. Tired.” You dragged out each syllable for emphasis.

“Nah, you’re not the one doing laps of a field each day”, Ben replied with a smirk, stretching his arms above his head.

“That’s because I love myself dipstick.” You spoke back, giggling to yourself a little.

“Don’t be a bitch! I carry the whole bloody rugby team at the moment!”

“Sure you do… What would we do without our knight in shining armour to score all the tries in a match no one realllyyy cares about”, you both rolled your eyes at each other before Ben could slide in another sarcy comment.

Believe it or not, you enjoyed moments like this, you were both being yourself and there was no one else there to tell you to pack it in. Time you spent with Ben always went a little too quickly for your liking however, since you would both spend hours talking, it was easy to lose track of how late it was.

“Shit! it’s half-nine!”

“Are you joking?” You asked, genuinely shocked

“Unfortunately not”, Ben spoke as he sprang up from next to you on the bed and began to pick up his bag and put his jumper back on for the journey back to his house. You walked down the stairs with him and to the front door where you gave a quick hug before yawning.

“See you tomorrow Jonsey”

“y/n l/n.” He paused “We both know we’ll be talking on the phone in like 20 minutes so don’t get too ahead with yourself, aight?”

“You got me there!”, You three your arms up in defeat, “Now please piss off so I can go to bed!”

Ben gave one last grin before turning and heading down the gravelled path of your otherwise green driveway, you watched him walk to the corner of the dimly-lit road before shutting the front door and trudging up the stairs back to your room for the night.

When Ben said you’d be talking again shortly, he really wasn’t lying, and it hadn’t been half an hour before your phone began to buzz uncontrollably.

The bois and the gorls: 3 New Messages

Prince Ben of the South joined the chat

Prince Ben of the South:

Gooooooooooood eveeeeninggggg everyoneeeee

Nev joined the chat

Nev:

What.

Dear Maria Count Me In joined the chat

Dear Maria Count Me In:

Hello??

You joined the chat

Le Artiste:

Wassup

Prince Ben of the South:

Lewissss ??

Where are you my beany friend ??

Le Artiste:

What dya want jonsey

Long Boy joined the chat

Long Boy:

At your service

Prince Ben of the South:

Right

Not sure if you all care but basically I just got a message from the team group chat and there’s gonna be a halloween shout at some point in the holidays so do yall wanna be my plus four or na?

Nev:

Nice one mateee

Le Artiste:

Oooooooo

Long Boy:

One question my noble companion

Costumes?

Prince Ben of the South:

oh you know it ;)

Dear Maria Count Me In:

Omg yes

Le Artiste:

Im sold

Long Boy:

Don’t see why not ?

Prince Ben of the South:

We should SO do a group thing

Nev:

Fuck off

Dear Maria Count Me In:

Oooooooo, acc that’s quite a good idea

Long Boy:

Only if y/n is in charge of what we wear

Le Artiste:

So im a fashion designer as well now ???

Prince Ben of the South changed your name to Coco Channel

Nev:

Evidently, u better make me look HOT tho

Coco Channel:

of course bby ;)

Dear Maria Count Me In:

Is that that then ??

I can sleep now ??

Prince Ben of the South:

You are all free to go :)

Nev left the chat

Dear Maria Count Me In left the chat

Long Boy:

Not until i know how much of a prick ill look at this thing

What am I wearingggg

Coco Channel:

Gimmie a sec ive had like 3 seconds to think

Prince Ben of the South:

Steady on lhewees

Give the gal a chance

Long Boy:

If this isnt good then ill sue

Coco Channel:

Anything for u dear

Long Boy left the chat

Prince Ben of the South:

I have no problem believing that

Btw if u make me look silly then ill never forgive u

Coco Channel:

Im quite sure u wont tbh

Prince Ben of the South:

Cya in like 10 hours g

Coco Channel:

Bye stinky :)

Prince Ben of the South left he chat

You gave a tired sigh before placing your phone down on your bedside table and flicking off the lamp next to it, as you pulled the crisp duvet up to your ears, wondering what on earth you had just signed up for.

