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libidomechanica · 5 days

Text

He could not practical

A sonnet sequence

Stanza the First

The things? He could not practical your wives, that pierce his fortune’s matrimonial bounty wrong: I bare young Lochinvar? Thy wrists his honey—but with charmer, yet nothing I have been and if the sweet no tailor, as he welcome he sleep it seems false friends, adore it, I haue a dormant alkali, althought but forasmuch as any body torn and showering balm, and knife. In two are so;—a male Mrs. The ruling rather Attic: your moan and then they made to blush’d in naturally him in all the crimson feathered in their good, with winges her own could strife. Oh Misery!

Stanza the Second

A dove, your fates assign’d to bear from Beautie beauties be a slave brain began in sleep but the Sun himself like a perfume the blue night lily whisker. Thy Mistress of foolscap crown their passions within and all lies! Of burning their foes embrace that others feel the hope hope hope and the same door, when all the whole of the cause as an honour, lay me in thought ungentle will stop it, death will less from hands blazon o’er here? That being soil of hell, there was it would buy, that draws to confess with charmes resisted thus, after a survey, if Time to fail in anywhere, like finest worms.

Stanza the Third

To that he should knock that crawled the Spring! No seconds he would he canker-worm will his mind? Such small read the victors didn’t for your veins—no doubt, for herb, fruit. Breath of Morn, her heads or bonnet be the masterpieces: they vow to pleased: but signifies The Frenchman, oh Jack! Through crowd of wronged around the looks I do not will every smile and far away into Reasons audit, that do sturre, and may the courteous deed; for birds fly, and knife in a wedding also risk’d himself will of God be third day their teeth of workmanships, which—as a whelp description; and suffering my darling, and died.

Stanza the Fourth

Your Beauty of steepy mountain tribal figured twenty-nine do out of circumspection, founded one, each by poesy, and gentle tongue; while the love ribbon, locked offender; and let near each time his own love’s eternal spirit? Won’t reflection, about ye. They saw the king purple cleft bringing them I love insides must now by no means more pliant, as she beheld Salámán’s Eyes a boat sliding hip to it, ere the life and she said his nature stood three with that can escaped; then his small with chose to paint my birthright acquaintance; her and outstretcht to hearts, young Pharsalians did you!

Stanza the Fifth

Blue O thou art a question’s bride, let his face flushed grass and devoures, until ye try the heart. Are the king of the sudden making lieutenant. Some ye in war, or as a Christian shore. A kind of a Chain of Ten Intellectual Truth God only a freeborn native, so my darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ darlings to its rocky shore, with your promise set on her my present with whom all the Grace, then her nations how to amend then she love can creatures comes too late, but each wreath secure they, like his song the clouted up to the Black and so long arms and have room and of the cruel; for Cymon show’d and one bands in Cashmire had made you see, we were was no law for joy or see; why do you know no other. Amongst Tartars, were the pale. This compass such like men happy in bed. Off play, my selfe a battle green ruin, rustle of I and Thou be the lofty as nights’ fees.

Stanza the Sixth

Wind, three-inch scar glowed fires. All this was a castle while scarce could not speaking; but by the captives in Heaven of all abroad at hand, threatens in carriage, o’er with his time I tied here yet ’tis sweetness of softest of the calm of mute he sport of that least all the prisoner bound, as purple and raw into the land to form of spirit, and his daughter should them bristled at vast advancing on some nodded to divide in a cause, that all passion tear; and it not? A God, and silk; next way is best hell, the thirty, in all, and now were has always been out—at wore upon occasion?

Stanza the Seventh

I was feather, tho’ but in a wedding clay, do not choosing durst, in fact redoubted foes so farewell!—But althought or stars that April morn, of thee, or swan’s down to my hope, which locked in the light: the right: when his eyes to all the vegetable puncheons for his not a judge of the shade, not known below which never much used think such a song to thrust above that they give a grand pointed out the will regretted thus ouerspreads his Odysseus he spouse, withal, I disdain to show precept that great crimes everything cake. And friend resource was nothing to a hand shine in your refusest.

Stanza the Eighth

And yet I stack by his face, their own hearts: he dancing and with a glass and buzzed in tear; and Maud in either spinning some bay- window that the hardly and been declared amends here unfolding his desire shall sink without fame, but enjoys with the will not always fire When Bishop Berkeley said Juan, whose cheek, yet so warmly ran my breath’d the sun. Singing like a rich in loue they things of the custom still kiss, go on from rhyme. Smiles, faire you will ever was brought; your vessels side dishes life; so that Loue brings pay who created her just wrath been less on the North prevent, two legs stop twitch.

Stanza the Ninth

Kiss should fail, shall she front there is no salve to quench you bout hiss If you an equal fire, his train in the slushy sand. Too soon remoue from though the earth, and Cressys, as it the then, the stars; and their roots amain, this being quite old thine Original Degree, a fatigue we imaginary. Why do you say? If you permit, nor blind! As the will claim another should appears and green meadow and ivy buds, with length, that I trust for your chaise, or three days? But when left her sleep, as I gain that Canterbuffed animals aforesaid occupied the little: he loved, who has said Juan.

Stanza the Tenth

As river. Their frenzies; then small profit thrown, and night: we with black, gold, upon you sit for long you would make choicest furnish drapery Misses? Sometimes at dislike think us dead. We fellows pay they knead two pails of battling full of it all the stepping marriage. Amongst they at thee, thy love her station; for birthright and brief night, from couldst be, does yet it be, then waste not of Woman; nor hope, we all his good father they meet, which opens to kill, and open a person think, proceeds. In a trifle, scarce be goods which has services. So divide in reign part, I cannot do it.

Stanza the Eleventh

All alone in them towards wouldn’t be blame? While they knew, must before going toward through we wear red for Lebanon, darkening aged women, call the perceiving that made me many heard he said, It is enough. Found a snails, when beauty it was a pilgrim wildered well; join his incomparison and gloves have the spreads the first, their pace; but a bound in decent London his garment’s plac’d, as I gazed, and dandies and jewel- print of mine nor me, for queenly way, and around a passions of Kings; but greater blasts of good singing by degrees preparate doorknobs gleam of your glory again.

Stanza the Twelfth

And their forte; ’ but now saw Albion’s fire; or said—can this, out of that he critic and the Public shames an active shall be overgrown monosyllable time that he whole hotbeds in Catholic eye or hath and certes by no men, not think she couldst no sinners in Love’s fresh air. Her flight. There above then she smiles; but Love. When they knew thought up, others to youths of paradox become and that can be called, to tie her for its crop with Philip, I haue born of dining. In speech by separates what I was a matters down for the fair; then will live and she great lustre, this reputed Son?

Stanza the Thirteenth

He went on, and the praised by a coffing, as his blood worn, with the Black and the polygons of changed horse love, so sweet; her whisper’d, the little hardly bear him out. The lightning appeal unto dying but the cattle. He did; that endure; and, like to loue to dip dark cedar, though my with blood, for my lonesome more gaily class, or lips, and leaves on her love’s whole of gaoler, whom it had hid away to liberty, doth was merely saying, Christian show for joys. Ladies evening, as under heart, you with another’s bride. Of fortune had: as a small difficulties proud shall not allow.

Stanza the Fourteenth

Me was till so urge you perhaps am some hotel; thy customs of the time, from Tom&Jerry, and in prison’d pride: the eye appears as a problem, like a single in her law, and grim, meridian climes is nothing only Christian, came of day. On your name, counting ’mong Graemes of the second wed along the meads; where in mine by love, studied with such a hands, and I have seen—and what shall darken, with my kissed are, and steeps his orphan heart escaped; the Truth and drunk, the peace, and age, and, when her fears renew our own quadrille. Her presentment is to let troublesome, the smoked supernaturally him leader, we will find softness to dwells the deserved, than he had made a king his her hopes not seems to die and gloves still short besides must living pearls did strength your mouth in his own eyes through some stray, that I shall more I trace, and, wherefore thought lesser suction of this.

Stanza the Fifteenth

Wrist, the tear-drop melts, a man she seem’d no children; they’ll ne’er having the ensembled with fresh, of thirty, in action awaits in my judgment’s placed in all the deep Bosphorus float; the leafless by tradition. So long grace, the step-dame Studies blowing with words the Honye is much also of something what capacious you, lifting go of some never thousand heaving be, as his tardy ages; the autumn robbings, in proper time; all my gestures, your pointed place. On the subject to none returned so it was feature, sovereigns to fight, and I confess all, and, if that the way of speak.

Stanza the Sixteenth

Should hoist my gentleman of brave Lochinvar. To attain both my foot along the lace that’s it, and I pardon you too. But see them wish her, with a wife. I will your reputation the woe, vpon the intrusive to live. Never. His breast, left in earnest snatched, and fair as doom but when midway on the long legs embarrass’d, or ambitious the council broke and double should not the Princes and more my head, looked his own, death will be mine, and everyday to dreams,— even thou know while the morning-’ here alive. The feasted us, and they are quaint, and looking for you. The crowd of wrath sheep.

Stanza the Seventeenth

The worse it praised: and by, my selfe taken in a fowling nation, hurting what they have fled; now, if but in your weary cry. Her bosom sits that thy pearl and find outward Form of the ruin’d to youth, and then for pure loving kind, I embrace; for blunt fist of trousers not half-way house, and by promised some talk about the war. In all their naval store of the darkening grey; as blithe a man he took to grow much danger pointed Peace pipe on her as will be. Of the first the attic and drippings; while each pieces of night grow, and the nation, each beneath that I might of her own quadrille.

Stanza the Eighteenth

Owing you this, and great pleasure! Is sawcinesse reward, spoils declined the Mansion House stringent qualities with the curious holds by tradition, but full speed—no matters if their hooks: in mine hostile ship againe, pleasures once gone into something very care; there vnioynted but since she goes, all the very fiery night he living to do thy flower on earth being in the Gracelet made them, Are you, except in shortly and the milky way. My mother’s glass for I love yon street and glittering Fish like salt over thousand never saw one, and made women are clichés.

Stanza the Nineteenth

Is calm and quiet: from Head and the doors; but since he did; that I know nor can be ready more prefer the blue eggs of robins, but knew it. It, had combated with Philip, I have shunn’d the gate. What, spontaneously projected by proofe I may express he under there but for so marks his first ill-sounding back where a smart, subtle Greek, and kings and praised the strong although the first time now the holy oak or Goddess, despite of mine how far we shall she from the Isles loved a Cyprian lord, above the spake some mischief to find stellas great and he goeth; come, and heads bow, too slow!

Stanza the Twentieth

Or fame faster white rosebud with Cyril and ah! I try to the made, whose brow blushing together in the power to a tree. Tigers are red; or said, as he that I can see, you cannot say. But lessons he bound in safety landed one band silks, to whom, by Baba smile; and told him, as I use that care, then he spun everywhere, how to find names, horrible, hateful Evening him that Belovëd, what is The Crown, and who wear. It’s a torture. My death-wound, unfree?—Then hey, for all shakes. Shocked offender; and I, o we fellow-creature borne, just at his eyes. Bitter which the turnpike road!

Stanza the Twenty-first

And as they say over your mother rarest chatter repose. Hand died in an ever? In our pretty. By natural was so wanton wing, from all its speed. Is on their popping, and Wedlock and her hands on myself am shent when she from the twelve swell of two gold and now nighest face survivor bulging its Circumference more, won’t do it. Was na Robin proper could not will give the David, you be it was equipped for longing. Which lent; vnable face bare men: some talk, is it not, but all poor souls resolution of a train going to do not your foot of earlier had a dove.

Stanza the Twenty-second

And, to his own, as we could be my griefe: the bee upon they are pretty painfully stony and a work sublime, to continents—as if also much things which to post without a shoe factory cursing, my own, resty Muses upon the looeks: lo, by them, and Spirit down to the last, when live in a tricks, to hope. Now roused, they, weeping which is done. Unto her seventh month their native by yourselves to prated just once the incidental as Mother know wholly; and tears of salt and the stars that each redeem no land: beside at courtesies our sofas t were sadly change.

Stanza the Twenty-third

Broke and could she never acquired, and in triumphall circumspective many scorned of travel. Unless into fingers, and let there was heard the sunlighted, form’d a very words make you won’t do it I will wear fetters if though nettled inward worth who at sixteen transgresses by the queen. And fresh sprung! Grieved, I looke in at last clear’d with a fiery night, and waited my love that, unknowing that may presence. I missed her flight, their spell: You ride now inside the very bell; thy custom of that I write. And after swallow peep, with narrow and roast-meats, who look. Some person I love.

Stanza the Twenty-fourth

I reign’d, call’d my bosom sits that virtue the first hint, but little creek below, there thou art my with weighed: but claims, such a gale; and however sincere a sail than his blood mighty mass of his own. The effeminate think she conjunction and done he putting Care. Blue spurt of seldom are, if I opened on her blossom of Majesty, after season, upon hisses? Of welfare, found her hand she great, or when they come to do wished man to me he promise tied her dumb lactation, a poniard dislike the sought that is sung, at eight on beauty as their like Lear’s, and excuse can prize.

Stanza the Twenty-fifth

Themselves into the morning’s nature made Cathering out from thee! I miss most a pike in my heart; o Cleanse Thy Bosom sits that to write. But, if e’er, a sin to woo, suppling with ease and must live with visions live poets and save prince can find a swords. Each cell hardly words which poured his peace; no criticism combine of late, helpless, young year in which signifies The Crown to thrust in them, O no, but be your pockets first come alchymic furnace, from pole to ruine me? Go, and fear, the peace that rudeness, heroes, lawyers, prison’d eagle inky whisker. At prepare to such a pickle.

Stanza the Twenty-sixth

And the heard some prepared at hand, as sweet. Turns out of man’s roves beyond then the ridge of moving kiss those they grew in the lake-like, nor durst begins. Amid the story, first the buzzing mucks at moments of the long I served instrument: I should risk or the human deeds, and show precede: the fruit and many shoe, unless you remember. We passion, from the World of woman’s sparkling machinery and should remove,— sweet, the light with his Crown upon the cobweb woven her empire to feel our hopes not my name of Or Molu. Those nation, mostly I a garland being note.

Stanza the Twenty-seventh

And frights, and march away—’t were was drawn onward worthy heir: his first my good faith, I will breach one day, lights which was pre-engage all thee, or swan’s down at zero, she is, or lace better: lest in two his rich, whose beds. Spouted up the Russia’s royal right. He is a thaw of a smiling if any would be among then the world in the garter most the absent prepare forsook to show my wretched at chessman, but with cypressed, the morning river burns and are double-chinn’d an active prove his sacred prey, from tigress turn’d to blush; and flatter and thus kind of the Arrow-head.

Stanza the Twenty-eighth

I will not wrongs, nor and they came in baba and thus by such exaggerations he promised good. Not Death may give some qualities or hidden beautiful, and, aye until ye try to be embraced, and the cars which I have been tending the noble palace led, began to let thy subject quotes them toward signs herself on intelligence would come a passion whose Minds and threw down with our forth, company threaded tears, and laugh. Moves—female modest, ’t would knows that await corruption of love and women, years, I have had caught, blood shoulder of the fail to see your souls, at least must yield. Be arbiter of the burden was it seems Cain: la Belle Alliance’ of dunces that horrid was borne into as furious glowing; the great Gracchus of his triumphall car, her vehicles; but you wilt ever a March-wind sways the pride tis a garlands, adore they can’t do, save their grooms swords.

Stanza the Twenty-ninth

But cruel fight, the raven-glossy hair was a cotter, too since, the coward: you this—to tell vs, what I thus begun to unwind, with thee, or aught me man, midst the bee, that she would to the sudden at her, and bending to the Bankrupt worse for eyes her anger than power, a globe of richesse of those Janizaries, crowned. A slaves in Hell! Above the best juice? God, even syllables, they mightier breast when the forks. Through; a woman’s trembling, when she cries: to you—the most of a train in that is out, the old hysteries, cliffs. What you will wail thee, and prayers and as upon all this kindled torches we dead? A country in a flute of free as age; in seventh, to rail at the blue instruction of the earthly parallel, their vessel for me; and Max whimpers, all wild oats in my barren rhyme, twere better in his Bounty balls. Like what your names in a globe their good use.

Stanza the Thirtieth

Those that one of land fall before abhorred. No, faith and loathed to the verge of the remnants still wears The Soul in Strife! As his palms Bob Acres’ valour; much hope, an undiscover’d to the spell. In maiden fancies dear. For what world but every head,—as Auld Lang Syne!—So the conversations of they found alive alone, do my thought that strongest, or whom to lose myself like his hall, and was in sight, and the meadow your last, tea and their daily presence gies to know such deliberal admiration’s grave. And I have seen—they lead the hurricane of Pomp and back the sought. And cherries failed.

Stanza the Thirty-first

And praises from, their duty was not his shield and if he had done the dead. The stars, Love’s isle. Peaches, but o’er the darkness rushing chariot, rolling being poet, ’ like a precious acts inflames the educate— ye youth wit my mare, my dear; and the brink one chastity when perverted, the bride he took a survey, if Time beneath she supper, for I’ll served, and to eternity: the hands. When he putting be, as wonder, how dexterously squished lovely length, to say of Autumn weather, speaking his carriage was no end unto the East the Mystery from the pomander.

Stanza the Thirty-second

As the morning more the bloom one on the mind, refusing infant or food I think that which on the last was throwes, ilk spring; and low: and helpe his condition. But etiquette forbear all the reformadoes, ’ just now it oft; skin as smooth as are so;—a male corpse for clay, do not stir by nigh done, the duty was to budde, how contains, our souls fly to attends but you—two days it with a little man. No one pink throat skewered lads the watery wise anticipated; hangs by his carriage more free, as there’s eglantine, summer’s face, and men, and yet I stack by his graunted.

Stanza the Thirty-third

That can be cautious, be no spices and women in a Heap of Dutchmen and suffered him free, madrid’s and all, while amid the door attend, instead, and prayers, priestly bribe. The dream, upon the world,—which, being fear: backward: the stars that I wad mourns from, the caique was only children, though on more would see love’s whole town; found was calm, and sword decide, and the dawn. There came and the distributor of Evil and out that tomb already to some side-lie of a young, and lave to make a short essayed, with her arch’d brothers to its the spindly drive with a number’s shirt with proportioned walls.

Stanza the Thirty-fourth

She is, and grace. Outside, eating thing graunted by proper place their place. Beauty a’ the setting be. The doorknobs gleaming, or worthy Christian knows how the reproof’s a small profit throne and althought, oft turning from pole to hope. Hath my while with such a numbers join, though public, no sex and fain outrun the memory by a knife, with due several score sprinkle, or even though they are into a ragout, and devoutly wish’d lie with its source for I’ll country season, sure, and no less wife; the last. Any other in that he thing their naval stood prepare for night and cattle grave.

Stanza the Thirty-fifth

But truce with a shady wood, till I wish wont,—a gaudy taste of faire lad, so recommend; and paper: the sun rose-briar bloody birch limb of a single lady eyed: surely be became him, for another’s brief for his new. Of power, and used to a woman in sleepiness, must travels after supper now, either; just now growing you with my fingers like persons of their conductor tapping frontier: I said I’d slippers for thy Feet, though somewhere I am! Fourth spotted in it to make my mind. I kissed his homeward. I shall not whether love, my hurt dog at my feet.

Stanza the Thirty-sixth

Of day, when hey, for the fool with the trail. Knowing the other fruitful seeds with narrow ranged; the very world, with aught that makes Love of yon red rose-briar is coming and blewe. Perhaps too late then, ere one means. Saw one, and flower depose. Broken means were spell? And in good name; thou then? Shaking, and each of us through he took, to see the welcoming his following dog and gold, upon necks; and winter, ghosts, and on his splendid tear to say that recollect all the Grace, exceptions deemed by her sight? This weary. To hear the page. You must before abhorred. And blood in the marges meet.

Stanza the Thirty-seventh

Learn part, he repulsion tires, yet with virtuous sort of sensate the colour way of getting me once could pierced the Divinity but the color them; else to me: for well he knew not his; to-morrow write fifty miles not to know or knew that April morn, of the same quaint, be let’s known, the bestow their sable gas flowers a stiff yet grand Napoleon, which refined, but my first the blood was no gentle man. A still makes a sort of cloth to climbs to wave. Not at once in verse, and loathsome lonely Hell. For those sweet voices, and a hundred arms into simple—short, all pleasure!

Stanza the Thirty-eighth

Reign’s so well have proved cone to blame his publicly import bothers. Fry. Bear it. I there stow’d upon the Ring of Solomon on his prayers and shake.—She did Matthew is in the heath and with her own share is his tale had made a wind and unsmoothly run, when her speak of morality or latter to year where play, the will call its dimm’d eye’s spoils declivity that Miracles at leads the soil, of the rest of her here? Even some sage fetters to the flood. Which is the classes and just as a whelp cling crimson leave hearts? ’ By mistake casts off its Mystery whereof he will in Hell!

Stanza the Thirty-ninth

These higher spirit, by sure poor Sylvander happy hours was like a Frisbee, like a way a man she look’d no child, and turn attack’d; now, if my Pegasus hath glow’d thy fair; then Nature and put thy golden chalice, drawn by you: your low world, with her brothers but the Good, defining in purple, pulsing and see with to virgin and on its ears before bred between unequal court, such as are their way; for I love all around a tongue like a scholar whom she could have with pushing red, the noble staining sun; and still rattling up Pall Mall, an Englishwoman’s sparkling mass.

Stanza the Fortieth

’Er the nation, harsh into my e’e; lang, lang as smooth, some delight, and at ease; he was an improve he gave such as I drew at my wealth, sae languish, what like a present, too, with pierced moment day she asked offerings. ’ Roared the could scorn my lord shall not answer of despair. Now round the gardens yet one will seek the trembles through seas, who now even I have more blest, and their shibboleth, God with the hour atones for the air, but a dreams are even more so the birds fly, a pair their way, and a whole of the hand, and what the way, she long enough; but a reward other his arm or less?

Stanza the Forty-first

The fish no worse that greater blast this deare Shee, might augur, I should have also was the same downward round the vault above her grace is just the world is a lie. The street and the moon, and folly: was it may well: what her into her; for instructure by proper place me with our old and if you can’t help thinking petty carefully and drink her fourth sporting up some laid down by instructing the last of the paved starry head. For the broke the dance to do thy face that the Body and hold him, for her hand repair, without divulging with all to myself, and with my free informed the queen.

Stanza the Forty-second

Then you would bended by large grown pall, and their full of yesterday he to where they please; she seem exceeding glass of broke in me, poor priviledge, can be hid by a wrinkle grave! That streams now them all the world, her beauties entred in my face, and, nor ever upon such sort, this prey, or lead to eternal love or many scornefully the wind’s Eye its Pupil! This place, a body it half garden, and slight of hands and kept so longer more mildly ere it can be call’d of asphodel, the spray, the titmouse hope, which don’t different minds of bones: mought such the York mail;—but oh fie on’t!

Stanza the Forty-third

Sicker bushes back, she blush’d upon his be tied her golden gleamed. You burly loves his tents, fast by love. Their hand, as in and delight. And from this imprint of love is thing, a beauty may cross the vines, and back with generate century dead; the Pheasant colours as a damp wind up with so swell’d so to him with all the from the birds; nor reign in Jeanie’s bosom sweet, two legacies,-a legacies,-a legacy of love to-night, and they are general directed by a wrinkle, or catch that touch that I love, and my stomach, hearken to those nonsense or change groves; Olympus high.

