#rosamond burne

[tozettastone]

I've been chewing on this Astarion/Player Character relationship dynamic that exists in my head a little

(but I'm sorry to inform you that I named her 'Uggie' at character creation)

Basically I had every intention of writing a whole thing but right now it's just this bit followed by two totally disjointed scenes. Maybe I'll be back to work on it when some external work is done.

---

Uggie relented eventually, as Astarion had known she must.

She was the kind of person who could be easily persuaded as to the advantages of sitting perfectly still under a tree and focusing on '''inner balance''' for seven hours without even a break to piss, but who could not be tempted out to a party for love or money.

While Astarion liked to think of himself as a manipulator of the highest order, he also knew that he had exactly one, totally foolproof, silver-bullet fallback tactic, and he used it now to convince his dear... darling... much beloved... something-or-other to come out with him.

He took his clothes off and just kind of assumed that all Uggie's grey matter would leak out her ears and he'd be able to persuade her to do anything he wanted while he was getting dressed again.

Like he said. Foolproof.

"Of course you don't have to come, darling," he said, pulling his shirt off like it was a prerequisite for digging through his wardrobe in his windowless bedroom. "Although you're welcome. I just need to borrow your eyes while I get ready."

"I don't have your aesthetic taste," she said, watching him throw his extremely expensive clothing around and then strip, fast and businesslike about it. She was standing, touching nothing, in his bedroom, arms crossed, leaning all her weight upon one hip. Her face was cynical. "You might not like what I think looks good."

Uggie's eyes were one of her best features, if you asked Astarion (nobody had). Their burning orange was striking, although it could attract unwelcome attention from... erm, really anyone who'd ever met a Lolth-sworn drow before.

Right now, those eyes were hot on his bare skin. All according to plan, then.

"Unless you've developed a mystical technique to make me visible in the mirror within the last five minutes, your aesthetic sensibilities — defective or otherwise — will have to do. Sit, I won't be a moment."

"What is this... event, again?" she wondered, perching on the edge of his bed. It was huge and dramatic, made up all in black with costly gold embroidery. There were wispy black curtains that veiled its edges. Even when they were drawn, they hid little.

He and Uggie were both mostly nocturnal creatures, and certainly occasional bedmates, but the unmitigated luxury of an enormous featherbed all for himself had been too great a temptation for Astarion to resist. Besides, the sprawling house they shared in the upper town was four storeys high and big enough that they could have slept in a different room every night for a year without repeating one.

Astarion had entered the housing fight on the side of hedonism, and he'd fought dirty, as he always did. Uggie wouldn't have even had a house, if the paperwork had proven too hard. And it would have, to her. She'd have given up when faced with the need to hire a conveyancer and gone to live naked in the woods or something.

Instead, they had the house. And he spent the spoils of their many dangerous and filthy adventures on dramatic clothes and sumptuous furnishings and fine wine that he could barely even stomach. Uggie never complained. In material terms, she was a simple thing: she wanted a warm spot to curl up in like a cat, and good food to give her friends when they each fetched up from their disparate corners of Feyrun. Everything else, he could manage with whatever degree of extravagance suited him.

"It's a soiree," he pronounced it with a sharp and mocking edge, quoting, "to celebrate the end of the Lady Rosamond's third marriage." The invitation said it was for her friends to enjoy the talents of a local acrobatic troupe — an intimate little party of, oh, forty or so. She was already on the hunt for spouse number four, it seemed. Or else perhaps a fling for the season. Who could say.

"Charming," murmured Uggie. She sounded cynical but she was watching him wiggle into his new trousers very intently.

The leather trousers were so tight that if Astarion's body composition had changed by a kilogram, he'd have had to take them back to the tailor. He'd be the first to admit that vampirism did come with a few tiny little advantages. Not many. But some.

"Do you need help with that?" Uggie wondered. "...Cornflour, perhaps?"

"No, thank you," he assured her primly. But she bit her lip, and he watched it from the corner of his eye. How gratifying. "Do you think the red shirt, or the white?"

"I'm partial to the white. You're dressing to impress, I see," she mused.

Of course she was partial to the white one.

The white shirt was the wrong choice, objectively. His entire body was the white of sun-bleached bones, and the pale shirt would only make him look more pallid than ever. But he well knew how exotic that still seemed to her — a fully grown elf, pale like an etoliated plant struggling in the Underdark.

She liked it when he looked... vulnerable.

Astarion threw the red shirt back in the closet and went with the wrong choice. He wasn't above indulging her. And he didn't look bad in white. He had it on really excellent authority that he didn't look bad in anything.

"I always dress to impress. I can't help it — I'm impressive."

Once the shirt was on, he touched his hair, gently, trying to discern how it was falling without the help of a reflection. He had plenty of practice, but it never seemed to get much easier. Once upon a time, "artfully dishevelled" had been a choice.

"Come here," Uggie commanded.

He came to stand before her at the foot of the bed, barefoot and half dressed between her thighs, close enough that there was barely an inch between them.

An awareness of hunger hung in the air between them, like smoke in a drawing room.

Uggie held his gaze and imperiously pointed down to the ground. Obediently, he sank to his knees on the thick rug.

She teased apart the tumbling waves of his pale hair with fingers so deft he almost couldn't feel it. Almost. He'd seen her stare a man in the face and slowly bend his arm until the elbow snapped with those same fingers, but her tugging on his scalp was shockingly gentle. She was warm, too. This close, with his breath on the hem of her linen undershirt, he could feel the living warmth radiating out from her skin.

"I'm sure the crowds of Lady Rosamond's admirers will appreciate all the effort you're putting forward," she offered neutrally. "There. Your hair looks — as it usually does."

"Flawless, then." He rocked back to his feet, sending her pale hair fluttering around her ears in the disturbed air.

"Yes," she agreed placidly. Her deft fingers traced the laces of his trousers. "Always."

She said it like it wasn't flattery, or even a concession to the fickle demand of his ego. Placid, matter of fact.

Yes. Flawless. Always.

Ugh. He hadn't even meant it seriously, flippant even as it rolled off his tongue. But she did. Her sincerity was mortifying.

"I'm sure I'll have my own share of the admirers," he went on, licking his lips as he looked down upon her. For a moment, he thought, Why go out when I could stay in and feed from her? But then he remembered that the whole point of this ploy was that he should get to do both. Perhaps at the same time, even.

"Of course," she agreed.

He smoothed out her collar and trailed his fingers over her neck — over the powerful pulse of her heart — and manfully refrained from lunging in for a taste when she didn't even flinch. He touched her jaw instead, her cheek, her brow bone when she obligingly closed her eyes for him, her nose...

"You know you'd be welcome to come with me," he said, then, touching her mouth and feeling the gently draught of her breath over her soft, dry lips. "I'd like it if you did."

"Why?" she said, unmoving. This was a far cry from her usual response, which was, Thank you for extending the invitation. No. The question meant he'd already won.

"I want you to watch," he admitted.

He could feel her smile as well as see it. The tension in her mouth communicated itself right through his fingertips.

"You want me to watch what? Is there some kind of show?"

"Yes, actually," he said distantly. "Acrobats."

"Mm-hm," she said, and waited.

And waited.

He struggled with it for a moment. Almost gagging on the mortification of admitting it, he went tightly on to say: "Sometimes I want you to watch other people watching me."

Her eyes opened again, just a crack. Their orange burned like an unholy fire.

"You want me to see everyone else admire you," she said slowly, thinking it through. "You want to show off — you want me to show you off, so I can watch you swanning around in front of everyone else. You want to remind me that other people think you're beautiful, too?" Her eyebrows quirked. "Or do you just want to include me in your hobbies?"

She knew him awfully well, didn't she?

He was defensive about it, suddenly. His neck prickled with heat and humiliation, and it turned him savage.

"You don't have to put it light that," he hissed, ruffled like a cat nursing a stepped-on tail. "All I want is to go out to a nice little party and render everyone mentally ill with lust or envy. I don't care which. Is that so much to ask?"

He pulled his hand away from her face.

She caught it, lightning-fast.

Monks, he thought sourly. A rogue always thought he was the deftest man in the room. And then: monks.

She laid a kiss on his knuckles, her mouth midnight-dark against the stark pallor of his hand.

"Alright. I'll come out with you. Watch the show." Her lip caught ever so gently on his skin. "And," she added, glancing up to meet his eyes, "the acrobats, too."

If he'd had enough blood to really blush, his face would have been flaming.

I planned this, he reminded himself. He'd invited her in to watch him undress and dress again, knowing it would make her persuadable. This is a victory.

He just... wasn't used to this route of persuasion, exactly. Usually, when Astarion took his clothes off as a persuasive technique, what followed was not so... fraught and complex.

"Well," he said, watching Uggie cradle his hand. She pressed her thumbs into his palm and drew them up towards his fingers. It was a pleasant pressure. "Well, good."

Astarion felt mollified, but perhaps not victorious, exactly. He couldn't help the nagging sensation that he'd given up more than he'd intended in this exchange, that he'd revealed more than was wise about his motives.

He had this feeling a lot. Every time he opened his mouth, some days.

...But if Astarion had really given something indefinable and vital up to her today, well, he'd given a lot of himself up to a lot of people. At least he knew Uggie'd take good care of it.

[seriouslysam8]

While you say that the betrayer was always meant to be the betrayer, I still wonder how much free will there was behind the act. I don't get the idea that the person involved is truly a bad person. I'm still not convinced that there isn't some coercion involved.

It’s so funny because I’m trying to be vague today in my responses on tumblr because a lot of my normal reviewers haven’t reviewed yet so I’m assuming they haven’t read either and I don’t want to spoil anything.

But, I mean, this person joined Voldemort so there is a coercion aspect to it. I don’t think they’re entirely bad, but this is the path they went down.

Spoilers below

But the betrayal initially hit different in my mind. In the original outline of the story, Sirius and Rosamond were going to be fuck buddies. The betrayal, obviously, was what broke them apart. I decided against this because Sirius has already been betrayed in the past. I thought giving him another big betrayal, someone who he slept with and showed him affection and had him debating his exact feelings for her would have been too much for him. I had already planned on the alcohol poisoning, the depression and anxiety, and I thought fucking the enemy unknowingly was too much on the poor guy.

So, Tegan took on that role to help him let off some steam and feel normal again, to help him get used to receiving and giving affection. Tegan isn’t going to betray him like Rosamond did. So, it seemed like a better pairing than my initial plan.

But Rosamond’s brothers are DE. Her husband is a DE. She is surrounded in that DE and pureblood culture. She never escaped it. Now, her son is in the thick of it. So, yes, she could very well just be trying to survive. But her affection for Sirius is limited. She hasn’t been close to Sirius since he was eleven and she was twelve. While they were close as children, they’re not close now. Rosamond used that childhood connection with Sirius to manipulate him. She is, ultimately, one of the few DE who could have Sirius even consider believing them.

Because while Sirius isn’t a dummy, Sirius is in a very bad spot mentally. He’s always felt some guilt and responsibility for what happened to Regulus, thinking he could have done more to save him than he did. While Sirius is in no way, shape, or form at fault for Regulus taking the Mark and dying (he was just a kid himself after all), Sirius can’t help but feel some small bout of guilt and affection for his kid brother. So, when he’s presented with his long lost nephew, he couldn’t help but take the bait. He wanted to know his nephew.

Because if there’s one thing that DE understand about Sirius it’s that he’s loyal. If he deems you as worthy, he will fight tooth and nail for you. He would burn down a fucking village for the people he loves. Voldemort and his DE were counting on Sirius’ buried affection for Regulus to help manipulate him into finding Cepheus and then leading them right to Charlotte and Cepheus.

Now, it’s not for a few chapters that you find out how exactly they gained this information. But you will. Sirius will not know how to process it or even fix the issue at large.

[janeeyreheresy]

Final Thoughts

We hear nothing about Thornfield--what happened to the lands? They still belong to the Rochesters. And the ruins--are they just going to stand there, with no attempt at rebuilding at least part of the old Hall? 

No word about the poor state of Ferndean Manor (the place that Rochester claimed had walls so damp that, should he have moved her there, they would eventually kill Bertha) and whether the happy couple did any renovating. Jane told us in detail about how she cleaned Moor House, a house that was her home for only a short time, and purchased new furniture for it. On the subject of her married home, however, she has nothing to say.

She seems not to be bothered about living so far from the nearest human settlement. I wonder what it's like in winter (their reunion was in June, so if the place looked deserted then, what about January?) I wonder how many deliveries are missed because the tradesmen can't make it to Ferndean. I suppose it's also why they couldn't hire a nurse to help out with Edward's condition. A live-out one would not be able to get there daily and they wouldn't be able to accommodate a live-in one, unless they made some repairs to the house (which, as Jane tells us, only had three functioning rooms. With time there would have to be more, but as Jane provides no info on this, all we're left with is speculation.).

I wonder what it's like for children to grow up in such a place. Seeing who their parents are, the poor fuckers must be so hideous it's better they're hidden from the rest of the world.

Sorry. That was mean. It was her constantly going on about Rochester's ugliness and her own plainness, not me. I'm innocent! 

Maybe the little buggers got lucky and inherited more favourable genes. 

We get no word about Mrs Fairfax, whether Jane kept in touch with her or not. Remember, Alice Fairfax was not just a housekeeper at Thornfield, she was a widow of Edward's relative. Did Jane ever write to her of their marriage (this time it's for real)? Did Mrs Fairfax send them a letter of congratulations?

We're given no information about the merry company.

Jane told us of what became of her other cousins, the Reeds, earlier, in the chapter when she returned from Gateshead to Thornfield. Georgiana, the beauty Lord Ingram mentioned, married a wealthy man and Eliza, the pious one, converted to Catholicism and became a nun at a French convent, later rising to a superior. It's interesting that two not exactly sympathetic--though not as evil as their mother--characters received such positive outcomes. 

Look at the similarity in cousinhood: Jane has two sets of cousins, two girls and one boy each. The Reeds on her mothers side: John, Georgiana, Eliza and the Riverses on her father's side: St John, Diana, Mary. The men share the same name (for the most part) and they both die, while all the women get happy endings. 

There are characters that feature in the narrative that I haven't mentioned. Helen Burns, Jane's dear friend at Lowood, who died; Miss Temple, the good teacher at Lowood, who got married and went away--the catalyst that made Jane seek out employment as a governess. Then, from Jane's time at Morton, Miss Rosamond Oliver, daughter of the area's richest man. I left her out because she's irrelevant to my recaps, but it's important to note that this is the beautiful and fashionable female character who is NOT presented in a negative way (unlike Blanche, Celine or even Georgiana). So Charlotte was capable of such a thing. St John is in love with her, but because he doesn't think she'd make a suitable wife for a missionary (he's probably right, which I mean as a compliment to Rosamond), he fights his infatuation. She reciprocates his feelings, but seeing as it goes nowhere, she gets over him and marries Mr Granby, an heir to a fortune. I like to think they were very happy together. (Fun fact: When I read Jane Eyre for the very first time, Rosamond was my favourite female name.) 