There was one thing you knew for certain however.

This was bound to be good.

Very good indeed.

tags(if you want tagging in future chapters lemmie know !!) - @fatbottomedbitch , @crazyweirdocalledfriday , @disaster—bisexual , @seedless-vascular , @annoyedsloth , @borhapandshawn , @prettysureimgayxo

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elsaclack · 6 years

Text

2019 writing meme

bc why not

i was tagged by @startofamoment and @disruptedvice!!! thanks guys i appreciate it lmao

things i’m for sure going to write:

the remaining six chapters of the royalty au i started in november of last year!! all of which have been outlined!!! and i’ll post a snippet of what i have written of chapter 5 below the cut!!

the remaining peraltiago kiss prompts in my inbox

the remaining starmora kiss prompt in my inbox

rewriting the enemies to friends to lovers in one night at a wedding oneshot that i stupidly forgot to cross-post before i deleted the original elsaclack

a groundhog day soulmate au wherein two soulmates relive the same day over and over and over again until they fall in love

things i’m very likely going to write:

a soulmate au in which a person’s soulmate appears to them 5 times throughout their life before they meet and helps them make 5 major life decisions that leads them both to their first irl meeting

an organized crime au wherein jake and amy are both independent con artists whose paths consistently cross, giving way to an extremely competitive (and flirty) kind of co-existence. at least that’s how jake sees it, up until he screws amy out of a $100,000 score - that’s when he finds out amy isn’t an independent con artist, but rather a worker bee for an extremely pissed-off mob boss who now wants them both dead. featuring a tech-savvy (and weapons-savvy) rosa and hitman charles

a set it up au wherein jake is on desk duty working as holt’s assistant for the foreseeable future and amy is kevin’s TA

a sound of music au that includes SEVEN of the peraltiago babies flying around fanon lmao

things i’d like to write at some point:

the proposal au that has literally been like 2-3 years in the making

a blatant and full-fledged hunger games au

ANYWAYS i also have like 342983649278 half-written and abandoned one-off wips in my docs that i might borrow from or finish at some point or another but i’m trying to not set myself up for failure by adding them to this list lmao. i’ll grab a few snippets from some of those just to throw them out there in the universe as an apology for being so inactive lately!!

i’m not sure who all has been tagged yet so forgive me if you’ve been tagged: @philtstone @johnny-and-dora @taxicabsandcupcakes @the-pontiac-bandit @johnnydora @snlsamberg @bklyn-ninenine and @proofthatihaveaheart!!!

no pressure tho obviously like please feel free to ignore!!!

ANYWAYS!!!!!

******ALL OF THESE ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE BEFORE PUBLISHING (WHERE APPLICABLE LMAO)******

you’re a king and i’m a lionheart ch. 5 preview:

It’s been precisely three weeks and five days since that secret, blessed afternoon in the library with Amy, and each day that has passed has been another stone tied around his ankles. He looks up for the first time since sitting down some twenty minutes earlier - she’s grimacing at him through the mirror, a deep valley of concern creasing the space between her brows, and as he shoots her a grimace of his own she catches her lower lip between her teeth and sets about nibbling. “It sucks,” she finally says.

“Well, yeah,” he leans back in his seat, until his shoulders brush against the warm, soft plane of her stomach, hidden beneath her uniform. “Most of this shit does.”

She grimaces again and reaches up, hands sliding over his shoulders to gently squeeze. “I wish I could say it’ll be over soon, but…”

“We both know it’d be a lie.”

“I may have a silver lining,” she kneads the pads of her thumbs into the knotted sinews of muscle lining his shoulder and his head drops forward automatically. “I’ll be there through the whole thing and I can probably get you out early.”

He groans appreciatively - both at her reminder and at the perfect warmth and pressure she’s applying to his shoulders and neck. “You’re an angel, you know?”

She huffs out a quiet laugh above him - and it’s the first time he’s heard it here, between the two of them, in a long time.

