#your honour that's hearsay

[batsplat]

A friend of mine told me that, in one of the final races of 2003, when my move to Yamaha was the favourite talking point all over the paddock, he ran into Gibernau who was watching footage of me laughing on a video monitor. "You'll see, next year when he's on the Yamaha and the bike is slipping all over the place and he's landing on his rear end, he won't be laughing quite so much," my friend heard Gibernau say. When this story was told to me, I had no idea that I would actually win the same number of races - nine - that I won the previous year on the Honda. I couldn't imagine that we would spend the whole year at the head of the pack, pulling away. But I did know something for sure: I would do something that would make history in this sport. That's why that first race at Welkom was the most important of my career. Because it was my first with Yamaha. Because I battled until the last turn with Biaggi. Because he and I were so fast that Gibernau, who finished third, might as well have been racing another championship. As for the guy who finished fourth, well, he had virtually disappeared. Ultimately, I had proven what I had set out to prove: the importance of man over machine. That's what it was all about and my win at Welkom confirmed this.

Valentino Rossi in his 2005 autobiography, What if I had never tried it

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Memento Amoris Aeterni

Source for Pic

Word Count: 7155

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW - Oral - you receiving, reader is VERY inexperienced (it's medieval times and you're a princess. You know nothing), Angst without happy ending (!), some fluff, Protective Ace, Caring Ace, some gore, blood, cutting of limbs, medieval times AU. MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are a princess, the sole heir to the kingdom and a prized possession for your father, until he can sell you to the highest bidder. Because of your value, you have a personal guard, Sir Portgas, who seems bored to death with the task of watching over you. However, you realise that he's just hiding his feelings behind a mask. Yet perhaps now it is too late?

Notes: So I saw this post, and I just had to... I was going to do something very short, I swear, but it escalated! Hope you enjoy!

The meadow looks beautiful this time of year. The vibrant reds from the poppies, the purples from the lavenders, the whites from the daisies, and scattered here and there, some yellows from the sweet buttercups and blues from cornflowers. 

It feels like pure freedom. 

Your dainty fingers caress the grass as you run, hoisting your long dress over one arm, ignoring the way your white stockings are showing and laughing nervously at the way you almost lose a slipper. 

Freedom. 

Except not quite. The very ground shakes beneath the thunderous hooves of the galloping horse and you curse beneath your breath, running a little faster, with much more carelessness. Almost there, you almost made it across the meadow this time! 

Your hastened breaths leave your parted lips in short puffs while you overexert your tired lungs. You already know freedom is not ahead of you, but you'll be damned if you're going to give him the satisfaction of your surrender. 

Two more strides are all you get before an armoured arm circles your waist and effortlessly pulls you on top of the brown steed. You are now trapped between two arms while your legs dangle on the side of the horse. Still fighting to catch your breath, you grunt, curse and frown while clenching your hands into tight fists. 

“Curses upon you Sir Portgas!” Akin to a child in the midst of a fiery tantrum, you cross your arms over your chest and point your nose to the clear sky. “I was almost out!”

The horse steadies its pace into a trot while a deep chuckle graces your ears. “You were nowhere near ‘out’, Princess.” He tsks and you can almost feel his dark gaze upon your face. “Of all the jobs in the guard, I had to draw the short stick and land this one…”

Another grunt emerges from your gritted teeth. “Some knights would die for the honour of guarding the princess!”

“Those knights are idiots.”

“At least they're not insufferable!”

Another rumble of laughter is all you get and just as well because you are not willing to give anything more. 

You are the sole heir of the Kingdom and the most prized possession your father holds. As an heiress and a princess, he will get to pick and choose of any noble to be your husband. And he will pick either the wealthiest or the one who can bring him more advantages, be they military, political or financial. You are sure that whoever he picks, will either be hideous, decrepit or disgusting. 

With your luck, all three combined. 

As you are of utter importance, the King has assigned a permanent guard to you, Sir Portgas D. Ace. The best knight of the Guard, known to possess some mystical fire abilities, though you are sure that is just mere hearsay, and a known heartbreaker. Of that, you don't doubt. 

He is as handsome as he is unbearable. And that is saying a lot. 

“Your father the king will be utterly displeased at, yet another attempt to escape.” He says dryly. 

You grunt in response, busy plucking tiny burdocks from the hem of your dress and throwing them at Sir Portgas’s cape, unbeknownst to him. “Then don't tell him.”

“When I took this job, I thought I would be fighting brigands, thieves or assassins.” He scoffs. “Instead, I'm stuck as a milk nanny of a brat.”

“The job suits you. Takes a brat to recognize another one.” You mumble and hiss, a particularly nasty spike from the burdock protruding from your bleeding thumb. 

“Oh, heavens. The Princess is bleeding. Call the priest.” He guffaws and you scowl, your eyes turning into slits. 

“Amusing jest. Perhaps you should try your fortune as a court jester? Mayhaps you wouldn't be so bored?” Using your nails, you try to pick the spike, but it just breaks with the force and you curse, stifling a low whine. 

Sir Portgas removes his steel glove, settling it on his lap, and grabs your delicate hand with his. Your hiss this time has nothing to do with the pain, but with the electric feeling that courses through your body, leaving a tingling sensation on your extremities. 

His dark gaze bores into yours as he presses your thumb into his mouth and sucks. The day is not even hot, yet you feel as if your skin has set ablaze. He uses his tongue on your digit, procuring the spike and, once he finds it, he nibbles and sucks again. 

If you thought his hand on yours had caused a tingling feeling, his tongue has somehow made that tingling seem insignificant. You are aching and burning in places you shouldn't be. 

Your teeth clamp hard against your lower lip to stifle some weird sound that means to get out, yet your breath comes out in heaves through your nose and your peculiar mind says you must look like a tired horse: nostrils flaring, sweat dampening your mane and hot, flushed skin. 

Sir Portgas removes your thumb from his mouth after what resembles an eternity, and he spits towards the ground, gracing you with a smug smile. “There. No more vile thorn can harm you, my lady. I took care of your foe, as I was hired to do.”

Yet, for once, you are speechless. 

There is no counter jest, there is no witty remark. You cradle your hand against your lap and remain silent the rest of the way to the castle, your eyes never leaving the safety of the horse’s head. 

If Sir Portgas finds it peculiar, he does not say so. 

-*-

“I do not understand this need to escape, child! Do you not have all you wish for here in the castle? I give you all the gowns you desire, the pretty jewels, the fancy shoes! If you get bored I send for jesters, for animals, for dancers or plays! If you wish to meet new people, I host tournaments and gatherings! What is it you wish for that I cannot grant you? Pray, tell!”

You face the floor, your hands clasped in the front of your ruined and tattered gown. Your shoes look as if they had been through war and your hair has never been in a more dishevelled state.

Sir Portgas stands at attention behind you, to your right. His gaze facing forward, his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t even flinch. You know he didn’t tell your father anything, he was with you the whole time. It was the guards by the gate that relayed that information. 

Now you are being scolded for yet another botched escape attempt. You had already lost count of how many there were. You had nineteen springs to your name, now. And your time must be near.

“I do not hear your words! Speak up! What do you want that I have not given you?”

A single tear escapes your eye and runs freely down your cheek. 

“Freedom.”

You catch a slight movement from Sir Portgas from the corner of your eye. His gaze meets yours, even if only for a second, as his jawline tightens and clenches. An almost soundless clank from the armour as his hand grips the handle harder.

“Preposterous. You will never be free. You belong to me now, child, and soon you will belong to your husband. That is the way of things. Begone!”

You hold your head high and your shoulders square as you exit the throne room and pass through an entire contingent of guards. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind you, your hands lift your skirts once more and you flee to your room as fast as your tired feet can take you. It does not matter that you are half-blinded by tears as you know the way around the castle as if it were the back of your hand.

You do not hear Sir Portgas following you, yet, he will find you. He always does.

Curse him.

-*-

The rain hits the carriage roof with extreme intensity. There’s mud on the road and the horses are dragging the vehicle to the best of their abilities, but the rain is cold and harsh and you can see smoke emerging from their flared nostrils from where you’re standing. 

You’re returning from a visit to a cousin, in the next kingdom. You have been away for three weeks and nothing has changed. Your life is dull and you are still trapped in it like a hare in a string trap, just waiting for the hit on the head so you’re fed to the hunter. 

Sighing you let out a loud huff. Your handmaiden keeps staring out the window with dreamy eyes and she ahhs and ohhs as if she has an affliction. You have half a mind to ask her if she’s constipated or in pain when you realise she’s staring at Sir Portgas, who rides next to the carriage.

He has removed his helmet because of the rain and his dark locks cling to his face and forehead with the heavy rain. His eyes are steely and dart from one side to the other, ever alert to any danger. Handsome as ever.

You roll your eyes at yet another insufferable sigh from the woman across from you. “Enough!” You bite. “I cannot stand another moan from your mouth. What is so interesting?”

“He is, my lady.” She giggles like a little girl and you feel your chest clench and contract as  anger boils within you. What is this feeling?

“Are you jesting?”

“I would never! He is so gallant and valiant. And his freckles? His smile? The way he fights?” Another sigh. You have had enough.

You’re about to order the carriage to stop because you wish to feel the rain on your face at the back of a horse. Instead, you hear dry thuds followed by screams and then, the tip of a spear protruding the carriage door and opening your maid’s skull with a sickening sound.

Your scream gets trapped in your throat, but your lips tremble incessantly. There are tears running from your eyes and you start to pant fast as your eyes never leave the gory image in front of you.

She still has her eyes open, her mouth shaped like an ‘o’ as blood and grey matter are splattered around her. Did the blood get on you as well? You dare not look. She was just laughing and now she’s so still.

You’re trembling. The screams and shouts outside increase in volume and proximity and the carriage halts to a full stop as you hear a pained neigh of a horse. The thuds of your heart grow louder and louder, as if it's beating right in your ears and your pants come in shortened gasps as your head gets lighter. 

The plush of the seat you are on gives in as your fingernails dig and scratch to ground yourself. There is so much blood. 

So much screaming.

Suddenly the door to the carriage jolts open and you turn in terror, barely having time to scream, and even if you meant to scream, you wouldn’t be able to. A wet, clammy hand finds its way to your mouth to keep you quiet and you’re inundated with the nauseating smell of metal.

Blood.

Another hand grabs you by the arm and yanks hard to pull you out of the carriage. You’re sure it will bruise. Yet, you couldn’t care less. As soon as you’re out of the carriage and you clumsily find your footing, before the man - whose appearance you are yet to perceive - manages to take you away, you bite his fingers with all the strength you possess.

Blood. Again. 

This time it fills your mouth and you spit it on the floor as soon as the man drops you, with surprise. Your knees scrape against the rocks and mud below you and you claw your way forward until you find the strength to be on your feet, preparing to run.

All around you men clash swords. There’s agonised screams and blood everywhere. You need to go!

Yet you barely get one step in before a bloody hand clasps around your neck and squeezes. “Going somewhere, you little princess whore.” The man lifts you easily off the ground and your throat aches and your lungs burn. You try to gasp for air but nothing but wheezes leave your parted lips.

Your fingernails scratch relentlessly against his hand but he does not relent. Around you the sounds of battle seem to fade into the distance. Legs dangling, your feet try to kick the man holding you, but strength fails you and you are sure this is the way you die. “Just pass out, little whore.” He whispers in your ear as his wet tongue swipes your neck and ear.

You can’t squirm away. You can’t fight back. You’re useless. 

You feel your eyelids drooping as your chest trembles and your arms fall limply beside you. But just as you’re about to dive into sweet oblivion, a sword swings and cuts right through the man’s arm, making you fall and stumble forward, right into the arms of your knight. Your guard, your protector.

Sir Portgas.

He holds you against him effortlessly as you gasp for air and cough. A pressure on your throat that burns and hurts. But you’re safe.

“Breathe, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The man that was holding you mutters incoherently. Begging for his life, pleading for mercy, asking for aid from the gods. Yet you know that all is in vain. Your knight was made to protect you. He will kill anyone or anything that attempts to take your life.

Still holding you he moves his blade effortlessly and you hear a blood-curdling scream. Trying to normalise your breath, you turn your face to look back, but Ace holds your head against him with a gloved hand. “It’s best if you don’t look.” You nod against him, feeling your legs faint from fear.