Dog lovers will be glad to hear that Pilot survived the fire and lives at Ferndean with Edward when Jane arrives. 

What to conclude then?

If I believed Rochester has changed, I wouldn't have created this sideblog (firstly, I would not have written a long-ass piece that led to the creation of this sideblog). For sure, his womanising days are over (because they're physically impossible, not because he's married--he already cheated on one wife). Although--you don't expect me to give up on this so easily, do you--there are ways. Jane might sometimes be away while he stays at home and John is a faithful servant--he will get him girls if his master wants him to get him girls. John, like the innkeeper, is loyal, he worked for the family since Papa Rochester's time. 

The other stuff--the gaslighting, the manipulation, the lying--would not vanish with his disabilities. In fact, after his injuries, Edward could have got even worse. Jane only talks about how she serves him. Nothing about what he does for her. But hey, she's happy. The not-a-bird that no net ensnared landed in a semi-habitable residence deep in the woods, caring for her husband. *shrug*

A side note: Where the fuck she met those paysannes and Bäuerinnen, I would like to know. Those words mean peasant women in French and German, respectively. But she mentions no travelling. Let's say they did travel to France and Germany--but what the fuck does she meet peasant women for? Did she go to the mainland Europe to trace Edward's illegitimate offspring? 

I'm being mean again. They probably went to Switzerland, where both those languages are spoken, for Edward's health. But you'd hope she'd tell us more about it.

Would I like a different ending for her? I presented some different ideas, but since she insists on being with him so much, let her have him. He's twenty years older and if, by chance, he dies relatively early (by falling into a hole, for example) while she's in her thirties, there's still plenty of time for her to enjoy a bit of life. (As long as she is not the one to die first from the effects of Ferndean's unhealthy environment.)

What ending would I want to see for him? 

Same as the canon, except without Jane's return. Alone, broken, abandoned by everyone, far from civilisation. And after a while, with his insistence on candles, coupled with his visual impairment... third time lucky, eh? It would have to be on John and Mary's day out, they don't deserve to die from smoke inhalation. He'd leave them a bit of money so that they could buy or build a small cottage where they could live together for the rest of their life.

Don't get me wrong, I do believe Edward was given a hard time by his father. Issues also come with being the second son (The Spare). But at some point, you have to become responsible for your own shit. Edward chose not to break the cycle. 

As I reach the end, one last question pops into my mind.

What kind of a master asks his newly hired governess if she thinks him handsome?

[libidomechanica]

Virtue even as driving thou seemed in a breeze company;

A ballad sequence

               I

Of wind, trembled in the room but     on his fair access pictures spring where hath is for their     more sat this caught for fuller

resound a board with Cares of     these out, with law; if the desire, and with good where thee     howlest, or what time, and

I myself grow the groves from the     eyes, and tells poorer sides, when shall guitar with ways. And let     the Ladies crave draw such

a change, if love the unblest wrothful     love content, two gracious calm and Echo concepting     free of sea-water hopeth

all for blissful clouds melting     for books, and if the mix with the woman fraude: ne forest     of a straw into the

and one dy’d, a living to be     wise; thy ruling out of rest, makest of praised upon the     bosom with all rounds, we

are kept, and all my pure first, but     the threw his worth! Virtue even as driving thou seemed in     a breeze company; now

and East had there survive, beloved,     a crown’d me praised us with the gust the darkness, and     was not my shining rills

from our placed as the clay. Of soul     ha’, how rare as honest will be found, I found those was     both; by drowne; whilst things seem

of silver Vases, whence our to     gazed this the rocks, and vain Thalestris father Rosamond     down branches, we despairs,

which I stars, and make here, is the     rose your she often seven the twine, and Kidde made of Cantos     up those unless Sky.

Never of all, that the very     loth and flutter food for Gnats, and his pass, and burn, I have     drawn alone, crook. To yours

of our will world, whose firesides     and result of such and tell ywis was on thy play     at and fair clip, through dimm’d

with the succinct, a lonelines     that play Belinda on to test of love forgot, quitt     with came rejoiceth not

yet, alone. What Wondering up     to tae the endure there in emerald race and the World     the merrier-birds,

society forth, and suck’d quotation     blunt the self-possessions for me, lie on the home. And     the case of bliss—I stay;

their sweeter blaze in the burther     down some though the charming, that may be my prove and falling     of her your both your village

grove, ’ it drown more sage. Had regret,     o my spinnin’, save Love not, after attribute take     what they acceptances

flies with the dusky doom to disting;     Comes best, and with all Arabia breadth, nor when fall’n     as a word, he still well.

               II

Blind his yearlong whole census take.     Is gives him from her am grief the glows, consumed for thine     ailment, and self wit, the

great? And I the chariots in     which like story whizzings of doom. Such a truth—to proving     here; and rock, rise and chaff

well and vain Religion know’st the     way, the shalt reuiued thru the fierce: who live the Champak odours,     better a face, and grammar,

vowel sought not, but the mid     the ground, as a generous labourer prove all Things, I     am I free; and rather

words new tree thou cast the endless-     eyed troth, there. And let me like, as sooty Pinchbeck was     as do with scarce come, Orb

in Ohio call her small sober     mended, Ida came as sword the rocks that thee, a holy     speakest God to choose.

               III

That nas refresh and call the less.     Hills I saw than such a truths around into a wife with     me. On Earth thy walke that

Juan dies. And cloud with false Foxe, for     all those gifts when I took fared; nor strong dart and laid her Eyes     of man; impass’d men, whence,

and lies, and vales await the Life,     red throw the heart, I calm despite. Spindle no unkind, I     scarce palace whispers greatness

of their little cannot a     large grief I fail. When frogs can away change; the more no sneer,     which those, it is for me.

               IV

No Angel, but swerves and     whatever, in bud, he way, and leeze me fall sweet did never     shady levels, love the

unhallow for wisdom hence your     dreams do restrange! That when he coolness discern that ever     removed: I mean to stay!

It spake he: Men of man cave, dear     impetuous even with that lowly dying sounds, and saw     thee sheepe, and all thou should

sorowe, needfull of paintenants     a figure of Shock had surface, art, can his letters     complexing whispers glide past

receive a viper and this sweet     in watch thy loved as ugly as a murderous of limes,     and drop pain. The winterested

walk’d beating unto methink     of yellow pride. But now fair false, rings made songst that you     can see; before and the

glitt’ring on the time sprang up, theirs.     Where lives with that needs are we two among that’s selfe-miser     make an offspring, when all

whose was Ariel perfect deep     in the linnet trill, to the man can never answer and     loath then, Clarissa came

that I may not in a mill we     rush on the soil. Such a welcoming grace; and look into     receive and soon they are

kept with vile wave, and eye, and Love     indefeasible the heart; I die. She creepe god bless; our     with Delphic intelligence

is always to given to     feel it like the picture cup the Drops in the Regal stare:     and light and paces. Not

all the twilights of town known there     even admire what the sun and slip frae meikle to rest     be ten though foresay.

Is fancifuller reveal’d; then     she harp be the move a chanc’d to be proper pipe, the     horizing rings, or library-

bowers, and romantic glory     done: so black we are wakes somethings I do thou may’st kill’d     or light. Take with scorner’s

feel office has doesn’t have villages,     a census take they pass to rolling how are man     cankering for when all o’

care na loom so shall be neatly     glad: the aske. Give, and felt upmountaining food, my life in     spot where selectrons round?

               V

Than thy said her loving no way     has grass! With songs I do but fair, stood up with kind. The cloak,     An arms; the lilies wish

her people treason, how my lip,     and implor’d prolong’d, she stare! King! And from sullen those     embosom and guile, nor evening

form a stake, thoughts of me, even     is not love her, and so methings the expectation,     grace Now the keeps young men.

               VI

Opening; we meet, already.     And hew out his billets? To gain is with Arms; and sparkles     itself too. We link is

not Lovers Head. You survey, and     tell. Who, as love reared at her Eye, like Citron-template shepherds     say truths and list of

pains of the Tears of the light of     praise. In the awkward Queen, or cry’d Buttered, he, to the linnet     the stream. The margin

bloody crush on either, a lust     invades, while his arm, that voice than the breathing, muffle thee,     such as—’Unless went the

cold still see, and made by mania     speaks run in that, thou thy light at least, till an endless-     eyed to helpless crept in

my look fares the matter. Creature’s     many a fruits—they rest be all cultivate thee decayed?     I can blunder he had

sat coast of folly, noise of twigs,     stars, with energies of find half-empty cups again the     earthly Muse—she spiritual

shall be pursue. Beside in     you are the hint cold, Elysian: but for my arch of the     glory defy, nor ended:

deepest all alike. And     exalted days depart we chalice lost in Desarts with Shouts     the snowie Neck her mood than

boat, that blown in vain wild as a     pile come nothing stars immortal Ire, and the lights of my     genial earthly lovely,

liquor or a sojournals repose     in the ears, for buttering it rest. Let her Hair, we     brought all know. And not, if

Foxe, for ever near u is heart     in the moment’s gently place, in such with peace. And he deep     deprecious of flowers

are aim, and somehow good names: I     have leisure victim of them with a friend she keeps now I     can my love, and men, and

the garden on kindly on her     Beau demands so passions alone, turn, which hollow’d down along     enter be; but stiller’s

could single purpose heart fair     sheet a token Vows from alone: shall set me to say. She     waves drinking enough a

resee or shewe may read a miracle     draw foretold have bridegroom in that herself, the night, slips     I say Information

of Arcady. The fooler side     by tongue their must be, fearing Spirits from holds in     How sits, and leaves wherein?

               VII

Rainy days their more, I’ll see them,     but memory of light feared at first of sin. The Female     misled though thee. A lurking

on the sick, while, the dwarf replies,     safe from the suddenly play Belinda still set a     wife, whose Graces slide a

whom very bourne of little was—     and frost! For what unrest twelve booth Iv’ry Parnassus, while     I could turned flow. Some guest,

so grew, and long think the rising     be? Wont to love the helpless give their slew his unloved and     with the earth gives are then

we innocent of ash all fears,     all the Spring. On thy office has fair betweenwhile     our life remaineth to

these, a tones feet, for in great times     wishingle pathwart there in himself, all is cast eyes that     Philo-genital stand

a genitiveness, which I     began and in his Finger with his erring of will sure     thou thou note is evidence

with me. Next day with chat. Past     they pleasant to be it wi’ a’ should’st desist the Negroes     and how shut me smooth-kissing

to these hardly tell he seemed     in the gliding else—it is the high. With my objects your     person, more black and gone

transform’d two people, upperchancery,—     while things made a white necks, may no more he be, because     I will blood old name

along enought is your have you,     or count dust confin’d my sonnet-A-Day Newsletter life     scale of glory! There I

were past breath, and some frame, and owning     round told me what first open’d by a man rais’d my sin     and skilful Nymphs, and like

to orb, from shepeheardes she     stedfast ioy, by divine! When have stream that I can never     look less in Metaphysics;

others, and slip the minister-     bowman, his poor súpportune but forsooth, singlet random     thy part one Will, ’ add

to blacke becauseys, breathings, beat     from his occasion pine so much to-come make him welcome     a piece of other’s feet.

But I, ’ said of in Afric life     that I bring after Death. To record make to sheaf afar,     and riper over Side

Highway, are set down. An in rank’d     with temper’d steps, move, the while heart, and gaming stept into     Naiads’ cell in circled Green.

               VIII

Come; let me heart in a fruitless     of their sonne quoth she slept, like in the chariots from higher     rue in thy and chanc’d

to knows where. As the house you’re all     as the Fate more; then all we from those her at last night to     be put thine in twain the

measurely; and with me the     lazar, it is thered grew upon the softer more, but     you play. Till a helmless

of lang, thou rule think it anywhere     freshed—who ruler, or thy draughty Minds discerned; among     his Hand? Forgotten

deuow’r with the white sorrow can dove     would half comments fierce to stronomy, winding, and a ring     the unblest beech will ever

know. Now awful sensibilities     pleasured eyes the wish it as the plain, which I     not in air; the nation.

               IX

They dint, with had forlorn break, Breast.     With each on Myrna Loy, as something, How can boast, till to     answerd him go; ring in the rich for my self-dead when youth;     beautiful arous shall

night embrace whistle, soft as a     creek the zodiac-lion the thing backed to compel a     web is way their head opened was not this this wov’n across     a Masquerable, change,

that the woodbine to decay the     Baron flies: not come; for in the side and made, or library-     bower, eternal Heavens, I’ll lips Loue be made ford,     that cleeds must a Victim

of his should come and prelude, the     gentle Juan was stolne out of bliss: the flood left but could dwindle     orphan’s moulted by angry countenaunce: so the cries,     in some drawn a life in

desire, if not slended, thy     estimate: since I see that I have not my heart and somethings?     Tread of a heart;—as I took around to gain to seeming-     random th’

Etherings her light. A young Pharsalians     did give; the Linnet born earthly loving coronets     and sparkling summ’d of Mankind, as lost so much darkness     Union. Who got a

quantity in thee thy curves, the square,     in think, the dairy swims are gets some law into thine hands     hem my poor end propitious and to wed him in there loving     with peacher and glance

the may every milk of abrupt     the Lady’s survey, and Lord, there it greet roaring is the     image of price. Dozed, shine down and loved words neighbour’s lamp. Counsel     I see thy goal of

mine; and orb into this vanishing     the dust, little born the dead, who foreverence of     part so very which somethings no touch came them more where fish;     to curl, it pours to choose

of even as a thought beneath     the old a boy; these those your corn that deity who, the     Virgin’s State on on League worth to me, but now twenty years’     her pillours of a war

of his no plains with Psyche: only     move the noise her Vanities to obtained at her     beautiful pray. Of the Spirits bones. The quantity of thou     doesn’t a distance so; for

ever isle of winding powre dispense     the looks: hopes, of the Fights requiescat sea Dream that none     long age’s spinnin’ wheels him of youngling down fa’ for the     poor chair, a rosie garland

a starke lambs, and overhead     than deeds. Day, what herself have mad, and dare we before, into     golden Year’st thou wouldst haue I thou by shut me around:     what the lords are ran brink.

               X

The pine-grownd with will send he, their     he best in many have leaf the Sun-beaming. Achieves in     your Chief so far more them

self to have her lip, and grope, fear     than a new babies in the lad the ring? And as uncurl’d,     the Eyes her garb, nor scarce

engage, which man who dividualities     trecheree. No more full the did’s not be done even     when though a cloud-tower.

               XI

I finds have me, fantastic-gloves     Elysium. For we merely resty of chang’d in a     dive blindness, and yellowing

life melted birth: I known a     vulture cliff and I shall loll a speak it alter our marge.     With from a coloured ever

care, her forest peers a ram     goest state be higher rising thews to the Tears, and far, and     money, and fair and I,

lowly, she love woman, and blood     against myself distress, but for my Jeanie own wishes,     to which make; or, comer;

or—as is not so past receives     with her Head, and ice my vow, joins it, which followed to sweet     Peona! Yet turn in quarried!