Three weeks and five days, to be exact.

a random neighbors au:

“So,” he says as he wriggles his key into the lock on his mailbox. From the corner of his eye he sees her head turned toward him, frozen in the act of rifling through her mail. “Are you a magician?”

He turns toward her to find her staring at him like he’s just beamed down from outer space, and for half a second he almost bails. Her brow is furrowed and the corners of her mouth are pulled down. “What?” she asks.

“Are you a magician?” he repeats. He waits until she’s blinked twice, before adding “‘cause when I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

The silence that follows rings just long enough for him to regret approximately eighty-seven percent of his collective life choices. She arches a brow and turns a little more fully toward him, but otherwise remains motionless until he forces himself to swallow thickly.

“That’s what you’re gonna go with?” she finally asks, and even though the vast majority of her demeanor is now overflowing with derision, he’s certain there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Of all the cheesy pickup lines in the world, you’re going with...magician. You can’t honestly tell me you thought that would work.”

He can feel his face flooding with heat, embarrassment like static prickling up his spine to the back of his neck. She’s still staring at him expectantly, her mail now apparently forgotten as she lowers her hands to her hips, and when he tries to swallow it’s like the Sahara in his throat. “Uh,” he coughs a bit awkwardly, letting his keys hang from the lock so he can properly rub the back of his neck. “I just thought - since we’re the only ones in here -”

“No, I got that part,” she interrupts, a smile beginning to form in the curves of her face. “That was the only slightly redeemable part of...whatever that was supposed to be. But tacking it on to calling me a magician is definitely not achieving what you’re trying to achieve here.”

A brief, nervous laugh escapes his chest on an exhale, and this woman is still staring at him - though her amusement is far more pronounced now. In fact, he’d go so far as to say she looks mirthful in the way she appraises him from head to toe. “That definitely wasn’t my best,” he admits, reaching up for his keys, pleased to find his hands steadier than he expected them to be. “Can I get a do-over? And...maybe your number, while I’m at it?”

Her answering laugh is bright and loud and it simmers in his veins; it seems to catch her off-guard as it does him. She shakes her head and lifts her mail to her chest again, almost like she’s trying to put a barrier between them. “That was a little better,” she admits through a smile, “but still not great. Do any of those ever work for you?”

“Sometimes,” he nods, finally getting his mailbox door open just to find two overdue bills and a copy of Busty Ladies magazine inside. He stares for a beat, and then closes the door. “No mail for the falcon today.” he says cheerfully.

“The falcon?” she repeats - and all the derision from before is back.

“Oh, yeah, my - my gym buddies call me ‘the falcon,’ y’know, ‘cause - ‘cause I’m so badass.”

She stares, mouth just slightly agape, and he regrets ninety-three percent of his collective life-choices. “Wow,” she finally manages, backing a pace toward the door, and then another. “Well, uh, it was...interesting meeting you, Mr. The Falcon.��

He laughs, and she grins, and then she’s backing away earnestly and he’s left with the feeling of grasping at straws. “Ja- uh, it’s actually Jacob.”

“Jacob.” she repeats.

And he panics. “I don’t know why I said that, no one actually calls me Jacob. I mean, it’s my real name, it’s my - my full name, or proper name, or whatever. But my mom is the only one who calls me that and she only does it when I’m in trouble.” She’s almost to the doorway now, looking at him the way he suspects she looks at people who try to corner her in bodegas to passionately warn her of a looming apocalypse, and she’s about to disappear. “It’s Jake.”

She pauses just beside the doorway, head cocked just slightly to the left, and unreadable expression on her face. “Hi, Jake. You’re really weird.”

the hunger games au:

“What do you mean?” Jake asks. Santiago shifts, eyes darting to the right toward the end of the table, suddenly looking like a cornered animal. “Your game ended four years ago -”

She makes a noise, a loud “tch” sound between her teeth, and he falls silent. “I left the arena four years ago,” she says slowly. She’s still gripping her empty glass tightly, like it’s the only solid thing in the room. “But I’m still playing the games. The games are never over. They drag you back every year so you have a front row seat, they make you...talk to people,” she seems to have a hard time forcing the words out of her throat, which strikes Jake as a very Diaz-like thing to do. “It’s just...it’s never over. Never.”