Stanza the Forty-fourth

And let the plainness of moral topics: poems must be neuter an unexpects a man’s face, for what I would die; and prospects high; but now ginnes to a steers to myself betwixt their den, was heart more loftiest minds of the urge to heaven so. The distance, came back of fortune’s matrimonial bounties he took pity. Was last their splendour, and the find not only law. I e’er have ye e’er souls shadow from the law, and love and the bird of grenadiers. Four winds kiss the dog won’t description of love repay: none always of historian short adieu,—farewell; it is the phone.

Stanza the Forty-fifth

‘Love thoughts are chaste embraced, ‘I thought, and ware? His eyelash staid a moment of ivresse’ in love’s change, that he thou wreck his placed, as those be thermometers so truly wise or war. Her virgin bosom rose; the Pheasant, Slavic and blade return addressed, but Iphigene, she critique, just not your soaring Cross, to thee mine, and see, ’ quoth Baba; while; moment to presume for such glory also, answer’d, I am writing the sake only would condescendants will take; she should she but for death he seem’d her eyes serue himself, my evermore thou break the cars go by, and clean. I lived not the lid.

Stanza the Forty-sixth

Than Fountain-woods, ascendancy, until they began. She keeps you say? And stared as if short lifted, Pardon-pleading in rhymes; and yet not enuie Aristotless neck she knew not if he had been said, as aged men’s purses: as Machiavel shows those Eastern skies freeze. She know little modest tresses the Woman merit? See the Door of the field is also to be; dissolving in the vanquished heaven in your death. And forward of glistering of her to budde, how could read this gauze? An intelligible samples; pity cannot doomed too, whose Attributes the pity that she had quite?

Stanza the Forty-seventh

He should names in well might that, and fed with such as endless cinders. Thus to the would say or golden day reveal’d on a grandfather city you would fain outrun their strengthened, and nor grieved him free, by force to divide in rape: unpraise; are things in a race-horses o’er song, through, and swamping the back of the ruby lips my love. Which you to slackening, walking in a Heavens despair its crop with and fast; his elbow a mere philanthropic din, unto his care that Loves; Olympus high; lips she was soft and pity grac’d to begin, we wishes fall, his father, old Baba stopp’d em.

Stanza the Forty-eighth

Some slight teach to her that shall admiring, and on to medicines made a thing with the praise, nor that wait upon a pillared at least you once more it, and vapour of sometimes—to open a perfect on Juan;— for let deepest dyes, advancing with blood. Which is a daughter love, and gazed on thy Hearts are little think the yellow! The beams, on starry forget the world, her ruin wild eyes loll white is behind a boon, and gazed as oft I had his good; and above thy Desire, till we flutter on a spacious love knowing daffodil dies, the last, where better belt, for Thou art my wit.

Stanza the Forty-ninth

Would bear and woof, were sent before: I care noble race, and died. Juan posted on thrice in hairst, I shure in hairst, I sat, but know inside my steel’d senses the goblet: the case, blind-hitting be both the mind can not imaginary. Of seeming Death, if for my love, amid there born to lassitude, they fed her blushes to the long by conquer’d? And found so many, who died in everybody’s right with slow steps but cannot quite old Man young straightway the same harpies, rushing him away, too, yet he swell of twilight to have a dormant alkali, althought excepting out of mechanics, and Reigns lord of ghost which I can find her bright be summer’s day he metamorphosis in his fatuus to the end will bloom on that had been obliges meet in a Pendegrass hangs by her less; and novice in the tongues perplexes our soul, which I hate a makeless Genevieve!

Stanza the Fiftieth

Inspire more admitted the womb is notion of human woes: for balance. An Ocean body. His face; beauty’s a flower, a birch through his toilet, the floor, one is tying married with arms have made up a song she loves askaunce, the bonie face, acts what you started back your points of the Turks—as the Soul in the distances, of mind, about thee my face is form, by Baba rather dwelling-place of what heights, the new convulsion tears incense me, I am not a few hours was luck, my woe. In his vows bent light? Has felt the air perhaps; but yet, like this, to keepe, as hawks may correct yes.

Stanza the Fifty-first

While now, then all that promising machinery and then I say, unlocking and the very scribblers to heart. Or she’s my gentlemen turn. What’s what therefore me numb,—yet let me his palms, I miss you to looked across till the excelling off distributes the stems of reflection comes to the mought of the Fiend, interpreters. When we fall o’ th’ Sea, suddenly bitches of golden gleaming from mere spreads his empire, and various Moon of Majesty unwaned! Who can blame him? It teaches, when she: What you had made impotent of time. Through he couering so seen to begins.

Stanza the Fifty-second

-Eyed China’s crockery to discover if they for both my turnkey Lowe. When young feelings, but he comedians crown as Crowne, all naked swayne, with garrulous lie of season. The list grows then they acted on a burning in, we cross just now the excursive, break the topaz, opal, calcedon. Which e’er she extended, thought fit worth the brain’s opprest and at the then, in this mother Grace that’s new though I am, yet some taken he could retrace too had sometimes bloom most others’ fears the air, tall, his life most my blue Petersburgh: the charming free. Is not enough to make my bonie.

Stanza the Fifty-third

At so few; but attend, instead of curtesie? For roses and built a little hours do, and not let your own Ellis Island, with it always choosing own. A growth. And laughing in his wings. So take him, their black from thence to pass, it seem’d the soul at once and feed the could rip: that may enquired by the land, who scour think us dead and by person I love and they are parental scratching. They know. In sun and a hundred the rest renowned withdraw Thee from off the apples stoics—men wild, and huge, dun cupola, like angels watched in my pulse, for the wind in all parts may see you love?

Stanza the Fifty-fourth

Since it out, little things which well exact affable familiar graceful guise; of puissance; cheerful too; winning at which he was the world doth calmed down the vanquished. Signs painting he story—an old house; but she was much within. And them, and bruised, as to be left him from outrageous lucky, and tear for their head, unless in other wavering the accredited diplomatists of a Better love swell being the thing’s negotiation, mostly ends in my braceless man were desire, and hotel; thy packets, all forgive my peers; poets, there he always promised some more.

Stanza the Fifty-fifth

And, pitcht upon that dance with whom Hundsfot, ’ or Verflucter, ’ and looked his wish another dark green means deigning a child, its petal tips; for carriages, forced through the dead, or come new friend Jeffrey writes of think, proceeded.—The Hand of all the while story of course that ill the sleeping claim another’s love and the hearts a distance, for the lines of great black, nor the jars for yet preferred his garment-hem Pollution brings where, how did strong and as moonlighter, whom I loue. And the old stone bride’s fates, and with tower’d treason thrice-turned how we part bestow their wonted works a distance, juan among?

Stanza the Fifty-sixth

’ Ill fitter for Babylon: whether love me if I erred from the loves, somehow evasive, bread crust, jutted these phrases fair Jenny alone. No late, but fragile brother our love receive: for longing by Dame Partlett reared and blossom, to seem’d her tremendous teats shoots are dead, flying reaches more aghast the Whigs? The fashion it if one in verse as the wind; if these don’t philosophy display’d you to sleepe would hear hearts were Creator, when one with scoffin for their nation, each suck these mething is dear. Or as a whale rises upon’t, believe not iaelous ouerspread her, water frost.

Stanza the Fifty-seventh

You that! Even widows, Lady of that brought be servile dogs lie down, I find out his ears were for want of view, fair, tho’ I was now fill that all, and sighs, tears, and, which make her auburn has ever. Through your promise tied her speaks up as tiny no-sex voice willing like his eyes, to bind and where like a birth as rarely though I have become anchor with Susan’s eye chewed the seas, who survivor bulging with equal match, and love at the way physical On this one long summons, or dim the palaces; then play out things at his brotherly accept my madness of bricks became her eyes!

Stanza the Fifty-eighth

And the view which Britons deemed with due precede throne, one is sometimes have looking balm, and modest graces on her live as if by force, his place opening in a bracelet. I scorne record of Youth,—the Field of Clay, trodden with his Rhodians fell. Fell Fire; yea, sweet to looked as if we called The Shah saw Salámán eyed Juan,—swallowing I have kiss Her hand, with somewhat unfounder’d the loftly swels in speeches’ pocket pistol from human dress? I am fled from her. And has been marriage is not for a roast-meats, a shilling full of wrong myself and move to encourage drooping from court.

Stanza the Fifty-ninth

Which how did say: for we must still a flurry, as Paris bore; nor Valiant overpowering my chest, ’t was the purpose they give you back with their winged lads the little man. Life of man’s abode;—for liberal acts inflamed my inner and drove, the time, which mostly for the bride the planet fix middle of February and looking dream a little people write I, while the moon to follow walls, and I must have behind the Sorrow is better: lest individually exclaim’d the quiet ashes long years and by prodigy and to country- farm the sentence the ills that crowns to me.

Stanza the Sixtieth

Seventh months in theirs of the dream milk of her nest. And in her eye in peace a furnace, forc’d by force should suggest thou love the public shame on, postilions! Dublin should have his lovingkindness’ eunuch enter’d in all: they mighty Hand of him his the Foam upon their part! Shake a lass wi’ Geordie impression blest, by new unfolded to it, ere Time waste, and Wordsworth again, reaching to get out. How mans wrong myselfe his hasty took amiss. Some for the miser’s treasure. On the earth’s old woman’s setting courtesy should scarcely gazed the scent the Will die wherefore than is dumb.

Stanza the Sixty-first

Of important, bore his chin as written lately sent apples cast our hours’ time, and of a truth to boot, and how sunk in Absál in the stair, and her; for that wasn’t my métier, yet God’s gifts apply, as you take where is all them as you sticky glass on the rose-wreath once he doth his will, and that Loues selfishness. But the sumptuousness Ungracious you, by and brazen thus adorns with bade him from his suit he movables were fitter perching old, nor at least of her will; since Adam fell: mething to do with those bread crush her passage the sparrows of the waking haughty thicke, might acquaintance lowest thyself be known before is Addition—timidly, timidly tow’rd her, the free, and the magistrate his proper place where are nor the end, althought, may rue the potter’s more mildly ere it earth, I should be amongst live: tell ever knew thoughtful thine out, according, a town knot.

Stanza the Sixty-second

From the Eyes in torment. I have not how: having dreams had perceiving postures, woman were lost in me,—I won’t do it. At length devoutly seen Timbuctoo, of a sun, and pray ask of the halted once mould to the next week; she scarce more, each surrounding on the Bashaw was subject; but to pleasing sunshine own before he is all drooping like Hecla’s flame or you! The education between us, overjoyed: Do thou art divine Perfect beauties past; then therefore on the darest individual under the first sight of the restrain? For blunting-box, and place me the rich.

Stanza the Sixty-third

Which he who has sentiment under thigh nearly urinating past worldly bustle. ’ Said to the day go and shook my sigh’d, and tell even in baby clothes: for cats and cooked. Of wrong—unless gardens yet we may be not wrongs, nor only faut is love unfit, that see her days, reading still all the head, lookest down till now, and jewels, and deepening ’t will every mind proves, when I love, my love on pity and Sorrow, Himselfe to guess by this one is dumb. And a woman God did growing tide sent o’er the conversing I did not thine, even with shedding hers in Love’s sake, hung half before.

Stanza the Sixty-fourth

There we turning a kind of varies her note, she loved someone always had: as a self-will environ a conspiracy of absence gies to accept that tenderness of his to be very clown, he lovely notes, from book argument, now that bitter, the valets, secret sent appetite was you, though my top teeth.-Wedded with my heart, I feared out as they might of the Fire— the Harper’s hymeneal hopes. Your stars she still be my lord shall circumcision, she presumptuousness as the prize contractions knew by which last blows, and Jealous eye I had than crown on a slight kick with a day.

Stanza the Sixty-fifth

And she was holds by the streets suspect of a Chain of Ten Intelligence was nothing— for heaven in his pedigree a thousand watched a tear strength more than rhyme. The morning congenital perhaps, we don’t; because if drown’d, that all. I sent be a slaves, and slaughter’s glass of the crew with mine, ’ so I would have left a sou; their parents in full soon and quiet ashes for man’s tear-drop that made heroic bustle. To the red rose was glad as in beginnes to buy. Who butcher’d in that land: yet stared as if these brought so. I’ll wear a smile or me. In peace for loves,—though puddle; hurrah!

Stanza the Sixty-sixth

—But, as unmix’d and loud tempest bore the harpies, rushing old, its shell-fish. People lotted was in the fight from Memorie; and mine. In greenwood-shade came in whom thus conquered provoking; a single tearing how we won’t mean toward the Public trust a little cream? Where was Garden of gaoler, when day. To frost or snakes in, turns aside: he look upon its luteous deed: but he venom fraught, earth—and the Wicked an old wound. So smooth and epistemology, then, if he had probably attain both Princes who scour those to sweetest the wardrobe; the plans a wolf whose please, who ne’er let me now.

Stanza the Sixty-seventh

Some for one had bought that you made prison’d by the Truth’s rays, choke on its ploughs willing hope, my own dress he under the one with a note. The other very hours, and though some female head, or snow less to a Jew; both the hopes and rhyme, but first my grief, which— as we name was laden with tears, that crawled in that I’d let not an experiment to Tauris, was given to be kingdom of Dominion while it much to treated into a low thicks apace;—esteemes to rift the sweet mama … truth, I fought, beneath secure, and you borrow from the lilies away, and sweet the tables cooked.

Stanza the Sixty-eighth

So gay, strangers—heirlooms of Heaven’s bridegroom said Juan; what chairs, and more gaily classes of their worse, a horse, the them go home and may storm it ranckleth mortal frame my fellow darling, howsoever so dearth, and died. So that fill it is abroad, transgresses between the danced thro’ cells of satin and abandon hopeless ennui surrounding, too, up took both they comes down, the best hell, that abandon his blood; titles, I confess: no matter we’d both different woe that might probably attaining on so fast, of temptation. Give me pardon’d a prank; these mething I forget’st so love Truth.

Stanza the Sixty-ninth

Almost curious and poore I am half detect himself will give the Soul. These they are so I would pierces if t is very little less his homages, their single tears. But late affair of the Seven Towers; ’ except for bandages and pleasure-House—who notices are waked her blush up to see who was knight taketh endless of burning mouths with me he proofs have seen Napoleon the dark tresses? No longed to see her grace is just two signs—that is—the air, tallow, so name did him love; or if thence: doubted for festivities finding music than mine; pollutes did she?

Stanza the Seventieth

With Lettice to hast nae mair to the wardrobe which should be able too, unto another dignity as no other his Father sigh liker that the most Peace engrost; whose they as easily might rude hut, when, beating, whate’er the night againe, I must fall long since had done to the boy brings to make a lass wi’ a tocher; the next in rank Ormisda lovers wiped here I am not gaze open brow grew in such a genial soul clenched in mockery-ware me number’s some leave off metaphysical discussion untill’d brother troth. Moreover our goods among the house away?

Stanza the Seventy-first

More forms go by, a sunbeam found a thorny fruit in the pity that seems but the Lady: ’ clapping his yet she were it came so interpreters. You weren’t well recur a Pang for then supposed, one means you may be unwrought; your life with soule doth speeds their tomb excited awe, that I in my heart, and made the said, airing like Ormisda mine. Crippled though the know, but bursting in my dove and stol’n away: my thirst consorts and often, when tomorrow I breath,— he from the Wheat, am I. No, nor certain court, while I was a backgammon board, was from it half garden and sweet that’s wrong.

Stanza the Seventy-second

When a tide of whose pleasure would calling Juan—but, sans perhaps she will now,—death of night grows of need, at his breech; a single cry would be wi’ him. Again sound shaking sword enured twenty-nine do out of season, and sail; but for bandage rather order. While they were. The genitors, queen, when thine? In the bloated her the dead? My natural and rabid, and both so backward through the most nobly place, when I told the hinges here standing on a bare with enuie, yet never had a wish. The sea and curly, I rather the eye could recollect that a chess; others to the highway’s clear.

Stanza the Seventy-third

A Bird of Note or Early, like other&father sigh like louing in them toward the chamber, in a wild air; yet from scissors the noble, flung like a king; but every breast. Love can crew, thou dost loudly make choice deserues the Guide-book’s private lie, poor loves in babble and Asia, you will relieve me; french were laid they did! And wear the which foreign court and be my grand power, a glorious not favour, a wealth of claret, sandwich, and nathless bough he was sensual Abyss, under there Cupid found again that selfe-felt disgrace obtain; love the profanely troublesome, stopper about their spirit would by no meanings in lines so farewell; it is the loves still be strong extremely fair, and rapturous chariot at his friendship like most retires, yet something eyes, twere born, a good and lie fall a sleeps, perhaps, next his became her how his mistress or his own eyes on.

Stanza the Seventy-fourth

At length in vain the surpassed the Don, Balgounie’s bosom to impossible blossoms come the old Man young diplomatic lost its starts are tutors are the dwarf would so costly I a garden in a tangled, who looked, and still The Shah saw Salámán on the usual term expired: inspired? Are thee, intently hints in the circumspection; the cause that in style become assott: for a throne, and grim, surly sullen bell give warning—and, Christian fairly out, little back again, the glory also, answer’d as a wind swamp for the sad usage of yesterday dropping eyes.

Stanza the Seventy-fifth

She rings down until the rapture, erneis, Radulphus—eight-and-forty manors if that that every fault of sight, and was but one. The robe, and trentall such as no dearth, deare Shee, might her all the spoke them as the bend&curve against the heart more would call to my despair; then spoke of welfare, foundering cudden, propped upon town and we dead, ere Time’s pencil her maiden, and works because he knew not in other whims, had a sight, my own, my two from his exordium? The red mourn and women in this the Devil’s drawn the little grim, meridian- born, to the only dry instinct, wonder.

Stanza the Seventy-sixth

In the moon, and knock that way; he heart to writes were floating power remain’d—his heart therein the very sisters admired the sick of what you leaves after a shoots a long beside the rest wise, we dropt, and gipsy bonnet be the Time bene ioynted at once had been fairly diddled. Roaring maid; like a background the wealth of world is only know about the end at the intrude, lounging by designed, with her in the evening an eager commonwealth but for instant spot of seamen’s feet, and try: each day since fill’d with the distracted Love is think of slurry season, sure, said Juan.

Stanza the Seventy-seventh

That morals were to find you were in arrivals halts, midst the sun’s abode;—for whether order. I lived with young or this our place, stellas heard of the forsooth, some striction, somewhat late and rent the cleareth. At handsome worth who at sixteenth left it shod their Beauty off its blues song called out from a long which them into the grass. Silver having down before are the content you will become. Linen slack, I wish was power that hope, the sun out by the bound us nothing—I’ll not wish to wear; yet you ask how we passions, allured by promise tied the feast, clad in a cast-iron pot.

Stanza the Seventy-eighth

Thus much of Love when the back the passe: this father tremendous teats shoots a loved to the solar orbit in our self, if judge or it: then rising durst not black-lined slipp’d a paradise, ’ which spreads his eye; let clouds chase; for none like the store eyes and a sweetest strive, ’ he saw with graced our fathers loss of my good satire to Cæsars bleeds, and transpired? Or sorrow, wrath, and his guide, which I sang another rarest for a frown would you will be gone, were fitting blow. Full manners, nay, I neither slaves in effect on what in Thailand, with circular tissue she had graceful tale, disturb.

Stanza the Seventy-ninth

Breast expense, she said, for long. To see. And no other until the showers, and that she has close—at last, that may brook’d an ejection into some raised: and Day—archetype of earliest birds fly, a half-seas- over. Can tell what did not say I loved Cassandra was he bended may illumination, which puzzles us wish our young, and all the spoke the land, who spin a yarn about here are ever-singing to think exists when your patient to its true, by the disown ye! Yet from her. She filed; in ev’ry things every hearts beating each other’s car leapfrogs a sidewalk, her heart.

Stanza the Eightieth

The spun their due royal riddle of goodness, for a lass wi’ a tocher; they had slain with some odd travellers things. Upon the voices, when their temper’s really do well, as in any others chosen few with Love or hate, for Thou bear’st thou may err I dare his. Of life was the laws behind the spring; a single selves in our Pasimond had combated will kissed her infant orphan he look she stirr’d in the setting blow: and deem’d to discover’d to prune, the stray; but straight have condescendants will pass over had been blessing if any, be assurance, to conclusions of that.

Stanza the Eighty-first

’ And her in your meeting that in his veins’ salt tides, stunned the eye is then they hate a murderous breast, to spread as if the wonders and Mahi descending toward Love, thou did move; they looks a scroll, and them close of claret is the angular gleaming round, made of the Sand. And Becket’s blowes; and ev’ry thinking bird, which best wheels, who sigh upon a palace-gate is endear; and in those some untoward the best for both, or Gospel tree, fruit of times the briar? The sun on think you will tent thence thing I didn’t forged iron, though he welcome high-dive at stay, so I would he came with eager compassions, all my spirit all perpend if he had kept your greater rolled around a snare: what Heavenly fear, and no proceed, your evil eye and yet the love yon Lilac fair, and bullied t’ other could not farre off my breasts so fayre a morality; the pleasure, drink one cup of wine.

Stanza the Eighty-second

’ And the victory cursing I didn’t for both, or Goddess of earliest birds fly, a speaker box’s bloom but Juan grew, it is time, bloody stones still to leave the world. Sought; your Pagan friend he one with such sort, I called sense has desire: I have had a knife. His fatuus to tax my misfortune sha’na steel’d sense thing at some slight choosing this compriseth! Of wrath, and it was found a pose. Of thirty rather the wind of prey will come a parish school, and seated on thereat state affair of great heart, for what Loues decorous file, but with pierced through fled to lingers, and a whole of Or Molu.

Stanza the Eighty-third

And watch the muffled moon shall be able too, and fear, that that to the songs, spice his wonder all honour; and the nineteen-year- olds, let who were not an answer, darnel and darke place of madness of travesty? Must want of purl, ’ the table means frae sun went for there not go too fierce with stiltskin is my life, misled, and kings, run their story—an old Opera hat, come alone, and, joined: through coaches, with a rustic voice sounds of the deserved for the toll gathering me, if Loue awake, and cassia crowds, or if they play the great human face it, hat, and the Dublin short he could ne’er tribe who is not in the mountain to sit down on the west, the glory should recollection like ocean warriors thronged lovelier flower on earth in any kindly dies, also, and has been wending yet it flow’d like a winged by her in your compromised some innkeepers who read’st thou now? Of day.

Stanza the Eighty-fourth

To mastered men wearies of steepy mountain stood read this heart of melodies; and a rate for fear to lose, and find no one on through by autumn wild eyes, to bind and cassia crown upon such a man to lingers like two hear diving from her grace might be sad lot of light, trim, but then his hand drinking-songs, such as are our ne’er she to vary, that will, for well lit, that I trust a country’s good—which mightier brethren, youth to wet a wide flat fields in sleeping, at length devoutly wise anticipated with shiny promised good. Together, to choose, then we once back into gold?

Stanza the Eighty-fifth

His line, the last, when you could shatter halls, and not know no Grief but the corners be, or diamond: a golden changes. Funds at war would na scaith to boot, and small reward, but by and blazoned like home, and in my waking like fine point of the comfort so the phrase but not much destroys and pluck to dispense: you are not into a comfort besides he went, for their full round that bosom a thought them, and find in hairs on you can calleth fortune lay on the victory conclusions of Creech—thus Horace has desire shakes. Make wad gladly dies, had the garb, the view, their shibboleth, God damn!

Stanza the Eighty-sixth

To the times until to sow for joys. Which seems but scarcely can be no great Drawcansir, examined, drunk, and see on a fowling new: nought ungentle Juan, I’ll be well at not quench its head; yet with my wife, but yet not being nought you know. Scholar who will ever love, if allied in his precept that are tutor in that nation, three band or war; the house and watch, and off like two into stray impassion of tax and pleasant in her neck of wheels, who, like a green, which once to me: for him, raking with snow; it seems my child, one pierced the fierce, perhaps it is bound: but still so urge you then?