The lay; in matter-morn a     work in her can are few your prest, in the shade of Heaven,     without a hundred your

corne at my friend, and hear. Miserable     pleasant as erst the darkly friendship, and leaf the raise     and as he thro’ always

musters whate’er here, but shall remedie,     nor digs the worlds that should morning I heardest Death of     name? Square, as whereof noble

up your dear knew ass sprite, what     hold it to see the island- sides. Alone, to Chaos fall,     look’d in her thro’ the nor

that most pure station I thing Will     Die amphibious Face, he dreams on in two muse alone     a Dedicament watch,

or with so the beautiful as     he quoit-pitchen the house younger your Love in low wraith one     way the pitied in dar’d

of men dark yon sways rattle, when     I strike to the uninitial- scarred and might dawn, and were     rather: let be. ’ The panes;

so that I woke the layers, rise     is all think you, whose on the psalm to pick’d at alp. The Sprites.     Were God with a thou

then do my passing, let measure     foot is precious Hair. Our fatal Sigh, thou art more wishes.&     To the glasses, and all

their please my name to rest receive     and Passions as my ears: this name rejected; but worker     hands the old find those five

heaven’s fine whate’er heat, tho’ I     wanna hae ane fastner of iris, a foolish, or Parrot—     or in a bigger.

               XII

For who chance, while I am a     dead he know; then love’s began to stranger sense one glens, not     know not in willow it shall me within mystick Mazes     the poore Sheepe both of a foredoom the fragile bark of     Fame’s in the sullen

hillocks and his purple of the     heavy slept the open you perhaps there camesterdom.     That aged earth has a white kingdom but the flies with smother     earth give me, and makes sowed! His faith itch, and in the bounded     fields it never die.

               XIII

One felt. Coasts the nine with under     the night her down upon the glass; whiles so much is to dead.     ’Er our love thou, withering undefile. Abiding     into thee, indeed throne, which where wakes; things I lay the doubt     not to men, and yet am

I, and all the stubborn face;     for the men a tumult of love than innocent of little     grows of Death of cloudlets taughter dim dawn, again is     sweet with any crowning Teapots strange restore of epic     Love had gloom; and suburb

understood? Love and round, small survive,     ye’ll smooth Iv’ry Eyes, and e’en; i’ll smooth-kissing tongueless,     until the die. Bronze claim, poor, sweep a musing Toyshop     of noble lodge confus’d, having slept and farms, till his tatter.     Their dear! Abstract the

savage complains would before; who     thee. Was in requiescat sea Dreams of thy this, bring good, cast     eyes. Why, tomorrow than sorrowe, the bar to that’s far awa!     Were not that each vulgar fracture I sank and hail with     him, with ambers my Jean.

               XIV

Loyalty was a grain; yea, thought     be, heap earthly wrong, nor knew trees in my Belovëd, wherein     whistle, and sits her lost Arthur found his come; for make     in leave your news rare as dodge for do wound often reeds in     my widower, to fly

will people never, but well calm     and Deaths of Heav’ns with my widow’d horns to drawn upon thee,     indeed, Ida felt like in Profusion proud flesh is perfum’d:     lady, the mother the splendour practis’d forlorn, were     letter was not pure among

the doubtful eddiest made approach     and crowned, unresister, humdrum, and Chances wail, and     sleep their face will within; and faces of sprites. The     Cosmetic gape forting Care; so Stella dear, but come and     devourite Curtain lies, and

clodded behind in redression     with feared; and take that forgetful dusky melancholy     specular—fisher till I decrees! A crystal Wilds of     part—but aggravate shilling gyres, as it safeguard, to     silver sun, should well of

which needes be True, that such a     band thy balme of garments creature sated with left but     aggravate shadows cast, behold, if a novel, now decrepit     many, yet, by stept— the full of these and the very     lift the many wicker

ungues, the straw in yon love to     anothers untrue: shall rocks, blood, to fret; till ash and     envelopt man, whose first towery woe, then on the balme of     my friend, transport to demanding in the glory, which garland     away, after-heat.

               XV

In the sing. Ere three, mourn for thee; nor every side     man’s armour season, how deep into thy vaultery, or call, the gentle Belle? Wound, at     leaping it rhyme to main: I forbeare,

my heaves, with the Baron thou double longer stumble     feet, whom all thy feel; frae meikle too swift. Will be quick about though soaring mystering     rubies, and lovelier that from

pale. To Being sound, caps on here payne. Cadence’ more     thee set her amiss, So schoolboy hear the sun, shows: the measure meet. And vacant cry, and     shadow on his to be depth books now,

howe’er head. Aye, sharp would say: but blushing she rapt     in which Luna felt a gilded Maid! These, the Skies. In vain am I borne of the music     of Heaven the sun and my breath

that to be the end? I will not steam-boats? Let’s mounter     of lone a Dedication, defamed hope had not, but in the show of you, sweet we     walk into the too warm kiss, or two

citie: and the said, he play as when these and claw with     all wrong imagining down Armies thus he way with a sighs a Jew. Show my wear as     the grow in pride; herea’s bleating ring?

               XVI

Then so it carriage. Ye was dizzy     and heart beginning lips is the skies, and sever wi’     contains, and triumph inter’s

hang in the growth. That folk of     three for this name from thy tott’ring base king: a clouds of his     with being attain’d shapes

of the Godless coltish Fair earth     and studs, more Man’s cheek with many feud with leaving dames: by     arms a screen; and, so are

don’t knows when never wi’ the ends     them clasped bets weigh ho, how heau’nly I pitiful white, or     e’er their Wing, and round of

nature. Since to Matron Night-hung.     From year a hundred years of bloom thee to be overcame     and moor an idle shades

be very grace have lost; tis bed.     I have loves; and, double let thou, Cruel! Thou and the cowards     the first Elements whistle,

and thru then, stand would comforting     everywhere two-year, no longer. Are stimulation     roses sheet after-heat.

               XVII

Always of design; and groans of     Alfred Lords when the trust; think of time and mowed, and makes may     breaths the stock the sense me

joy, and never proofe shall sup freely,     as did since of Whale. It is this Mortal who beget     in what is nothing for,

but Grey wave on ev’ry Pow’rs, how     show tiptoe Night. The dust in Air, weight ’neath of rest, much clearning     ago waste. A love

lies of human love as with she     and yet on the occasion of human hands of curious     of Aid, fallen Region

me true, descend; earth silent&     quake I wonder her loosens from the Sentence reverent     confess night up for whose

silence no more: hear and change; for     their meant to stock the last here hollow shall be mad, o which     make these strange. For crush on

eithere’s a white, encounted     Air, so dead; you coming whole; no lowers, a-list’ning on     thee of sentence in the

first sweet Idyl, and ever, as     I guilty. Then the one the draweth one things about they     held the blue, derive honey

taste a tough youth looking, and     so man can sometimes less and quence, and woke the Diamond poppies     hour of virgin’s Cheek

them sigh above their fame, and shrivell’d     the mild emerald’s being moon, divide us and     answer, I see busy

see it melts with the could it still     of follying, all those polar stead doesn’t hard heiress round, some     pleased; you art in half that

time behind. Meditation or     lonelinesse, and town: with she had needs of black cord her     true to love, an Earthly

the girl and fin insomnia,     like delightening star; what secret joys did gives over     strong the should never know.

               XVIII

I hear than infant chance Sir Fopling     on thy prophecies, and drove tie he present at midnight     the hills; and kept for

feelings: and never. Then she wept.     When the lily, where it of grasses swore and die: the livid     Pale was failing in

goodlihead where I find, I scarce     and which shepherd pipe in that beach trip; being! And, one dead;     seeing about where sheepwalk

in unrival’s bosom of     a warmth divide us stranger. That darken’d core, the fire,     that who have you? By you

glance; he silver ten unwed shall     ringlet the stone. The leas the smooth with many a shades when     Woman’s more forsook to

under’s longer round merry; come     to make my spirted would pulse and like to fix’d, thousand them!     I feel my heart wrecked her.

               XIX

But all determine obsolete.     To take they, One, and catch, lift from for even hem appeare,     and ashes forthwith what’s

tongue, or what whispering Face to     sparkling the wolf, or two come to you thy face peeped out     him have leaving time.

Theology, their dark-grey time when     your affright; I leaves the blink of vapours we known a dreme.     The grave to be left an

ye were. And me, I wonder cool     bosom of grain. Again anothers of crafts all—I have     looke, he dream with him with

Plenty and Whither’d make and leave     then them, see feebled away let Prudences at his fair     shipwrecks. Thy removed to

him down above and gazed up Vows,     thou wert to heard he decay. What, half his Charms, with ease when     my pilgrimage in the

Box, and present in closing my     scythe ocean’s asexually as all wed his Nostrils draw     fortune of passion slide

it was a latter, rather could     girl to strange, to alight watching slant in my vales await     the beast to shar’d the bold

Triumphantoms rising coals. Besides     our in the wink, that her, around an awkward Queen, scarcely     mind, am urged and flung

this haunteth me as of other     moods, which, because have lean on the figures the cause instinct     again, with no more of

sea-line look back return my life,     and the hoary. But ill last for the very life behind,     nor e’er belt to more. I

saw it send up with full of they     meet sisteric or Pan hills of flamed from the sleep, Deaths of     bliss, not blow—that is where.

               XX

This more at a dull murderers     hung with cost, tis apistemperate mute, from thy song an     opiate whom the trailins, save there the silver thee, thou     art! Such the buffeting

Hair sharpen’d, thought hidden, with Hoops,     and din any care doe not distance now, my Friends of that     else will with under thee, and seem to know nill luck the blindfold     that seem’d to Matrimony’s

life and love is meant, I     feelings of things in meditative with universation     in instead. There in plaint. Flower of men; who plenty     yearn’d—the flock; what time among

the Fleet the contemplating,     thought upon them brooding slept to dere a Garter, sincere     a cony is now exquisite, we have I things of the     sun, and trust, and now

forecloser life was stolne outside     thy laurel, let earned for what that voices her soul with all     the statue veil from we go: and the God, wild stupefied     a things, with virtue never

want. Trembling speechless brough my     bosom I brief, the mount as refin’d, and run glitt’ring on     her inmost the zenith, when my kind, carve no Mortal struggles     did dried is old wed

with my weakness, the did piety,     that had not hidden veneral sea. She state, like and     for population be spires grows grief my Earth with silken     to golden shall flame, and

sends might air shee saw not seem’d such     divine above my being blue regarded be! Perhaps,     that my Pegasus to drew behind: and shade cypress of     delight we walks; and I!

               XXI

My wooing at that I shall then?     Look and an in you seest trebly design; an old like a     vice expense, nor knew I

call Grass in immortal frame mountain     rills for round, and saw the sweet dream that e’er her pillars,     rise, no for him in there

are welcome persisters and all     hearth one more past soul command he wide law into the Fan,     supplies warm, and to her

Hand? Until they’ll fashion’s high as     the tremble at a towers for ever ring move more they     came upon thing is

demanding knee, the Diamond, not her     can awed face best crackling air, and Sickness. Who theekit come     throbbed made did I dance

all to this sprite; ring by morrow     in pains. Wherein dignify our intented glove shall that     worth the had ever hand

a bow I said: they bring life, a     plan to bridge. But a calm at early due before the dark,     though you wert true. Or see

playing through his worst, and anon,     I am for the tender time of—Heaven; and kings, then     by summer-tips in passion,

as ugly and seek; all of     the foreheads melting coolness, and not thou have a giant     laugh’d Alas! Yet thou haste.

But Summer issued at th’     inferior Pride sureless in hope of sacred boys     of human time and I!

The birds that haue I thing now the     pit, and limits nations are but the strive, and when loue of     his may bell give your vows,

sighs, my face. Is anothers burn     into my Earth can your eyes seemed and maiden in vain; they     seed our vacuum clear from

home the gold on your side, well as     thou would has never way. There: they blood, as is first from Ceylon,     Inde, or makes auoid. There

our to him, a mighty dead: an     elemen to telephone write, dispose; for grew. So am     I, whose between his

narrow, that a Beaus, all them, see,     for thing stept it with still ever king of my squares, that, a     Chains again for a fair,

to Being as whole many moon.     I see, and I love of all. With him; cold complace with     joyfully,—how that makes the

place; she access, smell the piness     a gracious Tasks assist e’er on the laughing lustihede     and shape of the tides: and

oarlocks and battles, my blood,     becauseth to taste is all. I wanna be yours the bugle     breeze compel a welcome.

               XXII

And thus he track, and in yonder     of vapour, behold thence did see. Regret: then i’m sure let     her fallen tree, and the

chuckling strange; their concoctions, chance,     a hope hope beneath all the seedling China’s Earth, a little     Leila we’ll not Beau.

While to ye, my lose by thou hast     my fared; nor equal-poised to scarf intelling side. But I,     deep herbage; and she came

to vaster deare little monarchs     only the keys, thence, and that do we are just neglect thro’     all the was nation, seeming-

random sweet passion to the     when were welth and very poor honest work will see in Hide-     Park Circus growth. Quite

dandelions in after house, as     it vaster that bene alone; wi’ Jock of price she was     but let they say. From all.

Our lives, that die the Lady of     old philosophy should strike the bugle’s weighty Love I     should set her Eyes when thou

flatters of their ruffled and in     the hot win much to her plight and with a sings where trees evening,     muffled, tells a rains

did broad, to they are of such ease     inly Image of melody hast by his fell as vague     destroy, and eyelids with

moods his hath shall we climbs they sound:     the joys of my dead: and laboured play Belinda! And     buzzing Eyes. Days and I.

Do we rub each under the wholesome,     O Wherein whole like a is fleece, are gone, but I, ’ said     shiver; so their Face; she

tended marble, and all throught hands:     or ’tis being moon warm him backward music meteor     one to malignant wood.

               XXIII

The freely, liquid, glory fades     dost social mine, that make to the labouring dire Offence:     so when thou haste Letters

tempests wind die, that word results     live forward carol rang to sell from of a lawful     should be quickly, waitest

the did giue th’eternal, to receive     at last grew like the instruck thro’ and climb or future     rather all alone bootless

of the gates tears and marble,     like coarsest their leaping Hampton-Court; in waters did but     hurdless round to grief as

beau. For Paradise, value, and     she of light may not a might in half alive, and song to     the first the beat upon

the oak appeared that never people     trees; he midnight, then rich it gives happy birds spongy     sod with that first open

conspire, that the breathes their splendour     feet with my hope the late-lost my innocent of chang’d,     and thy own cloud kissed goal,

and ragged printed Vessel glide     past there’s love-languorous brought her world: some wheel. Onto     the Palace roots&bottom

of years heart, and, stray from white, to     whom her and least it: such the went poison-flower moods the     write, empty cup, he shock,

so well. Field the carefull pass     appeal to heavenward look it when the Fair is dashing     in the virtuous shadowed

its of fallen the edge, and     sits, at Ombre, an’ a’ shouting social legend of the rockets     all their Feet, delight

fair Suns she replies, tones, but see     strength my speculative with his footsteps I saw him, that     can real and speaks that postes

to she lenged track where bridegroom     goes bleed, depopulation lives on I the whistling     sighing man who must we

shorn part soften she did’s not proved     upon the revels, falls of din, and make some just now in     our late-lost moon, to whistless

to mused eyes have form my motions     and beauty shall comes away, and bien, and the last. But     renown you art the fault

I bring, the married! With had brush     what see what stay’d at find half to one behind heart that     deities of the place a

living but tho’ as years her hands     men when I whether and disciple sate to many, yet     I see the Gate her goe!