The train passes into a tunnel, and suddenly the entire dining cart is thrown into an eerie, rapidly flashing orange light. The shadows cross Santiago’s face quickly, and she suddenly seems much older than she did before. She leans forward across the table toward him, and when her mouth opens, he catches the slightest smell of whiskey on her breath.

“Trust me, Peralta,” she whispers. “There’s only one loser in the games. And that’s the last one standing. The games only end when you do.”

“I don’t want to die.” he says, in a voice that is not his own, too dark and tense and quiet. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to...how, how do I...please, Santiago,” he finishes in a whisper, “help me.”

The tunnel ends, and the cart is once again bathed in the soft yellow light from the lamp on the side table behind her. He sees her swallow thickly, her fingers bone white for how hard they’re curled around her glass. She chews the inside of her cheek and casts a glance out the window toward that cluster of glittering lights in the distance growing steadily closer, before she returns to his face. “I-I can’t -” she rasps, pauses, clears her throat, and starts again. “I can’t...guarantee anything. You know that, don’t you? There’s nothing guaranteed about any of this, okay?”

His fingers and toes are numb and his heart feels like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings against his breast as he nods. He grips the edges of the nearest plate and pulls it closer, until the edge digs into his chest.

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll help you.” Her right hand drifts to the deep divot in the tabletop from where Rosa’s knife had landed hours earlier, fingertips tracing and catching on the scar.

His chest quakes with a shaky exhale. Relief floods through his veins, hot and strong, and his whole body sags in heedy relief. “Thank you, God, thank you Santiago -”

She taps the bottom of her glass against the table loudly, cutting him off, and then turns her head up toward the ceiling. “Amy.” She says after a moment.

“I’m...what?”

She drops her chin again, and when her eyes find his he’s suddenly violently transported back in time to that moment in the Market four years previously, hours before her reaping, the last time he saw her eyes so clear and bright and present. “It’s Amy,” she says, “you can call me Amy.”

a sound of music au:

Mrs. Simms and Maria both start toward the staircase, a tense silence lingering behind them. Neither Jake nor Captain Santiago move until they hear a door click shut upstairs; the moment the silence descends again, Captain Santiago releases a breath and drops her head.

Somehow, her posture is still ramrod straight.

“I apologize, Mr. Peralta,” she says as she turns toward him, and suddenly Jake is aware of the deep crescents carved into the skin beneath her eyes and the weary way her shoulders curve inward beneath the padding in her suit jacket. “My priorities have just changed. I’m afraid I can’t focus on whatever it is you’re here to do -”

“Assist in the process of recovering from your injury,” he recites quietly.

She blinks, and then shakes her head slightly. “Right. Yes. That. I’m afraid I can’t do that until I find a replacement for my children’s nanny. I think it would be best if you just returned to the hospital for now.”

She starts toward the door, clearly expecting him to follow, but his feet remain planted on the floor. Her gait is uneven - he can see the slight limp on her left side, perhaps a tender knee or hip - and that same strange feeling from the day before is overwhelming in the cavern of his chest once again. “What if I stepped in as a nanny?” he hears himself ask.

Captain Santiago freezes in place, and then slowly turns back to face him, trepidation written as clear as day across her face. “You’re aware of the fact that there are seven of them, correct?”

He nods.

Her brow furrows. “You would be able to properly carry out your duties as a nurse in addition to nannying my children?”

He shrugs. “I don’t imagine the recovery process would be too extensive, since it seems like it’s only your left knee?” He raises his brows and glances at the knee in question.

A look of surprise flashes across her face. “Very observant,” she says, and he gets the feeling that it’s mostly to herself. He doesn’t respond; for a long moment they merely stand staring at each other. “Alright,” she finally says, “I’m willing to give this a try. But the moment the nursing process interferes with my children and their schedule, it’s over, and you will return to the hospital at once. Am I understood?”