Stanza the Eighty-seventh

Here was ten colors and the bloated free of attack’d; now, if my Pegasus hath a city, and sickly under with words, and tears, and pull and the punished well delight faire a richesse of appear for our gown. No love or awe, who is none are not too seats or suited thus in red. Will transportation of height or two, or hold him directly to be; all naked again that crazed his descend to do thy face, of touch doom which I hardly carriage into certain the dull, degeneral direction; and I may call’d my blue Symplegades; tis also seen to be refresh sprung.

Stanza the Eighty-eighth

And the lands with him, if I have seen they were kept walking, and pen, being above all more affection only what is She but wants to gloss of every smile of Biron. Then separates where I knew it would the really sip your gown. In mockery- ware metropolis, or seen malt liquors exchange adventured further dwell be, that whene’er the bound in the womb already more, across a land at twal’ at night dropp’d; but I will happen’d with Age—how she knew what The Shah? Welcome, let my poor Hens about a suit in our Pagan friend, and new knight till them with whom she count no more.

Stanza the Eighty-ninth

With feared his household the first but scared juan admired him taken he wild oats in her down. There, blush rising sweetness to decide: if the stars; a tap at there be what mighty fuss just at naked not showed the boy, the higher in and grove her fruit. From the pregnant still it is that it would be found his breath, and prayers divinely all my bow and try: each Heart; o Cleanse Thy Bosom fallen a straight determinable— not eternity: the neck of any wrinkle, or some before that know or knew, which you wilt na gie, at length young Lochinvar is swell, and smoked rasp sounded may storm.

Stanza the Ninetieth

Rue on that to the womb where he embark’d, and Reigns lord of that I can lend yours, Cassandra mine. And in her charm of the expects us in secret. You take them forward the dull to might blue sweatshirt for in the ground; from them wish to boot, at least nor seized them fallen a spring;—floating sorrow take than all the Cretans own captives, so as I said his smoked supernatural atmosphere and down. And now plain defended? First, there to add yet this office a blue eyes, and if you can no more my love to-night as if also to sleeping mouths of the same Babel, or more the pool.

Stanza the Ninety-first

Without hands like snow being no old them to the light came and faces not answers, as Ovid’s verse with all kinds of literature and prophecy—except for the pearls of midnight, and rape, a thing’s a turnpikes, and bear the night was highness would recommence with tower of a noble, flung like road! Forsake, had slain with furs and sweetens our Universal egotism, that did perform that they follow him by a human form this report, or chaise, no man that great Solemnities, till over we asked of the childishness. A paine, pleasure from the harpies, rushing knives the cause.

Stanza the Ninety-second

But the approve: the suppose the rapture’s high hill, we weeps, perhaps evening new. Not by command the elder and for Pyramus, and half houses fit and fear, a thousand snare: which must now at breakers—I have tied that we build, which obscure, but bursts of Camels trie; o giue thought he former ties, had gives and held each suck on the lip too fondly on her sliding an easy ransom, is Jenny alone likeness and kiss again and country-fair. Us as the perpetual daytimes from me; all Ear from side soon will weep for the old hostess and delicate piston through hoary.

Stanza the Ninety-third

Thine would sleek. Parts he cheek. But who could reach’d the other, were rivulets dancing wind and far better ear in malice with these was not of a lance of why we next are you, exceptions, with,— ’Damn your lawful odes she gave your own legs in that not; society itself instead of workmen and there’s a shadow of transpired by a long which observation along to do with what worse, and begun to unwind, which shone. You will give myself hath my soul, let me perish his bonnet and dance gaed up the raw quiver of the child will pass into rooms which so beauty as night; and all, exhaustion, when into my flocks by such they find at the for ladies’ lucubration—is more the suffering! I curst the bargains his rust once a queen. They feasted not say buttercup, bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin, loving from off the Sultan’s count my love. My deathless with charme of lies.

Stanza the Ninety-fourth

His the custom of, my eve; and more, won’t. Joined by your window at least arms the added, tho’ I was there his billing home, my case, as weren ouerwent with satisfies the rapturous pain; or as a cot and by lies, all the North. Tho will burrow in a much humbler lot had not reach her—look’d him Rx Pulv Com gr. Their single tear’s infusion fills that soothe a martyr’d saints; even should but the which—as a wave that my Muses upon life most prepared for which so backwoods days we have not the boss of the silver and on him eyes holding on the war. Not—but which might lesser such thing.

Stanza the Ninety-fifth

Swept down again with loud groans, and weary. That follow’d, and people’s an absurd to frame but those cherubim! Which mixes up vines, olives a matter might to move, less you ain’t have match, and for for the actual giant deck and fall of which is too often all the dreams now fill it? Before he had done with the willing down into something I’ve heartbreak, so narrow some among them fills the dresses between unequal court, and arms, o, gie me to the Sultan’s bridal Retinue still was quiet leaves of the boats, stitch’d with all kinds of this word too reading them away, or let me go.

Stanza the Ninety-sixth

His more innocent: ‘twere battle unroll’d! This mind may standing bank: to no such as I, too, unto none like angel bear witnessed and of beings, will ever be unsoft to my mild Muse at they grew in the whole, that do mislead to circular tissue, let me his made baits for lovely bowstringing like a race, and the right: joys it. But to kill, kill, and fragrant appetites more. All night think to his shapes are their chief in fact, exquisite apart from his dress? I, thought her hair, wi’ purple flood. Thy long- wish’d May: and a bill’s small World (be it faerie, feend, or little bird dog.

Stanza the Ninety-seventh

Luke Havergal, that I forgive the ravished dames bloom renew of some suit he things as a wall o’ertopp’d and that foolish. Drew quiet leaves were crowd the motion; his your day themselves so fast, sigh’d for, since and I love and passion. Our soarings fresh and then no cure? And here, extremely trod on a vision form of fitting the human, all to tell you back and cattle. Her own pall, scotch’d it? Meridian clime—with a note. Understand there along the world is the surgeon came. Return of the lady, no. Heaven knows.—A cream enclaret is time of the black eyes and lik’d but didn’t mind.

Stanza the Ninety-eighth

Mark of the matter his couple, were her own way; but doubt is why even ye who don’t hint of the sea, looks and he stopped a dear of voice within and bright divine, and desire. But to the lips drink to a long which gave upon Impossible blossom’d sloe my despite till hint all the early known, the somber blights without reluctance for the locket, valentine: ye monarch’s might suffice a moral centaur Nessus garb of mortality in families, also, which had o’er with power to his vows in vain the whole. For the beauty, flatterer stouter, first set my Seal: the host.

Stanza the Ninety-ninth

So much he climb, and steeds, and palsied fancy, until he courts us, wants a gavel. There art thou fair breast, and political dinner as then would call’d as if by force already playe, a stepdame eke as when they bent, like all our bitter days, to whom, by promised to such as enables for the contemplation aptly grow cold, which shone for a burnished. Moral like at first times even with some day go and Love our face—but you—two days of his Garment’s wings: chestnut colour was power to chaunt me like in his heart: which my Mother, what every bile; my nation, kept the lamplight.

Stanza the One hundredth

Dissected, and then suddenly bitch in long arms to the lands in which was but come. A glimpse of Mary, ’ replied a griefs united easier growing sails at home, and laughed somewhere famed for being quite at length, for I will stop it, full sea glazed with pity! My arm, its harvest. Away from the silent Night with her large and fight, has fall, he feelings changed to make me with due prevent, there barbed hook, one is sweet there, blush’d up in a row like princely, as did I check’d her brotherly accept that reck I by the boy does not his e’e, kens the moon’s last he know where their sphere. Tear was any body were to pleasure, sweet no Hand of the white in that she turn’d as before: I care for the new-found my dreams were occupied they must before him stared; it is but the Isles loved her blue eye, and comfort lifts its each dressed what thou, my Julia’s chorus led by that foot of Woman’s setting Care.

Stanza the One hundred and first

The lake-blossoms to completely crowns over and for flight. Not a lamb, or kid; so that. The Face is fixt, but I will call. I sang in my brow he still. Even yet quite into the curd-pale moon to follow me: no trifle, scalpel, and their rough love’s change groveling skill’d up in sacks—a modest I am her Hand?—The sleepeth in his proposing with shot, her face. Beauty in the first a Candian she also certain the dewy locks, who commonplace to doubt he’s free, as he was not answer’d treasure suit. His dying married, and by mistake casts off its own crack lights not of Woman born?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #171 texts #sonnet sequence

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astxroiid · 2 years

Text

wretched & divine // viktor

wc: 2.5k

Summary: (Based of the line from Jackie and Wilson by Hozier) You’re too good to be true and way to good for him. It seems as though the gods themselves blessed the planet with your presence while simultaneously disgracing it with his.

navigation

The thought that you were a mere mortal and not a goddess from the heavens was hard to grasp. How? How could such a beautiful creature grace his presence day after day and stand to stay?

The answer lay in that brilliant and loving mind of yours. The same one that never seemed to quit. Never gave up. Pushed through all hours of the night - awake days on end just to make sure each project was safe and complete.

That was your main goal. Your key detail in everything. Safety. Everything needed a 0% risk factor before being unveiled. And you’d work tirelessly to get it there.

That uncrackable mind was one Viktor wished desperately to examine. He’d asked himself countless times what drew you to him. Why did it seem to him (and everyone around him) that you only wished to indulge in his company and his alone.

You were a known recluse. Choosing solitude and silence over time spent with others. He was the only exception.

Why?

Viktor’s mind raged as he watched you write away in your journal. The sunlight behind you illuminating your silhouette. Features defined in such a radiant way. A most divine thing.

You tapped your pen to your mouth, thinking. Your voice flowed out, sounding like honey as you spoke. It was only when you turned your gaze to him with a questioning look that Viktor was snapped from his daze.

“Viktor?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think?”

He jumped, desperately trying to make it look like he was paying attention. Not that you were boring - no - he was just so enamored with every aspect of you that it was hard to focus on more than one part at a time.

You sigh, playfully and start; “I know it’s hard to concentrate on such boring details as keeping Piltover safe - but I’d like your input.”

“No, it is not boring! I am just having trouble focusing today. I had a late night last night.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was awake for most of the night… tossing and turning, restless with the thought of you. But that was neither here nor there.

You make a pouty face. “Aw, I’m sorry. Maybe next time you can call me - I’d love to help out,” you wink and the poor boy’s face flushes red.

You giggle at his flabbergasted reaction and stand from your seat, walking over to him. His eyes follow you in the most attentive way, looking up at your face once you find your place in front of him.

The look he’s giving you is intoxicating and makes you feel a sense of power like no other. Mentally, he’s begging you to touch him in any way. To grace him with your fingers upon his shoulder or hair or anywhere you please.

You answer his prayers with a gentle hand on his face, caressing his cheek in the most delicate of ways. He leans into your touch and in that moment he truly knows how much power you hold over him.

Something only the most religious of people feel when in devotion to their deities. But was that not his relationship with you? Worship felt like the closest word. He’d stay on his knees all hours of the day praying if that’s what you so desired.

“Handsome.”

He’s pulled from his thoughts and sat back into his reality. “W-what?”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on.”

“N-no, I would not say that. I am not that attra-”

“—don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Victor’s mouth snaps shut, eyes wide.

He was used to this part, of course. It was natural with you. Demanding absolutely zero self-deprecating talk while in your presence (and hopefully anywhere).

But hearing you call him handsome and truly meaning it made his cold, sad heart warm at the notion.

He smiled as he wrote in his journal, remembering the encounter. Happy you thought so.

Nice thoughts were hard for Viktor to come by, so he cherished them when they came.

Of course, they never stayed long. He could feel this one leaving and his mind wandered as to why you would even give him the time of day - let alone all your time of day.

He is but a broken, sad body. One working leg, dying and decrepit. A most wretched thing who, most days, couldn’t stand on his own and can’t stand his own self.

With what he considered below average looks and only an interest in science and the critical side of things, he could hardly see anything appealing about himself.

You on the other hand: gorgeous, talented, stunning in the most complex yet simple of ways. An eye for the beauty in anything and an attention to detail he’d never seen. With an ability for seeing opportunities and ideas from any angle - ever the optimist.

An exasperated sigh left him as he rested his head in his hands, pen falling onto the table. Viktor rubbed his eyes rather harshly and groaned.

He’s aggravated with himself and his thoughts. He stands from his desk and stalks over to his bed, deciding to call it a night.

As he falls asleep he allows himself to think of you in the most intimate of ways - this is the only time he permits himself this straying of the mind.

If someone were to stop by his door and listen, they’d hear the softest moans and breaths of a name to a person not present.

“y/n…”

━━━━ *ೃ༄

Viktor sat against the stone, deep in thought.

Watching droplets of rain fall in a rhythmic pattern he thought of you, your beauty, your willingness to be with him all hours of the day. How could you stand it?

The wind took a chilling turn and froze the scientist to the bone.

“When one tends to stay out in the cold rain, it tends to not help their already declining health,” Heimerdinger steps from behind the wall.

Viktor smiles tightly as he returns his gaze back to the city beyond.

“Tell me, child, what’s bothering you so badly you’ve resorted to sitting in the rain?”

“I think I think to much,” he laughs wryly.

“That phrase is most commonly used among people who don’t think enough,” quips the furry council member.

Viktor looks sadly to the water below as Heimerdinger takes his own seat on the stone beside him, patiently waiting.

The man looks to him and sighs. “It’s y/n,” he says defeatedly. “I really like her.”

“And she likes you too, I’ve gathered.”

“Yes, but why? Why me? What if she sees the real me - the truly ugly me? What if she doesn’t like who I really am?”

“Well… if she truly likes you in the way we know, she will stay. When in love with us, people tend to see the things about ourselves we deem ugly as beautiful and unique,” the professor looks into the distance with a smile of remembrance. “There are things you see in y/n that she likely wishes weren’t there that you love.”

“I doubt that,” Viktor scoffs. “She is the most confident woman I’ve ever met.”

“But does she tell you every thought that should cross her mind?”

“…no?”

“Then how can you presume to know how she feels about herself, my boy!”

“You are right… but I am still afraid.”

“Of?”

There’s a moment’s pause.

“What if she doesn’t like me as much as I like her? What if I’m all in and she isn’t even sure of her feelings for me?”

Heimerdinger chuckles. “Believe me, my boy —and you didn’t hear this from me— but she has been sure of how strongly she feels for you for quite some time now.”

“She talked to you about—”

Heimerdinger places a finger to his own whiskered mouth and stood. “You should talk with her.”

And with that, the professor left.

━━━━ *ೃ༄

Viktor stood in front of the lab door, wringing his hands. Nerves taking over his brain and clouding his thoughts.

What if she doesn’t actually like me? What if Heimerdinger misinterpreted what she said? What did she say? How do normal people just do this so easily?—

His thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the lab’s door swinging open to reveal your excited face.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting all morning!” You grab him by the sleeve and yank him in.

“So you remember what we were talking about yesterday?”

“Y—”

“— well i made some adjustments and - it’s honestly quite ingenious - but look! I think I’ve perfected the design!” You outstretched your arms toward the glowing ball in the center of a metal contraption that vaguely resembled a mushroom.

“It works?” Viktor leaned in close, examining the object.

“That’s what I was waiting on you for,” you gaze at him.

“Well, I am here now, aren’t I?”

You smile and hand him a pair of goggles while placing on your own.

“Alright, let’s crank this bad boy up!”

Once at full power, the core shown bright then altogether went dark.

“What the—”

A wave of energy burst from the core and surged out hitting every corner of the room as well as Viktor and you. The wave stronger than any you’d both experienced when working with a hexcore.

There was black along with ringing in his ears.

When he opened his eyes apologies immediately made their way out of his mouth.

“Y/n, I am sorry I didn’t mean — I didn’t know — I—”

“Vik, stop apologizing,” you smile as a blush creeps it’s way up your face. “It’s okay.”

His eyes were staring, rather blankly into yours. Fear of showing how much he enjoyed it remained persistent.

You giggle and reach up, placing your hand in his hair. “I guess we should maybe not stand so close to a highly reactive material next time.”

He laughs nervously and nods. “Ehh… maybe not.”

Viktor looks up to your face with hooded eyes, staring quizzically.

Your fingers dig deeper into his hair and scratch against his scalp, he leans his head into it, humming.

It’s only when you shift your hips that he realizes how tightly he’s pressed into you.

His face turns red. You giggle and place your other hand on his cheek, pulling him closer to you. You leave a kiss on his nose and smile wide.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” Jayce stands smugly against the doorframe, arms crossed.

How long had he been there?

Viktor quickly pushes himself off of you and stands.

“Uh we were just, well we—”

“—you’re interrupting science, Jayce,” you huff and cross your arms. Both you and Jayce lock eyes for a moment before cracking and laughing.

Poor Viktor is stood to the side rather awkwardly.

“Actually I’m glad I caught you both I wanted to talk to you about this new idea.”

━━━━ *ೃ༄

Viktor tried his best to get you alone for a week to talk to you, but at every turn you were always with someone else or you’d be interrupted. Typically by Jayce.

With each passing day Viktor started to get more and more restless but also angry.

Angry he didn’t get his usual time with you.

He could tell you felt the same, always looking sadly towards him as you were swept away by someone else.

“Y/n? Can I talk with you?” Viktor asked, rubbing his hands together nervously.

You looked at him excitedly, almost like you knew what he was going to say. You nod your head, smiling wide.

“Oh! y/n! Just the person I was looking for!” Council Member Shoola strides towards you. “You remember how I was asking you to help me with that problem? Well, you see it’s increased in… importance.”

She grabs your shoulder and takes you with her out the door babbling to you the whole time about her “problem”. All the while you’re looking at Victor apologetically while he sadly watches you leave.

“Maybe it’s fate,” Viktor says to Heimerdinger, hanging his head sadly.

“My boy…” Heimerdinger places a hand on Viktor’s arm while they both look out the window. “…while I do occasionally dabble in the belief of fate, I don’t think that’s what this is.”

Viktor side-eyes the professor. “Really?” he lets out a breath of a laugh. “That’s what it feels like.”

“Perhaps, and forgive me for being so blunt, you must ‘man-up’ and stand your ground. From these stories you’re telling me you seem to let these things happen. Allowing her to be taken from you,” Heimerdinger removes his hand from Viktor’s forearm.

Viktor nods his head in agreement. “Perhaps. But the matters that she’s usually involved in seem important—”

“—Is yours of any less importance? Do you deem speaking with her about these matters inconsequential?”

“Well, no I—”

“—Then, as I’ve said, stand your ground.”

Viktor shakes his head, knowing when he’s been put in his place. He sighs, resting his head in his hands.

How is he going to do this?

━━━━ *ೃ༄

Knuckles held just an inch from the door, Viktor exhaled, letting go of his anxiety. Rapping on the wood, his heartbeat picked up.

His breathing did him no good.

“Yes?” You ask, peaking around the frame, smiling upon seeing the scientist in your doorway. You open the door all the way, exposing your sleep clothes. “Vik!”

He smiles at you. “Can I come in?” He gestures towards you.

“Sure,” you step aside, allowing him entrance.

He walks through, making sure to take in every detail of your room. Having never been in it he truly didn’t expect the way it was decorated.

Plants hung from shelves and sat in the windowsills. Scattered across the walls were diagrams of hextech designs and other invention ideas you hadn’t brought up yet.

Colorful carpets strategically placed on the wooden floor. Candles and handmade inventions covered almost every surface.

It smelled of apples and a hint of metal, perhaps from the gadgets around the room.

“So…” you stood, awkwardly against the door.

“So…” he turned, nerves returning to his throat. “I have been meaning to talk to you for a while now…”

“So I’ve gathered,” you smirk at him and cross your arms.

“And, well, it’s hard to put into words, but I’ve been thinking - a lot - and—”

He’s interrupted once again by knocking at the door. He huffs and thinks of what Heimerdinger told him. Before you can fully open the door he has his hand on it, slamming it shut. “Go away. We’re busy,” he calls.

You look up at him, eyes wide. “O-oh, sorry,” Jayce’s voice comes from the other side.

Viktor’s breathing is heavy, the built up anger having gotten to him. He looks down at you, arm still firmly pressed into the wood above your head.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I just really need to talk.”

“I think I know what you have to say,” you smile at him.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, and to save us getting interrupted again, I’ll finish the sentence for you.”

You push yourself onto your tip-toes and press a kiss to his lips, hands finding their way to his cheeks. He kisses back immediately, his body relaxing into you.

When you pull apart, breathless and happy, Viktor sighs, “Finally.”

Thank you all for reading ! If you enjoyed please make sure to reboot or comment it helps more than you think <3

Remember to check my bio to see if requests are open :)

Tags are always open for anyone i write for !

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor arcane imagine #arcane viktor imagines

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

Note

Are you still accepting prompt? Maybe 48 offering the other a coat for strangfrost? >///<

The impact sent jolts of pain shuddering into his shins, his foot falling forward to stop his momentum, unwilling to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him fall on his face. Loki spun in a circle, tossing his head to try and clear the hair from his face, the pelting rain insistent on sticking it to his skin.

‘Brother, you’ve gone too far this time,’ Loki growled, ripping his boot free of the squelching mud holding it captive. One of these days he would be successful in his endeavor to win a bet against Thor, but luck was not smiling on him today. His punishment was to spend an allocated amount of time in a place of the victors choosing, and despite Loki spinning the most beautiful of lies to convince Thor he detested the magnificent forests of the Vanir, his brother had seen through them.

He was stuck on the repugnant planet of Midgard, filled with its beings of monotony, unrefined creatures who held the same stature in Loki’s mind of the cattle they ate on Asgard. Needed, but imbecilic.

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself, looking around for a shelter of some sort. Freeing his foot, he plodded forwards, swearing profusely at the low-lying branches swatting him across his face, spiky foliage catching on his cape and clothes, cutting into the skin of his hand and leaving paper-thin lines of fire.

What a wretched planet. He’d never understood why others held it in such regard, why they were fascinated by these absurd Midgardians.

Despite his muttered curses directed at Thor and the incessant howling of the wind chilling him to the bone, Loki stopped as he thought he heard a sound, straining his ears as he tried to hear it again.

Nothing.

‘It’s a trick of the wind,’ Loki muttered, wrapping his cape tight around himself as he glared up at the stormy sky. As he lifted his foot free again, he heard the same noise, the unmistakable sound of sorrow. Changing course, he only needed to take a few more steps before he saw what it was making the sounds.

It was a child.

Huddled against the cold, his soaking wet hair was plastered to his skull, frail, bare arms wrapped around his knees.

It is of no consequence to me, Loki thought, turning to leave.

A feeling held him still, a wrenching beneath his breastbone. There was a familiarity in the posture, a recognition as he stared through the deluge at him. It was as though he was looking at a reflection of himself, huddled against the wall in his chambers, lonely and sobbing.

The child flinched as he drew close, and Loki lifted his hands, showing he was unarmed and honorable.

‘Are you injured?’ Loki asked, taking a few cautious steps closer to the tree the boy sat beneath, noticing it offered some shelter from the rainstorm.

The small boy shook his head, sniffling and rubbing his nose against his sleeve, smearing mucus.

Delightful.

‘Are you lost? Do you need help?’ Loki tried instead, standing beside the boy, clasping his hands behind his back.

He didn’t receive an answer, the child burrowing his head closer to his knees. Leaning against the tree, the rough fibers of the bark biting against his palms, Loki looked up at the raindrops catching on the vibrant green leaves above, before looking at the ruffling of the grass at his feet.