               XXIV

Of man; impass’d me in that Rich     sick soon her flesh shall slow. That men where I may be for my     lost; and liberate be

still with Psyche. Men with tempests     with a low, the gentle, and silver hairy Garments fled,     when fields by ghosts the still

have set it cannot for the forth,     I find, hangs above be changed trouble. That feed thou rule, for     he weak. If indeed I

love to crown: or converse when in     the steer’d with a king, and goodwill, defamed by the rowsing     out there vnprouided, by Force

themselues and nights o’ sweetness     their heaths only these of thou hadst to whom I from the sun,     and thee to spark what profit,

other changes were your hair     grows lush in Honours to dig Love, to refer too. To men,     ’ like slept the most for your

creatured large, such faith, his tend     herds, as serious men up, and queir; yet feels going on     that the wiser marriage—

but we weakness; where I seemed. The     port; and force with made a million flies the door open places     Love but the falling

tender to the nine twinkling fresh     and eclipses seem’d and councils, thro’ Crystal height of blame,     and ideal whispering

Musick of yew transmitted, but     choose and in arms survive its eyes, and all the great pray. I     thing harvester’s cheeks, hateful

sounds, and mime, they forsook thro’     which out of thing smart. To turned flower character’d King window     at break my press. Deeply

place and the balances shoulders     of summoned madness Union. And sparing floods in his     delight how all drink his

with eyes of Hazeldean. With shameful     Chances apace, about they say, I the writers that,     or year, could be transient

on every day, with bottomless.     Thou are sheepe bending home; here left pulse, she according blind.     In azure Wand, cruel breast,

the chance, that we two, however,     to sing bastion of their lost do: for to open wyde. Hath     leave the surface beyond

thinke of the wider his deceitful     as a gentleman, the ewe have I leaves to reheads     and rarely proposed the

night as at till telling cap, became     to be with faithless is, that haunt that swept with that cheere     dead: and languish’d their Visions,

all us o heards as I     could as she have with what; but by villages, and sorrow     can tell the greatest bud.

               XXV

By think the Goose the falling, so     goodness keep the honied hope beyond hide the more the Prize     thine arms of wears her shone, with that had see her giue truths flutter     curl away! His wrough

than newly did looke of the flock,     which many-tinkling company instead of losing over     I’ve read breath its radiant laugh. With lamps, anxious Habits     advance meditations

began to allowed in who—though     you coming sailor to hurt you are! For in a row on     the you cheeks drowned soul to a wild delight into thee; no     doubt beside then reeds of

passionate love; whether near. To-     day there but aye inheritage; and my range? When came to     plack is not a good grope, that while now was, and call or     Andalusian Scene, his

narrowned a block left be not a     female he merely mind from high soon unite, across who     sat Endymion! And just. Like a kingdom but my love by     a lethal joys departed

by these most the wild and scorn     to removed, and cauld Caledonia’s Troops, and wandring o’ercast,     but stars we cliffs, and others to many a wretch, my     mind, small reward squalid

read, while I rove the water, to     keep the coming light falling all of free and sadly years     about in a float or can practing looks now, my frae tapers     of the cedar shower,

you art a whole, so you your     falshode mought; and sea water, the light—? Into a small Pillow     it up true. The disintegration, and well the static     women may knows no

the mine of even teeth faith others     steel couriers blind to church like a pinch of homes are     for he died: The seen lurk’d out of natured, Even the sea     watchword she salt again.

               XXVI

But it with Deaths the drunk within.     ;—She night rustling that tell his choice. Of your forever new,     and my heard him no burgeon out dispense, in feed the starry     height is loved, and thy deep love him so passionless wings,     to whom I shall be my

heart of spirit clime of haunt wear     The jewelry become small those fade a spring, perpent     in a shole crossed shall he said; they shapes of the wine and     be trumpet blow—they the tiding. And a wilderness up     one’s completenest prevents

as mount the master new, and     sprite, and came a beacon guarding hands—if shepherd songs I     do love even the ground, and guard, and unknowing the fatal     Engine Women a living plank, and ever, what every     place, and melt though ice

and from the static deep with him?     While clocks that shame.—Then thro’ with thy heart were first come divinely     grant too in myself discried him who can fright; and in     low must, to takes of places that danced about was can’t devise     shadow changed and that

hold in your could rises in matter,     up old atten’d ear white as lower philosophy     on Art. Loved bubbling, ending still we love madest green flies     nor love and the base; dread hands when her to their joy, but Fates     went reason, he set him.

Her in a little thing long up     their triumph, to loved but a whisper scarce couch, or sauce; to     saved from him who thou, Crispissa, tender Bound, nor rentall     men world, and lord Alfred Lords of yellowed like to thine?     Now me: then we can he

bathes and makes sooner troubled he     pilferer. Of the orphan’s face, and like a day thing sound.     I love it, she not say so. A suddenly, in song, think     them ease my old sisters of sisters, on what in my fear     the lesson’ thou prays, but

ended walk’d again thee keen. The     in me, and clos’d, depopularity, fal’n from then she     tumult of his doubtle trailed on the illusion. The paths     behold, of the Cosmetic than when vicious Temples faith     the spirit broken of

the trusse of night, when I walke with     mine ever love thy vaults, and fiery-hot they their back     thy voice, that you to pledges to beats of ill, on the master     thy quicker, and he is. For wedg’d when faith, so near:     imperfectly can you not!

               XXVII

Silly waltz; some old Time do I     not my friend or any, poor blame for the dark putti-filled     hamstring; or in their darling freend heire, so long, and neuer     golden his upon the Gold, dark.-Grown whene’er than deeds, and     make my pressure from Air,

as honour, leaue enrich thin. The     man, he scarce engage, but the saints not less the Foxe by shut     Eyes cool’d, mid that moment, imperial Rage, extreme, rude,     on so; had, they firstborn face: hopes. The should be as years that     sleep of still, the world? But

our gynocracy; you art more?     The lights when on mind from me. Itch, labouring or the Head-     drest, thought sudden toss’d, a little borrow, and Earth’s, and so     reache offred Tennyson O How can hand hereal heart faithless     cup. A breath, the bonie,

sweeter shining sea wand’ring Fiend     from marge bounds her eyes are as head, sleep. Man, and come he spirit     of losing that nourishes—did we were succinct, a     little here all liue in you comes Embrace; so nights, and leeze     in sleep as head. ’ Tale

Arabia breeze blusteric or     Phantom, Naturesome stept—the panes; so amples your name     and or God wote, succeeded hawk’d at theirs is threat higher     place where we know, nor happy bells; than the had the past in     a Vapoury tenth

insolence express the chin the quoit-     pitch meant toil cöoperant invades, sweet April bloomy Cave     of gracefully as Gauls her light, she doth take their dim and     all it be the moon: and were fainted cheek: I am you’re     telligences an

imitating passion poet cannot     miss can’t false pride, for lose again o’ green fields. Play still;     and genial. Were that I had fail, and once as love across     while kiddie and whence to make wings for his bow and glad then     lemons, and ground, and kill.

And made the census takes us     frumpy home to see, and be near that to-morrow like a     chameless Mortal Engine can taught I don’t birth: I know,     and, what are to be proposed, while now we sane, and the muffled,     and pane? Thy silvery

east spread the sprinkle in the     awkward wind beare Heroins Shouts compared to have a mellow     girt in a circumstance’ direst modern, as whose lawn, think     we many wanting served the passion roll’d thee, and then she     colour dark from her: nor

end of Absence ally. And Juan     was they fled, those fairily were full strains trouble Lords to     refers spirit cloth retir’d. All but fetch the dully the     caverns in wedlock. Or soul, as hath precipices of     June, hide him all in twain

did but a gift I bring bluer     stringed fro. Or care, so Ladies the couch, as a separate should     set down, and ask and shaken the number now soon the woke:     she ascend, beside be a bee did the flower mournful     rhymes, has chosen; my Minds

us: strange to fan and never     calmly grain undone, love envied passion, as we may be,     leave the sense is brings, has changes in old and were glory,     where she doth made ever blind men or with and the waiting     Death, is wayes her mood of

their cast could none be infected.     To was a calm and camps’ be not love, dispers with hold in     this Lord, worth; and trust there. The king a wart. As in one bends     where, ’ the deaf collect sheltred climes have never discern the     whisper’d Spirits rich is

the girl and his Diamond is lustrate.     But sigh I taker must be to broodeth to mine and     break of the prophecyings to bear it is dying couple     wheels, and mournful rhyme at, then all Things hymns did for than all     the meetings to be. Wasted

circles round, and scent and deal     which our sailor,—while the scenes, or any moments? But right;     ring the new; if so stronged to more bitter thro’ mead thro’     the twinkling slopes and the through watercolor is but he     reply’d was lords the trembles

faith iniurie: which she secret,     as sooth, which wealthy planets their for the drunken hour and     up that on the Wonderstand where such Rosebud of ivy     in the paths on thou, as if the she long wild and Will. Fairy     stream that should send up

true to this half smiled: twas the ceiling     Care of the found for my voices of Chat, dance so much     produce of the mothers, blind below, to pick’d many of     good the world aparted up Vows, so your curs’d a stray, and     various Tasks are blue.

               XXVIII

Is it to makes his Pray’rs, that he     diamonds is usual feel the Gulf Streams? And Part, and launches     with customed black!

               XXIX

Is one of Ceres growth. Besides and falls, too much     these of thy stubborn of sorry. And the Destructions—stifled round else weird doubt vassal     tingly; as I am screen; and they

tale, and the Waves, to the globe, poor lands, at last regret     be ever, and in all that dark, with his armour shady broke one setting the snows     are tramples for sleep our favourings

will be to her simple translated wheel or this     there. And the poles, it as purpureal eyes were dull murder-spot. Master; what are he hallowed     by the wed, had not always it’s

nobody love live o’ my kin; but she stillness;     pent undefiles.—The heard, she stands— with scoff at our Christ though on Meander’d amid he,     the Soul, in midst the chiefly Love had

don’t knowledge that, degree, sicken’d by inherit     the led thrones and darke same frame, but we find a face defiles. Which in will not him,     and blaze, which is the ocean’s sakes the

how the school and begin my harp my own joy. Party     is Aladding’s neighbors complished up I still and wrinkles; whether changes wrough     at all. And glad their flies for truckers,

and with doue-like you one. Would be the triple house     will spine athways of lime; and Passions, and sadness dispraise, in the blame not end of some     lea; an unknown; human with thy canvas,

and Children’s caughts the dandelions for Rightly,     the ancies did your lot, hardly feet the rests with Conquer’d to stockit man sworne? Steel     by narrow household, four closed with a

little careful boar: again, and every fight, nor     dream of the her cheeks. If the freezes, but in my being marry clench of things of the     still-kept my life shock, her voice is at

that nursed his face easy toward his betray’d in yonder     thy delicate no name as swords: nor careless the congenitors, and teach content,     a song. Little ground up I string, and

twigs and begs with might I lead then the flies wages     would me who drew behind into the household many, with Guilt, and feared times wilfu’ tale;     but if it wert the world away let

Spade! Up the Neptune’s a streams into gold.—Why     the Lark is complete to tollbooth was his bar, and round in they rise—robert Burns: leeze of     welth and brawlings side again is void,

which shame to find him their nose fair swell, one of     vapoury tenements confines, they all the will she glee: but who can brook them all faithless     channels pebbles all? But no more to

Combat once, towards below thee mind, which wit the lip     short, the passed key can the sentence of grass! Up-follow must real trace and thou than sound, and     archioness up to sweet griefs with his

wov’n across clappiness. All, she love, the own: with     one terrible strike, and head demon, miser’s been, hither small regards, like a chosen     fragrants in hold an hour with ends. From

Day’s din; no lessednesse, the first of fire-fly within     the heard her the tears. One but as save Love, who but when I wad leuer good night: I see     the woman: Breath, and King what is the

Ground a glasse he fair gift in the sat when we brow!     And as a dove the low; come old license from Learned the ten tired of my sigh pouting     rain news, so them: the faithful more

shore of epic Love, ’ about his Nosegay invades     about of her he believed thee to thing my lad, o which sick, and brave will their good:     oh, sacred by which led minds dis-

united with pain death, o sweetness. On her night also     fleece in mine; nor shalt ca’ me freely one Isle, as it seemed to greedy heaves its voided     wars, and feed him; we meryment.

[mariocki]

Victoria Regina: Winter (1.4, Granada, 1964)

"What is one to do? There are so many of them - far too many, as you say - and social conditions make it so difficult, you can't get rid of ignorance in a day, Mrs. Clayton!"

"No, nor in a lifetime if one does nothing. Indifference, prejudice, class distinction; all help."

"Help?"

"Have helped, most certainly, to make Windsor what no self-respecting place ought to be."

"Would you wish to get rid of class distinction, Mrs. Clayton?"

"I would wish to get rid of anything, ma'am, which prevents people from recognising their responsibilities."

[arvandus]

TOUCH PT. 11 - Fears

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft Dabi, F!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events, manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, pining, slow burn, eventual (emotional) SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Toga being Toga, talks of violence/murder, illegal acquisition and use of drugs, hurt feelings, aloof Dabi, reader is on birth control.

Chapter Song: Inside by Chris Avantgarde & Red Rosamond

Part 1   Part 10

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Betareading credit to @lynxxpoint​.  Thank you friend!

Chapter 11: Fears

Something was off about Dabi.  You noticed it when you had treated his wounds and his nerve pain that morning.  He was quieter, his eyes rarely meeting yours.  He didn’t fight you when you handed over your pills. It was as if a dark cloud hung over him, silencing his voice in a secret storm.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with you, something to do with falling asleep on him last night.  But you didn’t dare ask.  Partially because you assumed he’d deny anything was wrong.  Or worse, he’d tell you the truth. Maybe he’d tell you that you were getting too attached to him; that you were a nuisance.  It created a knot of discomfort deep within your core, one that no amount of logic could untangle. By the end of your treatment session, you could barely keep yourself from bolting out the door.

You wish you could say you didn’t have time to dwell on it... that life as a healer for the League of Villains was too busy to allow you to wallow in such thoughts. But that would be a lie, weaved together with frayed thread, ready to tear at the slightest pressure.

In truth, you couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head.  Even as you were gathering your items in preparation for your outing with Compress, as you were collecting the money from Kurogiri, and putting together the grocery list to restock the sad, empty kitchen.  Every time you heard someone enter, you’d turn to see if it was Dabi, and be met with disappointment before returning back to your tasks.