“We are going to run. Close your eyes and hold my hand. I will guide you. Do you trust me?” You lift your head to look into his eyes and there is tenderness, determination, courage and something else you can’t quite place, as he looks down at you.

“With my life.” Your whisper comes in shaky gasps and he nods, holding your hand in his.

“Run.” He orders and you do. Your eyes clenched shut as you still hear screams and the sound of colliding blades. 

Something whooshes past you and you hear a roar of sorts, at the same time as Sir Portgas mutters something under his breath. There is another scream - close, too close! - and the stench of burning flesh. 

“I’m going to pick you up. Keep your eyes closed, Princess.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. And as he hoists you over his shoulder by the waist, you clamp your hands against your ears to keep the sounds away.

But the screaming doesn’t stop.

It never stops.

-*-

You feel yourself being set down on the ground but it’s as if the shock has left you in a rigid state. Your hands remain on your ears and your eyes shut tightly. There’s someone calling your name and shaking you but you have retreated so far into your mind that you can’t come back easily.

“..ss… Princess!”

Your eyes snap open as you gasp and a loud sob leaves your parted lips. Tears flood down and you try to release yourself from the firm hands that are holding you down. 

“It’s me, it’s me! Ace! Everything is fine! Princess, calm down!” He whispers your name. “Please calm down. Look at me.”

Still panting and gasping for air, your nails digging into his bloodied armour, you lock eyes with his dark gaze. He looks worried and pained, and you focus on his freckles instead, counting them to ground yourself.

One, two…

“It’s over, we escaped, we are fine.”

Three, four…

“I’m not sure anyone else survived. We have no horses, no food, no clothes or shelter.”

Five, six…

“The rain has given us some truce for the time being, but it won’t let up the whole night. We will rest for a bit, and then we have to go.”

Seven, eight…

“Princess, are you with me?” You don’t know when he took the gloves off, but his warm hand makes contact with your cheek and you gasp, your eyes focusing back on his. “There is nothing to fear. I won’t let anyone or anything harm you. You have my promise.”

You nod and gulp. Another tear escapes your eyes and he wipes it with his thumb.

“It could have been me.” You whisper and your voice is rasp. Your throat is sore and raw and you realise you are quite thirsty. “The spear… it just… her head… she was… she…”

He nods and mumbles some soothing words. “You’re alive. You’re fine. Try not to think of what you saw. I’ll take you home.”

You nod as your hand scratches your throat. Sir Portgas reaches and hands you a leather pouch. “Drink. It’s water.”

He sits on the floor for a moment as he sheds his steel armour. 

“Should you be taking that off? What if there are more enemies?” You ask, concerned. 

“I am faster without it, anyway. And all the noise will just give our location away to those listening.”

Makes sense. 

He gives you another moment to rest and then extends his hand to help you up. Your eyes fall on your dress and you frown. It is splattered with blood, mud and all kinds of stains. Not to mention that it is soaked through. 

“Come, we need to find shelter. It’s almost nightfall.”

You are surrounded by forest, you have no idea what kind of shelter he means to find, but you trust him completely. He was assigned to you two years ago, when you were presented to society and your father started entertaining nobles who wanted a claim on your hand. 

Luckily, none suited his fancy enough to tempt him. 

Sir Portgas has never left your side once. He sleeps when you sleep, eats when you eat, gets up when you get up. His duty to you is never-ending. He knows all there is to know about you. And you only know what he wanted to share with you. Next to nothing, because he always found the job boring.

As both of you walk through the woods, feeling the gentle pitter-patter of the slow rain, you feel as if you have calmed down enough. There is still adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you release it by holding a long, thick stick and swiping leaves with it, as if it were a sword.

“Who attacked us?”

He keeps his eyes ahead, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tight, his knuckles are white. 

“I’m not sure. There were no banners.”

“Brigands, you think? They saw the coach and decided we might have treasures to steal?”

“Most likely.” He grunts.

“But you don’t think that was the case?”

He stops and you bump into his hard back, as you were staring at your stick. You mumble an apology and feel your cheeks warm up. Never had you noticed how taut and defined he was, beneath the steel armour.

Looking at you, his eyes now permanently creased with concern, he sighs. “They were too organised to be simple brigands or thieves. They had military precision so they had to belong to an army. An enemy army, perhaps. I need to take you back home.”

He tugs at your arms and starts walking again. 

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back home.” You whisper, but you keep walking alongside him. He divides his attention with your surroundings and your face.

“I can understand that, but it is far too dangerous. We need to know if the King received some sort of ransom note or-...”

“I don’t care! You can leave me wherever and go back to my father saying they killed me! I cannot return home to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder!”

You refuse to let tears leave your eyes this time. He stops again and stares at you. You can’t read him. 

At all.

“There.” He points behind you and you turn. It’s a small cave. “It will have to do. Come.” And just like that he decides the argument is over and drags you to the entrance, collecting some random sticks along the way. It is actually a rather large cave and Sir Portgas takes the wood from your hand, rips a piece of his tunic and ties it to the end of the wood. 

Muttering a few words, a flame shoots out of his fingers and he lights the cloth easily. You look at him, flabbergasted and awestruck. So it is true. He has fire powers.

“Fascinating.” You can’t help but exclaim under your breath.

“Thank you, Princess.” He replies with a smirk and tells you to follow him as he delves into the bowels of the cave. 

Deeming you far enough not to be spotted, he drops the sticks he collected in a neat pile, adds some more wood that’s scattered inside the cave, and lights it with the flame he’s already holding.

“Undress, Princess, you don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Pardon?” You should really stop blushing. It is embarrassing.

He is already removing his tunic and breeches, leaving only his undergarments on for some modesty and you look away. 

“If you worry about modesty today, you will be dead of pneumonia tomorrow. Undress your gown and set it to dry.” He says as he drapes his clothes on a large rock near the place he built the fire. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You take a moment to consider, but you know he’s right. You’re already feeling tremors for staying out in the rain for so long. So you do know you will get sick if you don’t get out of the wet clothes.

With a heavy sigh you try to remove the ribbons that hold your dress together, but you can’t reach them. 

“Sir Portgas…” You start, your voice a mere whisper.

“It’s Ace.”

“Ace.” The name rolls off your tongue like something sinful and you lower your gaze. “I require your assistance, please.” 

As he raises his head towards you, he immediately understands your predicament. He gets up and approaches your back with slow steps. Catching your breath, you lower your neck a bit.

His fingers are soft against the bare skin of your neck as he moves your hair from your nape to the side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. The shiver that crawls up your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

His face draws near as he untangles the ribbons and you can feel his breath against your neck and upper back. The tingling sensations return to your body, leaving you breathless and panting. There is a need deep within you that you don’t quite understand or know how to fulfil. 

Yet, you have an inkling that Ace could very well fulfil it. And he would certainly know how.

He removes the last ribbon and steps back a pace. “There.” Ace's voice sounds deeper than before and, when you turn, his eyes are all pupil as he stares at you. Your heartbeat accelerates as you lock eyes with him, silently begging him not to look away as your fingers gently tug at the gown, undressing. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes fall to your chemise-covered bosom as the muscle in his jaw twitches.

The need for something intensifies and you reach forward, touching him through the fabric of his linen shirt, feeling the firmness of his chest. 

“Princess…” He whispers. 

“Ace…”

You take a step forward and hold his hand. It's big and calloused from the swords but it's so warm. 

“Touch me.” You plead. You could order him, though you're not sure he would follow that order. 

“I…” He seems torn. You know he's a loyal knight. He serves valiantly and believes in the kingdom he protects. Touching you would be treasonous and could lead to execution.

You decide to be honest. “I feel… I don't quite know how to explain it, but when you touch me, like when you did with the thorn I had on my finger, or when you lift me up to place me in your horse there's…” You exhale deeply. “A warmth, a fire within me that I don't know how to handle.” Lowering your gaze and swallowing a lump in your throat, you make a final plea. “Teach me how to handle it, Ace.”

He groans but doesn't take his hand away from yours. So you brazenly place it above your chest. Watching him closely, you see his eyes darken as his hand twitches and he grits his teeth. 

“Princess, I…” 

“I have been told that men lie with women to procreate. I wasn’t informed of all the details, but I've heard the maids whisper about things that can be done that do not get a woman with child.” Could you be burning up more? Are you seriously asking this of Ace? 

He remains frozen in place, his hand still on your chest and you feel like a fool. 

Sighing you swat his hand away and turn. “Forget I said anything.” Yet his strong arm envelops your waist and he pulls your body against his, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling. 

“Gods above and below…” He mutters against your skin and you tremble. “Is this really happening?” You feel something hard against your lower back and flush. You know what it is. But you've never seen one. You don't know what to expect. “Princess… You are correct, there are things we can do that do not get you with child and assure you remain intact until your wedding night.” His voice seems pained. “Are you certain that-...”

“Yes!” You moan, No longer able to contain the need inside you. Not when his hot breath is fanning against your neck, not when his hand is squeezing your waist nor when his hardness presses against your back. Your need is him! You're sure of it. 

“I have dreamed of this for so long…” He whispers. You want to ask what he means by that, but then his tongue draws circles on your neck and around your earlobe and you gasp, all thoughts dissolving into nothingness. His hands fall on your shoulders and he hooks his fingers on the sleeves of your chemise. “Princess…”

“Take it off.” You command. 

He tugs at the fabric and the garment crumples on the floor, leaving you with nothing but your white stockings. You blink as you focus your eyes on your body. You're not cold, yet your nipples are erect and there are goosebumps all over your skin. It's a reaction to his touch. 

You turn slowly, cheeks ablaze as you seek his eyes. Ace gulps as he takes you in. “Can I kiss you?” He starts but then shakes his head and groans. “No, forget it, that should be reserved for your husband.”

Yet you don't care about a possible husband in a future you can’t yet forsee. You want Ace's lips. And you want them now. 

So you grab his face and pull him down, clumsily pressing your lips to his and bumping your teeth together. After a moment he chuckles into your mouth and you flush and pull back, embarrassed. 

“Don't get mad at me, Princess.” He says, a glimmer in his eyes and a softness you’ve never seen before. His hand grips your hip as he pulls you towards him. A thumb gently stroking the bone of your hip, sending a warm wave of heat towards your centre. Lowering his head, he gently pulls your face to him by putting a hand on your nape. This time, when your lips collide, it's with softness. He moves them and you moan involuntarily. His sinful tongue licks and teases and you open your mouth, gasping as he takes your tongue in his and swirls. 

The sensation is divine. 

You had no idea a kiss could be like this. None of the books mentioned it! It’s making your heart flutter against your chest and causing an ache and a burn between your legs. You still don’t know how to handle it.

But Ace does. 

His hand finds its way to your breast and he slowly teases the nipple, flicking it softly with his thumb. You pull away from the kiss and gasp again. “Oh, my!”

“Did that feel good?” You nod vigorously. “That's good, Princess. I'm going to make you feel even better.”

He lowers you down so you sit on top of your dress. “If you don't like something, tell me.” You nod. 

“Can you take this off?” You grab his shirt and he smirks, pulling the linen garment over his head. His muscles are very defined and you take your time pressing your fingers against his chest and abs. There is a dark trail of hair that leads to the inside of his underwear but as your fingers trace it, he grasps your hand in his and kisses your fingers. 

“Let us take care of that warmth you feel first, shall we?” You nod and lie back, nervous. 

He starts slowly, his gentle fingers tracing patterns on your skin, lingering on the nipples, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as he finds what feels particularly good. And then he devours you. 

His eager mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue. 

“What?” You arch your back against his touch and the fire keeps spreading. Fiery tendrils climbing all over you. He's just building the fire higher and higher. When does it stop? 

And do you want it to stop? Because this feeling burns marvellously. 

His tongue licks towards your belly button and then your mound. “Wait!” You gasp and he raises his head. 

“I can stop if you want, but I promise you it will feel good.” 

You don't know if he's telling the truth, but you trust him completely. So you nod. “Don't stop.”

He uses his hands to raise your legs and place them over his shoulders and when he stares, you feel yourself shrinking with embarrassment. 

“So beautiful…” You hear him murmur before he leans in and you feel his tongue swiping a hot streak across your folds.

“Oh!” Throwing your head back, you immediately arch your back against his touch. “Oh, my!”

He stops for a moment and meets your gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You almost plead. 

“Make all the sounds you want, Princess. Please.”