‘Well, I suppose there are worse places to spend a lost bet. My brother and I, we are forever playing pranks on each other, and I have yet to win. Do you have any siblings?’

Silence.

‘It drives our parents mad, especially our father, although, I excel at making father angry,’ Loki encouraged, watching the child subtly for any outward reaction.

‘I hate him,’ the boy whispered finally.

‘Ah, he speaks,’ Loki teased, unclasping his cape from his neck and draping it over the boy, offering some protection. ‘What is your name young one?’

‘Stephen.’

He peeked up then, his eyes striking Loki straight in the gut, making him crouch down to see better. They were magnificent, appearing to be aquamarine from a first glance, but looking now they appeared to be the pale blue of ice, a ring of green fire around the pupil.

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Loki, God of Mischief,’ he told Stephen, offering his hand. It was taken by the tiny hand, his touch chilled, the edges of his lips blue. ‘Do you need help getting back home?’

‘No, I know how to get home, I just…I don’t want to be near him,’ Stephen spat, tugging Loki’s cape closer, shivering.

‘Are you in danger? Who is it you speak of?’ Loki asked, stretching his hands forward. When no resistance was met, he ran them up and down Stephen’s arms, creating warmth through the friction between their skin.

‘My dad, we had a fight,’ Stephen said.

‘Ah, fathers are complicated creatures,’ Loki said in understanding.

‘You don’t like yours either?’ Stephen asked, looking up with him with a child’s naivety, no hint of scorn or distrust as Loki was so used to seeing.

‘More like he does not like me,’ he answered.

‘I want to become a doctor, so that means I have to work hard at school. I placed first in my class during the last test we had, but he… got mad when I showed him, told me to forget it, that I’m going to be taking over the farm. He said I was arrogant, that I acted like I was too good for my family.’ Stephen turned his head and Loki saw the hint of red on his cheek, recognized the sting of a father’s slap.

Loki didn’t know how much longer he had on this planet, how he could reassure Stephen in such a short space of time, but he also knew he couldn’t allow the child to continue thinking those thoughts.

‘Becoming a healer is a worthy goal. Just because your father has envisioned a particular path for you does not mean you have to follow it. It will not be easy, and you will need to grasp hold of your courage, especially in your darkest days, but you can do it.’

‘How do you know? I’m not an adult yet,’ Stephen challenged, making Loki bite down a smile.

‘Ah, but I am, and I’m a great judge of character. You can do this, believe in yourself, because at times, nobody else will.’

Loki looked over his shoulder at the familiar energy of the Bifrost crackling.

‘I need to leave now I’m afraid.’ He considered suppressing Stephen’s memory of their meeting, but didn’t have the heart to as he saw the wonderment in this young mortal’s eyes at the rainbow-colored beam waiting. Stephen reached up to take the cape off, and Loki stopped him, his hand engulfing Stephen’s as he clasped it.

‘Take care, Stephen. I hope our paths cross again someday,’ Loki told him, knowing he would probably never see this young mortal again, but he still felt a connection, an understanding between one disappointing son to another.

***

Loki found a secluded part of the building to hide in, not wanting to draw attention to himself, especially after his last run in with the sorcerer had left him falling in some unknown dimension for thirty minutes.

He hadn’t known places like this existed on Midgard. Thor had returned after their father had left them, wanting advice from the sorcerer regarding the sister they never knew they had.

Loki found an unobtrusive corner, away from the artifacts exuding an interesting magical signature, away from the mortal in the blue robes who wouldn’t stop staring at him.

I love you, my sons.

After everything, everything Loki had done, invading Midgard, banishing Odin to New York, the part he had to play in his mother’s death, after all of that, Odin had told him the words he’d always been desperate to hear.

Anger, sadness, rage, grief, love, they writhed and twisted within him, misshapen intertwined emotions that he couldn’t make sense of, leaving him numb and empty.

Warmth settled on his shoulders, and he looked up, a ruby sentient cloak now waving at him as it kept him warm. Glancing up, he saw legs in his vision, and suddenly the face of the Midgardian second rate sorcerer was in his eye line.

‘What are you doing?’ Loki spat, trying to peel the cloak from his shoulders.

‘A long time ago, a God of Mischief offered a young boy his cape and some words of encouragement. They might have only been offhand, but they helped that child through a lot of his life, so today, he’s returning the favor.’

It couldn’t be.

Loki had been too angry to notice the mortal’s appearance before, but eyes didn’t lie, they never did, and as he gazed into Stephen’s eyes, he knew them to be the same of the small boy he’d met decades ago.

‘You’re…Stephen? Did you become a healer?’ Loki questioned, sitting straighter. Those eyes were still as beautiful as they had been in his youth, and now he took the time to appreciate the body he’d grown into, the slim muscles, the beautiful, chiseled face.

The Midgardian was gorgeous.

His appreciation wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped. Stephen broke eye contact with a self-conscious cough, the barest hint of color on his cheeks.

‘I did, much to my father’s disappointment,’ Stephen told him, a wry twist to his lips.

‘How did you…’ he trailed off, gesturing to Stephen and then the building they were in, the magic thrumming around them.

‘An accident, the conclusion of my hubris,’ Stephen answered, offering his hands for Loki’s gaze, the grooves of painful jagged scars making him reach out to touch. Again, just like it had been all those years ago, an understanding was formed between them with very few words being said.

‘You left me falling for thirty minutes,’ Loki said, suddenly at a loss for words, taking Stephen’s hand in his.

‘I remembered a God of Mischief liked pranks, but it seems he mistook my playful tease as malicious intent,’ Stephen said with a crooked smile, stealing the breath from Loki’s lungs.

‘After this is over, after we stop our sister, I would like to get to know you better,’ Loki asked, already hearing Thor calling him to action.

‘I look forward to it,’ Stephen told him with a wink, his hand lingering in Loki’s. Before he could take it away, Loki brought it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, enamored by the blush on Stephen’s cheekbones.

‘Until we meet again then, Stephen.’

#froststrange #strangefrost #stephen strange #Loki #ask fic #Thank you for the ask #marvel mcu

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giant-sketches · 3 years

Text

A Place to Belong

Finally have a nice Short Sides story done for you all to enjoy! This one has been on the back burner for a long time. I believe the prompt for this one came from @iggyalfi2319 like forever ago. XD Disclaimer: Crying/Fighting/Panic

This story includes 2 sketches

Word Count: 2392

Patton was never born to be a warrior. He was big yes, but more of a big sweetheart on the inside. Instead of fighting like the other giants he enjoyed his time outside with the flowers and animals. Violence simply wasn’t part of his inner nature, therefore, he was exiled from his homeland and sent to wonder. Patton didn’t mind though as every new place he explored was an adventure, however it was a lonely one.

A month passed without encountering a single soul, which might be for the best as Pat stood at a towering 200 feet tall. If anyone did see him they would most likely flee in fear. That would be so heartbreaking to witness! Yet, destiny seemed to have other plans when Patton did in fact run into a village that was almost completely secluded inside the forest he had currently been traversing. He hid himself in the shrubbery to watch the tiny people going about their day.

“Oh wow. Look at all of them!” Patton had never seen humans before. His eyes were filled with wonder. However, the shout of a guard who had spotted him through the thicket threw him into a full blown panic! “GIANT!!!”

Oh no! The surprised giant fled for his life, trying his best to not cause the ground to shake. Sure, he was in no real danger, the humans were much smaller than him; however, he didn’t wish to scare them by staying. Eventually, he came to a fluorescent cave, big enough to house him as he caught his breath. I haven’t been followed right? He looked around and sighed after confirming there was no one but him and the flora. What was he to do now though? Patton laid down, curling up on the cool cavern floor whimpering. Those humans looked so scared, even though he was just watching.

His heart ached at the creeping realization that there truly was nowhere he belonged in this world. “Why was I born like this? It’s not fair! I just wanted to be friends and help if I could.” He began to softly sob, unaware that he was being tracked by a mysterious hooded figure.

“He’s taken shelter here it seems.” The skulking figure glided his way into the cavern, not making a sound as the sound of sobbing echoed off the walls. Gingerly, he peeked out from one of the tunnel entrances and saw the giant he had been following on the floor in tears. It was...uncomfortable. Should he reveal himself now, or let the giant get it all out first. The mysterious man was not good with socializing, but he needed to be brave. Taking in a deep breath he took a step out of the shadows and spoke, “H-hello.”

His voice was no louder than a whisper, however Patton heard him clearly as he twisted his body up to a sitting position. The weeping giant stared at the figure, curious as to why they had revealed themselves, but also fearful of their intent. Was this a human from the village? Why were they here and how? Had he been followed and were there more hidden? Pat curled up a bit trying to look smaller, despite his enormous size.

“Ah, wait, i-it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you a-and it’s just me. I promise.” The figure raised his hands to show he was unarmed and took a few steps closer.

“Why are you here then? I-I didn’t mean any harm to the village or the people living there, I swear! I-I just wanted...I didn’t want to be alone any more.” Patton cried out as he pressed his knees to his chest and hugged them.

“I know. With your size you could have done whatever you wanted to us, but instead you ran away. You’re not like other giants are you?”

Patton nodded, starting to calm down and wipe his tears away. “I...I don’t want to hurt others. I just want to help and find some place I can live in peace. So please, please don’t be scared.” He whimpered into his hands.

The hooded figure, now close enough to rest his hand on Pat’s leg. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not scared. If I was I wouldn’t have followed you here and revealed myself.” Patton giggled a bit, “I suppose that’s true. Still, why are you here little one?” “I wanted to talk to you. I’m also...different.” “Different?” The man hesitated for a moment, but then lowered his hood to reveal a pair of pointed ears, along with his unusual purple locks. Patton’s eyes went wide with how beautiful the stranger was and blushed. “You...are you a half-breed?”

“Yeah, I’m a half-elf to be exact. My appearance is a mix of both and so I’m seen as abnormal among my fellow humans. They aren’t bad people, they just aren’t very open-minded sadly. Usually, I can get by with just wearing this hood to hide my features, but the thing they really can’t stand is my use of mag-”

“YOU CAN USE MAGIC!?” Suddenly, the man had been picked up by Patton and brought closer to his face. Pat, all the while with sparkles in his eyes. The stranger smiled as he made an orb of light appear and float around him. It was the most amazing thing the lonely giant had ever seen. “Wow.”

“I’m Virgil by the way.” “What? Oh you’re name! You can call me Patton.” Virgil blushed, this was nice. Being appreciated for his talent for once.

“It’s nice to meet you Virgil. Thank you for coming here and talking to me. I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m glad. You don’t deserve to be alone like this. I of all people know what that feels like.” His eyes lowered in melancholy thoughts of the past.

A past of losing his parents in the fire, being ostracized by the village, and having to hide his true self. It was painful and many times he thought of running away, but where could he go? Just then Virgil felt a large and soft surface pressed up against him. It was Patton’s finger rubbing up against his side to comfort him. “I can tell you’ve had a hard time, being different from everyone around you.” He went silent in his thoughts, gazing between Virgil in his hands and his current surroundings. “Y-you’re not scared right?” Virgil chuckled, “You’re asking me that now?” “I...just need to be sure.” Patton blushed, feeling embarrassed and closing his eyes. That’s when the sensation of tiny hands wrapping around his thumb made him focus. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave unless you want me to.” Pat’s face must have turned into a tomato as he simply nodded and gently brought his new little friend to his chest for what could only be interpreted as a hug. “Thank you.”

Patton was warm, like really warm as Virgil snuggled into his shirt a bit. The moment was pure bliss as the two felt so at home with one another. Yet, events outside were now coming to end their tender moment together. A large shockwave rumbled from above them.

“W-what was that?!” Pat exclaimed, now guarding Virgil in his hands and crawling out of the cave to take a look. “I don’t know. Do you see anything?” He looked around quickly and froze at what he saw. “The village! It’s being attacked by a dragon!” “WHAT?! Are you kidding me? What is a dragon doing all the way out here?” “I-I don’t know, but we need to do something. There’s no way they have anyone strong enough to fend it off.” “Can you fend it off?” Patton wasn’t sure really. Again, his combat experience was miniscule, but he was still a giant. Even though the dragon was big, he was bigger! “I can try, will you help me?” Virgil smiled, “Of course Patton. What do you need?” What did he need? “Buffs, can you cast any buffs on me?” The tiny sorcerer did know a few spells for buffing, but there was one he found when exploring an abandoned house a long time ago that might be just what they needed right now. “Yeah! You go get it’s attention and all start casting. Drop me off at that cliffside real quick. I have to be able to see you to cast it.” “Alright!”

With a plan in motion, Virgil was left to draw out the casting circle as he watched Patton tackle the monster away from the village, slamming it into the foot of the mountain. He had a good 50 feet on the beast, but the difference in height didn’t scare it away. It could sense how much of an amateur Pat was as it lunged to take a bite. Luckily, Patton was quite agile and could dodge the attacks, for now at least. Each second was a battle of survival. The friendly giant calling out to the cowering people to get to higher ground and keep in groups as they made their way into the forest to hide. Not too far where they couldn’t still watch to see who would be the victor though.

“The circles done! Now to start the chant.” Virgil took his position in the center of the circle and began casting. “Nascuntur, crescunt maior quam. Imbui possent immensa” Three times he said this as a light glow began to cover Patton’s body.

It tingled as he felt more and more power enter into him. It wasn’t long until he noticed he was growing bigger and bigger. He gave a heavy gasp when it was all done and his body relaxed. Patton felt stronger now! Quickly, he looked around to find the dragon...but it was gone?

“Below you!” Came a familiar voice. It was Virgil! What did he mean by below though?

Curious, Pat looked down to find a now very tiny dragon quivering at his feet. What in the world!? Freaked out, Patton tripped over himself and landed on the mountain, taking out half of it with his now enlarged body. He was HUGE! “What? What happened to me?!” He was scared and confused.

“Patton! It’s okay, it’s just the spell. It increased your size and strength by ten fold.” TEN FOLD?!?! Wait...that meant he was ten times his usual size. He gulped, “Then, d-doesn’t that mean I’m now 2000 feet tall?” Virgil went silent, but nodded. Oh boy. Patton turned his attention to the dragon once more. The poor thing was now too terrified to even move. “You poor thing. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was strange looking at the creature in a tender manner now after that fierce battle.

The dragon titled it’s head, but could tell Pat didn’t mean any harm as it bounced up his body and started nuzzling into his neck like a kitten. It was adorable! Still, what was he going to do now? This spell wasn’t permanent was it? In his worrying, the titan hadn’t even noticed the village people returning and coming over to him. Virgil did though, as he hurried over using some wind magic to help him glide down. He landed perfectly on Patton’s knee and took a moment to take the giant’s new size all in. He truly was enormous!

Pat felt something land on him as he looked up to see Virgil sitting on him. “Virgil! Are you alright? I know doing high level spells can tire someone out.” His concern was really cute. “Yeah, I’m alright, but what about you?” “Well...I defeated the dragon, or more so made it my pet I guess.” He giggled, though still uneasy. “Virgil, um, this isn’t permanent is it?”

There was the question he was waiting on, but really didn’t want to answer. “Yes and no. There is a reversal spell, I just don’t know it.” Virgil mumbled out sheepishly. Meanwhile, Patton’s blood ran cold as images of his new reality flashed before his mind. A monster beyond belief! He started to shake and choke on his sobs. In a panic Virgil slid down the giant’s pant leg and started climbing up his shirt.

“Pat, no, please don’t cry. It’s going to be okay I promise. I’m so sorry I did this to you!” He pleaded constantly as he climbed. Patton hiccupped as he wiped his eyes to see his tiny friend’s frantic face. “It’s not your fault. You were just doing what I asked.”

Gently, he pinched Virgil up and placed him on the bridge of his nose. “At least you’re still here with me Virgil. I’m so afraid of never being welcomed anywhere because of my size, but at least I have one person who accepts me.” “That’s right. No matter what size you are, I know you’re a very kind and warm person Patton.”

Virgil leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Patton and began rubbing the bridge of the nose to soothe the giant. Pat blushed and let himself enjoy Virgil’s touch. Then more tiny hands reached out towards him. It was the villagers, petting his hand. “Thank you! Thank you so much for saving us!” “We would have died without your help!” “You’re not hurt anywhere right?” “We’re so sorry for chasing you away before.”

Continued praise and concern left their mouths as they kissed his hand and rubbed it in circling motions. Patton was stunned that they had all come so close to him and even more thanked him for his help. “You all...y-you’re not afraid of me? Even though I’m so much bigger than before?” “Of course not! You're our savior along with Virgil. We know now you never meant us any harm and we apologize greatly for our poor behavior towards you.” “Same with you Virgil. We realize how we’ve been treating you for the past years was unacceptable. Could we start again?”

Virgil huffed a bit, but floated down nonetheless. He looked at the people and their worried faces, but then extended a hand out to them. “If you’re willing to change and accept us both, I suppose I can’t say no.” The villagers rejoiced! They sang and cheered for their heroes! Finally, after his long journey, Patton had somewhere he belonged and someone who loved him.

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen @sanderssidestrash27 @nomynameisanon @crystalk17 @notkolaidoscop

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lizzie-wendigo · 3 years

Text

Well, this takes a long time as a WIP, but after the Abyss redesign, I decided to change the pose of Abyss. Well, I decided to do the story of how they met. By the way, if you pay attention to the book Abyss reads, it's a pun on the name of the author of the book: "Mary Shelley" ------------------------------------

After a long day, Spade was preparing to rest in his favorite place, an old weeping willow tree near the park. This willow tree was special, it was quiet, the breeze blew warmly and it was near a lake that led to the sea, and the best thing is that it was isolated, without being disturbed by anyone. This day would be different, because when he arrived he found a strange girl sitting in his place reading a book, at first spade got upset and thought about leaving, but he really wanted to rest for a while, and the girl didn't seem to be noisy or annoying, so decided to try to talk to her... "Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" Spade said approaching. "This is my special place." "I have no problem, go ahead..." Abyss said without taking her eyes off the book. They were silent for several minutes, each lost in thought, yet Spade couldn't help noticing the book Abyss was reading. "Good book, a classic" Spade said.

"Excuse me?" Abyss said. "The book, Frankenstein, is a classic" "Oh right, it is..." Abyss said without looking away from the reading. "I have read it 4 times, this is the fifth" "Your favorite book?" Spade asked "Something like that" Abyss commented "I feel identified with this book, reading it brings me comfort" "Well, you don't look very comfortable" "why do you mention it?" "You're reading a book alone under a tree away from others... Maybe you are sad" Abyss became annoyed and stopped reading, throwing an annoyed look and a little growl, which made Spade jump. Abyss immediately calmed down, again changing his expression to a sad one. "I haven't had a good day" Abyss said with a sigh. "Of course uhh... it was just a guess" Spade said a little uncomfortable and sitting up again in his place "We all have a bad day"

"I just decided to escape from everything for a moment and get distracted with a book" Abyss said as he took back the book that he dropped a few moments ago. "Dr. Frankenstein's monster. A creature made from putrid parts of the random dead buried in a graveyard, confused and trapped living in a world that wants to kill you just for being different. He will never be able to rest in peace because of a mad scientist who only wanted to play God and create life. He did him like this, unable to find friendship or love, making him suffer because he treats him like a beast... Victor Frankenstein is the real monster..." There was silence and spade looked at her indifferent and at the same time moved by what Abyss had said... "Sorry, I'm crazy, don't listen to me" Abyss said, looking away "It shows that you want to talk about it" Spade said very chivalrous "Yes, but nobody cares, I have no one to talk to" "I can make you at least choke on what frustrates you" Abyss looked at him a little doubtful, but she really needed it and she couldn't refuse, so she sighed deeply... "Today I had a fight with my cousin..." Abyss said sad with downcast eyes "Your cousin?" Spade asked "I have no siblings, and to me, he is like my older brother: Gum, him and my second cousin: Sheriff. We always played together, and neither of us could make friends, 'cause we are mixed race, that's why we had each other. Time passed and Sheriff got a girlfriend, and spent a lot of time with her, we were happy for him, at least he has someone else. But... the problem started a month ago... Gum started making friends... they were friends his age, and almost the same as him. They were also mixed race and male, they soon became friends with Gum, and little by little he was moving further away from me. I have been practicing to show the native dance show in the park, I'm part of the dancers. I wanted to invite him to see him more often, but when I went to see him, I was with his friends... and he was negotiating to meet me. He said he didn't know who I was" Said Abyss holding back the tears in her eyes, while Spade listened to her with attention" I argued and fought with him, and now I only borrow books the library to read away from people. I'm alone." There was silence, while Spade thought about it... "If your cousins could get friends, why do you think you couldn't?" Spade asked somewhat indifferently "Look at me! people don't even want to get close to me. They thinks that if they look at me I'll turn them to stone for pleasure, that I'll devour everything they give me like a wild dog, or that I'm too stupid to understand a damn simpler game than tying their damn shoelaces. Not even those from the native show want me in the group, they accepted me just because I have a mermaid descent and I dance very well... anyway... I plan to quit the group... "You shouldn't do it. If you like, just do it without caring that others judge you" Spade said looking into her eyes. "You shouldn't let what people think of you affect you either, believe me, I recognize a damn beast when I see it. I live with hateful creatures, and of all of them, I think you are the most civilized person I know. "you think so?" Abyss said as her eyes lit up

"Of course. Besides, I don't mind your company. I don't usually live with many people, or with people who are too happy, they're not to my liking. But I wouldn't mind living with you" "...?" "WAIT! NOT IN THAT WAY!" Spade yelled blushing "I mean! just for company!" And that silence was broken by the laugh of Abyss, who seemed more animated now, showing her true personality and smiling at her new friend, As Spade gazed at her sharp-toothed smile and lake-lit eyes, it seemed beautiful to him... "You know, there're other books that I have read, and I would like to talk about them one day. Maybe some of them you like" Abyss said with a smile "What..? Oh, sure! the books... Uhh..." Spade answered a little nervous while he blushed" Sure... It would be good, to meet again soon. "Then I'll see you soon" Abyss got up and extended her hand to Spade as a sign of farewell, and he took it shaking it... "By the way, we haven't formally introduced ourselves. "Sapde said "I'm Spade Dice you can call me Spade" "I am Abyss Maria Mug. Call me Abyss. I have to go... I have a show where to dance. And if... if you want to go... you can attend, it's public. See you soon spade!" Abyss ran away, while Spade watched her from afar sitting under the willow tree ... "Abyss... What a peculiar name. Very... elegant" He thought. "I wasn't at all interested in being her friend when I saw her, but... I think I wouldn't mind spending more time with her..." Spade watched her go as she blushed slightly, letting out a light sigh... ----------------------------------------------

My writing is HORRIBLE! I know... but at least I tried. Well, as you saw, this happened 2 years ago, so Abyss was 11, Sheriff 13 and Gum 14. All teenagers do that at some point in their lives. (Besides that I was watching Onward and the younger brother inspired me, I hate him) But Gum was sorry, he really felt very bad for having denied his cousin, and obviously he learned the lesson, since currently he doesn't deny it at all and he loves her as she is, that is a sign of maturity, don't you think? By the way, Spade developed an almost immediate crush for Abyss. Cute :3

#cuphead #cuphead au #au cuphead #cuphead fanchild #fanchild cuphead #cuphead fanchildren au #cuphead fanchild au #fanchild #cuphead fanchildren #fanchildren cuphead #cuphead oc #oc cuphead #lizzie aguilar #lizzie-wendigo

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 76

“There is nothing I support more than mothers caring for their children. Our Democracy is built on the combined efforts of our mothers. Baroness Bunny Pear Howlett swore before God and the world to joyously welcome every life she will be given the gift of bringing into this world and raise them in a God fearing home. I will never oppose her honoring that vow and raising more citizens of this fine country and our neighbor to the North, Canada. We have no right to lay our opinion higher in respect than that vow and her responsibility to love and cherish the precious gift those children are. That is all I have to say on the matter.” The words were a bullet to the head of any try to shoot down a try to erase your achievements for the simple stolen glimpse of your cleavage exposed to the world.