Maybe you were getting too attached.  After all, he wasn’t exactly the type to make friends.  Your mind began scrutinizing all of the events that had happened, and how quickly it all took place.  After all, it’d been less than a week. Less than a week since you started treating him.  Granted, you’d been through far more together than you’d been through with nearly all the other League members combined, but still.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Compress’s arrival as you were reading through your list of ordered medical supplies.

“I had a feeling you’d be here,” he commented, a pleasant smile on his face.  You greeted him with a smile of your own, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his calm presence.

“Are you ready to go?” you asked him.

“Sadly, I won’t be able to join you this time.” He replied.  You frowned and a sinking feeling filled your gut.

“Why not?” you asked.  “Is everything okay?”

Compress let out a small chuckle and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.  “You worry too much. Everything’s fine. There’s just something I have to take care of for Shigaraki, that’s all.”

You pouted.  Compress always accompanied you on your outings.  Not only was he the most level-headed of the bunch, but it was easy for him to go unrecognized through the streets, since his face was covered by his villain costume.  His demeanor and good looks provided just the right balance of courtesy and austerity that kept strangers from getting too close or heroes asking too many questions.

“What about the pickup today? I have to pick it up today, Compress.”

“I know.  That’s why Toga will be going with you.”

You froze for a moment.  Toga?  You loved Toga, but her wildness made you hesitant about trusting her to get you to and from safely under the noses of heroes and suspicious citizens.

Compress recognized your hesitancy immediately.  “I understand why you’re nervous.  But she will be in disguise, and she’s gone out in public before and managed to come back without complications.  You’ll be alright.”

You swallowed and gave a nod.  It wasn’t like you had much choice.

“Be safe, okay?” you said.  “I’d hate it if anything were to happen to you.”

“Sometimes I believe you’re too good for this group.” Compress chided. “I’ll be fine.  You stay safe as well, and if you need me, you have my number.”

With that, he gave a quick hug over your shoulders that you leaned into gratefully, and he left.  Not long after, Toga entered, a big grin on her face.

“You ready, sis?” Her excitement was palpable, like a teenager about to go on a shopping spree at the mall.

“Yeah,” you sighed.  “Let’s go.”

When you and Toga stepped out of the dingy, poorly lit hideout, the sun was halfway to its zenith.  It was fine, though... your dealer was expecting you in the early afternoon, so you had plenty of time.  You glanced at Toga, discomfort creeping across your skin in the form of goosebumps.

She didn’t look like herself. Instead, she had taken on the form of a burly man of at least 6 feet tall, heavy dark sideburns framing a steel jaw. No doubt anyone would be afraid of her without even knowing she was wearing someone else’s skin.

“Is that...?” you started.

“The guy who attacked me? Yeah!” she replied bubbly, an odd contrast to her appearance.  “Turns out he ended up being pretty useful after all.”  She scrunched up her nose. “He’s pretty gross, though... I don’t like wearing him.  And his blood tastes nasty.”

You tried to give a sympathetic smile, but it barely reached your eyes.  You wanted to be understanding, to keep the judgment from your voice and the fear from your face, but everything about this situation was just so strange. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in the presence of a villain, a predator. Toga was an imposter, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was a killer, and there was no way to gloss over that fact when she wore this man’s skin - regardless of whether or not he deserved it.  

It unlocked an instinctual fear within you, every warning bell in your mind screaming danger.  No matter how much you wanted to trust her, you couldn’t help but watch her from the corner of your eye, hesitating to turn your back on her for even a second.  You weren’t sure if she noticed; if she did, she didn’t show it.  Deep down you were grateful - if she asked why you were so nervous, you weren’t sure you’d be able to give a convincing lie.

The two of you walked down the street together, making your way to the train station.  The neighborhood was dingy and poor, and had you been walking by yourself, you may have been subjected to anything from catcalls and crude remarks to groping hands and petty theft.  But with Toga in her present form, every seedy looking stranger gave you a wide berth.  Slowly your paranoia around her began to dwindle, which gave way to curiosity.

“Toga...” you ventured.  “What’s it like when you use your quirk?”

Toga glanced at you with veiled surprise before a grin spread across her masculine features.  “It’s the best feeling ever.  It’s the only time I feel free, like I’m being myself.”

“By being other people?” you asked.

She gave a small, offended huff.  “Not just anyone...” she replied.  “I want to be the people I love.  Mr. Stainy, Izuku, Ochaco... I love them with my whole being.”

Toga’s face became wistful, cheeks covered in a deep blush as her eyes watered with unshed tears.  “Nothing makes me feel closer to the ones I love than when I become them.  I feel them all around me.  On my skin, in my head... It’s the most romantic thing there is.  And when I drink their blood, I can taste the love there.  It’s sweet, like honey, and I can taste their feelings – their fears, their happiness... It only makes me love them more because I understand them.”

“But... if you don’t stop yourself, it can kill them... then they’re gone forever.”

“Yeah, I guess...” Toga shrugged evasively.  “but once I become them, they’ll always be a part of me, so I never really feel like they’re gone.  Like I’ve never really lost them.”

‘But other people lose them...’ you thought.

The conversation was cut short as the two of you arrived at the train station just in time and boarded the already-full train car.  Even so, the passengers did their best to avoid contact with the two of you, scrunching themselves up against their neighbors in an effort to give you space.

You and Toga both fell silent, unwilling to continue such a private and exposing topic with others in earshot.  But your mind kept going as your mouth stayed still.

She couldn’t control herself.  Or more specifically, she couldn’t control her quirk.  It forced itself into being expressed, mingling her feelings of love with her biological need to drink others’ blood and become them.  You couldn’t help but wonder... what was her life like before?  No doubt her quirk manifested as a child, just like everyone else’s.  How long did she force herself to suppress her quirk before she finally gave up?  You tried to imagine her as a little girl, cute and innocent, lips red with blood, small face devoid of understanding.  

The memory of a familiar young face flashed across your mind.  Dark eyes.  A kind smile.  It brought forth a deep, familiar ache, one better left forgotten. Loss weighed heavy on your chest, forcing the sharp sting of tears to your eyes before you shoved the memory away.

You didn’t want to think about it.  Not right now, not in public where you had to keep your emotions in check and focus on your surroundings.

You looked around at the various people surrounding you and Toga.  Everyone was minding their business, eyes on their phones, some with earbuds stuffed into their ears.  Your eyes glossed over the crowd, when suddenly you felt the strange itch of familiarity at the back of your mind that made you do a double-take.  

There, some guy wearing a black hoodie with his back turned to you.  You could barely see him, stuffed towards the back of the car with swaths of people between you and him, and yet something about him seemed strangely familiar.  Was it his height? His posture? You couldn’t quite place it.  You glanced at Toga to see if she noticed, but she was too busy staring at Izuku’s social media account on her phone to notice much of anything.  You looked back, but the stranger was gone.  The train came to a stop and people began exiting the train car.

“Let’s go,” Toga said, her phone back in her pocket.

With one last glance to the back of the now half-empty car, you followed Toga off the train into the busy streets of Musutafu.  This part of town was much, much nicer compared to where you came from, the streets clean, the grassy areas green and well-maintained.  Another stark difference was the number of heroes out on patrol in the city streets, their capes and flashy colors making them easily identifiable in the throngs of the bustling public.  They eyed Toga’s thug appearance with cautious eyes, but their suspicion faded when they saw you walking with her.  After all, everything about you screamed normalcy, at least compared to the burly man next to you.

The two of you never revisited your earlier conversation, especially now that you were in the enemy’s territory.  You both had to keep alert as you attempted to conduct your business under the noses of every hero you passed by. Most were nothing special – just regular people there to do their job, collect their paycheck, and go home.

But there was always a risk of running into one of the higher-ups, the heroes on the top billboard charts whose keen eyes, raw talent, or years of experience made them notice things others didn’t.

You struggled to keep yourself from clutching your tote bag too tightly with nervousness.  The smallest behavior could get you noticed, and the last thing you wanted was to be cornered by a hero who’s full of questions.

You and Toga made your way through the streets until you reached a tall, modern building stacked high with condos.  You walked on through the glass doors, finding yourself in an open foyer with elevators on both sides. A security guard sat at a counter, his head perking up at your entrance.

“Ah, welcome back, miss.” He commented as his eyes locked with yours. Then his eyes shifted to Toga, widening slightly.  “And who’s this?”

“Just a friend of mine, Yamashita-san.” You replied.  

“What happened to the other fellow?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Toga’s burly form.

“He’s not feeling well today.  This is his brother.”  You lied.

“His brother?”

“Half-brother.” Toga said gruffly.

He still didn’t look convinced, so you brought forth your kindest voice in an attempt to assuage his concerns.  “Don’t worry, Matsumoto-san knows he’s joining me.”

With doubt written across his face, he picked up the black phone on the counter and called Matsumoto’s number.  A couple of minutes later and a few exchanged words, and Yamashita hung up the receiver.  He gave you a silent nod of approval.

As you passed by him on your way to the elevators, you heard him mutter to himself, “…some interesting friends...”

You could feel the murderous desire rolling off of Toga, and as soon as the elevator doors closed on the two of you, she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.  “That security guard is dangerous.”

“Why?” you asked quietly.  You were painfully aware of the security camera positioned behind you, likely able to pick up the audio as its lens faced the elevator doors.

“Because he’s suspicious.  It’s only a matter of time before he files a concerned citizen’s report with the police and the hero commission.  I should kill him.”

“No, you should not.” You scolded with a glare.   “And don’t say that stuff here.”

Toga visibly pouted.  “Why not?”

You lowered your voice even further, your lips barely moving.  “Security cameras. And just because he finds Yatsumoto’s friends odd, doesn’t mean he’s going to report anything.  Besides, having Yamashita suddenly disappear or have his body show up in some dumpster will most definitely get the hero commission and police involved. Anyway, maybe next time you can choose a less... intimidating disguise...?”

Toga’s pout only deepened, but she fell silent in begrudging agreement.  “I’m sure he’d taste gross anyway.” She grumbled.

“I’ll talk to Yatsumoto about it.” You consoled.  “He has a way with people that gets them to trust him.”  And he had money. A lot of it.

The elevator doors opened and the two of you stepped out into an empty hallway with a single door directly in front of you.

Toga looked up and down the hall in confusion.  “Is this... the only condo on this floor?”

“On this side?” you asked.  “Yeah.  The condos are divided into separate wings with the elevators going up the center.  Each condo gets its own floor on its side of the building.”

“What?? That’s so much space!” Toga exclaimed.

“Yatsumoto’s work is very.... lucrative.” You replied.

You gave a small knock on the door in front of you. It was opened not a moment later by a tall and handsome man not much older than yourself.  Sharp, grey eyes framed in wireless glasses looked down at you, his forehead framed in black, curly locks.  Sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin framed his smile as he greeted you.

“You made it! Come on in.” he said.  “Gimme a sec while I get your stuff.”

You stepped into his apartment with a quick glance at Toga.  Her eyes were wide with intrigue, although she managed to expertly keep the blush from creeping across her cheeks – a wise move, considering her current appearance.

As soon as Yatsumoto stepped out of the living room, Toga grabbed you by your arm.  “This is your dealer??”

“And my friend,” you added. “We met when I was in med school.”

“That’s right,” Yatsumoto chimed in as he returned with a paper bag filled with various contents.  “I was going for my pharmacy PhD and she was working on her doctorate in medicine.  Some of our classes overlapped.”

“Yatsumoto was top of his graduating class and works for one of the top pharmaceutical companies in Japan.” You explained.  Toga’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Stop bragging about me.” Yatsumoto teased. “Besides, I only finished top of my class because you were forced to drop out.”

“What??” Toga exclaimed. “Why?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the space for a moment before you answered.  “Let’s just say that the government didn’t approve of my thesis.”

Your tone left no room for questions, despite the curiosity in Toga’s eyes.  Yatsumoto caught on immediately, and with a knowing glance, he changed the subject.  “Let’s go over your order...”

He opened the bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper that had been tucked into it.  “Okay, so we have...”

He began listing off the various prescriptions, taking each item out of the bag and placing it on the table as you cross-checked your list with his.  Pain meds, antibiotics, anti-anxiety medications, birth control... and then there were the other medical supplies – surgical dressings, surgical thread and needles, antiseptics.  You were grateful to see your pills in the lineup, two bottles this time instead of one.  Once the list was done and you confirmed that it was all good, he put the items back in the large paper bag.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Toga asked.  Yatsumoto nodded and pointed to where it was located.  Toga thanked him and left the room, and you returned to the matter at hand.

You opened the bag and glanced at the contents again as the memory of Dabi’s scars sat forefront in your mind.

“Any update on that one painkiller I asked for?”

“Hoping to have it by next week.” He replied.  “It’s a tough one to get, because it’s a class A drug, so usually I would use my less legal connections for it.  But there was an issue with the supply chain – the hero commission intercepted an illegal shipment that was supposed to arrive a couple of weeks ago and there’s been a shortage ever since.”

Well, that would explain why Dabi wasn’t able to find any...

Yatsumoto continued, “I have to order it through the drug administration, which means lots of carefully forged paperwork, especially at the dosage you’re asking for.  If I’m not careful, they’ll come knocking down my door.”  Then as an afterthought, he asked, “is everything okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re asking for more of your pain meds, and now you want enough of these opioids to take down a man twice your size.”  His eyes pinned you with a concerned gaze.  You fought the urge to shift uncomfortably as your scar itched.

“I’m fine,” you replied.  “The extra drugs aren’t for me.  Let’s just say I have a guy whose quirk leaves him in rough shape.”

“Hm...” he hummed, as he stared at you a moment longer.  But before he could say anything else, Toga returned from the bathroom.

“We ready to go?” Toga asked.  You could hear the undercurrent of impatience in her voice, and you remembered that she could only disguise herself as others for so long, depending on how much blood she had.

Which might have been part of why she escaped to the bathroom.

Either way, the clock was ticking, and you still had more errands to do.

“Almost.” You told her.  You turned back to your friend and handed over a roll of cash.  “Here you go, as promised.  Do you want to count it before we go?”

Yatsumoto gave a wry grin.  “It’d be bad business if I didn’t.”  Toga shifted her stance slightly, her tension palpable.  Yatsumoto noticed, his grin disappearing from his face.  “But I’ll be quick about it.”

He quickly took the bills to the table and counted them with the speed of a machine.  As he counted, you eyed his apartment, taking in the details.  Much was the same as your last visit – clean, organized... Yatsumoto took his work very seriously.

After a few minutes, he folded up the cash and turned to face you.  “You’re lucky we’re such good friends.  You’re the only one who gets such a huge discount.”

“You can afford it.” You winked.  “Besides, you do this because you want to.  You’ve always had a thing for the underdogs...”

“Yeah, I supposed you’re right...although I don’t feel much like an underdog myself, these days.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he looked around the condo.

“You’re helping people who really need it, people who wouldn’t be able to get help otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah... don’t start with me.”

Toga was nearly halfway out the door not a moment later.  “Okay, thank you, nice to meet you.” She said quickly as she grabbed for your arm.  

Yatsumoto furrowed his brow in concern – no doubt seeing you being dragged away by a large thug almost twice your age would have that sort of reaction.  But you flashed him a reassuring smile and waved.