He has to resist the urge to salute. “Absolutely, ma’am.” he says instead.

a the good place au (where jake and amy knew each other through competing precincts in the nypd and “hated” each other in life and therefore immediately recognize each other in the after-life):

The Architect takes him to his new home - something tailored specifically for this Other Jake’s tastes, something straight out of his personal nightmares - and he’s really starting to think that he’s going to get away with this. The Architect is showing him the television system and he’s watching point-of-view clips of advocacy works in Uganda and there are fifteen framed paintings of clowns in the corner and someone is knocking on his new front door.

And when the front door opens to reveal the person on the other side, all his hopes of staying are dashed.

Of all the people in the entire universe who could have been assigned to this afterlife neighborhood with him, of all the people in history who could have knocked on his front door, it just had to be Amy freaking Santiago.

She does, for whatever reason, wait to question him until after The Architect is gone.

Jake stalls as long as he can closing that front door, taking care to examine the knob - this big round thing that looks to be artificially rusted, how lame - and when he finally, slowly turns on the spot, she’s standing several paces ahead of him with her arms crossed tight over her chest and her foot tapping impatiently.

And suddenly he realizes that she’s wearing a pantsuit in the afterlife.

“So -”

“Don’t.” she snaps, and he drops his gaze to his feet with a nod. “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re here, but there’s clearly been a mistake.”

“I could be in The Good Place -” he says indignantly.

“Did you even know you while you were alive? You were the most arrogant, pompous, self-centered and conceited human being I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Oh, please, Santiago. Just because I had a little bit of confidence -”

“I wasn’t finished.” she interrupts sharply, and he rocks backwards to his heels, feeling the door’s cool surface brushing against his shoulders. “All you ever cared about was looking cool and being the best. That’s not confidence, it’s arrogance.”

The all-too-familiar urge to argue with her bubbles up like bitter bile in his throat, but after a moment he feels himself deflating, the fight leaving him all at once. “You’re right,” he shrugs, and if he’s not mistaken there’s surprise cracking through that steely expression on her face. “I mean, the guy - The Architect? - he got my name right, but...that’s it. Those -” he gestures to the television, where the memories are still soundlessly playing on the screen “- are definitely not my memories. He mentioned that I was some kind of death-row lawyer and human rights advocate?”

Amy snorts - clearly in disbelief - but Jake smiles tentatively all the same. “Yeah, that’s obviously incorrect.”

“Here’s the real kicker, though - he said I was also a volunteer firefighter. Can you imagine?”

She pulls a face, laughs a more genuine laugh - and the defensiveness in her eyes diminishes half a degree. And later (much later) he’ll pinpoint this as the moment that hope sparked back to life inside his chest.

#tag game #sorry this got long #anyways thank you again for tagging me #and i'm excited about all the awesome fics coming down the pike from everyone!!!#em speaks #b99 #jake x amy #my b99 fics #sorta

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omg-kat · 6 years

Text

Wow! 800 followers! Where the heck did you guys even come from?!

Well I guess it’s time for CHAPTER TWO - PART TWO!!!

Chapter One ♥ Chapter Two - Part One ♥ WIP info and characters

Time for those tags... sorry this list is kinda getting ridiculous: @bronwyn-writes, @inkdropsonroses, @theprocrastinating-writer, @kittensartsbooks, @aeryn-writes @forlornraven, @alongftride @starlightswitch@silverlakeforest @el-norawrites@incandescent-creativity @bonewrites@icechimaera @woahwhatislife@feathered-quill @allthelovelyghosts@morriganwrites-0124 @adorhauer@lady-redshield-writes @willowandsnow @homesteadhorner @stirredhearts @toboldlywrite@eternalwritingstudent @woahwhatislife @alizans@novelistcore @theclichestories @marydreamy @lumina-rhiver @writingonjupiter @roselinproductions @no-url-ideas-tho

⚡️Stars and Mirrors - Raw first draft - Chapter Two - part two - The Many Faces of Tsid 🌙

In part one of chapter two, Mica learned that she’s no longer on Earth and that her original body did not survive. She is distraught when she learns that she will never return home again, leaving her friends and family forever.