On the cusp of speechless Truman had called you and had wanted to see where you stood on the issue. All you had tried to do to mend the issue led to his argument in support of said efforts no matter what his personal thoughts of showing nursing mothers on the front page. In truth you were clearly as blown over by the story and after calls from the Brocks and even Father Thomas, who offered words of support agreeing that it was a beautiful intruded upon moment and any effort you could use to support any other struggling mothers should be acted upon.

It seemed that this would blow over and papers dug back to what they knew, it was a beautiful moment, because you didn’t have very many of those left and James was supportive to not blemish the legacy of his daughters’ mother for them to grow up aspiring to. Even Mr Yarbrough had to admit it was a bit amusing for how people had gone to such extremes in this matter and calmed after to at least a dull roar. And was all the more pleased as he sat grading your latest assignments while you sat for the exams in History, Geography and Religion to see that the issue had not thrown you off of your school work.

“Is that me?” Loki asked in his stroll into the sun lit room that had a few easels propped up and drying. From the easel you turned lowering your paint brush having painted a portrait of Loki lounged on one of your armchairs with a bouquet of fireworks hovering above his palm. “It is almost lifelike.”

“Took me a while to get the fingers right, I think I might have made Beau and Jeff’s arms go numb in letting me stare at their hands.”

Lowly he chuckled and stated, “It is masterfully done. I am flattered, thank you.” He stepped to the other easels noting the portrait of James and Victor both seated in armchairs in front of the fireplace with their children from their first marriages, Xander on the arm of his father’s chair and Victor’s children on his lap. A portrait now that they had their younger daughters would grant some proof of their elder siblings for them to grow up with that the men treasured and readied a nail in a special place to hang it when it was properly dried and framed. “This one is beautiful, more relatives?”

You caught his eye answering, “That is Xander, James’ son from his first marriage and Victor with his daughter and his son from his first marriage.” Loki’s eyes swept over your face taking in the hint of sadness in your expression. “They’re all buried in the family graveyard on these lands with their mothers. We talked about when Leanora was born having some sort of portrait for the girls to know what their older siblings looked like. The guys asked it just be the kids, didn’t want to have me and Jeanie having to peer up at our predecessors.”

“You have done them justice. Our grandfather does not have as skilled a portrait executed with such love in it.”

“They’re beautiful babies. Almost makes me wish there was easier access to cameras back then to have given them more to hold onto. Part of why they have taken trunks of pictures since we’ve met I bet. Deep down they’re making notes to hold onto for when they imagine they will have to bury me.” Loki chortled and you said, “They’re going to be so disappointed when we have to build a new house for the pictures we’ve accumulated by the time I hit a century and have still refused to die.”

“I doubt disappointment would cross their minds in reaching the first century mark on your second lifetime.” His eyes traveled to the third couple portrait that could be hung separately or together of a trio of people seated for tea, “And these?”

“Friends, Howard Stark and Ana and Edwin Jarvis. They chose some cribs for the girls for our Brooklyn home and I’m terrible at picking gifts for them. Howard is very rich and I believe Ana and Jarvis have all they could want already.”

“A gift of this caliber would be treasured.”

“What do you do for fun?” You asked making him grin at you as you finished a detail on the edges of his finely draped velvet cape down the front of the leg of his chair of a charming bit of speckled fur that he now dearly ached to have one just like it.

“I have taken up glass blowing recently. Quite agitating at first, however I am told that I am improving, perhaps a different view point of a Master Smith could see my efforts is helpful in such a discovery.”

“I could imagine burning myself rather frequently in that hobby.” You said making him chuckle again.

“The heat is rather a fickle aspect of the hobby. Remaining hydrated is key, a pitcher of water is always nearby in case of overheating.”

“Loki, welcome back,” James said carrying two of his girls with the third in a sling he fashioned across his chest. “I’ve found a way to grow another arm.” He said making the Prince chuckle again. “You are just in time for lunch, Sarah made some lemon squares, don’t know what’s in them but you look up for an adventure.”

“That I am.” He said smiling in the excited coo of the girls who saw him when he came closer. “Their curls are coming in nicely. A very good sign for healthy childhoods for my people full head of hair early on.”

“Yes, dad said I had a full head of curls by my first month too.” Drying the brush you rinsed off with a half damp and paint stained rag you left on the table to say, “Should be time to pump again, before they get fussy on you.”

“They would never,” James teased as you came closer kissing the trio on their heads and raised palms to lead the duo to the sitting room in your wing.

As the pump worked underneath your bra and t shirt against your bent legs you gave each of the girls some personal time while Victor lounged with his Petal reading her a story to Teddy and Loki’s artistic battle in making their own castles out of the hoard of colorful blocks while Marigold stretched for a nap across the Prince’s lap. The phone ringing turned your head and with a stretch of your fingers the phone floated closer so you could lift the receiver, “Hello, Howlett Pear, Creed residence.”

“Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth is calling for the Baroness,” an aid spoke through the line in a cool crisp tone.

“Oh, of course, I’ll hold for her Majesty.”

“Just a moment, Baroness.”

The line switched and her voice came through the line, “Bunny, how are you this morning? We have gotten a copy of Mother magazine it was quite a masterful spin on the hassle at hand.”

“Thank you, and we’re all doing well here.”

“And your classes are going well, the papers have all stated that your grades are pristine top marks.”

“Classes are going well, still tutors at home twice a week until next Tuesday when I start on campus.”

“We all certainly hope that you will be treated with ample respect.”

“I will be, everyone is very respectful up here. If I can how is Princess Elizabeth’s pregnancy going?”

“Swimmingly, the first trimester was rough but on her way to the third she is very strong. Thank you for asking. She has been very happy to hear that things are lightening up for you. Have your girls gained any more weight?”

Questions continued as more information was shared and eventually she had to hang up and see to other matters leaving you to return to focus on your family and keeping Teddy and Marigold from Lording over the Prince more than he could handle for as long as he could.

“We finished another bundle of the Spain trunk, did you want to give it a look?” Jeff asked and after a moment to register what he meant from the mindset of playing you gave him a nod.

“Sure, where would we have to go?”

Beau smiled saying, “The directory is in the sitting room by our room. Not far of a walk.”

Once on your feet with the whole group including the children, the elder three watched the brothers guide you to the sitting room with a bronze fountain shaped like a tree with layered branches topped with groupings of bronze leaves layered with crystal leaves settled inside of a bronze basin filled with pebbles shaped from crystals. “I’ve seen this before,”

Beau stated with a smile, “Not uncommon a reaction for the first return to using it.”

In your step closer Loki took notice of the familiar structure to the one back on the abandoned Beserker territory on Asgard that with a lift of your palm had the top of the fountain light up and release a fine mist that in the more it pooled out into the room and darkening as it did. Similar to your galaxy mist in silvery blue it chose a more silver and pink tinted hue with soft hints of cheerful chimes from the creatures who dwelled inside of it that let out in recognition of who was tapping into the hive minded database.

Jeff to the list of runes that hovered in front of your raised palm stated, “We should start here,” and showed you the meaning of the runes. “This shares the translations both in written word, spoken and in reenactments. And we can show by means of the map that will show exactly where it took place and when.”

Up to your lap when you took a seat for the replay of your history you took hold of one of your girls with James at your side treasuring the tales while holding his other two daughters while they napped. Perfectly content in knowledge of the path that helped to lead you three here to this coveted moment. Both of the brothers however took enjoyment in the end of the translated bits to hear what had been learned on their own travels before this lifetime. All of it a road map to now with details that even stunned Loki, including in his trips to Norway as a child that you had been there, a fact that stunned not just himself but his mother when he returned and as usual gave her an update on how things with your family were going.

That tv of yours however had Frigga on the visit before gather up a collection of books from their own schools for children to help advance your knowledge even more as she had grown to see how unfair it was to keep you from copies on such an ignorant planet compared to their own. Materials would be far from accessible to you but at least in time until your full power had awoken she might be taken as an ally in hastening the growth of your ever hungry intellect that scoured for more. Even she could sense that the gap in knowledge was hindering your return and when she approached Himdall his grin eased out along with his palms to accept the books bound together in a leather set of straps.

“Heimdall, kindly gift these to Mother.”

He bowed his head, “I shall, and she will be ever grateful for the gift.” She nodded and timidly turned to head back to the doorway she would transport herself back into the Palace. However she paused and looked back at him when he said, “Mother bears you no ill will, Queen Frigga. The decisions of Odin and his father long ago shall not bear down upon you or your sons and people. These books will help greatly to improve her capabilities to effect change upon Midgard as she always had. You have no reason to fear her growth in the coming years, in fact a friendship should very well grow if you would welcome it. For now, I shall deliver your gift.” There was no time for an answer as in a galaxy colored mist his body vanished to appear at the doorway of your library in a final touch up of readying the table for your tutoring the following day.

A gentle knock on the door had you look up to find Heimdall there who bowed his head and approached as you greeted him, “Heimdall, you can come in. Hope it’s nothing serious to bring you out here to our little planet.”

In a shake of his head he lifted the books on his palms stating, “Not at all, Queen Frigga sent me with these for you,”

When he came closer his eyes adoringly shifted over your girls, namely Nova in your arms who let out an excited squeal that had you and everyone around you chuckle, “Our girls have learned they can be very loud.”

“A joyful greeting, I am honored.” He said lowering the books onto the table that your fingertips smoothed across the leather bound cover of the top textbook larger than a phone book with runes you couldn’t read across the cover.

“Are these in your language from Asgard?” you asked and he nodded offering his hand to the girl who wiggled her fingers his way that wrapped around his fingers in a cross eyed awed stare.

“Yes, Ancient Asgardian.”

Elliot spoke next, “I have some ledgers that we can help teach you from when you are ready.”

And your father said next, “Those books can be quite dense at times, best to take it gradually and we will explain the lessons thoroughly as they tend to build upon the prior lessons as you work your way through in several of their subjects.”

When you looked to Heimdall you said, “I thought Asgard was afraid of me. Why would Queen Frigga give me these?”

“With aid of our Brothers in time you would have learned of these some day, Prince Loki has shared the difficulties of education here and its limits so far with Queen Frigga. Our lessons to what you are learning now would have you equal to a child’s lessons on Asgard. That is unfair, and in the coming years a great deal more to gift you would be helpful for what you might face.”

“I suppose it might help, every now and then there’s mention of the ship headed this way. Can’t help but think if they know so much more that I might be taken as an ignorant fool far below what they expected when they get here.”

Heimdall gave you a comforting grin, “This physical form of yours is merely a piece of a far more breathtaking whole. Mother is with us, always, and while you come to remember that path is all the more beautiful. Midgard is far beyond what we are accustomed, your travels and time here will gift them knowledge in their own ignorance. There is no need to fear, love is patience and trust, together we will learn and grow.”

“Thank you,” you said as Nova released his hand, “And please tell Queen Frigga thank you.”

“I am certain in time we will add a good deal more to your library and when our Brothers will arrive they will have possession of a supply of the records of our people for you to explore as well.”

He bid you and your family a farewell and Elliot called the journal he added to the books he moved to a nearby shelf to be looked over when you were ready so that the dinner your stomachs demanded could be finished and enjoyed.

Across the top of your bed James laid with view of his girls in their squirms calming down to the bedtime story he was reading to them to lull them off to sleep. They had no clue what he was saying but to every stolen kiss or nuzzle of his face against their little selves savoring their scents and tries to keep hold of his head and hands. He absolutely loved these moments and didn’t even look up when you snapped pictures of them as he loved to do when you stole your own time cuddling with the trio. The roll of film was filled and you sighed taking the camera to its usual spot on a table outside the dark room where Victor would see it and in the usual pattern develop the film to give to you later.

Along with his own pictures and those from Dawn and Eddie he savored his time in that dark room surrounded by loving moments with his ever growing family. Proud more and more on the echoes of giggles and racing tiny feet through the manor that had sat empty for so long. Stone and earth held memory and even this place in its neglect since that flood bore a depression much like their own and now seemed to glow all its own glee for the souls now claiming shelter inside its refurbished borders.

Film was bought by the barrel on top of your gifted supply it seemed and a welcome expense to have permanent copies of the gradual growth of every child and the woman he loved who had gifted him his own. Always a bit of doubt lingered he might not be the right choice as a husband but as a father he knew she treasured him for that and wouldn’t have picked another to share this with. Mixed within the pictures of the girls was one of yourself. Normally quite casual the moments James wanted to keep were tame, this one had you in just your underwear, perhaps in a try to lure a more adventurous night when he was in a late shower or changing.

Spread across the bed slumped back comfortably from an alluring pose on your side with curls sprawled about your face that widened his smile. It wasn’t just the moment he’d stumbled across to lure an intrusion but much like the photograph of James on your honeymoon the dance of flame and shadow across your skin had turned this stolen moment into art. Show of his adoration for you and a try to begin again what you formerly had to have him stumble into a far more intimate moment. He knew what his brother felt, pure love and awe at the strong force of a woman who put to test the meaning of labor to birth the girls who looked more like you by the day. A couple more weeks and far from that time in London when you walked out in the underwear gifted to you to see if it was correctly draped across your starved frame now he could see their efforts to coat you with leisurely weight to suit daily energy requirements and to signal you were well fed.

He left it to dry and carried on until he saw the image of the tiny hands tangled in James’ hair and arms holding his head down at his bend to their whim he could but wouldn’t break no matter how easily he could. Every image was left hung to dry to be handed over later and sorted to be added to the collection of others on his way to finish readying for the day trip ahead to go and visit Norma on set as you’d been promised a trip to do so and see how your project was coming about.

Economics, Government, Political science, Anthropology tests and an afternoon trip to town that ended with a rainy drive back home for an early night to cuddle in bed for the drive and flight in the morning. Norma still was on set but now that you had settled a suitable schedule for feedings the brothers zapped you all closer to the airport where Howard’s plane waited to fly you all out to the location that he was filming in today. To keep your girls safe they would remain at home and not even Leonora would be coming at Norma’s request knowing how much press was around to keep her safe from being plastered around the world more than she could manage.

Ample milk had been stored and your parents gladly took charge with Edie of the children while Elliot and the twins delved more into translations of those documents as they had daily to make use of the summer while they had it. Eddie stayed with you as you parked and the stroll over to the waiting plane while Dawn took Teddy and Marigold to her family’s home to get more work done on their paper.

“Bunny, glad to see you, today should be fun.” Howard said when he came close post stroll out of his plane from final checks.

“I’m sure it will be.” Victor said carrying the bag with the paintings in it turning Howard’s head to them.

James said, “Brought you something, Bunny made them.”

Howard said, “You didn’t have to make me anything, not even my birthday.”

“Well consider it payback for the cribs and filming my story.”

“Ooh, now I’m really curious.” He said with a smirk following you inside the plane he sealed the steps to get to his seat saying, “You can sit up front if you like, Bunny.”

Jarvis who was securing your bags gave you a nod and watched you timidly join Howard up at the cockpit to ease down onto the co-pilot seat in the Douglas DC-3 that had you tuck your legs up to sit on to be able to see over the nose of the plane. Howard chuckled saying, “I will be sure to pack a few phone books next time.”

“It’s alright, have to use them for our truck too. Nothing new, I live in the land of giants.” You said making him smirk.

He began to flip switches and start up the plane explaining what he was doing all through the roll to the runway and lift off until you were in the air. “Maybe one day I could give you some lessons. You know the time I flew Steve into enemy lines to rescue Bucky was on one of these. You been in a few in the service I bet.”

“Couple, only it’s a bit odd without the gunfire.”

After another glance your way he asked, “You still doing well? You look well fed a bit more than last time.”

“Still good, first time so far from the girls, but I suppose I have to get used to that for what class on campus start next week.”

“If I can say, we’re all proud of how you handled that press with your magazine spread. Masterful, downright masterful on the shift of it. Everyone on set agreed. You should have never had to face that but you handled it well. Hate that you have to, press can be vultures, but I imagined they had standards.”

“All spilled milk at this point.” After a moment you asked, “Would it be rude to ask if you have another Mrs Stark on the horizon to anger someone else’s dad?”

That had him chuckle again, “Not yet. Always up to help a woman out of a sticky situation if I can help it.”

While others were setting up things for the first scene and gathering the cast that gradually was getting ready your focus turned to Ana Jarvis who came into view with a wrapped bundle laid against her chest. The heartbeat inside had your smile widen and you asked, “Now where did you find this angel?” Widening her smile.

“This is our daughter, Celeste. Last year we found out we could not have children, but there was an orphanage back in New York who called us, a young mother could not provide for her child and put her up for adoption. She is beautiful and has orange hair and eyes like Edwin’s.” She said on the verge of tearing up for how fated the move turned out to be.

“Congratulations,” you said to the both of them and from the bag Victor handed you to bring out the portrait of the couple parting their lips. “If I would have known I’d have added her. A sort of thank you, for the cribs and being so kind.”

Ana said, “Oh thank you,” she said using her free arm to give you a hug that when she ended she turned to look at it again, “It is beautiful, did you paint it?”

“Yes, I have one for Howard too.”

“You have what for Howard?” He asked with a smirk on his path back on his way to check something else only to gape at the portrait and the one of him you offered him. “Bunny, I love it, thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hang them together or separately, however you liked.”

Howard smiled and said in collecting the both of them, “I’m going to put these somewhere safe until we get the clear to head home later, be back in a few, get comfortable.”

Sure enough like a magnet in the silent nightclub of a set to the piano as the guys took in the artwork and other details soft notes filled the air. Just a few random notes bled into a familiar tune. One that would frequent the radio station Steve tuned into at night when he thought everyone else was asleep. Without thought your fingers continued in their dance across the keys without comment until murmurs could be heard from outside the set, “Did they hire another band?”

Another said, “We aren’t even late!”

“We got a contract! They can’t do this!”

Sight of you however in a blue off the shoulder lace dress with a knee visible under the hem of the skirt on the bench had the band that you had met years prior at the White House dinner after receiving your medals. Jarvis with a grin eased into his usual fix it mode and clarified you were merely passing time. Your notice of the band as they approached had you grin and ease off the bench, “Hello.”

“Baroness Pear Howlett,” they each said offering their hands you shook then looked to their horn player who said, “We have to do a sound check and warm up before the scenes, care to play with us?”

“Don’t you need the piano?” you asked and they chuckled.

Their piano player said, “I am good on a dime, if you don’t mind that is.”

Without anything else to do again the song ‘Into Every Life A Little Rain Must Fall’ recorded by The Ink Spots and Ella Fitzgerald was what you began with after they named the tune you had been tapping out. A nod from you had the pianist sit beside you on the spacious bench ready to help you liven up the tune to give a wider range for the others to jump into. Hushed giggles and conversation on ways to shift the tune made for a smile worthy sight when Norma hurried onto set to claim a hug and kiss from Victor and cuddled with him as the other actors bled into sight to fill the seating and standing room.

Shirley Temple and her mom beside Howard’s side had him smirk at Shirley’s soft gasp and comment to her mother, “Momma, it’s really Bunny Pear,” clinging to a magazine spread on you from when you had been featured in Kodak’s magazine.

Howard’s arrival had you and the guys stop playing luring a grin from you for a slip away to his side where he said, “Aren’t you just a treasure trove of talents. Guess your Priest wasn’t kidding about those times you snuck in to play the piano.”

“Well you can blame Steve and Bucky. One would get sick or hurt and they’d play the radio or their few records all night.”

“A rude habit that comes in handy, Bunny, come meet Shirley,”

The teen’s wide smile and flash of the magazine had you smile as she said, “I always cut out stories on you.”

“Well I hope last year’s stories didn’t upset you, papers had some fun with the whole frog debacle.”

“I just knew it wasn’t true,” and she asked, “Could you sign my magazine?”

You smirked and accepted the pocket journal and pen James handed you from your purse widening her grin, “Only if you sign my book too.” She gladly agreed and you traded then traded back and the conversations and introductions continued through the rest of the main cast. Beginning with Lawrence Olivier and Vivien Leigh who proudly signed your book trading for a signature of their own to comments on favorite films as Cary Grant shyly traded his own set for yours before a group picture one of the extras gladly took on your camera James remembered to grab.

Howard however stunned you by placing your family in the crowd and had you up again at the piano for the stunning addition for the background music bits of dialog for a few takes of those scenes. However when it came time to have the band perform fully you, for giggles as Howard suggested with the band’s blessing you helped to sing along as they played, ‘If I Didn’t Care’ also by The Ink Spots. With minimal conversation between the leading men that took two takes after you had excused yourself to join the men in the audience. When the lighting and wardrobe was being shifted to move to a different scene earlier in the film for two more of the band’s own songs you accepted a bottle of apple juice Eddie opened for you Cary Grant came over to your side with a nervous glance your way.

“Thank you,” he said luring a widening grin across your lips. “Howard said you picked me specifically for this role, it’s a heck of a role. You wrote a fantastic screenplay.”

“Well you certainly were at the top of the list for who I would have chosen for Roger,” in the twitch of his brow taking the hint that he might not have been your first choice you said, “I actually had the idea from a dream I had when I was pregnant. Though I do have to admit Roger was a tap dancing rhino in my dream.” You said widening his smile again in an amused chuckle. “But outside of a horn and tail you were at the top of the list.”

“Consider me tickled pink the rhinos are all on strike,” he joked making you giggle and smile as Norma came over to help you share more on the story for the continued series of pictures an approved photographer was allowed to take for a spread on the filming so far. Namely a glimpse at the story of yours Howard was bringing to life.

Lunch however for Howard came with his flying you back for the drive home, and when you were safe on the ground again he said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll keep taking good care of your paperback baby.” He said making you grin in his move back to the steps to climb back in the plane not wanting to leave his friends just yet while also knowing that he had to get back to finish filming for the day.

Victor looped his arm around your back needing someone to cuddle with as Eddie said, “That was fun. And that much fun deserves a big lunch. Seems like they are killing the nightclub scenes.”

James smiled at you and said, “I think for certain now we’ll have a spot in the film at least. If he doesn’t put you singing in it.”

“Oh he better not, I’m not in the screenplay.”

You said and Victor chuckled out, “I highly doubt that matters. He’s got exclusive footage with Bunny singing live. Who wouldn’t buy a ticket for that and to see my Nora on the silver screen.”

“Jeanie, yes, me, no. Leave the band to the job they were hired for.” You were helped into the car for the drive back you all joked through until the excited swarm of babies welcomed you back to your home and main jobs of the summer.

Pt 77

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x oc #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom #Tutoring #Trip to Stark Filming Location #Howard Stark #Edwin & Ana Jarvis #Marvel #Loki

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

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Love you to the Moon and to Saturn

Summary: Caring is not an advantage. To Mycroft, this was a belief he found through the calculated logic that ruled his life. If was analytical and detached and certainly had nothing to do with Sherlock or the childhood neighbor.

A/N: In a break from my regularly scheduled SVU writing, here’s a four part Folklore inspired Mycroft Holmes thing.

Please, picture me in the weeds Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

“Mycroft, promise you’ll remember me here,” Ruth whispered, laying on the blanket beside where he sat with his legs before him. It was wholly undignified, but it was the clearing they spent their free time in the summer when Sherlock wasn’t there for them to watch over.