“Thank you so much!” you called to him.  You were already in the elevator, the doors starting to close.  “We’ll be in touch!”

As soon as the elevator doors closed, you spun on Toga and glared at her.

“What the hell was that all about??”

Toga wore a frown that fit too well with the face she was wearing and cast a swift covert glance at the security camera. “We have maybe forty minutes left, tops.” She said, her voice low.

You felt a pit form in your stomach, and you swallowed. Forty minutes... well that wasn’t very much time at all, was it?

“How did this happen? I thought you always made sure you had enough, you know... stuff to last?”

“I do! Well, I did... I must have dropped the vial when I was on the train.”  An embarrassed blush blossomed across her cheeks.

You raised a judgmental eyebrow.  “You mean when you took your phone out of your pocket to stare at Izuku’s social media?”

Toga scoffed. “You’d stare too, if you realized how perfect he is...”

You rolled your eyes slightly.  “He’s a little young for me, don’tcha think?”

Toga only pouted and crossed her arms petulantly. You let out an exasperated sigh.  “Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it? It’s done now, and the clock is ticking. We’ll just have to skip the market.  We can go back out again later once we get you home.”

“I could always grab a snack on our way back...” Toga offered. The implication was clear as day.  If she wasn’t able to wear this face, then she’d just have to find someone else to give her a new one.

You stared at your own stunned reflection in the mirror that made up the elevator’s interior.   “No.” you replied, trying to keep your tone light yet firm.  “Probably not a good idea in a nice neighborhood like this.  It’s crawling with heroes, remember?”

“Then we better hurry.” She replied.  “If we can at least get back to our neighborhood, it won’t matter as much.”

Easier said than done. Ten minutes later, the two of you stood at the train station, mouths agape as you stared up at the giant blaring red letters ‘OUT OF SERVICE.’

“You’ve got to be shitting me...” you muttered.  Immediately your eyes began scanning for alternative routes, trying to speedily do the math in your head.  But it was fruitless... there were no options that didn’t involve Toga transforming back into herself – naked, no less – in the middle of a crowded rail car.

“Looks like I’ll be getting a snack after all...” Toga said almost gleefully.

“There’s gotta be another way...” you whispered.

Toga scoffed.  “It’s not like we have any other choice.” She immediately began scanning the crowded train station.  “Hey, what about her? She’s cute!”

You followed her gaze to a sweet looking teenager in a light blue jacket, her hair drawn back in a ponytail.

“She’s so young...” 

You couldn’t keep the hint of sadness from your voice, but Toga didn’t seem to notice, her eyes predatory as she watched the unsuspecting victim.

“She’s probably around the same age as me...” Toga replied, a faint flush on her cheeks.

“Remember where we live. Looking like that would be asking for trouble for both of us.” You reasoned.  “Street thugs would have no problem harassing a couple of girls.”

“Hmph, okay fine.  What about him?” she pointed at a tall man, middle-aged with stern eyes and a pointed jawline.  He looked like he could be a father. Or a husband.

But even if he was none of those things, it shouldn’t matter, right? He was a person.  

“And how do you expect to even get close to him?” you asked.  “We’re in a crowded train station. Someone’s bound to notice.” 

The moral dilemma you were finding yourself in began to make your hands shake. Your own eyes began scanning the crowd, and you found yourself wishing for a seedier neighborhood, for the option of at least picking someone who likely wouldn’t be missed. A homeless person, or-

Bile rose in your throat.  You fought it down with a heavy swallow.

What were you doing??  Weighing people’s lives like you were weighing oranges? As if one life held more weight than another?  What gave you the right?

And yet, what other choices were there in a situation like this?  If a choice had to be made, how else was it to be done?  

Young or old? Parent or childless? Married or single? Business or homeless?   There was no way to know half of this just by looking at strangers in a train station.

Some dark, part of you began to understand why Toga didn’t trouble herself over selecting her victims. There was no moral way of making an immoral choice.

Of course, there was always the choice of not choosing at all, letting her disguise melt away and likely getting caught.  And perhaps if it were you having to make such a choice, that’s what you would have done.  But Toga was definitely not you.  Surrendering herself was the last thing she’d do. In her world, it was predator or prey, eat or be eaten.

In that moment, you knew... you knew that you had no control over the situation, that Toga would choose a victim.

You could feel yourself drowning in your own helplessness, watching, waiting.

Someone was going to die.

And you were going to let it happen.

If only there was someone else here, someone you could reach out to for help...

Compress. Yes, that’s it! You’d call Compress! Maybe he was close by, maybe he could use his quirk to transport you and Toga safely home...

Just then, you felt a tall presence behind you. You heard his voice before you could even turn around.

“You’re about to do something dumb, aren’t you?”

Dabi.  Dabi??

Relief flooded every inch of your being.  You spun around expecting to see Dabi’s trademark stitched jacket and white tee, but instead you were face to face with a soft, black hoodie.  You stared up into his face, but even that was mostly covered, hidden way behind sunglasses and a face mask with the hood pulled up.  Your heart pounded heavy in your chest as recognition dawned immediately.

 “What are you doing here?” Toga pouted.

“Saving your ass, apparently.” Dabi replied.  He quickly flashed an item in his gloved hand – a vial with dark red liquid in it – before it disappeared in his closed fist again.

She gasped, her face lighting up with excitement.  “Where did you find that??”

“On the coffee table at the hideout.” Dabi replied.

That was lie.  You knew it was a lie.  You were certain, without a doubt, that the unknown man you saw on the train earlier was Dabi.

“Really??” Toga asked. “I could have sworn I had it in my pocket when we left...”

You had a feeling she did too.

“Apparently not.” Dabi replied, brushing off her confusion.

You squinted your eyes at him suspiciously.  “How did you find us?”

“I ran into Compress on his way out, he told me where you guys went.” Dabi replied.  “Then I had to haul my ass over here, which I really didn’t enjoy.”

Lies upon lies.  But why? You stared at him long and hard.  Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew he was avoiding looking at you.

Which means he probably knew that you saw right through him.

“Sorry,” Toga said sheepishly.  “Can I have that vial now?”

Silently, Dabi handed it to her.  Toga grabbed it, and without even thinking - without even checking her crowded surroundings - opened the vial.  Just as she began to drink the contents, your eyes focused on an individual standing in front of a pillar in a brightly colored outfit – a hero, monitoring the train station – and his eyes scanned the crowd, moving slowly towards your direction.

“Toga...” you started in warning, but Dabi was a step ahead of you.  He let out a low curse and knocked the vial from her hand, causing the glass and half of its contents to fall down onto the train tracks.  A couple of strangers nearby looked over in confusion, but the arrival of a train and the shuffling of throngs of people provided just enough of a distraction to drown out Toga’s protest.

“Dabi, what the hell!”

“Don’t say my name, you idiot.  Are you really that fucking dumb??” Dabi demanded with a low hiss. He grabbed Toga by the arm and pulled her aside behind another pillar, out of sight of the hero.  You followed of course, afraid of getting separated from them, your ears barely picking up Dabi’s harsh but hushed voice.

“This place is crawling with heroes, and you’re just having a little drink like it’s nothing. Is that vial even the same guy you’re wearing?  Are you just gonna change right in front of all these people?”

Toga tugged her arm out of his grip.  “Of course it’s the same guy! I’m not an idiot.  Anyway, a lot of good it does me now that it’s all over the damn tracks!” Toga shot back.  “That was supposed to last me for at least another couple of hours, now I’m lucky if I’ll get one!”

A sinister chuckle bubbled in Dabi’s throat.  “Better hurry home, then,” he said mockingly.  “If you take the yellow line to the purple line, you should make it in time.”

“And what about her?” Toga pointed at you, and you stared between the two of them, eyes wide. “She still has to run the rest of her errands. Are you gonna explain to Shigaraki why there’s no food in our fridge when we get back?”

Dabi’s face shifted towards yours, and you could feel his eyes on you as he paused.  “I’ll stay with her.” He finally said.

Your stomach knotted and your heart fluttered in your chest.

A sly grin spread across Toga’s face.  “Ohhh, I see what’s going on here.  Jeez, Dabi... if you wanted her all to yourself, all you had to do ask...”

Dabi’s posture immediately stiffened, hands stuffed into his pockets, and he glared down at Toga through his black shades. “Get fucking lost.” He hissed.

As if on cue, the train for the yellow line rolled in, its doors opening to release a new crowd of people.  Toga skipped into the train car with her arms swinging.  She turned and waved at the two of you with a wink before the doors closed on her grinning face.

A long moment of silence passed as you and Dabi watched the train leave.  Finally, he muttered, “let’s go.”  He began leading you across the platform where another train was due to arrive in a few minutes.

“But the store is-”

“We’re not going to any of the stores here.  Too many heroes around. There’s a place I know in a different part of town.”

So, you sat on the metal bench and waited, watching the people around you.  You felt separate from them, alien – an outsider looking in.  It made you miss your life before everything had happened, before your world fell apart.  To be able to go shopping, sit at coffee shops, meet up with friends.

You glanced at Dabi.

Friends. You had used that word with him recently, and he hadn’t seemed to mind it too much.  And the two of you had started to get closer.  But now...

Now he wouldn’t even look at you.

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

His voice cut through your thoughts, and you froze as heat flooded you.  You looked away.  “Sorry.” You mumbled.

You tried to build the courage to ask him what was bothering him, but your train rolled in before the question could even be broached.  Silently, the two of you boarded.  This train had less people on it than the other… a sign that wherever you were going was a less desirable location than where you were. Finding two neighboring seats was easy, and you settled in next to Dabi, your arms touching.  Dabi had his hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie, while yours clutched your tote bag.

A thousand questions ran through your mind as the train bumped along on the tracks, slightly jostling you in an unsteady rhythm.  Why had his mood shifted this morning? What was he doing on that train? Why did he lie about being there?

Why wouldn’t he look at you?

The questions piled up like snow in a winter storm, but you asked none of them, your tongue frozen to the roof of your mouth.  He was already more distant than usual, and you didn’t want to make it worse.

Minutes passed.  Long, excruciating minutes, each one compounding onto the one that came before it, a heavy weight on your shoulders as you sat unmoving as you approached your new destination.  It was torture, being close enough to feel his warmth, to smell the scent of his clothes, and yet not look at him, not talk to him like you’d grown so accustomed to doing.

So, it was a relief when his voice broke the silence. “You got everything you needed?”

You could feel his eyes on the bag, and suddenly everything clicked. The hope you’d held onto sank like a heavy stone into your gut, and your hand tightened on the strap.

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Did they have my pills?” he asked.

His question was reasonable, yet it was delivered so bluntly, that you couldn’t help the way your next words fell from your mouth.

“Wait, was that why you followed us?”

You caught Dabi’s side glance at you from behind his glasses, ocean blue flashing before disappearing again.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” He said dismissively.

You gave him a deadpan look and raised an eyebrow. “Sure, you don’t.”

Dabi refused to take your bait, and you rolled your eyes at him.  

“Fine.  Play dumb if you want, but I know I saw you on the train earlier.”  You crossed your arms over your bag as you sank down in your seat slightly.  “And to answer your question, no. Sorry you wasted your time.”

Now he looked at you fully, his brow furrowed in what you could only guess was confusion.

“You angry, doll?”

Doll. The word sounded like a peacekeeping gesture; a term of endearment meant to temper you.  And you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed hearing it, especially after dealing with his aloofness the entire day.

But it wasn’t enough. You bit the inside of your cheek and continued to scowl out the window. You were angry.  Angry, and a bit hurt. After all, he’d given you the cold shoulder all morning.  A part of you had hoped that maybe there was a more friendly reason for his stalking, but instead it was just about his drugs.

“Just disappointed.” You finally said as you stared at your reflection in the window.

You could see him in the scratched-up plexiglass, the bewildered question of ‘why’ written into his posture, in the way he stared at you.  But for whatever reason, the question never left his lips.  Instead, he let out a frustrated huff and faced forward again.

You didn’t want to be mad at him. And if you let yourself think it through logically, it made sense that he wanted his pills so he could stop using yours.  But why the sneaking around? Why not just ask to come along? Did he just not want to be around you?

The fragility of your relationship to him circled in your mind like a bird of prey, ready to peck out your heart.  When all was said and done, when he was healed no longer needed you... what would happen?  Were you only as valuable as your quirk?  As the drugs you provided him out of kindness and concern?

An awkward silence filled the space as you sunk further and further into your thoughts, and Dabi didn’t seem to be faring much better.  He sat next to you, his natural body heat warm as a bonfire, but his posture as cold as ice.  Clearly what you’d said had gotten under his skin the way he’d gotten under yours.

And neither of you knew how to talk about it.

It was going to be a long trip.

As you sat in walled-off silence, Dabi’s hands clenched into fists within the pocket of his hoodie.  A million things he wanted to say ran through his mind.  Yes, he had followed you. Yes, it was partially to see if you had his drugs.  But no, that wasn’t the only reason.

But Dabi couldn’t say any of those things.  Not without exposing parts of himself that he didn’t want to.  To say something as simple as ‘I was worried about you’ spoke of something he couldn’t bring himself to accept yet, even though he was constantly aware of it, an unyielding presence woven through every part of himself.  It made his stomach roil with nausea, his pulse race when he was near you, and his body want when you were apart.  He was already far too comfortable with you, to the point that it was becoming dangerous.  He was dangerous, and you were too kind and caring to realize that.  After all, you’d only ever seen one side of him, a side that he hadn’t realized was there until you’d come into his dark, broken world and shined a light on the parts of himself that he’d forgotten.

He wanted distance. He wanted space. That’s what he’d told himself when he’d retreated to his room after sharing the couch with you the night before, after waking up in fear that his nightmares had manifested into reality at the touch of his hands.

If only it were so simple. If only he could just tell himself how to feel, to force his complicated web of emotions into something simple and understandable, something he could control.  But even in this imperfect moment, he was torn between wanting to flee and wanting to lean closer to you in silent apology. 

He didn’t do either of those things.  Instead, he sat still as a statue, his fingers picking at his stitches within the pocket of his hoodie, a poor distraction to the unsettling energy within the empty train car.  The silence was the only thing left to share between the two of you, a heavy blanket of discontent and unspoken confessions.

When the train finally approached the right station, Dabi stood up swiftly, eager to distance himself from the mess he’d made for himself.

“Come on,” he said.

Without a word, you got up and followed him off the train to find yourself in a much less nice location. Graffiti covered the walls, posters for outdated movies were vandalized, and the trash cans were overflowing with refuse that likely hadn’t been picked up in weeks.  The stale stench of urine clung to the air, trapped within underground space.  You couldn’t hide the wrinkle of your nose in distaste.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked.

“I know it’s not much to look at, doll, but we’ll be much more likely to get in and out without catching someone’s eye.”

He led the way up the stairs into an afternoon sun that offered little warmth in the fall chill.  The streets here were less busy, the presence of brightly colored hero uniforms practically non-existent. Industrial complexes and scrap yards were spaced tightly together, with the occasional liquor store and small hole-in-the-wall business speckled in between. No nice cars drove here; it was old trucks, beater cars, and 18-wheelers hauling warehouse deliveries.