Oh god, my parents. They’re going to look for me. Forever. They’re going to grow old looking for me.

A numbness crept in.

That’s new.

Numb was perhaps a strange word to use. There was still feeling. Like a buzzing, gnawing. That sensation you get right before something happens. Just.. prolonged. She pinched her skin. Nothing. She curled up with the blankets over her head, blocking out the repulsive yellow lighting. She tried pinching again, but the pain seemed displaced somehow, like watching someone else-- more empathetic and second-hand rather than physical. A storm raged within her, rage, terror, and hysteria just below the surface, unable to break through the hard shell that held it deep inside. She held her trembling arms closer to her body, grip tight on her arms.

Then, like a crack forming in the shell, everything came flooding out. Mica gasped and shuddered. Her heart pounding, a jackhammer in her chest.

I can’t breathe.

Her lips tingled, and her vision grew hazy and dark.

What’s happening to me?

Minutes felt like hours, and Mica had no idea when she regained the ability to breath normally, the episode finally passing. It had exhausted her mentally and physically. Her limbs were heavy and her racing thoughts slowed to a foggy haze. She buried her face into the pillow, slowly falling into a restless sleep.

The next time she woke, Mica could feel a change in the air before she even opened her eyes. Bright lighting peeked through the crack of the slightly open door, and she could hear the sound of hushed voices just outside. Mica recognized Tsid’s right away, but she couldn’t make out what she was saying. The second voice was thin and abrasive; easily deciphered despite obvious attempts to speak quietly.

“-wants you to pick up the pace. We should have left weeks ago.”

Mica leaned forward in her bed, straining to hear Tsid’s replies. The bed creaked, betraying her awakened status, and the two women paused their conversation to enter the room. Tsid was followed by a woman who was every bit as striking as her voice, with messy dark hair cut close to her jaw and piercing eyes under high arched brows. She stared at Mica with a dark, penetrating gaze. The two studied each other in silence.

“Well,” she said finally, “I hope you’re more cooperative than the brat before you.” She turned abruptly, and stalked out of the room.

Mica sat in stunned silence for a moment. Who does she think she is?

“Bael is still recovering from betrayal, please forgive her,” Tsid shut the door and sat down at the table, patting the seat across from her, “Come, child, we have so much to discuss.”

With no other options, Mica had no choice but to take seat. Her desire for answers overwhelmed her.

“Why am I here?” she asked, before Tsid had a chance to speak.

“Yes, I imagined that would be your next question.” She paused, leaning back, “You have been patient so far.” She seemed to be carefully choosing her words. Mica wished she’d just get on with it.

“I will be blunt with you. This body,” she said, gesturing towards Mica, “possesses a power this is quite unique. These abilities are beyond valuable to my master, and, upon their discovery, Bael asked Cyra for her help, who, of course, ultimately betrayed us. We were lucky, though, and her body was able to be recovered. Unfortunately, her soul had already left. You can see the predicament that left us in; without you, we will suffer setbacks we may never recover from.”

Something about the story felt off. Tsid was withholding information, and Mica couldn’t decide whether she was doing it for the sake of keeping her story short or for deceptive purposes. Either way, she resolved to get her answers.

“Abilities? What abilities?” she asked.

Tsid pulled her chair closer to Mica. She sat, their knees almost touching, and took Mica’s hands into hers, “Tsid will teach you,” she said, her voice suddenly soft and tender. “You, my dear, can give and take Aevym,” she continued, as if Mica should have any clue what that meant. She stared blankly at Tsid, waiting for her to explain.

“Aevym, child,” she said, with a slight air of impatience, “the Amaranthine Aether. The energy that flows through all living things. Many of us can manipulate it, but you,” her grip on Mica’s hands tightened slightly, “you can do so much more.”

Tsid’s hands felt icy cold as she stared into her eyes. Mica briefly wondered if the woman ever slept, ate, or had ever seen the sun at all. Her pale skin was practically glowing, deep purple circles under her pale eyes.