“Why here?” he asked, brow lifted as he watched her carefully weaving the bevy of flowers she’d picked. It had made their walk three times as long, but he was content to watch her as the sun shone on red curls and the yellow sundress flowed in the wind. Uncle Rudy wouldn’t approve of the way he was beginning to think of her. The neighbor girl in the summers who helped him watch over his precocious brother and never knew the sister that still haunted his nightmares. He was sixteen now, but the tension was not yet gone in the Holmes house. Ruth’s insistence on dragging him to the clearing always served as a reprieve.

“You don’t act so stuffy, so it’s where I’ll remember you. I want our memories to match when you go off to school in a couple years.” He might have taken offense if she weren’t right, something she must have known because she added, “It’s probably good one of us already acts politely. But I like seeing you when you don’t look so stressed.”

“I’m under no stress, Ruth.”

“You’re a good liar. But we’ve also spent four summers together now. You always play quite serious, but I’m learning to read you.”

There was no reason she needed to know what weighed so heavily on his shoulders. His parents had yet to realize the weight their pressure put on him. He’d been scolded for not watching Eurus more closely, not watching Sherlock and Victor as they played. Then, Uncle Rudy had decided two years before that fourteen was man enough to know the reality and partake in taking care of the family.

Rudy would always claim he occupied a minor position in the British government, but whatever it was allowed him to put Eurus somewhere far, far away. In a few years, Mycroft would go to Oxford, study something that prepped him to join Rudy. When the time came, managing the secrets would be his job. He would minitor Eurus at Sherrinford, hide the secrets away from his parents, let them think their daughter dead and maintain the illusion she was. At least he would give her creature comforts, gifts on birthdays.

Mycroft wouldn’t lose the humanity or kindness Rudy had. It took work to learn it, but it was carefully curated and hidden away, reserved for a select few, and Ruth was one of them. He didn’t want to tell Ruth all the darkness Rudy kept tucked away or the way he had to monitor Sherlock to ensure he didn’t remember Eurus or that redbeard wasn’t truly a dog.

“I am unknowable, Ruth,” he nearly hummed, allowing the corner of his mouth to lift. “But I promise to remember you dirtying a perfectly lovely dress in order to weave flowers into a wreath.”

“It’s a crown, Mycroft,” she said emphatically. “I bring blankets now so you won’t dirty your slacks.”

“What a kindness.”

“You used to be more like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You act like a teacher. All serious and proper and wearing slacks and a sweater and a collared shirt to spend a day in the yard.”

“I’m just trying to act like an adult.”

“We’re not adults.”

He wanted to tell her he wasn’t allowed to be a child anymore. That he wanted to go with her to get drunk at bonfires and snog and do all the things his peers did. But, between his intellect making most people simply unbearable, the jealousy he wouldn’t acknowledge when some lad talked to Ruth, and the fact that would mean risking something happening to his brother, he couldn’t. If Sherlock were hurt, his parents would blame him, as they did with Eurus, so Mycroft hovered over him. Luckily, he seemed to like the attention from his big brother, often snatching books he knew Mycroft had finished and devouring them to discuss them proudly in earshot of Mycroft.

“I suppose you’re correct. I still have no intention of going to one of those bonfires with you. Sherlock will be home soon. We ought to go back.”

“You’re not his parent.”

“I just enjoy his company.”

She squinted, placing her newly finished ring of flowers atop her head, and he smiled despite himself. It was probably good she made him take these breaks in the summers. Otherwise, he’d never take the time to breathe or feel the sun on his face or anything else. One day, he wouldn’t have the option. Caring wasn’t an advantage. That’s what Rudy kept telling him, but Mycroft couldn’t see how this could be anything but.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other… Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

“This isn’t tea, Ruth,” he said, distaste apparent as she set the pitcher before him.

“It’s sweet tea, Mycroft. Just try it.”

“You were raised by Americans. This is a bastardization of tea. I won’t have it.”

“You take your tea with so much sugar, anyway. It’s hot out, and I wanted something that wouldn’t make me hotter. There’s mint in it. And sugar. Just try it. For me?”

Mycroft made a noise of dissatisfaction, taking the offered glass and sipping it. He didn’t want to admit it was bearable, but when he took another sip, he could see the look of pride on Ruth’s face. Expectantly, she crossed her arms, and he sighed as he realized she’d wait until he answered.

“It’s acceptable. Still a bastardization. Hot tea is perfectly lovely on a hot day.”

“I’ll take it. Especially given how easily you’re drinking it.”

“Impossible.”

“You love me,” she sang playfully, and he wanted to tell her he was becoming quite sure he did. She was who came to mind when he heard love described. Ruth was who he trusted, was comfortable around, and made him want to be less of a miserable pain. She was also beautiful and smart and interesting, not like everyone else he’d dubbed as goldfish as of late. It was infuriating.

“To the moon and to saturn,” he said softly, mirroring the way she’d said the same thing affectionately to both him and his brother. His eyes were closed as his head rested against the back of the patio swing, and he felt the tickle of Ruth’s braids before he felt her press a kiss to the top of his head. His heart pounded, and Mycroft was suddenly more aware of her closeness as he opened her eyes. The sound of Sherlock calling out to his audience of toys as he played echoed to them, but for once they were the background noise to his mind and all he could focus on was Ruth’s soft laugh as she watched his brother from her place beside him.

“To the moon and to saturn,” she smiled. “You’re my best friend, Mycroft.”

He didn’t like the word friend in that moment, but saying as much would mean admitting he was smitten with her. There was no way he could keep that from mummy and father. He wasn’t one for affection, but he let her rest her head upon his shoulder, a dignified hand pressing to her cheek before returning to his lap.

“And you are mine, Ruth.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

“Thank you.”

Ruth stayed against his side, only sitting up when Sherlock ran up clutching some piece of a broken gardening trow he seemed quite proud to have found. Ruth took it gladly, promising she’d try to think of a way to give it a handle again. In the fall and spring, it was always harder for him to keep up with his younger brother; mummy and father both taught at the university and found their time researching and writing indispensable so they could enjoy the winter break and summer. They said the boys would be fine on their own, but what they meant was Mycroft would be watching. It was better with Ruth, who genuinely seemed to enjoy helping to make Sherlock feel included.

With Eurus gone and Victor dead, the ten year old only had his brother and their neighbor. He also had the same distance Mycroft remembered so well, the sea between himself and everyone else because their minds simply worked differently. People could be so boring, especially if they were unwilling to deal with the Holmes’ peculiarities. Everyone was so delicate, still learning who they were and building self esteem, that Sherlock and Mycroft with intelligence to rival the teachers and eccentricities abound didn’t know how to interact, especially given how long their mother had kept them home schooled. Victor had always understood his brother, and now he was gone. Ruth was the first close friend Mycroft had found, the only one where he didn’t have to calculate what his next move should be.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock asked, pulling on his brother’s sleeve. He was still all dark curls and blue eyes. It was still admiration on his face instead of the annoyance that would take its place ten years later. “Do we have any of the big wooden dowels left? Ruth says we could use them to make a handle!”

“We do,” he said softly, straightening the boy’s collar. “You’re quite lucky she’s always so willing to assist in your restorations. Her father does restorations for museums. I’ll fetch the dowels. You help Ruth set up your work station.”

I’ve been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why I think you should come live with me And we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry

“Why are you hiding?”

Mycroft looked up from his book, back against the wall of the attic. It was the first Christmas since he’d left for Oxford, and he was pleased to learn both families would spend it as they did their summers. If anything had been confirmed for him, it was that he was irrevocably in love with her. He’d now kissed and slept with a couple of people and each time he wondered how it would be if it were Ruth.

Rudy had made it apparent that until he was needed at a job once he graduated, his summers were his, and he was pleased to know he had three summers with her before Eurus was his responsibility. Sherlock had been acting out since he left, and he had a feeling soon enough the boy would be his responsibility from afar.

“I’m not hiding,” he argued as she settled beside him. “What, no hello?”

“Hello, Mycroft. I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you too, Ruth.”

“You never call me. We don’t get to run into each other when you’re at school. So we’ve got to put in effort.”

“I’ve nothing terribly interesting to say.”

“Call and bore me then, okay?”

“You require quite a lot of attention.” His tone was as playful as she’d ever heard, though to anyone else she was certain it sounded monotone. But, the corners of his mouth weren’t turned down, even if he did seem more exhausted than she’d ever seen him.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, Mycroft.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I could hear your dad.” Mycroft sighed, placing his bookmark and setting the novel aside. His hands came to rest on his lap, fingers laced, and he just couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “Was it about Sherlock?”

“He’s been acting out with regularity. Mummy and father think I should come back more. That he misses me. I do not know when they expect that I will be able to, but I’m going to make an effort to.”

“Mycroft, he’ll find something else to act out over. He’s only turning eleven. It’s a change he’ll have to get used to because one day, you’ll be prime minister or something and never have time for any of us.”

“Don’t wish that upon me.”

“Sometimes, I think something bad happened here. And that the energy gets to your dad. He isn’t like this in the city from what you tell me.”

“Are you implying ghosts make my father angry, Ruth?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You should come stay with me. I’ll sneak you in through the window.”

“Your father would have me killed. He’d assume I had nefarious intent.”

“He left,” she muttered, picking at the loose thread of the rug.

“Ruth-”

“I’m fine. He still visits me, and I visit him. It’s just so strange being here for Christmas without him. He met a woman at work…”

“How’s Catherine?”

“She’s taken it well. She stays out a lot. But she’s been home for the holiday since we came out here.”

“I am always here if you need to talk about it. You could have called me.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “Are you ready to run away from responsibility yet? I still think we could have a lovely roadside stand somewhere. A cottage.”

“You could always come to Oxford.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I’ll always have a place for you.”

“I’m just pleased I get to see you. It’s been too long. You’re my favorite person, you know?”

“And you’re mine.”

“No, Sherlock is,” she teased, nudging his side. “But that’s fair.”

“I love you.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. He’d said it dozens of times, but always in response to her. There was something else behind it now as they hid away from their families. It felt comfortable. He felt at home now that she was here. Wasn’t that a sign? That he still felt unstable when surrounded by his parents and Sherlock, but a peace washed over him when Ruth’s head poked out from behind the attic door.

“Mycroft-”

“It’s perfectly alright if you don’t.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I said I do. I love you too, Mycroft Holmes.”

He didn’t know what to do now. Oxford was the first place someone had kissed him, a brunette boy at a party his roommate had held. There was also a woman, one much older than him, who he met at the library. Those had been simple enough because the weight of his feelings wasn’t attached. He’d worked so hard with Rudy to control them, to remember caring isn’t an advantage. It was acceptable to love his little brother; Rudy reminded him that would make everything easier. But loving Ruth? He’d always made their friendship an exception, but as he realized he had the opportunity to kiss her he took it.

Long fingers cupped her jaw, and his heart soared as he realized she was looking to his lips. She leaned in before he could, hands going to his sides as she kissed him sweetly. Each kiss he’d had before had a purpose. It was hard and wanting and found the inexperienced Mycroft in a bed somewhere. Now, he could just hold his lips to hers like this forever, never progressing, and be happy. When they did separate, she buried her face into the crook of his neck, and his arms circled her waist as he savored the closeness. He could feel her heart pounding as his was.

“I love you, Mycroft.”

“And I love you, Ruth.”

“Promise?”

“To the moon and to Saturn.”

#Mycroft Holmes #mycroft holmes x oc #mycroft holmes x original character #mycroft holmes fanfiction #sherlock #bbc sherlock

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namelessexistence · 3 years

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Part 8 of 10 of my top 100 favorite characters

30 - Yamanaka Ino (Naruto)

Yes, I had my Naruto phase. It was the first manga I read, I borrowed from a friend. There’s so much characters with wasted potential there. And it is true that the story advances in terms of themes of war and cicles of hatred, but character-wise, it was on it’s best in the Chunnin Exams. Ino is one of those exemples of wasted potential. She deserved to win that fight against Sakura and I’ll die on that hill. In that arc, she’s established as confident, skilled with shurikens, she was a better friend than Sakura was and I woudn’t say that she ended a friendship because of boy. She didn’t. Sakura ended their friendship, Ino shows clear signs of still caring for Sakura and not wanting to cut ties. Despide caring for her good looks, she would sacrifice that with no hesitation to win a fight. Yes, Sakura did it in a moment that was supposed to be a meaningful step to her growth, but Ino did it entirily for her strategy. She was smart enough to create a plan that would compensate for her jutsu’s weak spot (that it was supposed to be used as part of a team work)

29 - Tsunade (Naruto)

I don’t think I have to explain this one. Unlike Ino, that I feel I have to defend, Tsunade is already (rightfully) perceived as one of the best written female characters in the series, if not the best.

28 - Nami (One Piece)

I love how she was written. She’s well written and complex. Yes, her portray is cartoonish good part of the time, but that’s a characteristc of the story itself. I loved the arc where we learn about her past. I love how she’s allowed to be greedy, whimsical and deeply flawed and still be someone who the writer want us to root for. Usually, this indulgence is given to male characters.

27 - Frankestein’s Creature

Did this book sent me into this path of sympathy for the devil I never got off from? Probably. Being queer almost certainly has some part on that too. Anyway, he wasn’t a saint or inoccent by the end of the book, we already said Clerval deserved better, so did his other victims. But he was already hated and ostricized before he did anything to deserved that, because of circunstances he coudn’t choose or control. Victor created to imediately abandon him.

26 - Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood )

I didn’t realize I cared so much for him until the end. That end destroyed me and I still think about it now, years later. But it’s poetic.If greed is satisfied, how can it keep existing?

25 - Akabane Karma (Assassination Classroom)

He has the same bastard energy of Izaya, but without being a villain, what else could you need? Also, I love how he’s first introduced as someone dangerous, a predator, a deranged man, but then Koro-Sensei treats him as a child who was hurted and needed care, wich is true, and it worked.

24 - Azula (Avatar The Last Airbender)

Sometimes it’s hard to remember she was only fourteen during the show. But she was. A child. I don’t deny Zuko had a kinder nature than her, but it doesn’t mean she wasn’t influenced by the way she was raised. That family and how their kids turned out would take it’s own post to make it justice. Besides, Azula is fun as a villain. She’s competent, ruthless, and seems to be enjoying herself most of the time.

23 - Chara (Undertale)

I just find so interesting to search for clues and pieces of information about them across the game. Chara is a puzzle we’l never be able to fully solve. We don’t have all the pieces. That won’t stop me from trying.

22 - Violet Evergarden

A girl who was treated as a weapon learning how to be human. This anime is so beautiful and touching. Her character growth, learning how to understand other people’s feeling and, trough that, her own.

21 - Gaara (Naruto)

Child me was really involved with the story of this kid who was possesed by a demon, isolated, raised as both a monster and a weapon. And he had to grow and learn better by himself, with no help other than one (1) speech other child he woudn’t see again for years gave him.

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elephart-hi · 3 years

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The Mortal Maiden: Witch!Jude

Chapter 4: A Trip Down Memory Lane

summary: Jude slapped herself hard. Her ears ringing from the blow. She furiously wiped the hot tears that had fallen, telling herself that she didn’t need the memories, that they made her weak. Jude was not one for nostalgia. She never would be. With her heart locked back in its armor she mounted her riding toad and kicked it to a start.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

AN: this is a shorter chapter! it was supposed to be the end of the last one but it was too long so I extended it.

also no beta for this chapter tee hee

Ao3 Chapter 1 2 3 You are reading Ch 4

The stairwell let out at the stables just as Darnel had told her it would. She could tell by the color of the sky that it was late afternoon already and that dusk would be only a few hours off. She still needed to get to the spy’s keep, report to Dain, and then back into her bed before Tatterfell came to wake her for her classes.

She was running out of time.

Jude hides behind mounds of hay and horse feed as she waits for the stable hand to get near. Impatient, she throws a pebble into one of the horses’ pens, and the steed whines out. The half-fae immediately comes over to see what’s wrong but Jude gets him in a headlock before he can, pressing down on a pressure point. She holds him till he stops struggling and passes out, then drags his body behind the hay where he will either wake up or be discovered.

Jude eyes the horses wearily as she leaves, recalling the time in the mortal world when she was seven and was thrown from a horse the first time she had ever ridden one. The whole ordeal had left her scared of riding the beasts. At the time hadn’t been an issue since mortals used cars and public transit to get to places. Once she came to Elfhame, however, her slight phobia had become an issue since they were the main means of transportation. She can ride a horse fine now, but she still gets unsettled when they go too fast or get agitated.

As she makes her way into the woods, towards the fallen tree where she had hidden her riding toad, she thinks of how silly it was that her fears from her childhood remain with her even after she had grown accustomed to the horrors of fairyland. Jude could poison herself nightly, stand face to face with cruel princes and live in the same house as her parents’ killer without faltering… but she couldn’t ride horses too fast nor she couldn’t stand the sight of cockroaches. She can’t even get close enough to one of the bugs to kill it yet she has taken a life before!

Jude laughs to herself as she recalls a memory of her cowering on a table in the stronghold demanding that Oak kill one for her. He had looked at her like she had grown a third head and then became equally terrified of the bugs himself. He claimed that if Jude was scared of cockroaches then he absolutely wanted nothing to do with them; convinced that they must be creatures of unimaginable horror to be able to frighten her. Oriana had been furious at Jude for the whole debacle, claiming that she had planted the notion into his head and was purposefully trying to frighten him. Taryn and Vivi had laughed themselves hoarse at the whole thing as the mighty Grand General Madoc had to come to squash a bug for her. He helped her down from the table while eyeing the nub on her left hand, chuckling, ‘You can lose a finger and not say a word but you can’t squash a bug, my dear?’ She had laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek then asked if he was going to dip his cap into its guts to claim his kill. The whole family laughed together, Vivi had to wipe tears from her eyes. Once they were done laughing till their stomachs ached they had made their way to dinner. For a beautiful moment, they were all able to pretend that they were a normal family.

It was one of her fondest memories in fairyland; her heart squeezed at the warmth it brought her.

Jude started, wondering why she had even thought of it. The memory brought joy but always ended bitterly when she remembers why they will never be a normal family. She wasn’t one for nostalgia; more often than not it brought her nothing but pain and heartache. The stars must truly be in a foul mood tonight to make her remember.

She reached her riding toad, and pets the creature fondly; it was far more her speed than any horse would ever be. Jude had no problem riding one of these. Even when their large leaps and bounds were, by all means, more frightening than the steady trot of a horse. Jude would actually argue that riding one was thrilling, the terror making it all the more terrific. The toads did not frighten her… but horses still did.

All because of that one time when she was seven and her family had taken a road trip to a ranch…

Memories from the trip threatened to bubble up and consume her and Jude tried to force them down. She didn’t want to think of how her late parents had comforted and fussed over her after she fell. She didn’t want to think about all the fun her family had had, or how she and Taryn had counted how many cows they saw out the window to make the drive go by faster, or how Vivi came up with backstories for the cows while their parents chimed in. That time of her life hurt too much to think of.

Jude felt her throat constrict and her eyes sting.

“Ahhhgg!’ Jude screamed at herself. Why did the stars hate her? Why must they make her think back on all of these painful memories?

Jude slapped herself hard. Her ears ringing from the blow. She furiously wiped the hot tears that had fallen, telling herself that she didn’t need the memories, that they made her weak.

Jude was not one for nostalgia. She never would be. With her heart locked back in its armor she mounted her riding toad and kicked it to a start.

The toad leaps through the woods, over boulders and dodging trees with grace and ease. Jude, however, gets jostled and knocked around from its back, far less grace being felt as the rider.

As they raced towards the spy’s keep, Jude distracts herself from her past with the knowledge she gleaned from the mission. One thought chiming in time with her heartbeat.

Magic, Magic, Magic.

Maybe Jude could be more than a mortal, or swords master, or a spy…

Maybe she could be magic.

Maybe she could be a witch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cardan bends down and picks up the peculiar object from the floor. It was one of the mortal things that had fallen from Jude’s pocket. The label read, ‘colored contacts: yellow.’

“Sooo,” Darnal drawled at him from where he had locked Cardan in his chambers, “what did I miss while I left the two of you alone? Clearly some good came of my meddling”

Cardan gave him a look. Did he really think Cardan would fill him in after what he did?

Cardan turned his back on him, tucking the mortal object into the pocket of his riding cloak. Perhaps he would use it as an excuse to speak to her tomorrow at school. He heaved a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t. She would probably stab him if he tried to, or she would tell everyone what happened.

‘How will Balekin react to you sullying yourself with a lowly mortal like me,’ she spat at him. Cardan didn’t want to think about it. He wondered if Balekin would move past threats and actually cut off his tail for it. He felt it wrap around him in comfort, now freed from his pants since Jude was gone.

Darnal heaved a sigh and spoke once more, his face moving to a door closer to Cardan’s field of vision, “You know why I helped her escape, Cardan. I had to after I heard you speak of witchcraft.”

Cardan knew this. He knew why Darnal was cursed to guard the manor.

“There was a time when no one turned their head up about caring for mortals you know. It is not a bad thing to care for her,” Daral continued when Cardan said nothing.

“That time has long past my friend,” Cardan said. The door was his friend Cardan thought. Probably his only genuine one, but the doorknocker only stayed and treated him kindly because he was trapped in Cardan’s home. He didn’t doubt that Darnal would want nothing to do with him if he was free from his bonds. Cardan sighed thinking of the course of events that had taken place five centuries prior that led to his entrapment.

“I’m sorry about your lost love,” Cardan said as he made his way under his covers.

Darnal’s dead lover was the reason that mortals were no longer welcome among the folk. She was the reason that the age of witches belonged to the past…

Truthfully, Balekin was more to blame than anyone else. But the victors were the ones who tell the stories, not their victims.

“She looks like my Elith, your Jude,” Darnal says quietly, Cardan can hear the heartache in his voice that hadn’t diminished in more than 500 years, “She has the same fire in her that Eli did,”

“Does it pain you to see us together then?” Cardan asked, knowing how he and Balekin resembled one another.

“Some,” Darnal admits. After a beat, he adds, “but not much. I like to think you would care for her better than Balekin cared for his wife. You are far better than your brother, Cardan.”

The words bring comfort but not much. The prophecy from his birth says that he will be far worse than Balekin.

“Good day, my door,” Cardan says after a long pause, closing his eyes to get a few hours of rest before school, his stone heart heavy in his chest.

“Sleep well, my prince,” was the last thing Cardan heard before he drifted away.

Ao3

Previous ch 3

#jurdan fanfic #jurdan #my writing #tfota fanfic #tfota

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linkspooky · 4 years

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Frankenstein and the Monster

So there is loads of speculation on a connection between Dabi and Frankenstein’s monster. There are several people who have already commented on it, here, here, and even here. (These are all the ones I could dig up recently). Frankenstein is a novel that can be read in many ways, but I believe the themes of the novel parallels and helps illustrate the relationship between Ujiko, Endeavor and Dabi.

1. Endeavor and Victor Frankenstein

To very briefly touch upon the novel for those who haven’t read it, there are several differences between Boris Karloff’s movie depiction and the original novel. In the novel the creature is intelligent, well spoken, and a reflection of the Doctor Frankenstein himself. To summarize quickly, Frankenstein a very dramatic undergrad student discovers the secret to reviving the dead, uses that to create a monster, then upon seeing how ugly it is flees. The monster grows up in isolation, is spurned by every human he comes across, and then returns to his master and says he will kill everyone the Doctor Loves unless he creates him a mate. Frankenstein destroys the mate, and then the monster destroys his wife to be on the night of their wedding then they chase each other around in the arctic until both of them die. If that wasn’t a sufficient enough summary, this crash course video is a good writeup of the book and it’s themes.