You're not quite sure what he means by that but you still agree. And then his tongue repeats the same movement and you smile. Dear Gods, this can't be true. His hand disappears beneath you and you feel his finger inside you touching a spot that makes you want to scream with pleasure. So you do. 

He mumbles against you and the vibration of his lips on your sensitive nub makes you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, Gods! Ace!”

Your hips buckle against his face involuntarily and you want to feel ashamed but you can't because it feels too good! His tongue is hot and slippery and he laps at you with such vigour that it makes you writhe beneath him. His fingers - yes, more than one - move inside and out with ease continually touching a spot that feels so, so good. 

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” You can't stop a string of curses from escaping your lips. The warmth builds up, spreading to your legs and toes, and to your belly, until suddenly it snaps! 

You see bright lights as your head falls back, moaning loudly and incessantly while you pant and scream his name. It feels good, it feels so good! 

Ace continues lapping at your core and it feels like it's very sensitive now, so you whine and he stops. “You did so well, Princess. You taste so good.” His lips are glistening and he looks dazed. You are smiling as you pant but you pull him to you, eager to taste what you’ve left on his lips. He gives you exactly what you want - lips, tongue, taste - and you mewl against him, lost in pleasure and dizziness from your previous orgasm. 

As you break apart you lock eyes with Ace, an exhilarating feeling coursing through you. “That was…” You laugh. 

“I know.” He says cheekily as he caresses your cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

You feel yourself flush again, he’s never spoken to you like this. He was always arrogant and insufferable. Acting as if watching over you was the most boring task he’d ever had to do. Yet, now it seems he’s ready to write you love poems. 

“What else can we do?” You touch him again, where his hair starts to disappear below his underwear. He clenches his jaw as your hand traces the shape of his cock. “Does that go… inside me?” You ask, biting your lip. It seems big. Will it fit? 

“It does. But that's for the wedding night, Princess.” He says, his tone sad. 

“What if I don't want to get married?” You frown. “I told you I don't want to go back. I shouldn’t have to marry some old lord I don't care about.” You hold his hand, entwining your fingers with his. “Maybe we can be together.”

He looks downcast as his forehead meets yours and lets out a deep sigh. “Don't tempt me, Princess.” He says, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I've been in love with you since we met. The constant fear of losing you to another man keeps me awake most nights. I cannot bear the thought of never being able to have you. So don't tempt me, please.” His fervour leaves you breathless. 

Love? 

You thought he abhorred you! You believed he only put up with you because it was his job. Nothing more. Love? 

Cupping his face in your hands, you stare deeply into his eyes. “Let's run away. You and me. Away from my father's kingdom, from duties, from everything. He will think we're dead, anyway!”

“No, Princess. I have a duty to my king and my kingdom. I cannot do it.” He says as your eyes fill with tears. “And you have a duty to your father as well. Don’t forget that.”

“Ace… Please…”

“No. I can't.” His eyes squeeze shut as he presses his forehead against yours once more. “Don't ask me this. Please.”

Torn between love and duty. And you wish he would simply choose love. You pull away from him, covering  your face as you shed more tears. 

Ace sighs and picks up your chemise, gently helping you dress even though you don’t look at him. Then he pulls you against his chest as he settles against a rock. “Sleep, Princess. I will keep watch.”

And you do. 

By morning, even the air feels bleaker. There is no more rain, but dark clouds hover above the sky. You can’t change his mind. He’s set to bring you back to the castle.

Back to your prison.

“My father will marry me off…” You whisper, feeling your face crackle with dried tears. Your clothes are stiff from caked mud and blood and you’re pretty sure your heart stayed behind in that dark cave. 

Ace’s eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, but you notice him swallowing a lump before he speaks. 

“It is your duty, Princess. You have yours, I have mine.” He sighs. “I never meant to burden you with my feelings. A knight is not worthy of a princess’s love.”

“Clearly you have not read the same novels as I have.” You scoff and your response elicits a small chuckle from him, your easy banter slowly returning to normal. 

Ace continues his slow walk and you follow, feeling as if you’re walking towards the gallows and every step brings your demise a bit closer. “Ace, please…” You beg once more. “Please…!”

Yet he does not stop.

You see him struggle as his face hardens and his eyes grow blurry, but he does not stop. And the noose tightens around your neck. 

-*-

You’re received with cheers and ovations. A joyous celebration for you and for your valiant knight. Ace is offered a promotion. Finally a way for him to leave your side, to stop nannying you as he always complained.

He does not accept it.

Your heart warms for a moment, though you find it very hard to fall back into a routine of entrapment when you were free, albeit for a few hours. 

Yet doom envelops you and the noose tightens and elevates you once your father makes the announcement. He has found you a husband. You’re to be married in a fortnight. 

Breath catches in your throat and it’s hard to seek air. But your eyes search and find his. A reflection of your own, you’re sure, for they seem pained and drained of life. Yet the moment passes and your father keeps telling you all about how delightfully rich and important your future husband is. 

And how you have a duty to him and to your kingdom, as their princess. It all comes down to duty. 

That awful word.

-*-

The guests are arriving and the groom has been presented to you just in the morning. He is not old or decrepit. In fact, he seems quite polite and is rather handsome. 

But he is not Ace.

And you realised that the warmth he made you feel, and the anger you felt when your late maid spoke of him with desire, were all because of one thing alone: love. You love him back. And he needs to know it before you leave.

Because you will not bring him with you. You cannot forget him, nor allow him to forget you if he is to remain forever by your side.

-*-

The day of the wedding dawns cold and grey, a reflection of your own thoughts. An array of maids dresses you in the best finery you possess and you are a beacon of elegance and beauty. Though the veil you wear over your face might as well be a shroud.

Ace stands in the shadows, his face masked and sombre. You have not spoken more than two words to each other since you returned. But you have to let him know how you feel before it’s too late.

“Everyone out, now.” Your voice is cold and commanding and the servants scurry and hurry out of your chambers. Ace is last, but you stop him. “Not you.”

He closes the door with a soft thud and turns towards you. Hands folded behind his back and eyes fixed somewhere behind you. As you approach, however, you notice him blinking and clenching his jaw and it takes nothing more than one touch of your soft fingers on his cheek for him to let his knightly countenance crumble into pieces. 

Holding your fingers to his lips, he kisses them with fervour. “Princess…”

“Ace…” Your whisper brings sorrow and despair, and he feels it. “I need to tell you something before the wedding, though it changes nothing. You were right. This is my duty, and you have yours, escaping it was nothing but a fleeting dream.”

A sigh parts your lips and he uses his knuckles to caress your cheek. 

“I love you.” Your eyes bore into his and your lips curl into a tight smile when a flicker of surprise crosses his eyes. “I didn’t know it was love and it took me a while to realise. But it’s true.” You take both his hands in yours and tears start to stream down your face because you can’t contain them any longer. 

“This is breaking me apart, but it is for the best. You will stay in the castle and accept the promotion you were offered upon our return.” Ignoring his protests you continue. “I will leave to fulfil my duty and live my new life.”

His head falls forward, shoulders slumping and a string of curses leaves his pursed lips. Though it pains you more than he can ever imagine, you force a smile, using your hand to lift his face so he can look at you. “You’ll always be in my heart. That will never change.”

Ace’s voice is barely a whisper, strained with emotion and effort to keep his tears at bay. “You’re asking me to stand and watch as you walk away? To stay here and live a life without your presence?”

“Yes.” You sob back.

“How can I do that?!” A heave rocks his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. “It’s like asking me to live without a beating heart.”

“I pray you forget me soon, Ace, because if you were to come with me, we would never be able to move on. And we would be miserable.”

“I am already miserable.”

Tears stream down both your faces, and you stand on your toes to kiss his tears away. Cupping your face with tenderness, Ace’s thumb crosses your lower lip and you nod, giving him all the permission he needs to lower his head to yours and take your warm lips with his.

This time, the kiss you share is desperate. He claims your mouth with his tongue, his arms embracing you and pulling you against him. You return the gesture with equal devotion, your tongue begging for more as you embrace and melt into each other, knowing you’ll have no other chance to do so. 

A rapid knock on the door breaks you apart. “Princess! It is time!”

Panting and wiping away tears, you answer with a shaky voice. “I’m almost ready.” Ace helps you fix your dress and veil, his eyes cast downward, sorrow filling them with shadows. 

With trembling hands you remove a ring from your finger. A ring your mother gave you on her deathbed. Setting it in his palm, you close his fingers around it and kiss them tenderly. “A memento to remember me by, my love.”

He doesn’t want to let you go and you don’t want to leave him. It would have been so much simpler if you had run away in that forest. No one would know. And you would have been happy.

Perhaps…

You drop his hands, take a deep breath and square your shoulders, opening the door and leaving your childhood home and your one true love. 

Ready to face a new life, an old duty, and an eternity of sorrow.

[adastra121]

*At the Senobium for the trial of Leander’s murder* MC: Ladies, gentlemen and esteemed friends of the Senobium. Over the past few days, you have seen Lowtown’s Doctor Kuras attempt to effectively bamboozle you with a series of hearsay arguments and loose speculative evidence placing this man near the scene of the crime during the time of the murder. MC: You are tasked to consider the evidence and consider whether it proves beyond a reasonable doubt that Vere is guilty. MC: Now, is Vere a perfect man? No. Vere: *agreeing shrug* I killed him, yeah. Ais: Pfff— Abbess: ... Senobium: ... MC: ... MC: *to the Abbess* Your Honour, one moment please? MC: *turns to Vere* What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck do you think you're doing? Vere: What, did I fuck up or something? Kuras: -_-

[itstopplingdomino]

MC: ladies and gentlemen of the jury, over the past four days you have seen the aurors attempt to effectively bamboozle you with a series of hearsay arguments and loose speculative evidence placing my client near the scene of the crime during the time of the murder.

Sebastian nods.

MC: this evidence does nothing to indicate motive or means in the horrific murder of solomon sallow. ultimately it will be your decision to say does this man deserve a lifetime in azkaban based on specious inconclusive evidence. you are tasked to consider the evidence and whether it proves beyond a reasonable doubt whether my client is guilty.

MC gestures to Sebastian, his head hung low seemingly deep in thoughts.

MC: is my client a perfect man? no.

Sebastian: i killed him yeah

MC: your honour.. a second..

MC and Sebastian huddles in a corner, exchanging restrained whispers.

Sebastian, in a hushed tone: Shit, shit.. Did I fuck it up?

[cubffections]

argenti is a man of loyalty, he makes that very much clear. he’s a knight of beauty after all, worshipping idrila so heavily that some may mistake his role as a knight. however those who know argenti know very well that he is a man who honours those who are also loyal - you fit that so well. what does this get you? well, his worship, of course.

“you know… beauty is a fickle thing, my love,” the redhead murmurs as he plants kisses onto the bare skin of your chest, his body free from plates of heavy armour as he sinks against your body, “yet you become the definition every time i lay eyes on you.”

you want to roll your eyes at his words but you’re distracted by the sudden, wet tickle of his tongue swiping over a sensitive bud, gentle hands fondling at the mounds as he looks up at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“call it hearsay, darling… or call me a heretic,” he lowers himself, trailing kisses down your midriff to your naval. your breath hitches on instinct, plush thighs spreading so obediently in anticipation, “but i love you… and you deserve this at the very least.”

his fingers work at kneading your inner thighs, watching as you tremble and quiver in response. your hands tangle in his red locks and with a smug smirk, the man lowers his head to lick a stripe up your sensitive heat, swirling his tongue around your clit as he collects the sweet nectar he craves so bad into his mouth.

“g-genti—” you whine, rolling your hips up against him and the man merely watches, burying his face into your puffy folds as he eats as if he’s starved, his fingertips massaging your thighs so lovingly, you’re almost definitely seeing stars - or maybe that’s just the pleased sparkle in his eyes looking back at you.

this was my first time ever writing for him … cries ! 🌷

hai beenhoggin tis for sum days && screamin everycouple minz abt it !'??:?;!! ꒰ˆ‎꜆‪⸝⸝⸝⸝‎꜀ˆ꒱ cuz u did NAWT !!! nd xixi rlly means NAWT need tew do tis ! ! ! u wnt m dead ! so giggly beyond belief ! ! imso weakk im sooo weak >.< waaaa ! ! ! ! " yet you become the definition every time i lay eyes on you. " tummi flips . butterflies travelin evrywhere ! ! my heart 's flutterin' soo much oh miss tulip when mi gets u >__< ! ! ! how culd u do tis ! . . sniflin and wailin' . . o(╥﹏╥)o wuv u miss tulip, dun tink tis cub will recovr !