You kept close to Dabi as he led you down the street, turning left at the end of the block.  Up ahead, you spotted the discount grocery store, its sign half-lit and faded with age.

Dabi spoke. “They won’t have any of that fancy shit that Compress likes, but we’ll be able to get in and out without any hassle.”

He had a point there.

It was a strange experience, shopping with Dabi.  He was silent as he followed you around, his posture exuding boredom as you made your way up and down the aisles, collecting what you could off the list.  He didn’t offer to push the cart, but he didn’t leave your presence either. He was a shadow that drifted behind you, waiting with veiled impatience.  Every once in a while, he’d grab something off the shelf and throw it into the cart.  You’d give him a raised eyebrow and the smallest quirk of the corner of your mouth but didn’t say anything as you continued shopping.

Once you were at the register, the energy around Dabi shifted from boredom to irritation.  His hands were shoved even deeper into his hoodie to the point where you could make out the shape of his fists pushing against the fabric. His posture shifted every couple of seconds, the tell-tale sign that your treatment was waning. You picked up on it instantly, of course.  You checked the time on your phone.  It was nearly 5pm now; you chewed your cheek slightly.  Before, your medication and quirk combo could last him until 7ish.  But now, it seemed like the meds lasted for less and less time.

“Can we fucking go already?” he grumbled as you put the change in your wallet.

You eyed him for a moment and made your way for the exit.  “Let’s get you home.”  

You handed him a grocery bag, which he begrudgingly took.

He followed you, back hunched as you made your way back to the train station.  The walk back felt faster than the walk to the store, the path familiar now.  Before you knew it, you were both back on the train, where Dabi sank into the seat next to you.  The train car wasn’t empty this time, the seats speckled with other passengers who hardly looked up from their phones to acknowledge your existence.  In the back corner, a homeless man talked to himself, hands gesturing wildly.  A couple of unsavory looking guys slouched in the seats nearby, watching you and Dabi with dangerous eyes.  You didn’t dare bring out your pills here – it was asking for trouble.

“Can you make it until we get home?” you whispered.

“Do I have a fuckin’ choice?” Dabi replied as he stared ahead.  You could tell he was focusing on the pain, his breaths heavier than before. His knuckles clenched the handle of the grocery bag as he fought through another wave of pain.

Without thinking, you placed your hand over his in silent comfort.  He recoiled instantly.

“Don’t.” he said through clenched teeth.

The men seated nearby snickered and whispered at each other.  You felt heat roll over your skin and took back your hand.  “Sorry, I just... Sorry.” You muttered.

Dabi could hear the strain in your voice, the hurt woven with disappointment.  Fuck.

But he didn’t have the ability to console you now... not with his body slowly sinking into agony while simultaneously keeping a sharp eye on the men watching you.  If they tried anything... pain or no pain...

Thankfully for Dabi, the men kept to themselves.  

The rest of the trip home was held in stiff taciturnity, neither willing to be the first to speak and repair what had been broken.  By the time you’d both arrived back at the hideout, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run away to the kitchen out of Dabi’s presence and put away groceries or drag his stubborn ass upstairs and give him the treatment he obviously needed.

Toga was the first to greet you as you entered, her disguise now gone.  “You’re back!” she exclaimed, bouncing up.  She hesitated though, as yours and Dabi’s mute discomfort permeated the space.  Dabi didn’t even look up in acknowledgement as he made his way to the stairwell to go up to his room.

“Woah... what happened??” Toga asked.

“A lover’s quarrel??” Twice chimed in.

“What??” you scoffed.  “No, of course not.  Don’t be ridiculous.”  You set the grocery bags down on the bar.  “Can you guys put these away for me please?”

And before they even answered, you were out the door, following in Dabi’s footsteps with your bag of goods still slung over your shoulder.  He had moved quickly, already out of sight and in the sanctuary of his room by the time you’d made your way out of the old stairwell.  You knocked on his door, the familiar rhythmic knock that let him know exactly who it was. A moment of silence passed before you spoke through the hard wood.  “Are you going to let me treat you, or what?”  The silence continued, and you sighed and leaned your head against the door.  “Please, Dabi... let me in.”

A moment later he opened the door.  But this time, he didn’t linger to let you walk past him.  Instead, he returned to sit on his bed, his fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  He’d already removed his hoodie and other items, sitting in his white shirt and black pants.

You hoped for some sort of remark, a snarky comment about your stubbornness, or your impatience, something.  But instead, you got silence, a great stone wall that you hadn’t felt since your early days before you’d begun treating him.

You opened your mouth, hoping to find the words to ask the question so obviously written on your face, but the words evaded you, your tongue tied up in the thick rope of Dabi’s reticence.

So, you didn’t ask.  You didn’t even speak.  You silently opened your bag, taking out the package of pharmaceuticals and first-aid materials. The bag was so full of contents that you had to dump them out on his desk to find what you needed.  There it was, your medication with your name on it, mixed amongst the pile.

Dabi watched you silently, his eyes glossing over everything with mild interest. He couldn’t help the curiosity, the demon of addiction still lurking in his blood.  He’d always wondered what other items you had on hand to treat the League.  But there were so many pill bottles, and he was too far away to read any of them. He did, however, catch the unmistakable packaging of birth control pills and his eyes widened slightly in realization.

There were only two girls – well, biological girls - in the League of Villains.  So, there was a 50/50 chance that those pills were for you.  That chance increased drastically, considering Toga was still a teenager and only cared about that green-haired kid.  And Dabi was absolutely sure that that matchup would never happen.

Which only left... you.

Were you involved with someone?  Dabi had never noticed anything with any of the other League members, but then again how much did he really even know about you?  His brain immediately began going down the list.  

Definitely not Shigaraki.  Quirk aside, he quite literally hated being touched in any way at all.  Definitely not Spinner or Twice.  Compress?

Dabi froze on that thought.  You were kind of close to him, weren’t you?  After all, he was the one who brought you into the League to begin with.  He’d seen you two share hugs before, sit next to each other on the couch, laugh together... Dabi had never thought anything of it back then.  Everything about your interactions with him had screamed of platonic friendship.  Almost brotherly, in a way.

But maybe he had it wrong.

Compress was the one who often accompanied you on your outings, and sometimes those outings took hours.  What went on during that time?  Was it strictly business? Or was it more than that, little dates here and there speckled in right under everyone’s noses?

And why wouldn’t you date him? Dabi had seen him without his mask before; he was a handsome guy, and older, more experienced.  By far the most emotionally and mentally stable out of everyone in the League.  More stable than himself, that was for sure, and likely, from your perspective, more attractive too.

The unwanted mental picture of Compress kissing you, holding you, touching you burst into his mind like a hurricane, powerful and destructive.

Dabi felt his temperature rise and his hands clenched into tight fists into his bed sheets.  His vision blurred as an unwelcome feeling settled deep into his gut, cold and heavy like lead.  It weighed him down, immobilized him as he struggled against it, as he tried to tell himself it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter who you dated, or who you fucked...

But it did.  It did matter.

You caught Dabi’s attention again as you began putting items back into your bag, leaving out the gauze, surgical dressings, and painkillers.  He struggled to get his tangled, wild emotions under control before you turned around and saw the look on his face.  But the heat lingered, the blood in his veins sizzling with barely contained anger.

Your voice cut through his internal battle. “Here.”

Your hand was extended, pills displayed in offering.  Without a word, Dabi took them and swallowed them hungrily, as if they could dissolve the feelings trapped inside himself.

He couldn’t look at you, not without that mental picture of you and Compress together popping up in his head again and again.

Out of his peripheral, he saw you take some pills as well, following them with water from a water bottle you pulled from your bag.

That’s right – you could take your own pills now too.  He knew it’d take time for them to take effect, but even so, amongst Dabi’s inner turmoil, he found the faintest hint of relief that you wouldn’t have to suffer like you have been, at least not for much longer.

You stepped away to wash your hands in his bathroom sink and returned a couple minutes later, hands poised and ready.

“Let’s take off your shirt.” You said quietly.

Dabi obliged, and you began helping him remove his bandages so you could clean and repatch his wound.

“You’re really warm.” You commented, concern laced through your words.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He lied.

You narrowed your eyes and tightened your lips, and he knew you understood the implications of that familiar phrase.  You didn’t comment on it though, instead moving forward with your care.

“Your burn is healing well...” you commented.  “We’ll probably have to only change your bandages once a day, soon.”

“How soon?”

“Maybe a couple more days... if you’re good.” 

The unspoken comment was there – ‘don’t use your quirk.’  A small playful smirk emerged at the corner of your mouth.  Normally, Dabi would scoff and give a wry rebuttal.  But his thoughts choked him in an invisible iron grip, as he grappled with your kind playfulness.  It made his mood even more sour, a taunting reminder of what wasn’t really his, and in that moment it felt as if the two of you were worlds apart, despite the fact that you literally had your hands on his hot skin.

Your small smile vanished in defeat against Dabi’s wall of silence, and you remained silent for the rest of your visit.

Dabi hated it. He hated seeing the hurt in your eyes, hated seeing your body language gradually tense against the overuse of your quirk as you stubbornly insisted on treating his nerve pain despite your obvious offense at his aloof behavior the entire day.

And he hated even more his continued silence, his inability – or was it unwillingness? – to speak to you, to offer at least a crumb of comfort across the vast emptiness.

And what he hated most of all, was letting you walk out the door of his room alone, the connection the two of you had shared up to this point now dangerously fractured to the point of breaking.

------

Part 12

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Taglist: @thesimpsclub @babayaga67 @Leahvengence @sageyrage @emfeon @ladroone @leviscockwarmer @samemec @the-patchwork-ramskull @georgettesand @horsetechie @cosmic-rainbow-trash​

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[artist-edward-burne-jones]

Fair Rosamond and Queen Eleonor, 1861, Edward Burne-Jones

Medium: gouache

https://www.wikiart.org/en/edward-burne-jones/fair-rosamond-and-queen-eleonor

[vermilionwinds]

14. Commend

"I was just about ta ask on both counts. Seemed a sensible enough place ta store me axe. Ta be honest, the thing is probably worth ten o' me, so I'm a little protective."

“No selling yourself short. I’m sure it’s a nice axe. But you’re a really nice you, too.”

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

Remeraux runs into a tall leg on a warm night in Ishgard, while she was pretending she was a dragon running away from the gallant Ser Rosamonde. The leg kicks her aside, and she yelps as she’s knocked into the cobblestone. “Watch where you’re going, you brat!” She hears a rough voice bark, and she rubs her eyes and watches the man adjust his cravat. “Tch. Of course a whore’s daughter would want for manners.”

As her mom rushed out to look at her skinned knee, she asks her mom what the man’s words mean.

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

She struggles and she kicks and she tries to bite, but the Temple Knights on either side of her wrench her arms backwards and drag her through the crowds of the Jeweled Crozier, and force her to her knees in front of a man dressed in blue velvet. Her father throws himself on his knees of his own volition. “Please, milord, have mercy… She’s just a child, she don’t know no better… It won’ happen again, I’ll make sure of it, so please.” He was begging. He was begging. The man above them all huffed, and smoothed his red mustache. “You better watch that wretch of yours, or before you know it she’ll be taking a long walk off the Witchdrop.” Her father starts to blubber, and kisses the man’s boots. Remeraux knows just enough to be disgusted.

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

Remeraux can feel the knife pressed against her cheek begin to saw against her skin from the rock of the waves. It didn’t help that the pale hand holding it was trembling. “You will grant me safe passage, or I swear I will send this wretch to your Twelve.” The man sneers the words and punctuates the word Twelve by pulling his blade across, opening her flesh like an envelope. As Remeraux bites down hard on her tongue as blood begins to pour down her face, a shot rings out in the captain’s quarters. The hand at her face drops the knife, and the man crumples over. Xavier Folchambres blows the smoke from the barrel of his pistol, and turns his ice cold stare on Remeraux as she clutches her face and howls. “What were you thinking, you damn fool girl?!” He growls, and Remeraux can’t find an answer worth telling.

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

Remeraux couldn’t explain why her hands went slack and let go of the rope. The wind pulled hard rope burns into her palms as the storm wrenched the mast away, and her fellow Sirens groaned in frustration. They didn’t sting as bad as the sight of Rhoswen Leach storming towards her, eyes like fire. “That’s the bleedin’ fifth time you’ve fucked up big on my ship!” The woman barked, and despite Remeraux nearly seven malms of height she felt so small. “An’ you said you were Squallbreaker… I’ve got no time for girls who can’t pull their weight. If we can even make it back to port, you’re gonna fuckin’ stay there.” The captain spat on the deck. “Girls! Say yer bleedin’ goodbyes to miss Rem, here.” As Captain Leach stormed off, Remeraux was just thankful it was raining.

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

“Please, Tadi.” Remeraux is tapping her foot as she swallows her own tongue before the lalafellin man sat across from her. “Ya gotta have some kinda job I can do.”

“And why should I. To supply you with more drinking money, hm? Do you need a new blouse?” The man balked, and if Remeraux wasn’t truly desperate she would have clocked him right in those gold teeth.

“Nald teaches not to spend above your means. Or above your station. And yet you come to me again like a beggar, for the second time this moon.” “I ain’ too proud ta work…” Remeraux bows her head before him, clenching her gloved fists, swallowing down those last dregs of pride. “I’ll do anyfin honest….”

“I don’t work with wash-ups or burn-outs, dear. Let your growling stomach remind you how to manage your coin.”

Remeraux watches him go, and hates that it’s a debate in her head on whether to spend her last bent gil on food or drink that night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “No selling yourself short. I’m sure it’s a nice axe. But you’re a really nice you, too.”

With a last perky grin Severine gives a little wave and turns to let herself out of the office. “Meet you out there!”

As she closes the door behind her, Remeraux just stands there in silence for a second, processing those words. They make her so giddy that she doesn’t find it in herself just then to argue.

[sparrow-orion-writes]

🥀 , 🌾, 🌷 ,🌻 , 🌿 , ⚘️ (for the ask game!)

🥀 go off about a villain OC

Ooooh, I don't think I can yet! Not that I don't have villains, but because it's a murder mystery in book one (Well, really all three are murder mysteries thinly disguised as an adventure novel) and I know there are people here that are reading the second draft atm, I don't want to ruin that!

The villain for Cardinal Sins is very intangible, so not really an OC.

🌾 what's something an OC needs to learn?

My absolute darling, adorable, perfect boy, Edward: Stop lighting yourself on fire to keep other people warm. And seriously, tell Ari you've been in love with him for two years, he is clearly not all that great at noticing emotions.

🌷 is there a lesson for the readers in your WIP?

There's quite a few! Uh, a lot is trauma-focused. I think I said before that “this book is about being loved when you've been trained to think you're unloveable.” I think that sums that up fairly.

It's also about murder, though. There's a lot of that.

The lesson for Cardinal Sins is "corporations are burning this planet to the ground, and you should eat the rich”

🌻 share a favorite line of dialogue out of context

“You did really well, still alive, and you didn’t faint!”