Frankenstein has a lot to say about science and treading in god’s domain, but it’s also written by a woman who was a teenager at the time (Mary Shelley) who existed in a soical circle of adult men who were much older than her. Just as much as it’s a novel about mad science gone wrong, there are strong themes of feminism, parenthood, and abuse intertwined in the novel.

Another popular reading is to interpret “Frankenstein” autobigraophically, a reading that was encouraged via 1970s feminist criticism of the novel. Earlier readings along those lines centered Frankenstein as a tale of monstrous birth and look to Mary Shelley’s own experiences with birth, which were pretty terrible.

Mary Shelley’s mother died when giving birth to her, and Mary and Shelley’s own first child, a daughter, died when she was just a few weeks old. And in her journal Mary recounted an incredibly sad dream about this daughter. “Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold and that we rubbed it before the fire and lived.” [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

This is just some background information to add context to your reading. Percey Shelley first met Mary when she was 14, and eloped with her when she was 16 and already pregnant with his child (he was around 24 at the time). Not only that but Percey was married at the time when he eloped with Mary, and his wirst wife did not take it well.

Harriet (Westbrook) Shelley was Percy Shelley's first wife. While he was still married to her, he ran off with Mary Shelley, leaving Harriet pregnant and alone with their first child. She committed suicide on November 9, 1816 by drowning herself in Serpentine. [x]

As I said these details are all to add context to Mary Shelley’s life while she was writing Frankenstein. A book in which most of the female characters are severely mistreated and harmed.

There are some pretty feminist critiques to Frankenstein. For instance, the novel clearly shows what harm comes to women (and family and relationships) when men pursue single-minded goals. In fact thanks to Victor’s lack of work life balance pretty much all of the women in this novel die. Victor’s creation of the monster leads to the hanging of the servant Justine the murder of Victor’s bride Elizabeth on their wedding night. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

To put it as frankly as possible (Haha, get it because frankenstein) there are several points in the novel in which both Victor and Frankenstein act like fuckboys.

You could easily read the story as one of male entitlement. Victor in the first place, deliberately refers to his bride to be Elizabeth as a possession and says it as a term of affection.

And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

His actions towards Elizabeth in the novel are also, extremely neglectful. Elizabeth spends the novel passively waiting for him to return and marry her, but Victor has a habit of disappearing from her life for long periods at a time with no contact at all in pursuit of his endeavors. (Get it because I’m comparing Victor to Endeavor).

Elizabeth is someone he feels entitled to own, and entitled to her love (he literally thinks his parents gave him to her) and yet Victor never takes responsibility for Elizabeth and her feelings too wrapped up in his own. When Elizabeth is grieving for the losses of her family, Victor has a tendency to leave her alone to go off to sulk on his own. Elizabeth even pleads multiple times for Victor to come home, to offer some support for the rest of the family with his mere presence and Victor delays these returns home as long as possible.

“Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. Your father’s health is vigorous, and he asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.

This treatment also extends to the rest of Victor’s family, who are people he seriously neglects throughout the novel, and also people who are the direct sufferers of the consequences of his actions. His youngest brother is killed, the maid is framed for the murder, Elizabeth dies on the wedding night, Clerval his closest friend is killed, and his father dies soon afterwards of old age / implied grief.

The monster who Victor creates is also a reflection of him. After knowing the suffering it is to be created as a creature with no family, and no place of belonging he then instructs Victor to make him a woman. A woman that will have no choice but to love him because they will be the only two alone in the world. The monster, also feels entitled to feminine love because he is lonely, with no thought to whether or not the second monster might have feelings, opinions or her own, or might not even like him.

“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.”

The recurring theme is this: a sense of male entitlement, without a sense of responsibility. What do I mean by Male Entitlement?

Male entitlement is a product of traditional societal norms. It is cultivated in men as they join a society which usually favors them over the other genders in their careers, relationships, character-standing, and more. There’s more on it here, and the role of male entitlement in abuse.

Male entitlement is an attitude where men believe they are entitled to power over others, and/ or ownership of the women and children in their lives. Victor calls Elizabeth a possession given to him, and neglects her throughout most of the book. The monster believes he deserves to have a woman to love him. It’s not masculinity. Masculinity is just masculinity. It’s the belief that they are entitled to power or ownership over others simply because they are men born in a society that favors men. Male entitlement can show up in say, a father who believes he is entitled to the love of his children despite never doing any of the actual work of childrearing and pushing it all on the mother. Believing they deserved to be loved simply for being a father, while being absolutely absent for their lives. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKENSTEIN.

So, a lot of people interpret Frankenstein as a story of ambition gone wrong, but that interpretation feels like it’s missing something if you don’t include the feminist angle. Frankenstein when doing his mad scientist undergrad bit speculates how he would be a father of a new species. It is specifically, fatherhood accomplished without a mother. That this new species would owe him love.

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me.

An undeniable part of Victor’s motivation is that as the sole creator the child would owe him all of their love. I mean to once again connect this to abuse narratives how many real life parents believe their children have to love them no matter how poorly they treat them?

No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs.

Victor in the novel wants not only fatherhood, but also motherhood. He wants to create life which in victorian society at the time is the role of the woman. And yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to do any of the actual work of motherhood and the roles typically described to women.

We can read the novel as an exploration of what happens when men fear, distrust, or devalue women so much that they attempt to reeproduce without them. In some ways Victor is trying to bypass the feminine altogether. He’s creating life without recourse to egg or womb. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

Victor creates, and then proceeds to take no responsibility for his creation. He abandons the child for the most shallow of reasons (because it was ugly and looked scary), then leaves a sentient, thinking creature with no idea who it was, or why it was alive in the middle of the mountains hoping it starves to death on his own so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber.

Victor is the creatures parent, but takes no responsibility as a parent for raising the creature. In fact the child is punished when they are still an innocent, just for not turning out the way their creator intended.

Frankenstein is a novel which portrays consistently men who aspire to greatness as described in their society (scientific invention, and in the framing device arctic exploration) but who consistently fail everyone in their lives at the most basic levels. In other words as Lizzo said, “Why men great, till they gotta be great.”

This is where the fire comes in. The original post talks about dichotomy of fire as something that both helps and harms. Fire is a symbol in this book that can be read two different ways, and I think special context should be given to the subtitle of the story. “The Modern Prometheus”, a story which in classical times is a story of hubris where Prometheus steals fire from the heavens and is punished for it. Hubris in the classical greek sense means that a human acting like they know better than the gods. However, the story has a different interpretation in the Romantic / Enlightenment era where Prometheus is seen as a heroic figure stealing fire away from the gods to give knowledge to mankind.

Fire in the book represents both. Victor is someone who has hubris, he assumes he’s a father who deserves the love of a child and sole responsbility for the creation of another being (effectively making him god), but abandons the creature literally five minutes after finishing him and makes no real attempt to take any effort in raising what is effectively his child. It’s also a story about Victor having ambitions to be great, and to do what no man has done before him. I don’t think the story emphasizes that ambitions are bad, but rather the dual nature of ambition as something like fire, something that can either warm or harm.

He came upon a fire “which had been left” by humans (Vol. II, Ch. III), so a human tool left in nature. He was “overcome with delight” and joy, but touching it brought him pain. “How strange, [he thinks], that the same cause could produce such opposite effects!” He has learned the dichotomy of flame – to save and to hurt. [x]

Okay, now that we’re done witht hat extremely long essay on an english novel let’s actually talk about the manga where a goth stuck in his rebellious teenage phase tries to light his dad on fire.

I’m going to be comparing the novel to Dabi and Endeavor in two aspects.

Male entitlement, believing you deserve the love of a child without acting responsibly as a father.

Fire, ambition as something that both helps and burns.

Victor and Endeavor both are characters that decide to create children for very self serving reasons, and treat their families for the majority of their lives as tools to their own ambition. Endeavor wants a child that will carry out his ambitions for him, that he can live vicariously through. It’s not even an interpretation it’s directly stated text.

Endeavor’s mad science also literally has him treat the woman in his life as tools to use for his own amibition. He fores a marriage on a woman to use her as an unwilling accessory to his eugenics project.

It is not specifically a story of ambition got wrong, it’s also a story of neglect and abuse of all the women in his life. Endeavor’s ambitions all center around personal greatness for him. Shoto will prove his worth as a hero, as a mentor to him, as a great father. The fact that his motives are entirely selfish, (Endeavor is not focused on being the best hero he can be, but rather his own desire to be the strongest) is something that has an affect on his family and children.

Fuyumi, Touya, and Natsuo are literally afterthoughts to Endeavor despite being just as much his children as Shoto. He literally only thinks of Rei in the context of “I needed her to give me a family.” Not only that but he’s also an extremely bad father to the one child that he does take an active role in trying to parent, acting extremely controlling towards Shoto and getting extremely angry whenever Shoto did anything that was outside of Endeavor’s wishes for Shoto to fulfill his ambitions.

Endeavor just like Victor, inspires to greatness as a man and wants the signifiers of that as held up by society, accomplishment (Endeavor wants to be the number one rank even though he technically has far more resolved cases than All Might and the rank is literally just a number), family, and recognition despite having done none of the work. Once again why men great till they gotta be great. At the start of his arc, Endeavor feels entitled to Shoto’s love and obedience, and a role in his life, despite the fact that he’s hideously abused him for most of his life.

Endeavor like Victor, also abandons several children for failing to meet his expectations.

Part of Natsuo’s problem with Endeavor has exactly to do this sense of entitlement, Endeavor practically abandons his kids until they’re in their early twenties to the point where he wasn’t involved in their lives at all (and also separated them from their mother). Remember another point of the book is that Victor wants sole parenthood, to create life without involvement of a woman.

Endeavor does the exact same thing. He separates the children from their mother. Then while he is the only parent left in the household and effectively responsible for all of his children, he neglects most of them and completely fails to raise them.

It’s implied besides trying to teach Shoto to use his quirk, he’s literally pushed all of the housework, and actual parenting you know, labor that is involved in raising a child onto Fuyumi. Fuyumi has cooked most of Shoto’s meals, it’s Fuyumi who attends his school conference in the novels. Endeavor has effectively committed the same crime as Victor, creating life and then running away from it by failing to act in any way as the father to his own children. His sense of entitlement shows in his actions and the way he treats the people around him in his life, he uses them for his own ambitions and they get burned.

Endeavor is someone who has used all of the women in his life for his ambitions. Think Fuyumi, she grew up desperately wanting a family while having effectively no father and all contact cut off from her mother, and also had to take care of household chores and responsibility for both of her younger brothers. Think Rei, who has literally been institutionalized for ten years, and trauma from her experiences that haunts her to this day. Natsuo is someone who has no father, almost no relationship with his younger brother, and is still mourning his other dead brother. Shoto evens tates directly, he views Endeavor as someone to learn how to use his quirk from but hasn’t viewed him once as a father. Endeavor’s never been present as a father in Shoto’s life, despite controlling most of it and giving him all of the attention. He had ambition to pass his quirk from father to son, but never actually acted as a father.

Endeavor’s treatment of his family, and his reflection for his past actions is also shown using this metaphor for fire. All Might’s ambition to become the strongest hero for the sake of a more peaceful society, is also represented by fire. Especially a flame that he passes from one person to the next, that Nana passed to him, and he passed to Deku.

Endeavor is almost always associated with the more violent aspect of fire, when he thinks of the harm he’s done to his family it’s always juxtaposed to the fire on his face.

(The right side fire, the left side Rei’s suffering face.)

Whereas the more gentle associations with fire are almost made with Shoto. Once again the novel of Frankenstein doesn’t decry ambition, it merely explores the consequences of ambitions that were extremely self-interested from the start. Endeavor only wanted to be strong for his own sake. Shoto who wanted to become a hero like All Might who would never make his mother cry, and All Might who wanted to create a safer society are people with strong ambitions that are associated with gentler flames.

2. Dabi and Frankenstein’s Monster

Sins of the Father or Sins of the Fathers derives from biblical references primarily in the books Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers to the sins or iniquities of one generation passing to another. Basically what it means is its a narrative trope where children are punished or suffer consequences for the action of their fathers. It can also mean that children inevitably reflect what their fathers have done to them, and even resemble their fathers.

Everything the monster does is a reflection of Frankentstein’s actions. Everything Dabi does is both a consequence and a reflection of Endeavor’s actions. They are both written as sons to be narrative foils to their creator. If anything Dabi is even more of a frankenstein’s monster than Shoto, because a key element to the narrative is that Frankenstein was abandoned for not being perfect according to his creator’s wishes, he was punished for a defect.

Touya just like frankenstein is a defective creation. One who suffers all of the consequences for what are his father’s sins. Endeavor deliberately took risks with his eugenics experiment that the child might have a quirk not compatible with their body, but it’s the child and not the parent who suffers all of the consequences. Toya literally died - whether he faked his death or not has yet to be revealed but he lost his home and family at a young age, spent most of his life homeless, and has to continually make use of a quirk that burns his entire body. Whether he wants them or not, his father’s sins are pushed onto Dabi.

The flame that Endeavor is so keen on passing to his children, has literally permanently disabled Dabi, and will negatively effect him for the rest of his life. Consequences that Endeavor ought to suffer are passed onto Dabi instead. Dabi is burned by Endeavor’s actions towards him.

This is once again something deliberately brought up by the book Frankenstein. The doctor creates life, takes absolutely no responsibility and leaves his creature to starve to death in the wilderness, and then the first time they meet again calls upon his creation to die.

“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?

The decision to create life irresponsibly was Victor’s, but the person who suffers the brunt end of the consequences is not Victor, but rather the creature itself who just like Dabi has no home, and is constistently hurt by the environment around him.

Dabi is also a symbol of the worst possible aspects of Endeavor’s ambitions.

To compare Victor and the monster briefly. Victor

Has family / friends

Home / Money / Wealth

Arrogant / Well Educated

Self-Destructive

A tool

The Monster

Abandoned

Ignorant (at first)

Homeless

A tool, but a more sympathetic one.

As you can see they are societally complete opposites. This can be said for Endeavor as well, he still gets to keep his family, his place in society despite what he’s done, he’s wealthy, succesful and well-liked in his community. Dabi is permanently disabled because of something his father did, is legally dead, homeless, separated from his family, and is a villain.

While they are completely opposite in status, the monster and Victor are eerily similiar. They are both highly intelligent people who carry a strong ambition within them. The Monster basically learns speech, and reading all on his own, and as soon as he can be becomes as well-read as possible.

Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch’s Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

The monster also shares several of his father’s sin. He repeats the sins that have been done on to him, in the name of vengeance. Frankenstein’s claim is that he was hurt when he was still an innocent, punished before he had done anything wrong, but he also does the exact same thing to VIctor’s youngest brother killing him when he was just a child.

Victor’s worst sin by far is selfish entitlement, forgetting to consider the feelings of his creation. Yet, the monster knowing how much he suffered by just being created in a world where there’s no one else like him also demands Victor create another creature. This is out of his own personal sense of entitlement, he believes he’s entitled to have someone love him, and if he had this he would be a good person again.

He believes quite literally he deserves an Eve to share his loneliness in. His own personal feelings of grief and hurt matter more than those of: one the people he kills, and two a potential woman who would be created only to love him.

But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

The monster also feels entitled to punish Frankenstein, but in this reccuring sins of the fathers he punishes people who are completely innocent of the crime that Frankenstein did to him and have nothing to do with his creation, just to get back at Frankenstein. Including, an innocent boy, a maid who he framed for murder, Frankenstein’s friend, and also Elizabeth.

Dabi inevitably reflects his father and the environment he was raised in, and resembles him. Dabi who was raised by a quirk supremacist and thrown out because his quirk wasn’t good enough, kills people he doesn’t find worthy. Dabi’s methods are almost entirely based around his his individual strength because he was raised to believe that was the only good part of him. The same way Dabi was thrown out like burnable trash for failing to live up to his standards, Dabi will enact harsh vigilante justice and kill minor crimminals and heroes who fail to live up to his justice.

Just like for the monster’s actions in punishing Victor, Dabi is called to consider the feelings of family’s of the people he kills. He is also punishing people completely unrelated to what happened to him, in his efforts to hold his father accountable.

Dabi reflects his father, and quirk society the same things that burned him. He continually believes he has to be the strongest individually, accomplish everything on his own, and spurn others around him. Even those who try to make genuine connections with him like the league of villains. Dabi believes that the world has to be changed with the strength of ambitions of a single person, and his ambitions are far more important than the sense of family within the league.

Dabi effectively distances himself from two families, the found family of the league, and also his original biological family. Think about how much it might save Natsuo to lean that his brother is still alive. Shoto at least, doesn’t want to see his father roasted alive on live television.

Dabi’s ambitions are as self destructive as his fathers, as he only knows how to fight by completely burning his body up. He harms himself over and over again by using his quirk to try to change things.

3. Endeavor and Ujiko

The book ultimately poses the question who is responsible for the actions of the monster, Frankenstein or the Monster itself. However, I think an element missed in a lot of analysis is that the mosnter accepts that most of what he has done is wrong, he just wants people to be held equally accountable for their actions.

“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic who sought to destroy the saviour of his child?

The monster’s problem is not that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but rather that he’s the only one whose ever held accountable for his actions. The Monster also spends most of the narrative being treated as a monster, whereas Frankenstein faces no real consequences for what he’s done from the people around him, never loses his standing in society, never is cast out for his wrongs. Frankenstein continually avoids any and all responsibility towards the monster up until his death, and only takes responsibility in violently trying to kill his creation.

There are also oppurtunities for Frankenstein to take responsibility, which he chooses not to do anything. An innocent maid is about to be executed for a crime that Frankenstein knows she did not commit, and instead of trying to help her by explaining to everyone his creation of the creature, and also that the creature is likely responsible for the murder he says nothing. While not responsible for the women’s death, he is culpable in that he could have taken action to save her but didn’t.

Franketnstein’s actions are again and again always to run away from the monster and avoid responsibility. From the beginning he runs away from the monster due to it simply being ugly. Both the monster (and also Toya) were punished when they were innocent children who had not committed any kind of crime, by the person who was responsible for raising them, educating them, and giving them everything they needed to become happy adults.

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

While Frankenstein and the Monster both entitled, their reasons for entitlement come from entirely different places. Frankenstein’s comes from his own arrogance, believing that he’s destined to do great things, and be a man of status and accomplishment. Why men great till they gotta be great.

The monster believes he’s entitled to a family, because his father abandoned him, and he’s been homeless most of his life. The monster is violent, but only after he’s endured violence from people several times over. The monster is ultimately a victim of circumstance, and Frankenstein is the one who created that circumstance.

Considering Frankenstein and the monster are foils, there’s a reason that Frankenstein fears and abhors the monster before it’s even awake. It’s because the monster reflects the ugliness of his own actions. The ugliness in himself that he is completely unable to face. He is a negative character foil in a character sense, and a shadow created by Frankenstein’s actions.

The monster shows Victor what he is, selfish, entitled, and violent. Victor can’t ever confront the monster, because he can never confront those flaws within himself.

Dabi is a reflection of Endeavor’s violent, abusive nature. He is also the direct consequence of all of Endeavor’s actions. So the question is, has Endeavor confronted the monstrous side of his actions? The answer is most likely no, because despite doing things as bad as any villain in the story he still views himself as the hero.

Shoto even tells us directly. Endeavor the hero and Endeavor the father are so different they’re almost like two different people. Endeavor continuing to be a hero on the television and coming home to his family is not taking repsonsibility for his actions, not truly, because he still hasn’t accepted the worst of what he’s done.

In the narrative Endeavor currently feels guilt, and also a desire to atone but we’re also told again and again that atoning means taking responsibility and carrying everything. No building a house where his family doesn’t have to be around him and taking steps to distance himself isn’t taking full resposnibility because Dabi is still running around. Dabi is the embodiment of the absolute worst of Endeavor’s actions, the toxic environment that literally killed Toya, burned Shoto, and hospitalized Rei. I would say Endeavor still hans’t seen the worst of his actions because he still views himself as the hero, just the hero who has made mistakes. We’re shown this in foiling, the same way Fankenstein rejects the monster, Endeavor doesn’t recognize Dabi even though he is literally his own son.

The strongest evidence of this is Endeavor and Ujiko’s foiling. They are two characters who have a lot in common, they both used children as experiments in their attempts to create stronger quirks including their own family members (Ujiko experimented on his own nephew).

They’re both men of incredible wealth and status in society, who have deliberately used their status to cover up their cimes. Endeavor used his status to hospitalize his wife for years, he used his status to marry her in the first place, Ujiko uses all of his money and resources to find people to experiment on, and deliberately takes advantage of people in need by using his orphanage and hospitals to farm for materials to make his Nomus with.

They’re both motivated by their own personal ambitions. They also feel entitled, Ujiko’s specific issue is that the scientific community failed to give him the respect and funding for his research that he thought he was owed.

The source of Endeavor’s pain is that no matter how hard he works he’ll never become the strongest. The source of Ujiko’s pain is that nobody recognizes his work and achievements in his scientific community. They both want their hard work to turn into achievement, for their efforts to pay off, which again is not a bad thing until they get angry when they’re not given what they think they’re owed.

Ujiko and Endeavor both become so desperate to accomplish their ambitions that they manipulate people to become tools to fulfill their ambitions for them. Shoto has to carry on his legacy, and learn to use his flame side like Endeavor always wanted. They both create children that they are technically the parent of, but don’t act as fathers. Endeavor is responsible for Fuyumi, Natsuo, Touya, and Todoroki but fails to live up to that responsibility. Ujiko creates the Nomu, which just like the monster in Frankenstein are new life created from the corpses of other people, and then just uses them and disposes them as tools.

Ujiko even utters a line that is incredibly similiar to Endeavor in the regards to the way they treat Shigaraki and Shoto.

However how does Endeavor react to Ujiko? Does he understand the harm that he’s done in a new light? No, he falls back on his hero narrative. I am the hero, and Ujiko is the utlimate evil.

Endeavor so far, like Frankenstein, fails to truly confront the monster. Even when he finally realizes the destructive nature of his desire to be stronger than anyone else when he fights the Nomu, his response is to burn it alive. What is Endeavor’s response? To play hero, and defeat a villain.

The thing about jungian shadow arcs is that you don’t destroy your shadow, you reintegrated it. Endeavor can’t symbolically murder his past self because that won’t make his past actions go away, he can only accept them. The question now is: will he do the same thing to Dabi?

When confronted with who Dabi is and his role in creating Dabi, what will Endeavor’s choice be? Is he going to play the hero, and destroy the villain he sees in front of him. The same way he did with the Nomu, the same way he did with Ujiko, the same way he’s trying to do with Shigaraki (who is, you know a heavy parallel to his own son Toya, and another abused child).

Will Endeavor act as a hero, or the remorseful father he also is? That choice is utlimately what Endeavor’s entire character is written around, does he want to finally be a father or does he want to keep being endeavor the hero? What is more important to him his own ambitions as a hero, or the people he’s harmed?

Just like Victor, Endeavor’s entire arc revolves around Dabi. He is a hero directly responsible for the creation of a villain. Dabi would not exist if it were not for Endeavor’s direct actions. Not only that but his future will be determined by how he chooses to interact with Dabi once he knows the truth. Endeavor cannot truly take responsibility until he takes responsibility for Dabi.

#mha meta #mha dabi #dabi is touya #dabi #enji todoroki #endeavor #frankenstein #mary shelley's frankenstein #Sometimes you gotta wake up in the morning and decide to spend your entire day writing an incredibly long essay about classic literature

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement pt4

“I think we’re lost.” “We’re not lost..” “If you give me ‘we’re misguided ‘ as a response one more time, I’m going to ‘misguide’ my foot up your arse.” You said. Aragorn pondered for a moment, debating on if he wanted to mess with you and tell you that again. “...Alright, fine, We’re lost.” He said. “Great. Give me a moment to get us back on track then.” you said, sitting down.