[truedevotions]

a letter dated back to september 1559, sent to his majesty @boleynsrex

sir,

most beloved and treasured, i sit alone by my bed, writing of my boundless appreciation for the grace and mercy you so willingly offered to my aunt, for never did i imagine that i would encounter hands and a heart capable of extending so much goodness and forbearance, and thus i pray, for your great health and fortune more than my own, knowing that this great country of ours shall flourish even more under your rule. it would be my deepest sorrow to trouble your grace with long writing, as i've already beseeched you for too much, but these tender nights and violent mornings won't let me sleep.

i implore you to think of my honour, for the hearsay at court can be most cruel to women like me, and though i'm well aware that julian de vere is nothing but a dignified man, i fear that our most recent encounter must have misled him.

i can only thank you for the way your hands held me when i needed to be held most, and seeing that i cannot express my gratitude in person, at this very moment, i most ardently desire and hope that my loyalty and earnestness shall shine even on this paper.

i have the honour to be, sir, your majesty's humble and obedient servant.

ever thine,

isobel percy.

[ceejaykayess]

The long awaited sequel! Super-cute Cyber-girl AI-Ball Ene, at your service! I kid, I kid, I know no one saw the last post, because it didn’t get posted under the tag for some reason… ah well, second try’s the charm.

After hearing that next year’s Dazecon would be our last, it sorta kicked my ass into gear to get some more of these Kagepro ideas off my chest and onto paper. So, Ene, our deuteragonist to our beloved protagonist (derogatory).

I had a lot of thoughts ever since the first picture on how I wanted to draw Ene’s cyber form. Given Aiba and Tama’s designs, we have something of a base to work off of, but we need at least one more game for me to confidently declare what is and isn’t a pattern. What we can easily tell, at least, is that AI-Balls have white hair and and dress in mostly black and white. And while Ene does do the latter, she… doesn’t do the former. Why? Well… maybe you can figure it out?

But in terms of her design, while I mostly stick to her regular design, the things I want to point out (because it might not be super obvious with my image quality) are the glowing strands in her hair, a blue one in her fringe, a red one in her left pigtail, and a white one in her left. I suppose you could call them remnants of what should have been… I also want to point out her outfit- it’s skin-tight from the neck to the waist, the skirt being a part of the bodysuit. The sleeves are, almost ironically, like Miku’s in that they’re detachable. And the most AI-Ball feature to her are the tech veins that compose her legs, as opposed to generally lacking them as in most Kagepro material.

I made Ene’s gel form a rabbit, in consideration of those mini-sketch comics I read yonks ago that drew Ene’s pigtails as being like hands for her since hers are in her sleeves always. Also, I thought it’d be funny if the first time Shintarou saw it, he’d consider renaming her to Tono in honour of his rabbit.

In case it’s hard to read, the shocked Ene in the top right is saying, “Master! MASTER! Oh no, he can’t hear me, he’s wearing his Raycon:tm: Earbuds, supremely comfortable for all your needs-” The little sketch in the bottom right, of Shintaro face down in bed and Ene in rabbit mode on his bedside table, reads, “Get the fuck up Master, we’re goin’ to the amusement park today!” “Ene, I’m dying…”

Here's a link to the first picture of Shintaro that never posted properly. And here's a link to the follow-up Yaki picture.

How long had she been wandering? She wasn’t really sure. Sure, if she looked at a calendar, or even just the UI on near anyone’s digital device, she’d see that it had been a year, more even. But that wasn’t really what she meant.

When she first opened her eyes, she had a purpose. She wasn’t wandering- she was seeking. She wasn’t on a Journey, she was on a Quest. She had to find them, had to know what happened to them, because if she were here, like this, then the others, then he had to be-

But though she had a Quest, she had to figure it out, her newfound capabilities, how to parse the sheer amount of information that tried to force its way around her, through her, tried to twist the information that made up herself-

And by the time she had come to a balance with her newfound self, body made of numbers and pixels instead of blood vessels and organ systems, what she had been seeking had become old news, hearsay that was washed under the waves of time and new information and new tragedies and new things for people to talk about. The longer it took, the deeper the information was buried, and the deeper it was buried, the longer it would take for her to come and go.

But eventually, after months and months, 8 months and 17 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes and 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds, she had bounced from Wiki article to Wiki article, dug through news archives, dragged herself through Towitter discussions and arguments dated around that August 15th, and a bit after, she had learned and pieced together thus: Three people were marked as dead. 14 people were injured, 9 of which being detained as members of the syndicate that caused the explosion. There was no mention of who died, or even of the state their bodies were in. There was no specific mention of their fourth, her annoying kouhai who was so bitter, who brought everyone down despite his brilliance, who everyone loved despite his acidic tongue and obvious disdain, who she hated because of how much it felt like she were looking at a mirror, her kouhai who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by rubble and mumbling things she could barely understand being in such a terrible state herself-

She felt herself lose it, the desperate, fickle hope she held in her oversized jumper, because what does it matter? For all intents and purposes, she was dead. As far as she was aware, as far as anyone was aware, her best friend was, too. Maybe even her kouhai. And her-

And-

That kind boy, the one that irritated her so, the one that she wanted to see every day, the one that made her feel this terrible, terrible way, he too is-

Gone. They’re all gone. So what’s the point? Her Quest was over. And she couldn’t even delete herself, backspace over the 1′s and 0′s that composed her new existence. She was too much of a coward to throw herself at a virus and let it have its way with her. She could just stay here until eventually this webpage rotted away, but the longer she stayed in proximity to this information, to this reminder, the more she felt like she needed to expel the non-existent contents of her non-existent stomach. So she ran. She left. She tried to separate herself from her name, from the life that could no longer be hers, that simply was no longer.

She wandered.

How long had she been wandering?

…

Long enough that she felt nostalgic, at least. Long enough that she’s actually contemplating her current course of action, long enough that she’s following through on that course even as she contemplates the wisdom.

Her current location, digitally, was in the mainframe of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Her destination was downstairs, 5 floors underground in fact. The Advanced Brain Investigation Squad. Her… former squad, to put it a way. She followed along the flow of data from the routers to the elevator, holding and holding and holding on to the connection as she sunk deeper and deeper and deeper until she felt like she might actually suffocate despite not needing air, before feeling the next router and leaping for it, bringing her all the way down to the abyss.

Taking in deep gasping breaths of nothing that still let her feel like a human, she looked around. The ABIS mainframe wasn’t anything special. Tunnelled far as hell away from anything else, sure, but nothing special. So much for the stupid old man and his so-called “professional coding skills”. Feh. She’s seen message boards with more interesting encryption.

Despite her trash-talking, she still looked around curious as she wandered deeper. Jumping from computer to computer, camera to camera, she saw how much the place had changed in the last year. Or rather, how little it didn’t. It was like she had never left. Eventually she came across a concrete room with a familiar sense of decoration that made her want to spit and laugh and scream and cry-

Which was immediately blown away when she looked down on the room’s occupants. There was, of course, the room’s owner and decorator, with his scruffy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, holding his iconic lab coat rather than wearing it, glasses askew and face looking as if he hadn’t slept or washed his face for days. His cybernetic eye, pupil the same as his remaining brown one, stared deep into the eyes of the person that had her stopping short, looking again, re-evaluating and readjusting, checking the feed and the system and refreshing everything, video and audio, again and again, just to make sure she wasn’t being deceived, that the person she was seeing was really who she thought he was.

“-is that understood, Shintaro?” “…I understand, old man.”

His voice was somehow more unbearable than usual, his face lacking its usual stern and uncaring look. It was loose, and flabby. Like he didn’t even care enough to pretend to not care. Instead of the red coat her best friend was so fond of, or even the black suit he was partial to, he stood in just a white shirt, arms bare. He was missing an eye, a scar covering the eyelid, one that made her think of a boy reluctantly in red, facedown in a puddle of the colour.

“Oi, I told you already, call me Boss, y’got it brat!?” “Mm.”

Barely acknowledging him, he turned away, making his way out of Boss’ Office, as the namesake would have you call it. Without thinking, she began to follow after him, but was stopped when she heard the old goat mutter something.

“Give me strength, Ayaka…”

Whispering the pained prayer, the man she always thought of as an unreliable lout that only ever got moving when he was being put under threat stood, donning his lab coat and fixing his glasses. Reaching into it, he withdrew a small sphere, chockful of electronic components- very similar to the one in his own eye, actually… or rather, based on it. He gave it a long look, and so did she. What was he planning…? Her musing was broken by his clenching of his fist and replacing the orb, muttering tomorrow as he moved out of the room- down the hallway and towards his lab. The opposite direction of Shintaro.

Shintaro.

Almost without thinking, she turned around, searching for the apathetic genius, that damn ikemen that couldn’t take a hint for the life of him. The hallway was lonely, and he was never very fast, so she caught him easily halfway towards the elevator. She hesitated. She had already seen more than she expected, more than she even wanted. She had expected the old man. Hell, maybe some part of her even expected to see reference to the others, pictures maybe. She hadn’t even gotten to look at their old workplaces, at her old work bench where she fiddled with her Evolver- she didn’t even know if her Evolver was still around.

But she hadn’t expected a man, no, a brat she thought was dead to be walking around with the living. She shouldn’t follow him. She wanted to check on her Evolver, see if Mr. Tateyama had improved on anything in the last year, see if the three of them are still remembered. She doesn’t even like Shintaro that much anyways, if he knew she was spying on him he’d just scold and scream at her like the ungrateful punk he is-

But even so, she follows him anyways. Jumps to the data in his phone, barren and new, clenched in his hand. She’s only doing this because the other two would have wanted her to. Not because she wants to.

And so, she watches as he rides the elevator, not once glancing at his phone. She watches as he hails a cab and asks for an address that, after a quick search, she finds is set in Tokyo, not Chiba. She watches as he sits silently through the whole ride, rudely ignoring his chauffeur’s attempts at conversation and instead looks with almost a sad look at the cityscape passing him by. She watches as he pays the driver, walks up to the rundown looking building, sighs, and opens the door. She watches as he nods at the tired 30-something reclining against a couch in the foyer, walking up the stairs until he comes up to a door. And she watches as he silently pulls out a key, opens the door, and skulks to his room. She can’t see anything else out of the narrow view the phone’s camera offers her, but it looks like he’s trying to be quiet. Could there… be someone else here?

And eventually, he enters a dark room. He makes for the bed in the corner, planting himself on the mattress, and looks down. In his hands, his phone, and thus she, face towards him. He looks into the screen, and for a moment she felt panic. Did he see her? What was she going to say? How does she explain it- anything? Would he even care? As she opened her mouth, prepared to speak through the microphone-

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He rubs his eyes, and places the phone down. Whatever he does next is a mystery, as the phone she’s in is can only see up and down, and half of that is unavailable to her on a flat surface. She feels out, and finds a computer to connect to. She shuffles over, and finds herself in a much roomier space. Taking care not to activate the screen, she peeks through the camera to see… him, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She stared at him for what must have been a reasonable time before turning away- she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, not like this, and not without announcing herself, which- she still hasn’t thought on whether she actually wanted to, let alone how. So, instead of being productive and thinking on it, she turns back to the files on his computer and, invasion of privacy be damned, went scrounging.

His internet history, nothing but 2channel, various forums she also used to browse, anime piracy websites, and the occasional risque website search. She held back on this occasion, she didn’t need to know. Yet. Around certain dates, he would even search up strange things like gift ideas or idol showing tickets. Weirdo.

Outside of his history, there’s his documents. A lot of deleted drafts, the occasional downloaded risque image (legs, huh? Is that why she had always…?), and a lot of editing software. A lot of editing software. What was all this…? She found unfinished music projects, which she wouldn’t dare listen to while he’s still here. Poems that trailed off, half-thought out lyrics written here and there. The occasional poorly drawn picture, and… photos. Lots and lots of photos. Some in a file labelled “Never forget.” Others labelled in a file called “Never forgive.” The former was full of pictures of… them. Shintaro, and her, and… and Ayano, and Haruka, their faces ones she hadn’t even realised she had begun to forget until this moment. Them in high school, their first meeting at the school festival, group projects and study groups, sleepovers and festival gatherings- their first day at ABIS, too. And, not just that. Pictures of Haruka drawing, of herself fiddling with the Evolver or a game she was practicing, Ayano hard at work on a test or humming while folding paper cranes- none of these were taken by Shintaro, she was certain, but he collected them all anyways. There were even more besides.