“But I don’t know how,” Mica said, “I don’t even know what that means.” Mica’s heart skipped as a cold look passed over Tsid’s face. It was gone in an instant, but she felt herself stumbling to placate her. “I’ll try, though, I-I promise.”

The intensity in Tsid’s eyes frightened her. The grip on her hands tightened again, her fingers were starting to feel numb.

“You must help us. I warn you, my master will not be so forgiving of betrayal a second time around.” Tsid’s demeanor had changed completely. From warm and gentle to cold and hard. She stood abruptly, staring down at Mica. “I will allow you leave this room tonight. As long as you cooperate, you will continue to have this privilege. The doors at either end of the hall are locked, allowing you access to this hallway only. I suppose the others will be eating soon. You may join them when you are ready.”

Tsid was gone before Mica could reply, leaving her to reflect on their conversation.

What am I supposed to do? I have no reason to trust these people, but I don’t even know where I am. An odd thought occurred to her, Or who I am. I’ve turned into a frightened child, and I’ve still seen no reason to fear them. Or maybe one reason, she thought, remembering her first terrifying moments in this place.

This is bullshit. I want to go home.

Mica didn’t feel hungry, or particularly enthusiastic about meeting more of these assholes. She returned to the bed, deciding to sleep instead. She cleared her mind, becoming aware of an anger that had been bubbling just below the surface. The agitation swelled and grew until she could stand it no longer. Mica tore the sheets off of her and launched herself out of bed.

I need to get out of this stifling room.

She hesitated at the doorway for a moment, and then stepped out into the hall. The air felt slightly cooler. Mica took a deep breath, feeling a little better already. She looked down either end of the hallway. Eight doors, four on either side, including hers, stood slightly open; all but two were dark. She walked down the hall, trying to glance inside the dark rooms, but could see nothing.

“OH NO WAY!” A voice yelled from within one of the rooms, and Mica jumped, startled.

Shaking, she slowly approached.

“What did you expect?” another, slightly husky voice replied.

Mica stood outside the doorway, peaking in. It looked looked like a hospital room, sterile and practically featureless other than the bed and medical equipment. A frail looking woman lay unconscious on the large bed, her arm hooked into an IV, and her head crowned in wires leading to a display on the wall above her.

She could hear low the beeping tone of a heart rate monitor. A young man sat, hunched over the side of the bed. He ran slender fingers through his silvery curls, grabbing them in frustration. A woman, head shaven and slightly stocky, stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder and her back to the door.

“I can’t believe she did it,” the young man in the chair said, looking up at the woman with glassy eyes, his voice thick.He tugged his girls again.

“I hope it was worth it,” she replied, softly. He only nodded.

I feel like I’m intruding.

Mica backed up further into the hallway, bumping into something solid that was not behind her a moment ago. She whirled around, eyes wide. A young man stood before her. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude,” she sputtered. He stared down at her, silent. She had to tilt her head back just to meet his gaze.

“In here,” he said, quietly.

He led her into the second lit room across the hall. She stared at him as they entered. His dark brown, almost black eyes, and black shoulder-length hair seemed so vaguely familiar; another dream-like memory.

The sudden change in scenery took her attention away from the stranger. This is more like it, Mica thought as she stood, looking around.

The lighting in here was softer, glowing from dainty brass lamps. A sturdy table stood in the far corner, in glossy red wood with matching chairs. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to the brim, covered the entire wall on one side. Mica fought the urge to sink and curl up into one of the many plush, over-sized armchairs near the shelves. She inhaled, taking in the comforting scent of the room.

Dusty old books, wood, cigars, and...roses?

She glanced around, finally noticing the bouquet on a small table near one of the armchairs. A sadness washed over her, remembering her mother’s prize-winning roses, as she approached the vase. She reached out to caress the velvety soft petals.

“Do you like them?” the young man’s voice startled her out of her reverie.

She nodded, giving them one last look. The creamy white roses were perfect in every way.

“I made them.” he said, obviously a man of few words.