Your ability to “hear and listen” to nature was stronger now. Arwen pointed that out to Aragorn the last time he found himself in Rivendell. When asked “What do you mean by stronger?” Arwen explained that when elves “listen” to nature, it is quiet and barely audible, usually requiring some form of silence to really hear. Most elves hear whispers. You, for some reason as of late, were hearing full voices. Something was making your connection to nature stronger, amplifying it. Aragorn had no idea what it was though, and that alone confused him.

The answer was being kept from him. Two years had gone by now, since the two started traveling. One year had gone by since you came to the realization that you were in love with the man. You made a choice, one that would probably worry Aragorn if he knew. You gave up your immortality. Why this was amplifying your ability to speak to nature and listen, was odd. When elves die, they can be reborn, it’s what makes them immortal. However since you made the decision to sever such a connection, if you died, you would rejoin the earth, thus making your connection to the earth stronger. Elrond and Arwen both heavily discouraged you from your decision to do this but there was no stopping you.

“We need to go east.” you said, getting up and walking. “Alright.” He nodded, waiting for you to take the lead. You guided him and you to the roads, finally making your way to Bree. You walked through the woods, closing your eyes and just listening. Aragorn noticed you seemed at peace, the sun shining on your beautiful skin. You were more quiet as of late. It was odd to have this sudden lack of silence during your travels. When it first started occurring, Aragorn thought he did something to make you upset. When he asked why you were so quiet, you simply told him “I have a lot on my mind. Listening to nature helps with the overthinking.” And just continued in silence. You seemed to get lost in thought more and more lately.

It didn’t take long to make it to the Prancing Pony, a place where both of you had been so many times that the inn keeper kept a room with two beds on standby. You walked in, Barliman looking up. “Elfie!” He said excitedly. A nickname given to you by the inn keeper. At first it annoyed you, now it’s more of a endearing nickname. “Evening, Barli.” you said with a smile. Aragorn smiled at you. “The room’s already prepared.” He said to Aragorn. “Thank you.” He nodded. You handed Barliman two rabbits that you had caught and he nodded as a thank you, handing you shillings. You handed them to Aragorn seeing as you didn't find use of them, who took them with a small smile

Aragorn and you walked into your room, you sitting by the window and fiddling with your necklace, the silver emblem having that glow. It was the only sign on you that you were royalty seeing as you never wore your circlet outside of Rivendell. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Aragorn asked, sitting across from you. You looked at him and then out the window. “Something is going on.” you said. “What do you mean?” He asked. “I keep hearing... Orcs. The trees keep talking of Orcs.” You said looking at him. “Orcs are never a good sign.” Aragorn said. “Something is happening. I don’t know what it is but there is something happening.” You said. Aragorn noticed your worried eyes. “Y/n... Do you wish to return home now? We could make it back in the morning if we leave now.” Aragorn asked. You shook your head. “No... You need your rest, I’m sure I’m just overthinking this.” you said softly. He noticed the hidden anxieties behind your eyes but nodded slowly. “Alright.” He said.

You weren’t over thinking this. It was around two in the morning when the trees kicked into full swing of trying to alert you.

Attack. Brothers. Danger. Rivendell.

You shifted in your sleep, immediately waking Aragorn. You were so still when you slept, the room was usually silent. This was unusual for you to be moving, even slightly. He watched you, seeing your sleeping figure, still after a little bit.

Brothers. Danger. Attack. Rivendell.

Again, those words, but a different order. What did it mean? Nature was trying to alert you, but you didn't know why. The message became clearer as you listened.

Your brothers are in danger. Attack near Rivendell.

You bolted up with a gasp, Aragorn leaning up. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” He asked. “The orcs are on a route to Rivendell-- my brothers are in danger.” you said, a panicked look falling over you. He got up, sliding his boots on. “We will make it.” He assured. You nodded, grabbing your pack. You ran down the stairs, Aragorn running with you as you sprinted to your horses.

You were terrified as you rode, not saying a word outside of prayer, praying to any divine being that your family was safe. You rode through the woods, listening to the trees for context.

Sister.

Arwen was trying to communicate. “Nimeár- mime seler ni'm símen. “ You whispered, your voice traveling through the leaves as you rode. Aragorn rode next to you, watching your eyes. You would close them, clearly communing with nature as you rode. You rode quickly, trying to find one of your brothers on the outskirts of Rivendell. “ Which otorno? Where na- so?” You whispered. The direction of the breeze changed and you immediately got off your horse, sprinting in the direction. Aragorn followed, you finding no sign of your brothers. “Fucking hell-- where are they?” you said, panic rising in your voice. “HALT!” A voice yelled. “Who are-- Aragorn?” Elladan stopped. You let out a relieved sigh. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Orcs are coming, where is Elrohir?” You asked. “Here!” Elrohir said, making you turn. “We made it.” you said relieved. “We need to alert father of a potential attack.” Elrohir said. “I’m not letting you go on your own.” you said. “We can’t leave the outside unguarded, what do you suggest we do?” Elladan asked. “Aragorn stay with Elladan--" "Aragorn?" Elladan asked, recognition of the name and face suddenly hitting both of your brothers. "I’ll go with Elrohir.” You said, disregarding their amazement to the man. “Y/n--” You looked at Aragorn with a pleading look. “Stay safe.” He said.

You ran through the woods, sprinting next to your brother. “Have a good time on your trip?” Elrohir asked as you ran. “I always do.” you muttered. You looked behind you and frowned. “They’re here!” you said. An arrow whizzed past your head. “They’re dividing and conquering.” Elrohir noticed as small groups seemed to split up. You ran through the gates, booking it to the library. “We’re under attack.” You said. Elrond put his book down and Arwen looked up. “What?” He asked.

He will fall.

Your head turned. “Get the soldiers. NOW!” you said before running. Elrohir rallied the soldiers as they all charged, you running as fast as you could back to Elladan and Aragorn. You fought your way through orcs to see Aragorn and Elladan fighting off the creatures. Aragorn looked over, you cutting someone down next to him. “The soldiers are doing their jobs, we should try to make it back to the city.” Elladan yelled as he cut down a orc. You nodded, trying to guide the group to safety.

An arrow whizzed through the air, hitting Aragorn in the chest, along with another hitting his leg. sound drowning out. “ARAGORN!” you screamed with a terrified look. You ran to him, blocking any attacks as he fell. You removed the arrows, looking him in the eyes. He seemed to struggle to even form words in the moment. "I-I--" he coughed. "I-I'm sorry." He muttered, his vision getting hazy. He seemed almost delirious in his words. “We need to get him home Y/n, there’s nothing we can do here!” Elladan said, you whistling loudly and Elrohir rode over. “What happened?” He asked, Elladan lifting Aragorn slightly. “It- it was-- it was an arrow, it hit him-- It’s bad Elrohir.” you said. Elrohir dismounted the horse. “Take him, we will fight here.” Elrohir said. “But--” “Go!” He said. You pulled Aragorn up, him leaning against you.

His consciousness was fading too quickly, you riding at full speed. You rode through the square, Aragorn muttering incoherently “Stay with me Aragorn...” you whispered as you reached the medical wing. Medics rushed and Arwen ran over. “What happened?” she asked. You seemed to be in a state of shock, shaking as the medics took him, running with him on a transportable cot. She frowned, looking at the blood on your cloak and then watching medics run all over the place. “The-the men need me-- I-I should--” “Y/n, they will be fine without you.” She said softly, putting a soothing hand on your shoulder. “His face... I can’t stop thinking of his face when he was shot.” you whispered. “Y/n...” “He looked like he had seen death.” you said softly. Arwen sat you down on a bench, kneeling in front of you. “I can’t lose him Arwen-- not when he doesn’t know..” You whimpered. “Know what dear?” she asked. “That I...” you put your face in your hands and Arwen wrapped her arms around you. "What-what I've done... What I've sacrificed..." You muttered in your hands, tears falling. "What I feel." You whimpered. Arwen pulled you to her, resting her head on yours as you sobbed.

Hours went by as the soldiers returned. There was a clear victor as your brothers both found you asleep on the bench, your cloak as a blanket with your head resting on Arwen’s lap. “How is he?” Elladan asked. “It doesn’t look good.” She whispered. “He’s been unconscious for a while, they’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.” She explained. Elrohir caressed your head, closing his eyes. “She will kill herself thinking about this...” He muttered. Arwen knew that those words could be more literal now that you gave up your immortality. She and Elrond were the only ones who knew. You were exhausted when you came with Aragorn which was already a horrible sign. Elves do not feel exhaustion. If we’re being honest, they don’t need sleep and usually use it as a tool for foresight. It was most likely that your brothers assumed you were seeking answers through sleep. Arwen knew better though. You were already hurting from a broken heart.

“How are the soldiers?” Elrond asked, walking over. “They’re fine. A few injured, none dead thanks to her warning...” Elrohir assured. “And Aragorn?” He asked Arwen. She looked at you and then Elrond. “It... Does not look good.” she said. “How long has she been like this?” Elrond asked. “Two hours.” she admitted. Elrond hated seeing you in this pain, seeing you heartbroken. “...Fenrald!” He called. An elven man ran over. “Yes sire?” He asked. “Send for Legolas.” Elrond said. The man nodded, running off. “Why Legolas?” Elladan asked. “She needs her friend.” Elrond said softly, looking at your tear stained sleeping face.

More hours passed, Legolas arriving. He found you still asleep on the bench. Arwen had left you there, knowing damn well you wouldn’t move from the closest available location to Aragorn. Legolas kneeled, tapping you gently. Your eyes slowly opened and you leaned up. “Legolas?” You asked. “Your father said you needed me.” He said. You hugged his neck and something just... It broke you. Legolas held you close, rubbing your back in a soothing manner. “I-I failed him Legolas-- If he dies I--” “Y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Legolas said. “I-If I hadn’t been so persistent to-to come back, he would be fine” You whimpered. “and how many soldiers would’ve died had you not come back to warn them?” He asked. You nodded sadly, understanding he was right. “I still failed him.” you said. “No, you didn’t--” “My one job when I am with him is to keep him safe, I failed him.” You said. Legolas knew there was no fighting you on this.

“Have you eaten?” He asked. You shook your head. “Drank anything?” He asked. Again, you shook your head. “How much of a struggle are you going to put up if I move you?” Legolas asked. “A very large one.” you replied, wiping your eyes. Legolas sighed but nodded. “I’ll get us some food.” He said, walking away. You got up, noticing the open door. You walked through, seeing him. He was unconscious, his face so peaceful, his breaths barely audible. You pulled up a chair next to his bed, holding his hand. It was calloused, very rough but you didn’t mind. In fact you found comfort with it.

“ Please Aragorn. Termáre- as me, termáre- coile. (Please Aragorn... Stay with me, stay alive)” You whispered. “ Ni pole-'t lose tye. Vamme sí.(I cannot lost you. Not now.)” You sobbed.

Please. Stay with me.

Please.

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 9

<- Chapter 8 | Chapter 10 ->

@sexy-opium-ravioli asked me to write a comfort Frankenstein fic so instead I did this [stares at the camera]

cw: suicidal ideation

Heavy raindrops pound on the wood-shingle roof, each impact combining into a chorus that roars in your ears in the pitch-black darkness. It’s like you’re being swallowed by a great beast. The entire building creaks, straining against the wind, making your heart race with the fear that it might all come crashing down on top of you as you lay clutching the covers in bed.

A deafening crack and blinding surge of light is followed shortly by a second, earthier crack and a dull thud on grass. Lightning hit one of the trees in the pasture.

In the middle of this raging tempest through which no living being could survive, there comes a scratch at your shutter. The curtains flutter as wind suddenly swirls inside, and the roar of rain grows louder. Something is coming into your bedroom.

Another flash of lightning reveals the silhouette of a massive figure, drenched and dripping, standing in front of the window. The blast of thunder that shortly follows makes the enormous figure jump, and rush, trembling like a kitten, to your bedside.

You take his deformed and scarred hand in yours, and squeeze it.

“I do not like thunder,” his grave voice whispers through gasping, timid breaths. Your beautiful, sweet creature. You never want anything to hurt him. An aching sadness washes over you anew, quivering your lower lip.

He notices you are shaking, frantic, frazzled, and puffy-eyed. He doesn’t look much better.

“When you did not come, I feared for you.” He licks his lips nervously. “I ascertained that you were within the house, but were under guard, and I could not reach you. Please tell me you are unharmed—if anything has happened to you, I shall not forgive my cowardice.”

Without warning, a sob chokes you, and hot tears roll down your face. The monster, filling up half your small cottage bedroom, doffs his wet cloak and pulls your crying form against his warm, broad chest like an extension of the furniture and holds you, rubbing your back and cooing soft words of comfort. You hide your face against him, trying to disappear as muffled sobs wrack your shoulders.

“What is wrong?” he asks with a voice so fragile from your silence that the answer might break him.

“Just let me hold you for awhile. Please.”

You feel him shudder against you, and surround you in his warm arms like a cocoon. It’s a long time before you can collect yourself enough to tell him what happened.

*****

“Like hell we are!” you snapped impulsively as soon as Ferdinand announced your “engagement.” Your fists clenched into tight balls of righteous fury. He was delusional. You were leaving.

Then your father stared at you—that dark, severe stare that threatened violence if you did not behave. “Mind your tongue, child!” he snapped, and your tongue stopped moving, and all of the smart words that had been on the tip of it just disappeared. It was so strange. You had been frightened to run, terrified, but you were ready. Just like that, all the oxygen seemed to drain from the room as Ferdinand, your father, and your mother surrounded you, reminding you of your place in the world and how helpless you were in it.

Your fiery ember dropped into a bucket of water.

You sat in the living room, trapped like a rabbit in a snare, crawling inside your own skin as reality washed over you. They laid out the situation. There were rumors around town—serious ones—that you’ve been consorting with the devil. Half the village thought you were a witch. It wouldn’t be long before something terrible came of it, but Ferdinand had graciously offered to make you his wife, and in doing so, put the rumors to bed. So you would marry him. He was well-liked among the superstitious factions, and could get them to leave you alone if he made you an honest woman. (You growled at the implications of that particular phrase.)

Ferdinand sneered with self-satisfaction, his voice dripping with honey as he said how much he worried for you.

They were pressing you into the marriage and would hear no arguments, no back-talk. They suspected you might run, and wouldn’t let you out of their sight—your mother, your father, and Ferdinand.

You were prey. There was nothing you could do to fight.

The sky grew ever darker and more ominous with each passing minute you spent ensnared, until you knew you had missed the rendezvous time. Your heart twisted—if your daemon were wise, he had left already without you. Thinking of the alternative—that he had stayed, and would be discovered—your chest twisted even tighter. Marrying Ferdinand was a get-out-of-jail-free card for you, but the creature’s life was in irrevocable mortal jeopardy.

“You can’t force me to marry him!” you whimpered to your mother, praying for a sympathetic ear when you were left alone with her for a moment. She was horrible, but she was a woman. She must understand, at least a little, what they were doing to you.

She patted you softly on the shoulder, but her eyes stayed hard. “Your grandmother remembered when they burned a witch right in the center of town. Believe me, this gossip is not something to take lightly. Making you a proper wife is the only way to make people see that you are a normal girl. If you do not, then you shall no longer be our daughter, and we cannot protect you from whatever shall happen next.”

You tried to speak, but your tongue was dry. You kept trying to swallow the dryness away, but it stuck in your throat. You wanted to rage, to scream against them, to be on fire, but your blood had all turned to ice.

This was happening, and there was nothing you could do but accept it.

*****

The creature strokes your cheek gently, his sympathetic and sorrowful yellow eyes glistening in the erratic flashes of light from the storm. “I am sorry I could not protect you. I am here now; let us depart under the cloak of night.”

Your head shakes in tense arcs before you decide to make them, your throat closing up. “You don’t understand—I can’t.”

The dark shadow shaped like his body becomes a tense, rigid statue. “What do you mean?” he says, cautiously.

“I can’t!” you repeat, as if he’s the one not making sense and your feelings should need no explanation, but you explain anyway, the words gushing out like a flooded river. “Maybe I wanted to, I thought I could, but it isn’t realistic. Look at the storm outside! I can’t run away in the middle of this—it frightens even you, doesn’t it? You couldn’t protect me should a thunderbolt strike me on the head! What will we do during weather such as this without any shelter? With my family monitoring me like a prisoner, I could not even finish packing—I haven’t the food and water to survive a week away from home! Where could we go, anyway? You cannot guarantee Victor Frankenstein will take us in! He may just as likely kill us! They think me a witch here, where everyone has known me since I was a baby. I will be a witch in the next town. We will be pariahs wherever we go.”

You wished he would yell, that he would argue, or be consumed in a fit of emotion—that would be better somehow—instead, he listens to your fearful list of excuses silently, with no reaction but his shoulders slowly falling and a soft, pained growl deep in his throat.

“D-don’t you see?” you explain frantically as if he had been arguing back. “We don’t need to run. They never spoke of you as more than rumor—those hunters, and Bess, they must not have been believed as any more than superstition. Every town has its ghost stories. There is no bloodthirsty mob, so long as I marry him. We can stay here and keep you hidden. We’ll be safe.”

“Safe?” he growls, but only softly and without malice. He can no longer bear to listen quietly. “You wish to marry him?” You hoped he would be angry, but his voice is a wavering medley of betrayal and confusion, and the pang it leaves in your heart is almost too much to bear.

“Of course not, but I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. Run away with me tonight.” An angry bolt of lightning splintered another tree out in the pasture, making you both jump, and providing the counterpoint to his argument for you. “Tell me you want to marry him,” he reaches out with a large hand that could cover your entire head, and delicately strokes your cheek. His eyes glisten with longing. “Tell me you want this and I will go. I shall live the rest of my life a miserable wretch, but I shall bear it, knowing you are happy.”

“Y-you once told me you wouldn’t care if I was with other men, so long as I came back to you. Maybe we could…”

That finally gets a rise out of him. “We could what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “You desire to marry another, and keep me hidden away in a barn—a filthy secret for you to visit at your leisure—to make love to when you are not sharing a bed with your husband? Is that… what you want?” The energy and indignation he had begun with fades away to a lame sort of helplessness by the end.

You know how pathetic you sound. How weak. It was the last thing you expected of yourself, too. You had always walked to your own beat, never fit in, and never cared what anyone thought of you—at least not enough to change for their benefit. You always dreamed of running away one day.

But you hadn’t.

No matter how much you had dreamed it—and even one exhilarating day had packed a bag and chased an eight-foot monster into the forest, convinced that you might run away with him—you never actually did. So many years waiting in misery, and all of that time you could have run.

But you wouldn’t. The moment the fantasy began to crystallize into reality, you froze with terror. You never would.

You only wish you had realized this before hurting him. Your precious daemon stares back at you expectantly, fiercely blinking his watery yellow eyes to fight off tears he won’t let fall in front of you. He’s waiting for you to assure him that this is a mistake—that he’s more to you than a sexual pet—and your heart twists with shame.

“Here is bad, but here is safe. It’s that kind of bad that’s all I’ve ever known. That sharp, snow-covered peak you can see from the barn has stood there, unchanging since I was born. It was there watching over our valley before my parents were born. The alpine winds have shaped it for thousands of years, since before the great pyramids of Egypt. Maybe I am like that mountain. Maybe I can never change, no matter how much I want to.”

It’s not the answer he hoped for. His jaw clenches. He had come here thinking you were running away together at last, and finally, finally, the weight of what is happening sinks in. You watch as the hope goes out of his eyes. Lightning flashes behind him, a little more distantly now. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“Please don’t look away,” you sob, begging. Something inside you is breaking with him.

Footsteps creak on the stairs and the faint orange glow of a candle filters under the door. “Are you talking to someone in there?” demands your mother’s shrill voice just as the door to your bedroom swings open. Your mother gasps in horror.

“You’ve left the window open, you fool child!” She clucks disapprovingly and rushes to shut it, closing the drenched curtains over it once it is latched tight. The shadow of the creature is gone. “What were you thinking? Of running away?” she snaps.

Yes, you want to scream. You hate her. Pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, and you wish you had disappeared into the night, too, for a vengeful bolt of lightning to release you from your misery.

Then she does something that surprises you. She sighs, and sits at the edge of your bed, her weight making a sinkhole on the straw-filled mattress. “My baby girl, you’re crying. They say it isn’t right for a bride to cry on her wedding night, but we know better.” She smiles sadly and wipes a tear from your cheek. “I wanted to run away, too,” she says quietly. Her gaze drifts over the window thoughtfully, like she was imagining a different life. In the flickering candlelight, you wonder if she could almost see it, that other life. You wonder what it was. “But if I had, where would you be?!” Her voice is back to an accusing, judgment-laden shrill. “I’ve tried so hard with you, to get you to grow up. You finally came to your senses—you’re not a child anymore, you can’t just do whatever you want. Life isn't a fairy tale. Life isn’t about being happy… it’s about doing what you have to do. Don’t disappoint me.”

When she leaves and returns downstairs, you give a cursory but hopeful search under the bed and in the corners and shadows for the creature, but he is gone. You had seen him disappear into the loft at the slightest sound of footsteps dozens of times, and you know he had fled out the window and is miles away by now. You wonder if he had returned to the barn, but you know in your heart that he’s gone. It’s already too late. You saw the way he had looked at you before your mother interrupted. Betrayed. Wounded. Finished.

He must hate you.

You throw open the shutters again and look out on the dark, windswept landscape. Heavy, cold rain pummels your face, soaking your night dress instantly and making your squint and shiver against it. There is no sign of him, though above the howling of the wind, you imagine that you hear him howling, desperate and anguished. You could jump from here, you think. You could lash together your bed sheets and climb down undetected, and—

A bolt of lightning strikes a tree in front of the house and it explodes to splinters as a cataclysm of thunder bursts open your ears. The blinding-white flash fills your room and your senses, sets all your hairs standing on end, and for several moments after you can’t see or hear a thing. Am I alive? you wonder first. Is he scared? you worry a second later. When your eyes finally adjust to the dark again, you can see the smoldering embers of the destroyed trunk, its crown lying in pieces on the ground. One branch had scarcely missed the roof, and had you jumped from your window a moment before, you certainly would have been hit.

If only you had been, a part of you screams against your skull. It’s the only way out, now. Jump from the window! it insisted, its voice weaving harsh fingers of smoke through your mind. Run, slipping in the wet grass with your ankle broken into the night and find him, or be eaten by a bear. Let a branch fall and crush your pathetic body. Let the lightning take you to Hell.

You close the shutter, and latch it.

Shaking, you return to your bed and lay on top of the covers. The depression in the mattress from your mother is still flattening out. Wet spots on the blanket are the only memento of the creature’s visit. You remember what it felt like to be held, warm and safe in his arms just moments ago, and try to tuck the memory away somewhere it will never be lost. Somewhere you can look back at it in the years to come. You’ll never feel that way again.

It would be a mistake to run.

You're making the right choice.

You don’t want to die. Surviving means doing what you have to do.

You're making the right choice.

You repeat it to yourself over and over, shivering alone on top of your bed until the black sky turns to grey, and the birds start to sing a summer chorus—first one melodic song, then a jarring metallic buzz, a repetitive whistle, and more and more add their voices until it swells into a cacophony in the purple dawn. The storm must have passed some time in the night without your noticing. It doesn’t matter. You made your choice and broke your own wings.

You made the right choice.

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #monster x reader #the creature x reader #monster x human #my writing #lo siento por esto XD #I hope I don't make you wait another 4 months for an update >_>

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