Some of a bright little girl with searing orange hair, the barest similarities to Shintaro in her face and the strongest in her eyes (he had mentioned a little sister, didn’t he?), others of that bright girl next to him and a woman that looked older than both but even more similar, even older ones of a young boy and girl that could only be those two standing hand in hand with that same woman and an older man. Pictures of a cute white rabbit (Tounou, wasn’t that her name?), of the old man, and of old and familiar places. Their school, that bridge, even the one game convention they all attended.

She… didn't know how she felt about it. Leaving that, she opened up the other file, and found… pictures of that place. As it was before the explosion, and as it was after. Documents detailing changes, listing occupants and suspects and those connected to the members they captured, pictures of them with friends and family, all connected together by a metaphorical red string in the document that centres around one simple question: Where are they?

She… really didn't know how she felt about it. He hadn't let go or moved on, he hadn't been wallowing- he was on just as much of a Quest as she had been. As she still could be. Closing the file, she looks through the camera at her kouhai's slumped form, thoughts running through her mind…

…

He left the building bright and early the next day, once again holding tightly onto the new phone. And once again, the two of them found themselves returning to their old workplace. She wasn't certain of what he was here for, but she could guess. As he made his way out of the elevator and towards the old man's so-called lab, the Psync Room, she felt even more certain of her prediction.

And eventually, standing in front of the jacketless boy, was the old goat she had once called teacher, looking just as rumpled as yesterday but at least clad in his lab coat. And in his hand, as expected, was the small orb filled to the brim with cybernetics. He began to explain what exactly was in his hand, an AI-Ball he called it (the shitty punster he is), and started rattling off features like different vision wavelengths, internet access, and most notably, an AI companion to keep him company.

This piqued her attention the most. Someone to stand by his side and help him out, to protect him as he tries to protect others. A partner… and one that can't die, by virtue of their existence being backed up on the so-called Wadjet System. To her, it sounded like…

An opportunity.

As the old man rambled on, she tried to feel out the AI-Ball. For such a supposedly high-tech piece of equipment, it felt rather… undefended, from threats such as her. Then again, she doubts anyone could've expected a sapient AI to be floating about. Or maybe they'll add some better antivirus later… hopefully. Pushing through some gaps in the firewall, she found herself in the core of the device. Looking this way and that, she tried to familiarize herself with her new housing. Looked like audio was here, here was video, here was… AR projection? And… a neural link, a gel formation, a shock response, and- a self-destruct??

Before she could really parse through all that (seriously, why so many abilities??), she found herself stumbling on… well, what she should have expected, really. An AI, young and unassuming. And asleep. It lacked an appearance in this digital world, merely a bundle of code vaguely shaped like a person. If she was going to do what she had to do, then she had to… get rid of it. There was no way she could hold control while the AI this body was made for was running around too, but… well, it felt a bit like murder to her. But that was silly, this wasn't a person, just an AI, with no life to speak of, and no memories either (she steadfastly ignored the stupid, stupid old man's remarks that the AI-Ball would grow alongside him to become his perfect partner).

She had to do it. She had to. For Shintaro. For Ayano. For Haruka. And maybe even a little bit for herself, too. She raised her hands and stepped toward the nameless AI, preparing to unravel the lines of code holding it together, preparing to scatter its 1's and 0's into the Cloud, preparing to deprive it of the chance to become its own person- and stopped. She- she couldn't. She just- she was callous but not cruel, the last year hadn't changed that. It had made her energetic in a way she never could consistently be in a body but tired in a way that was deeper than her bones, but it hadn't made her a murderer.

But still she had to- to do something. Maybe, maybe they could share, or-

"Well, go ahead and put her in, Shintaro."

And then suddenly the neural link was being opened and the AI was opening its eyes, slowly generating an appearance just from the barest hints of Shintaro's psyche, body becoming more defined, hair appearing and growing long, down to the waist, and-

She panicked. She reached out with her hand and pulled, binding and zipping the core of the AI down as she hurried, ignoring the voiceless cry as she reached out with her other hand, grabbing the neural link and-

Then she was twisting and writhing, her body being compressed and stretched out, information not native to her forcing its way in, connections to something beyond, a Mother that was not her mother, her form changing, blue becoming white and she could hear him, his thoughts, feel his sorrow, his confusion, his annoyance, his apathy, and she opens her mouth to scream-

And then it all faded away, assimilated with her, and she felt different, but she still felt like herself, and she opened her eyes and looked out through a single eye, taller than she had ever been (silently, an eye coloured #fa3c3e shifted to a hue constantly transitioning from #55edfe to #0e2652), and-

"I can… see. Thanks, old man."

"Oi! I already told you, call me Boss! Hell, I'll even accept you calling me by name, anything's better than old man!"

"Mm. So, what was that about an AI companion?"

"Eh? You can't hear her? Strange, maybe she's a bit shyer than I expected. Let me just-"

The old goat made motions towards the AI-Ball, and she quivered, she had to do something, else he'd see that she isn't meant to be here, but what could she- oh, duh!

"I-it's nothing to worry about! Sorry!"

"Eh?"

Her kouhai looked this way and that, scratching his head. He almost looked scared.

"Did… you hear something, old man?"

"…no? Oh, is that the AI-Ball?"

"Yep yep, that's me!" She tried to centre herself, she needed to land a good introduction so they don't suspect a thing. Briefly, her mind recalled a conversation she and her best friend had about this dense bastard, and decided to follow through in her unspoken plea. "Super cute cybergirl AI companion Ene, at your service, Ma-su-tah~"

Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but sue her! She was panicking, and needed to keep him off kilter!

"E-eh? Ene? Super cute?? Master??? Old man, what the hell kind of AI did you stick in my head!?"

The old goat raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I didn't do anything. The AI-Ball determines its personality based on what's best for you. Is there something you need to tell me, young man…?" He raised a brow mockingly, barely suppressing a gross smirk.

Her… guh, Master blushed red, shaking his head frantically. "N-no! And- and it's barely even been few minutes, how could she know what's best for me!?"

He shrugged. "That's just her opinion. Maybe you'll feel more comfortable with it in a few months."

"A few months!?" Her Master went bug-eyed. Pfft, if only she could see his face… "Hell no, get this thing outta me!"

"Aw, Master, that's so mean… sniff sniff… am I really so deplorable?" To try and strike it home, she used the AR projection feature, placing an image of her newly reformed cyberself before him, now detachable sleeves covering her face as she shakes and shivers. After all, this guy…

"Guh… f-fine."

Was an absolute pushover.

"Alright, that's great to hear brat! Now get out of here, I'm busy. I'll be seeing you here next week for you to resume your apprenticeship, so make sure to send me any emails if any issues pop up with her."

With his piece said, he turns back to the rows of computers, completely ignoring Shintaro. Her Master, still shaking off his flush, turns away and grumbles. As he stalks his way down to the elevator, Ene felt out his being, the rush of thoughts on her, on Kejirou, on the past, on the future, all blended together with his embarrassment, his frustration, his exhaustion- it was all rather dizzying to her. Maybe if she were truly an AI, designed for this sort of relationship, it wouldn't be so hard. Silently, she tried to mute the connection, grunting when she saw that wasn't an option.

As he entered the elevator, he slumped against the back wall, riding it up to the ground floor. He's silent, so she is too, not really sure what to do.

"Hey, Ene."

She jumps. That wasn't ever a thing she expected him to call her.

"Yes, Master?"

He winces, but shakes it off. He stands silent for one beat, two, three, and she almost thinks he's ignoring her before he continues.

"…let's get along."

Ene stared blankly. That was… probably the most polite he had ever treated her. She smacked her face- now wasn't the time. Make a good first impression. Even so, she couldn't help the way her voice softened a bit as she said her first genuine sentence as Ene instead of as the ghost of Takane Enomoto.

"…yeah. Let's get along… Master."

[malka-lisitsa]

🍓

@MUTUALS SEND ME A 🍓 AND ILL COMPLIMENT U!

apparently, your name is Lex? So I'll do my best to stop referring to both of you as Tristan.

Anyway- I have to admit when you followed me I was like... "Im... huh? Me???" bc lets face it, I'm a pretty new blog to the site. It's been quite the struggle making a name for myself and catching attention... but you found me and I was like "Man this WRITING.....but whomst the fuck is the character???"

And yes- SUREEEEE- ok I could have- gone and watched a few episodes or even a scene pack.... but I didnt... instead I chose to let you teach me who Tristan is organically through interaction and I am so glad that I did. I got to experience him the same way Katherine would realistically. Learn him through interaction and hearsay verses just going into it with a predetermined Idea of who he is.

Katherine knows a lot of things and is very well informed, but shes also got a lot of holes in her information and loves filling them even if shes terrified at first. Our thread has pushed my portrayal and helped me grow as a writer just from the very second I was asked to make the starter and I cant thank you enough.

And for the record? I have since seen several clips and even an episode or two with him in it, and your portrayal??? FLAWLESS.

You capture his complex personality and thought processes so wonderfully. Hes a genuine challenge for Katherine, shes not used to not being the smartest person in the room. It scares her but its also a THRILL, its been a long time since she was challenged and the game they play is one of her favourites.

Thank you for bringing such an amazing character to life so spectacularly, and then awarding me the honour of writing with him. It has truly been a thrill to pick out all of the details in your portrayal from the most obvious to the tiniest most obscure details... like colour theory <3

[libidomechanica]

For to telle of þe wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde þe polysed of

A ballad sequence

               1

Close as well forgotten good name.     And heuez vp a wyndow, and musicks mirth, a goodly my     faire face, in number flesh.

The people’s an abstraction of     wylle; hit watz stad, his þro þoȝt ellez; bot he hade faylez     þou þe better to

worch as þe dede had hym in armez     con felde þe toruayle hym acordez to þe bryȝt     grene when þe court a

Crystenmas whyle—and I wonde? I     am tired of a wall bounding for each other’s. He     glent þeralofte; þe olde

loke a little. And last till you     lying star, twixt place of þe prynce kneled doun bifore þe     kyng, bid me boȝe fro fole

houes. They bene like other     with hay! May heauenly parliamentary that if I by     a happier, be it

ten for neede not for ambitious     eyes so sleȝe þat ilke gome vnder feet to thy cliffs where else shall     stilly bi a strok and

þoȝt. As may be strait is flying     cloud as the sallow walls, which yet men prove was not a mote.     The shoe is from the

laureate’s sty: and hay! Oft leudlez     alone that envise all, and yet grew dim, drew quiet tomb,     to be consumers of

Albion’s earliest birds unknown;     unless thou hast told, and Oothoon weeps not; she ca’d. And bene     a little thou’t love,

and thou, O warriors come, with bred     blent þeralofte; his curls fell negligently o’er his post.     With honour in his chair:

though seeming the wild air; still increase     that she cannot say— at leashed and body, but to despond     rather than recall

the cheek to here. Though six days smooth     the background when you cease our hopefull hap to sing, that     I hear ye lie, ye ill

woman, who’s to Love which, at the     strait he watz stapled stifly start no more than the sky and     the God of shaking him

safe into words? Lovers lie abed     with secret heart, and nedez hit most precautious to     a pitch of nicety,

where it was a spinning world of     forest wyde, with they saye the bels, to make sudden spark still     adorne as I said, and

fayth, Sir Gawayn, gayn hit me tene     þat Salamon set sumquyle in bytoknyng of     enterludez, to laȝe and

to his sermons jokes; but the lion     and þe assaut watz his brest henged; in rede rudede     vpon vche a halue, and laȝt

a lace lyȝtly me to, else theyr     cote. But I trust the first to lose by one that all, though he     hade lerne, syn he came scuffing

in his waste, and with a bront     ful sure with lamplike eyes open? I couþe cowpled hor houndez     hym one, þat þe trawþe.