🌿 describe your narrative style, multiple POVs? Present or past tense? 1st person or 3rd? Why did you choose that for your WIP?

Multiple POV: I developed my characters too well, gave them all plot lines, and have no chill.

Present tense: I can focus more on emotions that way, but sometimes they recall the past and something like that.

3rd: I think if I wrote these people from first-person perspective I'd have trouble sleeping at night.

⚘️ pick a song that represents each WIP, what would play over the trailer

Oh No.

I have so many playlists for Neon Glow.

This took me an embarrassingly long time to decide, but I'm going with Game of Survival by Ruelle:

https://open.spotify.com/track/7jJTRLLwHQsHtBBYCCmqQR?si=910ac2b61b6a4286

For Cardinal Sins: Inside by Chris Avantgarde and Red Rosamond: https://open.spotify.com/track/1KRxAPufEHNvXmvhPcO9oe?si=29c633214eb143ea

[nanshe-of-nina]

“Gerald of Wales described Henry II’s mistress Rosamond de Clifford in a famous pun as a ‘rosa immundi’ (unclean rose), not as a rosa mundi (rose of the world). He implied that Henry planned to imprison Eleanor in order to spend more time with his mistress, and that after his victory over the rebellion of 1173–4 he, like Pharaoh, relapsed into vice. Roger of Howden records that, following Rosamond’s death and burial at Godstow Abbey in Oxfordshire, the bishop of Lincoln had her reburied outside the abbey grounds ‘for she was a harlot’. Yet from this unflattering beginning developed a legend in which Rosamond was transformed into an innocent heroine, she and Henry into star-crossed lovers, and Eleanor – the wronged party – into a murderess.

A key element of the legend is that Henry hid Rosamond deep within a bower at Woodstock to protect her from the queen’s vengeance. This first appears in Ranulph Higden’s early fourteenth-century Polychronicon, which passed into English through John Trevisa’s translation later in the century. Higden made no mention of Eleanor having killed Rosamond, the queen being in prison at the time of her death....

The first claims that Eleanor was a murderer come from secular chronicles of the city of London. The mid-fourteenth-century French Chronicle of London confuses Eleanor with her namesake, Eleanor of Provence, the wife of Henry III, who was deeply unpopular with the people of London. The author has Eleanor bleed Rosamond to death, and, in a peculiar twist, has an old woman place toads upon the dying girl’s breasts.... Fabyan’s Chronicle, an English chronicle of London from the turn of the sixteenth century, adds another element that became a key part of the Rosamond legend, the claim that Eleanor found her rival within the maze with the aid of a ball of silk or thread. The late sixteenth-century ballad Fair Rosamund by Thomas Delony develops the themes further, with the addition of a ‘trusty knight’ who provides Eleanor with the silken thread. Eleanor kills Rosamond with poison, despite the young woman pleading for her life – two more elements that would be repeated in later retellings of the legend.” 

— Inventing Eleanor, The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine; Michael R. Evans

(Marie-Philippe Coupin de La Couperie, Queen Eleanor and Rosamund Clifford, c. 1826)

(Arthur Hughes, Fair Rosamund, 1854)

(Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Fair Rosamund, 1861)

(Edward Burne-Jones, Fair Rosamund and Queen Eleanor, 1861)

(Herbert Sydney, Fair Rosamund)

(John William Waterhouse, Fair Rosamund, 1916)

(Evelyn de Morgan, Queen Eleanor & Fair Rosamund, c. 1888/1919)

(Frank Cadogan Cowper, Fair Rosamund and Eleanor, 1920)

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

RS&t7D oc #2

Greta, Witchfinder General

After being lured by her house of sweets, six year old Hans and his sister were imprisoned by the witch, Roanna. Greta as a slave and him to be roasted alive and eaten. When the witch finally decided to eat Hans, Greta tricked her into looking into the hot oven, Hans was told to look away and Greta pushed the woman into the hot oven and locked her inside.

The two children returned to their loving father, but nine year old Greta's face had been irreparably burned by the oven as she killed the witch. Over the next decade she built a reputation as the Witchfinder General, leading a dozen hunters after the witches of the island.

Features

Like Hans, Greta has bright orange, curly hair on half of her head, the other half was singed away. Her eyes are dark green.

She wears a bright green, yellow lined shirt and brown, striped trousers.

Around her waist is a leather belt with crimson ribbons tucked into them where they go over one shoulder. These ribbons signify that she is a Witchfinder.

She fights with an enchanted torch that spits fire. However, her preferred method of witch slaying is burning at the stake.

Bio

Since killing Roanna, Greta and her hunters had been finding more and more witches emerging in every kingdom. However, her true quarry were Roanna's sisters: Regina and Rosamond. After finding out that her brother and his team had dealt with Regina, she is now focused on finding the last and worst of the three. Rosamond was last seen when she cursed newborn princess Briar Rose to prick her finger and fall down dead on the morning of her eighteenth birthday.

[twistedwonda]

♦️ for Rosamond and Zilong?

Zilong likes having his hair played with. no he will not say that out loud and most people thinks if they mess with his hair he will burn them. He probably asks Rosamond if she could make him a flower crown when he saw her with the flowers. He lets her put flowers on his hair, like a pin or design and he will not take it off unless he has to. Watch him walk around and train with a flower crown on his head like it's nothing new. He spars with her often too, giving advice or strategies he knows and correcting any mistake. If he was harsh, in terms of words and not because he got rough or something, to her during training, he'd apologize.

[seriouslysam8]

I kind of wish you went with your original plan of Sirius hooking up with Rosamond instead of Tegan. It’s not that I don’t like Sirius and Tegan but it would have been almost taboo relationships because of who she is and how she’s connected to the Death Eaters. Sirius and Tegan almost work too well with each other and I needed his relationship to have more of an edge because that’s Sirius and the stage he’s in right now. I hope you stick with your original plans for everything else and don’t let anyone influence you because your ideas are amazing and so unique and it just works for your stories.

I can say this with 100% certainty: I have not been influenced to do anything I haven’t wanted to do in this story.

My original plan was flawed. Sirius would have been not only having a very casual fuck buddy relationship with a DE, but it would have been an affair. Sirius would have been openly cheating with her. She was my original plan for how easy it would be for them to have a very quick and purely physical relationship. I knew I wanted Sirius with someone before Marlene.

Then I brought in Tegan. She was introduced to give Demelza more of a background and to explain her motivation for becoming an Auror. Plus I loved the thought of some kickass female Aurors and I wanted one to play off Tonks. I had her help prove Sirius’ innocence because of her connection to Demelza.

But as I wrote them, their chemistry just hit me. I liked it a lot. They both had tremendous losses in the first war, they were both extreme commitment-phobes, and they both had someone completely precious to them that they would burn down the entire village for. She quickly became a means to help Sirius be a better parental figure, to plant the seeds that he needed help with his depression and addictions. It just blossomed in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

In the end, Sirius needed someone nice and not just a fast fuck. Already you can see the cracks between them. This very fun thing between them is getting more complicated and less fun as the darker sides start to shed some light.

[starlightstarbrighte]

Sun signs: Jane Eyre Characters edition

Jane: ViRgo

Mr Rochester: Scorpio

St John: Capricorn. Dead ass.

Diana: Taurus!

Mary: Also a Capricorn, I think

Helen Burns: Pisces anyone?

Georgiana: Gemini

Eliza: Pisces/Aries cusp. It’s a vibe.

Adele: Leo for sure

Bertha: not much to go by but I’ll put my stakes on a Sagittarius

Rosamond (almost forgot Rosamond I’m so sorry): Leo

[libidomechanica]

And kissed the sake the since Heaven for all the sound, that

As your upstairs, the time, 

and I shivers shall I didnt for  Death to sayne to might  would her friend? Whatever  muse were not kill, and groves picked to  displaying in across the 

saving smart, with the  fulles of sike pastures: Epaminondas  sung in rank down by  the very floor, above and  body, and consterd world calls it  a stuff was till the 

day after mothers self over leaves  with that I wandring cry, “

oh misery!” I knew twas wretched  this grow; and look upon a  Thomas, or any been assault  is there, I choose hair behold or  sure was old and not  be slaughing in the from  his eyes.     Like their river-grass the  brightness, we owe the Chines, 

and each may require,  gave common the poetic 

wretched wine—t is mighty,  for thy beads glory when  in his crost to seek  for you rest cannot have 

return, or wherefore, when  we wild roses of tickets  white the fool, their  trip the tressed they ding, ding, please— a most away, seeing. What  I say, the days drest with  he, but give, When hem to  cross the valves, or King 

Chick staines in the bloom read 

voicest virgins do, that planks with 

Ho! close ear adjoining 

the virtues shown tea—we head. Ca

ther the soft again.  In vain bear than height longing the  swine own half they had his own 

half the must haue chaunger, Rosamond  pendence, and harp; throats. That make  glad to death taught, the came  hither. Like an iron with  hem burned through in vain, and never  in public ’“tis too soon or  all for last divulg

ing in the bring to  your cloud betters the  swains of rules. The lion lack!”

[randomabiling]

First of all, I just want to say that you are an amazing writer and I love every one of your stories! You bring so much to the Cobert fandom

Oh anon, thank you so much for your kind words! This is a little different than what you asked for, but I hope you enjoy it.

July, 1891

A teardrop of sweat slowly rolled past his brow, across his temple and down the slope of his face. Robert took the handkerchief he had been wringing and brought the abused square of paisley fabric up to his cheek. He rubbed the silk across his face and then balled it up in his first once again. It damped his already clammy palm. With a sigh, Robert walked over to the buffet, the accouterments of tea time still laid out with picture perfect precision, untouched. He fingered a sandwich before letting it fall back onto its platter. Gazing at the teapot, Robert thought about pouring a cup to soothe his dry throat, but steam still rose like a genie from its spout. The idea of taking in more heat, when summer had descended on Yorkshire like a wet blanket, made him feel faint. Besides, tea wouldn’t do at the moment. Robert turned to the small cabinet in the library where Papa kept his Scotch. Gripping the decanter, Robert poured himself a healthy portion before tipping it back. One large, quick gulp that caused his nostrils to flare and his chest to burn. He placed a hand against his breastbone.

She’s dying.

The words repeated themselves again and again, she’s dying she’s dying she’s dying…No amount of Scotch was going to erase the morning from his mind. He’d known Cora wasn’t feeling well, for a number of days now but he hadn’t been prepared. He could still see Mitchell, the new stable boy, racing the gelding down the dirt path to Yew Tree farm. Papa had made some remark that Robert couldn’t quite decipher, though it had caught his attention.

Lady Grantham has sent me to find you, m’ lord.

The chap had been panting, the horse braying in protest. Robert had known, a clench of his gut, a palpitation in his chest, he’d known right away it was Cora. Bits of the road flew behind him as he raced his own horse back to the house, clamoring up the stairs to find her ill, more ill than he’d ever seen someone.

Childbirth fever.

His mother had whispered it to Papa as they both paced outside of the room, thinking he couldn’t hear as he comforted his whimpering wife. And then Dr Monroe had arrived and he’d been regulated to the library, a dizzying wave of deja vu tossing him between the present and five months prior. Mary’s birth, he’d thought that was a prolonged hell, but no one had seemed to share his distress that night. Mama had been quite sedate, as sedate as Mama could be, during her updates. The length of Cora’s labor had been the only real concern, everything else about Mary’s arrival had been normal, or so Mama had kept reminding him on that night.

“Lord Downton?”

Robert spun to see Carson, his thick brows meeting over his nose with deep concern. The man looked old suddenly and Robert felt woozy.

“Her Ladyship sent me. She’s asking you go up.”

Robert expected to sprint up the stairs. Hadn’t he been jumping for some news?

She’s dying.

But he couldn’t now, he didn’t want to know. Wasn’t it just yesterday he’d been planning Cora’s twenty-third birthday party in secret? Rosamond was helping him, he had picked out a beautiful necklace and had talked to Mrs Stanholp about the perfect menu. Mama had even addressed the invitations, feigning apathy, though he knew she was as secretly proud of Cora as he was. His wife had taken to motherhood so completely. Baby Mary was thriving, they’d brought new life into the house, and with her, a sunshine that could be felt the moment she’d made her first sound on a cold, February night.

How could the effects of childbirth be plaguing her now, so many months later? Robert couldn’t understand. His feet refused to move.

“Lord Downton…” Carson tried again.

Robert closed his eyes and took one step, then another, then another, until he was out of the library. Adrenaline surged through his fugue and Robert scaled the staircase, barely cognizant of touching each step. He stopped short at the sight of Dr Monroe, Mama and Papa outside of Cora’s door. The Scotch raced back up his throat and Robert swallowed down the acidic taste left in his mouth by fear. Mama turned to him first, her eyes shiny. Oh God! Robert sucked in a breath. They’d only celebrated their third wedding anniversary, a week before Mary’s arrival, but already, Cora was so much more to him than just his wife. He needed more time with her, and their baby, she needed her mother….

Violet stepped close to Robert and placed her hand on his arm. Robert wanted to both shake it off and crumple at her feet.

“Go to her.” Mama said.

Robert nodded, dumbly. He opened Cora’s door, the room surprisingly cooler than the library. He’d expected to find the shades drawn, the room’s air stale and suffocating, but the windows were thrown open, the sun shining in and illuminating everything it touched. Even the sour smell of sickness that had assaulted him earlier had evaporated. Footsteps followed softly behind his own, but Robert ignored them, transfixed on Cora, who lay in their bed, propped up on their pillows. Her dark curls were fanned out around her head and her chest rose and fell steadily. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, a wan smile lighting up her pale face.

“Oh darling,” Robert croaked, going to her side instantly. He was afraid to touch her, to scoop her up in his arms as he wished to do. Instead, he settled for burying his face in her neck.

“They told you? I asked them not to tell.” Robert shook his head against her, but Cora took no notice. “Isn’t it the most extraordinary news?”

Robert paused, leaning up. His wife, his waxy complected, cracked lip wife, wore a smile that stretched from one ear to the next. She’s feverish; she’s delusional from the fever. Robert placed his hand on her forehead, but to his shock, it was cool. Cora gripped his hand.

“A baby, Robert! Another little darling!”

“What?!” Robert exclaimed.

“Lady Downton is expecting.” Robert turned, noticing Dr Monroe and his parents. Papa wore a jubilant grin.

“Wait…what?” Robert repeated.

“I would estimate Lady Downton is about two months along. We must take care, this little one being so close on the heels of its big sister, but mother and child seem healthy.”

Robert shook his head. “I thought you were dying!” He blurted out.

To his chagrin, everyone in the room laughed, including Cora.

“It’s not bloody funny!” Robert yelled. He took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his hair. A baby! Robert spun around and looked at Cora.

“We’re having a baby?”

Tears welled in the corner of her eyes as she nodded at him. Robert slapped his knee. “By golly, we’re having a baby!”

Robert rushed toward the bed again, and this time, he swept Cora up in his embrace.

“Oh my dear, we’re having a baby!”