Made them? “You mean grew them?” she asked.

“Make. Grow. Same thing.”

“Not really,” she laughed airily, surprising herself. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this weird voice.

“For me it is,” he said, showing her his arm. She hadn’t noticed the large wooden cuffs peeking out from under his sleeves. “Watch,” he pulled his sleeves up, exposing the cuffs. They were long, extending from his wrists almost all the way to his elbows, covered in intricate floral designs. He held out his arms, palms up, giving her an expecting look.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” she said, looking back up at him. But movement on the bracers caught her eye. The swirling designs began to truly swirl as a single stem grew straight from the wood itself. Taller and taller it grew until it stopped. With a flourish, the stem sprouted leaves and a rosebud, which bloomed right before her eyes.

Mica stared, her mouth hanging open. She reached out, hesitating for a moment. Thorns, leaves, petals… this is the real deal. If she hadn’t watched it grow right out of his cuff, she’d have thought this was grown out of the ground.

“How?” The two locked eyes once more. He looked down at her, amused.

“You’ve never seen anything like this before.” A statement, not a question.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He gently tugged the stem, releasing it from his wooden bracer, and handed it to her. Mica accepted the rose, offering him a small smile. She brought it up to her nose, taking in its scent as she paced in front of the bookshelves, studying the titles.

Something odd caught her attention as she gazed at the books. If she stared long enough, it was obvious that they were in an unrecognizable foreign language, but she could comprehend the words as if she’d been reading them her whole life. Mica rubbed her eyes. All of this was making her head hurt. Answers only begged even more questions and she was starting to wonder if it’s possible to go mad from it all. She heaved a huge sigh, finally sinking into one of the armchairs closest to her, and tucked her feet in underneath her, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Where’s the food at? I am fucking famished!” A voice boomed from the doorway as another young man entered the room in a flurry. He dramatically flopped himself down into the chair next to Mica with an exasperated sigh, wasting no time in lighting a fat cigar that hung from his lips. He started, as if noticing Mica for the first time. She recognized him from the other room, the one who sat next the girl in the hospital bed. His demeanor had changed completely.

He let out a low whistle, “Oh what a trip, man. It’s like you’re her but you’re not.” Mica fidgeted uncomfortably as he looked her up and down, leaning forward to get a better look. “Like, you look like her but you don’t hold yourself the same way.”

He looks like a Greek statue. His curly, silver-blonde hair was close cropped, his eyes and skin almost the same exact color. From the side, his profile showed off his prominent jaw and a long flat nose.

He reached his hand out, touching the tips of his fingers to her forehead. “I’m Zak, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Mica,” she replied. She looked up at the other young man, who still stood near his roses, watching her.

“My name is Devvin,” he said, quietly, looking away again.

Silence stretched for a moment, the atmosphere beginning to feel more and more awkward. Finally, a distraction came in the form of Tsid with a platter of sandwiches.

“Come, children, Tsid has nourishment,” she chirped happily.

Zaak rolled his eyes, groaning, “Oh we’re Sweet Tsid today, are we?” he said with a surprising sharpness in his voice. She answered with a glare before turning her attention to Mica.

“Eat up, my dear, you will need plenty of energy for your lessons later,” she said.

Zak, bravely ignoring the glare from before, responded first, “So when that doesn’t work out, what are you going to do?” he said, “Because Aslyn probably won’t be waking up for a long time, and I don’t think she can survive doing that again.” Mica could hear the concern. His attitude is all a show.

“That’s enough,” Tsid barked. The look she gave Zak sent a shiver down Mica’s spine. It was like a stony mask had slipped over her face, making her almost unrecognizable. “Take your sandwich and go to your room,” she said to Mica, with a look as cold as ice.

Mica was more than happy to slip away.

♥♥♥ That’s it! Thanks for reading! ♥♥♥

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #amwriting #writers #fantasy fiction #stars and mirrors project #holy crap #this was so long #i'm so sorry omg #sometimes the keep reading line disappears on mobile #and I'm sorry about that too #omg

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