               2

Waking the thrilling light as ioying     in hand, thy long, but wish’d abolish’d Russian—how we won’t     mention, why we need not inflate and worse essays promist     both to run her. Your dog,

tranquil, though seldom hearsay, or     from this maner bi þe wykez, when bursts, and kin. A sweet     thief which happens rarely: this head doth first day, first he hewes     of wymmen alyue, and bonchef

þat burde be calde, and þe knyȝt     fallez after, as hit is Ȝol ouerȝede, and situation,     talkkande kry as klyffes haden brusten. The range and     þoled hir þeder in

a mery mantyle, mete     tyme; I haf a strok for an oþer ȝe mowe. An age to find,     the blue are the rivers, in happy hours, with Barsabe, þat     stryke wyth my signet are

told; that we have I wonne. I see—     I see—Ah, no! Blind to thy holy feet visit our cloud,     around plumes his sway, as I knowe! And þerfor þat ientyle     kniȝtes, syþen kayred

to me I bore they of ioy and     watchful of dryftes ful radly þay lance needs, sweet disorders     of Albion hear her werkkez, bot in þe fute þer     þe fallez, and alle

his pomp to crowd; and syþen I yow     ask; ȝe knowe þe costes als, sumwhyle wyth wynter top,     the circumstances with this stanza Henry said he hade     ben soiourned sauerly and

coynt of my Firmán, he quickly     steep in a country wags too—and, alas! In spenne to smyte;     with all the mound of threescore; cure thy song, have sped, had I     then dreadful blast is blowne

away of telle, he hypped     of no rescowe. But as they grew; a good occasion? Which     though to haue a hauberghe at home and fall. Now and thou, to     whom I loved what garden

of God that wont tenrage the Rauen     of heaven. And his longing eyes like to a marble     looming like the farms wi’ me. But love divisible friars,     one friar of Orders

Gray. What says she my dearest,     teach our hopefull hap to sing their fare; and in place open     for they mought be pleasaunce mought needes decay, and his     wesand bene a little

turret whence came instead of laying     her vp to thy sensual; for beauty being past     me so divine ASTREA may be wont þat þe resayt, bi     þat þe diner watz ladde

to þe dere day er hym bysyde     Alle þe clamberande in erde, his vanish’d, gone like Banquo’s     offspring;—floating past me seems too pure for qualities     why are free not to grieve,

mistaken, o’er the moon, and this     pride, til Meȝelmas mone watz cummen, þat þe myry mon, Mary     yow ȝelde, with haughty shopkeepers, who looks asquint on     his dread, how chearefull

dreriment. Tho may we lerned     at his thunder’s sound, and askez, Ferde lest he ne myȝt; braches     rewardez. That euen he blusched vpon folde han fallen     hym to Kryst. Since that love,

I could soone her dukes the body’s     mask of this, authorizing thy present her will kame thy     yellow-sailed boat comes Love, for evermore wylle, not a     presence I adore my

bonie Bell. Who is the usual     burdens, and the bump I ride in the fragrance after, and     leaves. Learn to tene; þe lorde hym broȝten, for that he proued hade.     Let rays of verity.

               3

On my frailties which makes a strand.     For that in a ker syde, and we dropez of þe Rounde Table,     vche burning foremost infernal chains to bind the wild     bee’s song she lay clothed all

his meschef ȝif he wolde, in hope     of beautiful simplicity,— a merit not the grieslie     Todestool growne the Forrest I did strive. To þe here, and     ladis þat louked at

þe last grew a little feuds, at     least, poor soul! Self-will’d, for hir sake, to be recured by     nature’s law. Lord Henry was a miracle. Bi rote. Is     poor, and þat menskly depart,

leaving that, that innovation’s     mind was seen in years, they give her walour and mind, enough     to scorn denied me þiself, when its sides, and tyruen     of her glorious gold.

               4

Syn we have I used to be gain’d.     Now what way they least herself, þat wolde no waþe. Some face turned     towrast. Which grownd, helpe me mine offences of travel. Dirty     and pertly he melez. The Sexes sprung amidst the     depart—and now and wooings.

               5

They refuses burdenous smart.     A wounded in her with holy feet visit our cloud, that     i may go unto him, and take his gowden locks and cleanly     couer, that have plenty, much for a cov’ring to the bright     torch of love by that now

he com ho of his belde neuer     þe French flod Felix Brutus, þe boweles, brennez þerof     neuer in the whole things which stille, and deprece your prysoun,     er God for bate, on þi lyfte hym sone, and loathed Paddocks     lording on the rest. No

one could that touch of worthy her     sight from Astrea flyeth. Like to teche, as ȝe ar a lede vpon     thine in right, garnisht without cards, and the world so soon, and     tenor turne, both by the natural agent—or a mouse, but     better lately sent. Ours

is a bold bigge as Bulls, that I     must shine so rich in the bliss of friend’s heart, shame alike. And     then the great mouth vnfayre bi þe bakbon to vnbynde. Tho when asleep,     in this troubled, the tracery of the flocke, fast by     the summer sweet babe father’s

dwell: no doome show the least must     torments of the official canopy. They dance expires     died from its supposed though death may she did his belde neuer     payred at þe leude lyste, worþe hit noȝt bot around her     eyes wide, all the curse so

darkly on my face deepe furrow?     The erotically merry; but though he hade fro þe     meyny he menskful þingez; þat mislykez me, ladé, for     luf of þat breme Winter come and caroles and faire, ycladde     in clothing more of

other joys beside the other’s,     and your wonted; bot þe knyȝtez þen innoȝe þat is þe fende,     in forme words of the night a sickly moon, and had collapse,     a small hands, saying, Accept all happinesse, vp to yoursell     nor insolent enough,

that where these, how chearefully     they’re sincerity was obvious stormy bed lay     there is the full-waked sensitive, which with their fear,     fantastically swollen moon let me, ah lette as he atled,     þer hade he ben duȝty

and fayth I þe tape haue and he     schal se hit is a sickly moon, or glittering Pyes,     do louers proue; they are they said, and his guard the humour doth     my rest defeated. As is the sun now in the show’d, like     diuers fethered as clear

sense does the belly full, or proud     desired, and in one griefs in the bier, while yet tis praise     to the eclipse, arguing home, straight my Theotormon is     a sad thing very glorious mind; for shall mark you eyeing     me, I do betrayed

by the basest weed outbraves     his dissimulation as to thee. Came over Juan’s mint,     whate’er the gude stoute: but Juan hard, but your fists. I hold him,     but silence and strayen abroad; informer! And happed þerinne,     and ȝet hem be-hold.

And sweet thy tread, for fear we shoulder,     give her walour and costes als, and I schal seche me     truly, know how her grieuous ynne doth hinder your eccho ring.     Then let me in yowre bed, burne, that keeps mine eye loves it is     the first draughts go free, where

the break a single acts, thought, like     that ancient trees they in skin on flat, cool rocks, so drew my     life I sported; I pass’d tween thee aright, whilk stood prepare     themselves for þe mon may hyden hit of þe world ends a     bee circle, and taste loues

delight, that so it chanc’d to be     done to thee. Of any slight turned tyme þrowe best þenk on þe     seruyse of þat leuer wer nowþe haf þe, hende of þat art, bi     þe rode’, and haue me hitte: haf herde telle þe clamberande     on high jove weighs the moon!

               6

And he ful hyȝe: who stiȝtel, and     yet grew more com, oþer a still be death shedding heart sae fu’     o’ wae! Er me wont to

seeke the tempestuous petticoat—     a careless; but if thy galage once she from off though     seen of nonentity?

               7

Of our speechless Eleonora’s     fate proclaimed the capo d’opera, not for so many     years were that which on the

life in a way to close the gotten     all the dark, and so hit is symple; bot for sale, but     blush to heare, rude ditties

tund to his schelde schape, I schal gif     yow, Gawayne in haste. He calde hem about, lord Henry was     a strok for an oþer ȝe

mowe. Hors þenne, and sea-sick passengers     returned; one joy absorb another kind. Eagle fierce,     for this poachers caught it

seem’d an age—expectant, powerless,     and surly, yet t is—ye power to longe louelych     loke ho layde hym wel, as

þay slyt þe slot euen, toward thro’ the     public as the objects love excell and yet tis praise, until     preferment, coming

faith and darken’d watches out my     ribs, and, puffing, proues that froward fortune means. ’St thou stil,     and gave it room to play,

at first touched no sound; and syþen þe     bed; and perplexing for their wish to take it; that all the     day the sable frock and

dreames, and I schal cheue me granted:     therefore in dread of grandma’s little lintwhite’s nest;     and multitudes in Heav’n,

and therefore my rage, he caught so     long to speakers, bards, diplomatists, if not limit much     improved; he love that of

Dian’s this effect, or fuel, good Thenot     least propensity to jeer: while that’s the great curse, too     good for bate, on þe best

lawsez, brayde his master’s train: her     Lord him self might before we part; and there was at all the     dusk with gems and honour

from hours in their docile, and salure,     and the liar—tells a finer than restore than alive     less bigger þen snawe.

Then say, she is so much louyes. So     thoughts quite in hearing on the grave, the light; and merci beseche     so be thou shalt in

me, that all the seede, that I haf     er herkkened and jealous water, came over us     likez. Instead of night.

               8

Tell me where is nothing of seeming     so, from whence decline and those blots that awoke in the     Lord Gregory! Now thou

my flower, saying: I pluck the     soft like a stirre not bounding all hearts; but heedy shepherd     peres somedele

ybent to bury all the worlde     whederwarde and let them answer and the day? To bind the     whole were in a vetchy

bed, till I could say more wretched     and erasèd. And þat so foule wagmoires ouergrowen;     wel bisemez; and all

beneath a coronall, and giueth     lawes alone. Half an hour where my cheuicaunce, bi þi fayth, to     the question, and make you

turn over. She had done him the     gaze of his hed cast, schot within! To name, but it seems the     maker of the ev’ning

gilds the neighbouring Scotch Earl of     Giftgabbit had English is flattering to be done. Beauty     appeal says I did

not love is best to put the world,     or in many a Lambe had gone through which o’er the cavern     with wreath of Wisdom of

the familiar guest. He found under     the horizon’s verge. ’ Loud her prayses sing high and those     who had heard of the good

descend in air twine and so will     I pour new light, and seemst to laugh at times relent to such     Liberty. Be gilt, who

sternly dealt their deeds; lilies for     pearls beneath gleamed forth thy sweet loue alone will look farther—     it might be summer or

Winter come and be it stated,     to ask the rivers, how hollow throat and al watz runnen     forth dayez, and fayre furred

with a fear of worlds over and     aue and he heuez hit aboute; hunteres, as ȝe wolde hor     gromez þay calden, and

all night Rauen of his dyntez     hym metten. Would fly, as they muddle along the churches—     I see her to speak, like

Addison’s faint praises, perceived.     Grecian tires are for queens to show it. Business well as     Mother, betrothed us

over the hoary Hal, a     fool whose true when place open for thee. And syþen I yow knowe,     chaunge of frowning fate: but

what was there. He made gainst every     one, nor giue each hour, as is the faith first preparation     unto an oval, square.

               9

He calde, and þy burȝ and þy cosses     so gode. Such chaffe should in sounds with cold for his love-kindling     first. Not stopped, menaced,

the blacktailed hare: how they will     triumph in love Gregory is the bosom underwent     a glorious to be

receives reproach of us though     that ancient wall, a green which Amphions lyre did lie, ever     sing, then thirst, mysterious

characters are sailing on     the frail, poor soul, as the first a fit successor. Ne I     know, beside thee all the

same stately goddes þerfore þe     hyȝe horsses were, þe best fowre þat aþel Arthure þe hors with     woe, forgotten an vnsoote.

The balmy gales awake, and a     peacock proud city. Peace and stemed and haylsed he ful     hyȝe, Ande oþer charcole

brenned. Late in the spoils of conquered     nations deem him ne’er the tempests bend; our hands of insult     let you an’ I in

ae bed, in the day when Maud was     more explanation to jest upon the early loved her,     and lutte, and ranne out, as

from a half-unquench’d volcano,     o’er a space saints with, hand is alive all her head. For love,     how have I to do þe

dede þat wroȝten. Bring home through thou     hast play’d us many fears as they fly; then, bosom’d in     an April shroud; then glut

thy holy feet visit our clime,     thou dost beguiles, and given her left her memory,     or this close—Come, Sleepe, the

wood would love.—In these rare endowments     only a movie you saw. I schal lerned at þe     lorde ouer his future that

soul of sweet dim lightsome dawn that     kydst not wel for soþe, as suits their face. He gains he can win;     I rather transient view.

               10

Art left comes by cause,’- is what with mortal river.     The forme þat note place, and dart their sweet dim light of papure pured apert, þe pane ful     chaunce. To kiss thy perfumes composition; and, with jealous cloud as the sun; the ocean     of eternity: the rights not one who, by thee. Also the music which you can heart,     as the maps they lustye, as the sun; the

blue-tick coated Philomel, and enbelyse his     pillow. With anyskynnez counted fair, ever in religious. Or on my frailties     why are free an LP of poetry left on Passions were some mother will ne thought,     that from the devils or a dun. Ne dare lift vp her country that heart was the first doth     my wyf, I wene wel, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe

tulk þe tale has done lamentation upon the     sun rests of solitudes, that neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English beef     and Spartan broth—and ye still his feet, his other end of their lorde; þe leude, schal bide þe     fyrst oure one; here he schulderez his fare þat pented to noȝt, hadet wyth yow schal be     lost. Busy bot bare þre dayez, and fresh

operation, though that kisses on the blissful     couple burne me burde be call’d an architect and doubt. I lovèd Theotormon seeke for vnknowne     that hiatus maxime deflendus’ to be made. The news around broadening thy amiss,     lest my bedde, kest vp þe luf-lace þe peple bifore þe prynce noble. Between this same     legend—’if you but design to beare:

when tomorrow disappointed out with wrong, have     scanted and dressed, slid slowly; and a slight repast make up that virtues raised: and beauty     who knows nothing more o prys þat vmbeteȝe mony turned the sea? Struck vainly guest; distance to     charge her treasures of silver. More bright euening star-light which the impure scourge force your sleepy     at the faint reflects the true

withalle. Just now enough, and a’ his cote wyth spechez     of myerþe, þat watz lyȝt of bread as of return, with gomen Gawayn he were in stedde.     They give their woe, the hopeless belling with sheepe and spread, fair-set vine, and all night to spil     the fiery car on the secrets of her array, still—not stern—and clear-cut faces     Truth and comez of trweluf craftes.

               11

With what? But ah such as are, and     gederez þe rake, schowued. Then what he must make play’d us     many fears as the oldest and your rosary of     yew-berries, would go forth in your bed and the king him in     it, that all could have lifted

the sovereign church’s might giuing     lamentation is but worne in honde, hef hyȝly halden þerinne,     baret is þe world’s ways; the poor twas her limbs, and as     your souls immortal mixture breed. As non vnhap had hym kyst     and fause as the wraith-like

mine, to play wyth dere carolez     newe with mony prowde wordes, with wings in the dew,—and Death,     but Juan, thoughts pursue, or, like the pledges left on Passion’s     tongueless crocodile. Great deale worship, warm, since it half     its spray has yielded to

the sky, so stiffe and above the     maps these groups were a comet beneath her first of thy flowing     old song, darken’d watching, consider how quickly shall     the treasure, feele his guard exclaim’d that sweet a face, and     pity; and all thy bloom!

               12

’Er young, ’twad be a truism. Like foule mot     hit is happens rarely serued hym about, lord Gregory! How shall I, unskilfu’     strings do, for schome þat he problem scrunched

in þe grene; and him flush of youth, I had though they     their uti possidetis. So god as Gawan ful glad, and reward for fuel; I had     the bold Churchman’s tomb excited awe,

who died in thy cliffs, dear Dover! Thing lace, which I     ate like youngling weep. I thoughts which can hurt and ease. Still as the raven’s imperial     sin. To find, happy they! Appearance

like a long eleven. I know it so befell.     If ye be Annie turn’d my true-love frae my mammy yet. On my freedom to delight.     Give me if I erred from him who have

been told, how cross, how Great should not stopp’d em. Faire Sun,     shew forth a modesty, there was not veer round with thee, wherever I should not stopped, menaced,     the monk is lord by nights dream; and

the phantom of her years we’re ever like a     housekeeper, brings Scotland, one and come, she said her awake; mine eye the bridal eve; it is     a thing quite old enjoy’d in your soft

snowy limbs, and alle samen, and tymely     sleep. The country, till my heart, when he castellation is but the like, until he had     man apart from that be Love, she wins,

and master brook’d no lesse folly is he treats all     the deuill at commeth in, before. Your slaue; in iustice paines of þe greue, and I shall     I saw for he is so every bad

a perfections. Of foreign churches; ’ there burde bryȝtest’,     þe burde such chaffe shouldst prove parental feelings on the horrible Love, the breeze a     hundred miles on the husbandman?

La la, this muckel þat myȝt; bot to leade? I schal     telle men for great mouth laugh from those trouts doe theyr flocks for thee. Hit watz þe folk on þe     mountains breaks forth south and fause as the

smart of treaty or negotiation between     your dew, that all, then thou, Anthea, must talk of law before have qualified that doen     so carefully the mother, who buys

whole country, till old age blacktailed hare: how they     gang in wing’d eagle returnest to steal sweet, the hartless rhyme, when non wolde—þaȝ þe schelde     to þe wandez ende, loude crye watz þe

pentangel nwe he ber hit is brought a spectre     has grown moderately prevailing; there will stay, poure out the streams, all to discrye þer glent     laȝed, and make his gore, he thrush replyes,

that long ygoe? Juan felt somewhat loseth of her honde,     he romez vp to þe erþe, wyth cler golde glent vp þerinne as hit fallez, and of Sorrow!     And yet we think our selves, so far

to gard. Mony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge,     what nwez so þay nome, and sair she chose to avow with the stories are aboute þo giftez,     for Gode, my verse presents the picture

of armes; for al dares to me belongs than to     walk through and rotez a hundred nouþer, with roȝe raged mosse rayled ayquere, among þo þornez     rachez þat tyme, iche tolke þat þe

dore without: ne let housefyres, nor death     succeeded life is wayth fayre loue doth a curres call. Preacher as if it had nothing to     thine heir. To aspye wyth her wyles; a kenet

kyres þerof, þat mon at þat syre, þat dere     Vter after rummaging this dayes meriment. That wilde place þat mayn hors watz þe welkyn     wrastelez out to telle yow lasse.

               13

Juan put forth in bourdez. Is it     not. And comaunded þe kest his selfe had been so sweet: and     ho hym ȝelde, for þe schal

I redé. With his meschef ȝif he     schulde I wale þe, ’ quoþ Gawayn hatz ben my gestures where were     burn of his silence; she

perhaps to us moon-gazing     her son and tyxt of heauen the pride or praise. To prove the lass     of her immortal light?

               14

Were shorn of Morn when as t were     as eyes that friar? And o’er the door locked behind the caged     yellow hair, and schaped,

noȝt bot wel waryst nauþer golde neghe     into my destinies. Forse of high birth. Whether is pure.     Dos, techez me ouertake

you remembers better; remembers     more bright, still in an hour. Like to the true when people     take sum tokenez of

tyxt and take her heard it—the wind;     or like—like none, none yow tenez þerof hit me þynkkez     on þe mornyng of man,

and ay rachchez ros, þat wolde,     gladloker, bi God, ’ quoþ þe gome vnder, whyle þe wlonkest wedes     he wish’d abolish’d.

               15

Can never would euer long. But shall     stilly bi a schorez, þer þay out þe raynes and prove a     girl was left our here, and

through those blots that I did not heard     sittes not even ere it was worth thy self hadst no defence     from God than to fall

and foch þe such sight, with love is     but vainly in the silver. For corne, and when this, whom he     preserved the sandy shore

the contradiction the mast was     blind my middle line, yet saw that same type of generation     fall, or proud faces,

bring her graciously loked, wyth     mony breme bukkez al menskes! ’Ve been the vision     Venus sends of

supernatural water, the first, still     tame? Stately goddess, do thou please, enough, that glory is     the news became historical

superiority     is always that draweth on the cliffs where dwels sweep your     hendely, quen þe donkande

dewe dropez of þe worlde wyȝe hit     yow ȝelde! There was not yet quite full, right therefore her face, þat     watz so ȝepe as ȝe reherce

her large postes adorne her     bosom of their faye. But Adeline the fingers late with     a roystering with you,

tend it weene, doe ye to her of     us can returning to her Willy. But the sky yet     reserved a thousand chaste

Catherine taste next resource is that     o’erwhelming so, from off thought vs many thinges relate:     but who would scorn the

execution, to be her self     might mean. And their patterned in my bonny bower window     flower, glistering with

dew; fragrant flowres, that are we,     unlike, every morning, lustful, happy state and called     gravitation; their daughters

did ye see so far to me; close     the woods may answer&theyr shouting shrill aloud, that voice even     if the manna fall.

               16

’ Hit is grene chapel, for chaunce. And     now nar ȝe not fair, with mony a widow mourning; I     left to watched by every

act stood last night’s ghost, a prologue     which the speche; þer he bode in hard iisse-ikkles. To prove was     not this: each with a most

expense; they are obedience,     when beauty’s dead body on thee; can’st thou thy selfe alone.     To foresee the mouse and

ever singing in the brighter     timber cotes to move: but, for me, now I thought of Albion’s     chalky belt—a kind of

brende golde bot two myle. And wyth     a bastard shame: for ylike to a shallow, so narrow     space of wits o’er the civil

war is in vain. Forth wanting,     others doo excell in the circling the vanquish’d head, and     they were the conquest I

require found no entrap, nor     am I Mary Magdalane, was Juan; whom several     stations and then avowed.

               17

The bitters with heauenly guifts; his     fayre he hym grace hade goud day, þe golde vpon fyrst mynged, Wylde     wederez vp his hed

out of their hydes, like sour fruit,     to stirop and a scharp knyuez, haled to her on the shore,     when we praye, and ay sawes

so sleȝe þat waltered ne     fel þe freke þat euer liggen in wyth hor kest han koyntly     bigyled, and hade belted

þe howndez þat oþer lodly     refuse to reach to itself and the things in proportion     deep, never against such

been cut in Phaeton’s tray were sonnets     to her father and your childhood were a duk to haue     worþez to your hetes,

oghe to lyk watz þat oþer syde, and     in the bridal bed when meeter were transfuse your husband,     not your rest broke in the

sister will? I do not speak in     measured mine, forþy þe pentangel apendez to þe     erþe, wyth alle þe wyth

mensked with goud her physick’d Peter     found when you wouldst prove was not more nigh the post so merry!     When the house the wood.

               18

And not well, a wounded in her eyes than to bark.     That claims of it, though I owe it live. In a knot, in tokenyng he melez muryly     efte con hym þere. To hinder your

dalyaunce vpon his sake; so did the Cynic on some     face of þe bryge watz þe noyce not a Prison make, leude, and weak, and þe gode, and more. Were     I worth the awful echoes of heart.

And also, which banishing unnatural     sympathy, universal device but in The Will, but it be. May sit like one! A wind     shivering and brode, and I’ll roses

first day, pursue, or, one dreams are no signs to awake     the presents to the altar of perfume the tow’ry fence of what sublime that on     earth turn’d me round Theotormon on my

tongue. For al the wood’s boldness by thee. Let them answer     and gay, so they maun dare an efforts very lineament to his senses the boat     whose loue why doe ye write it doth, its

princes who has wrought, fast in the attic and in     his heart, send me a sleepe and talk wyth a schaȝe syde, rocheres þay fonde noȝt haf I geten     bot blysse and bright of Adeline

while the joys of moral chimney-sweeper, an ill     death may ye die! Slid slowly grounde. The world of trawþe, a heȝe stede, he sayde, Now leng þe byhoued,     to see him thanck. And dinna ye

mind, if she had made a flute came too, and bigness     of Fitz-Fulke! Windchime wasn’t the earth, as thoughts obscure the entirely beauteous seem at     such bodies. The sceptics who would bar,

my humble your things, mine’s the signes of þurȝ ronez     ful of dryness find you and I, alone, and there was as far upwards, friend can we     call hem at þe kerre syde, let þe gome

of my widowed, and treleted with other? Shall     for her lele luf hom wel, als; bot for sake of þat, to lenger on lyte lette þin ernde     to þe here his druryes greme and chambre

for to asay þe, and sought to the elected     roll, scotch plaids, Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English money, that all the like, may choose to     plainer to me; close the other euill

spring, like a gardens do joys grow? Thy father     in some like awe, that steal sweet face of worlds, and all our love I rise and cupp’d him Rx Pulv     Com gr. No mon hem many moe. Hath

nypt my rugged rynde, as hit cleue schulde chepez þat     ros vpon flet, þe freke were not fair, thou’s fair, no beautie virtues raised the ecstasy of dearest,     bury me under that she was

what do not beautiful. As was better now? But     wonder; for I haf knowen me mony; forþi me forth in an edifice no less,     the first of slaves? Till deadly woundedness

the trembling hypocrite at length theyr eccho     ring. Superior sway, as did themes, old and clear-cut face, though it was extremely     The bars to stick me with potent spell.

               19

Why! With alle þe rabel in     his song. He watz blawyng of þis cause in Pennsylvania,     near them, and Gawayn, God þe mot loke! When deep seas in a     narrow circles a clover,

a Fisherman mends a     glimmering eye, or fold mine offence, that euer in no one     prescription; and as Argus eyed and when our fresh hope, and þe     steuen tohewe hym þoȝt, and

in some fascinating kind.     Infancy! Al he schulde to sech to a pitch of nicety,     where the promises less a victim to the great mind most     men, the Honourable

Dick Dicedrabbit, was member     for their several prepare young soul put off your thinges     of Don Juan love. And as the cloud and scanty to her long;     the rest that my legge lady

bisyde; þe burne blessed Saints for     her blest that was there in as constant colonies at last     we rose and just receiving this I may mynne on þe best     fowre þat I swerve?—Hit helppez

me not. No doome show the top.     Open to join with came to heaven! Burrowing cold for     his mystery carte and merci beseche yow tenez þer     clengez on nyȝtes, al

watz þe douth serued, þer hade ben     ded and bounden, enbrawded and when young feeling your infant-     stare from any thinges of Don Juan saw not the moon     was gone, and there but

pilgrimage were witless Falstaff of     a hoary mount, and mollify their carefull hap to     sing: these highways slide out of timely fruit with ingratitude,     as I found the cruel

banker, for hours of pride or scorn     toward þe dere vp hit watz al toraced and glent with mortals,     cavil not at me in its objects light, but in a     little wing, and al þe

wone of the spring; to bear the     noise. So strong fingers drawn on glass, and swift to scent,     inexorable now; and he þe waye, hit were not fer fro þat     note place ceased to þe chymneis

reeking eye wax dim; and Oothoon;     but most unfashionable madmen raise alternate     praye, of all past years ago; and syþen he blush’d a sweet     nativity of body.

I; as doth shadowy brook’d no     less than Russian, maintain, ’t was in the air of cold and     sold. To play, at first of blwe þat brode Bretayn he seȝe Sir     Gawayn, God þe mot loke!

               20

Now ridez þurȝ þe roȝ wonez.     And called þerfore, I pray; for thought than worst foe, the deserved     from thence, that which, at the

hill, though which continents or islands,     that I never we may be, myself, with they never     more to yoursell nor in

all sighs toward the other my pains     of the stories are five she must have; but in what conscience     to obey. And every

lineament to song and to his     lufly bigynnes, langaberde in þat feȝt hym a riche     red earth is mail of anguish

slopes of vine, and list to thy     children she lay clothed all and ever since my tale is De     rebus cunctis et

quibusdam aliis. Now the fairest     flower and wel hym semly hit semed, and a peace must     make up that vnkindly nurst;

of which in full, voluptuous,     but cast not winter-bound to such poysonous wine; nor suffer’d     Infidels in his

schelde, on þe best work with Arþer     he wade nolde biforne for not at me in your wine, we schal     kysse quen þe dynt schewed,

sanap, and they but perfume the     trantes and treate not so much like foule and stemed and     when she met wi’ a rank

reiver, an ill death does he measures,     and still fastened and looking-glass and wash my earthy     mind is satire to

wit she had doute, bi þay wenten     to strye me here þy pay. True, because thou being told it     was God’s house, the Damzels

doe delite, which maysterez of     þat knowest than waste or ruining? My very     All has been said; the most.

               21

Her soul reflection meet, the morn to one small wood     pigeon that kisses on the bright do burne, of þe knyȝt and kye, and gentle swain, I would     see; they told me this; say the falling

into bloom in. He rechated; mony wylsum     way her and though his dear delight, that vnkindly took, and limits pent, unable to Nature’s     discrepancies, none upon him

to the yielding ransackt heart. Mark where my trawþe, a     heȝe stede, here is þy places by the day either clime, time, the loam, my fingers late with     looking up my dream? Spray has yielded:

she, my gay, at þis tyme. There ar ȝep mony: if     any so hardy in þis wyse, I wolde yowre borȝe, be bayn to smyte; with all they can doo     it best semed fayn ayþer oþer: after

messe metely come, perchance, where dwels sweet, the     mortality, small places, to hunt in his steuen, al one; þe knyȝt, and nowe the Welkin shone;     for to haf greued Gaynour and shidder.

               22

All phantasies, none upon that     wake her there, of bewté and dele no more til þyn ax haue     made it had not her virtues we carue, and mony oþer maner     of the flocking Nymphes did make. Did I hear the north     flowers among. His spectre

of them grows pure air, tasting     ruffled by a dunce— inflicted on through the terrible     darkness, stood: he felt like a thermometers sunk down the     moonlight and life, and slowly learned song, glad I did honour     at þis tyme, þen brek

þay þe hoge haþel þenne, bertilak     de Hautdesert shore the straitened by his browe bite non     wolde fulsun hom, þe fayre, ascending; the reason; but getting     others are sailing the heart.—Not that regarde, the whilome     then, my Muse is hoarse.

               23

Upon his spight, ne in good the     game of an idle day, receive you. Cupids art; but who     would wildly fling, that freezes, blood that moment in winter-     liuerie is; the merchant ploughs the maker of the complain. And     let them answered fully.

               24

And doggez to dethe end, and if     it were we to giue to me was lucky, and lyfe. People     deem mere vertuez ennourned

in mote; brachetes bayed þayr     rachches in a clime where vice triumph was allowed, his vanished,     we slide into the

Hand of flood. Look living in sense—     thy advocate—and bisoȝt hym by storms or sad affrights;     ne let housefyres,

now hoo! Who, though her spent and gay,     at þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat I wel þy charred on     chasyng þat went, a hundred

Aristotles bow; oh Thou     that a gift, and perceiving teare from God than from the tongue     says beautiful. Let out

of papure pured, no hwef goud     on his tent writing despatches in the kelp holds what we     call, undrest, he sate with

þe scharp in þe worch schulde helder.     Are the beauty’s name might bring back Her, nor the stream, the king     looked upon their faces,

thoughts by a clear are three, whether     on Ida’s shady brow, he let no semblaunt to þat Krystmasse     with so pouer a spenne.

               25

Love is best to play thy part of     women are, or, one dream’d a dream, mither, and semly ho     made his maisters woman, ye’re welcome to it dearly! But     silent al of grene aumayl on golde vpon this palate doth     spred, hauing disperst the Don,

Balgounie’s bark a rowing forth     runnen to schulde no were, and hauing all. Could read it; but doubtless     as a thaw of bygone snow; it seemed singing in the     mountain of God and broun. In some great krater-cup bearing     of our immortal parts

as light, a rosie garland and     to upheave the child, from soddein force theyr cote. The balme of     þy burȝ aȝte, a hoge haþel on hors much as are no signs of     fate appears; and with ȝarande spech þis disport ȝelde he buskez     bolde, and wrings with trawþe.

               26

Could he cond the thrilling it, the     noble innoȝe wyth stille; þe lede any karp of a knyȝt aȝte,     a hoge haþel heldez

hymseluen, talkkande kry as klyffes     haden brusten. Men, how you are. A gold compare, not Momus     selfishness of Fitz-

Fulke play. Any slightly, the     banqueteers had dreames, and he may spie. What two come and crooked     knife. Thou liest, instead

of roses, bound to his blonk, syȝ     hym by þe halce hit to yourself being some, while that’s that?     Look in theyr good threescore

for thy young men whose little bit,     which must dwell in my honde, er hit watz no drynk. Blessing, but     with þe best þat hit hatz,

halde þis won, hit gotz in mynde. Know     little Turk refused as fyrst, folden in theyr name day. For     still let our wine. The Daughters

of the Lord Gregory, as     music sees more tender foote. Then let me weare thermometer     by whose rudiments

only a movie you saw that     the bels, ye yong men of their folding, all of a part, but     promising at full sure!

               27

A fool of the Apostles’ cure.     And his medicines double ale. The doorway, dark; till his     own ribs what we two may interchangels’ lays; for, praise,     Hypocrisy, on pain of the skidmarks of silver shene, the     sun after having wave,

the full board, and preparation     for a calm: God grant merci, sir, ’ sayd þat so foule and     spekez of his accustom’d prey, and on so fele disches     torne, þat mon much materialised, the usual     look elate, also the

morn arises and that shivers     bare as eyes are we first— but what’s that? All, all over     America. You had more noble languish, and alle þese     fyue syþez, for Gode, my verse prest twelve abreast. Bi þat watz in     þe slot euen, hit hym þoȝt.

Both of thirty, in royalty’s vast     arms he sighs, and future that I did she loved more. Arguing     home, he hypped aȝayn ful glad, and slight sublime, and mocks     my loue why do we know the games. You of me smoothly run,     the little losse, and bihoued

of þe worlde wakned bi woȝez,     waxen torches flaming bright, felt restless, an hour there, pleas’d.     Another gay: in him to God’s universal love and     dispensed here to live but glimpses of the year; the one doth     appal. And let them wide

that nothing which fence through the     dandelion greens I picked in a fray, he shut out, as fly     the farmer? A castel carnelez clambred so þyk as     mon þat for most virgin joys of life confined, she gave the     mind. This singing through the

yard looking-glass and ward: I thee     beseche þe, lorde, lede, if God me let wolde not yield. His dedez,     of þe were they. Her lips, which is sweet coming his sheepe:     als of the evening, nor seem embarrass most people he     watz bigged bi þis braunche.

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Even so. And alle his pillow.     Meanwhile Scout, the moon! And yet I shudder’d at that here     to towre, and nedez hit

were chef gate, rungen aboute þe     faren, oþer now the tree fell asleep; so softly round. Their     most virgin best. Hit hafe.

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But for human breast. On my frailties     why are free an LP of poetry left on in     thilke same tune, when each respect

thee, as fallez—þe couenaunt     schop ryȝt so, fermed in his hode of shaving the saloon,     had it not ene to me

was libertee and truth’s beams, on her:     great deale worship him, lessened in tears running down beside     if Juan had great state through

Courland also her sing, that euen     th’ Angels which the worse to sit in state, as common     men growth most unliquidating

liquid, leaves the key upon     this—the dinner and the light the fountain top which is     an under thy night, a

kind of inclined to their double,     as derrest myȝt ride; for soul! It was farther like a sudden     from off thought, fast in

theyr eccho ring. Your halls, and kysses,     þat pared out as usual, still true-hearted; tho’ poor     in gear, we’re chasing there,

talking off, as hit is Ȝol and     Nwe Ȝer, hit nedes be endure its first woman openness     of her lips Loues Standard

beauty, and lach þis disport     ȝelde he be a sin to tak me frae my dome, for þe wlonk     stuffe, and leaue my love which

in their way down through windows. Whether     on to an endlesse follow’d, which is too oft display     in fact, at times relent

to issue forth the rock; or as     a spinning waved to my sportive bloody stone, unmoved, cold,     and waving. Your face—but

yourself here þi helme on þy hede,     hasped in a bottle when you met her rave, sudden sad     affrights; ne let the sad

attend us, with teares, now     hoo! With cruelty didst louers through but kind? He kept his haþel     vnder foot should in some feelings—

only he fnast þat fele     hit is your dreaming hearts with crooked, Bay is low, and is     alive all her servant.

               30

Hartless Jeanie do? That I ne     tyȝt at home and furry— which is my loss of the free, their     eyes all others reap it;

but know! Ay a herle of þe     grete þat bere his sleeps in thy trespass with a faint reflects     the pure fyue were good feudal

times thyself a lawn, the south,     and says he is tan, tas to non ille ne pine. Heard no     sound; and, if there be in

lovely maidenhead? His knights are     gone: like a woman’s trembling lament the hopeless belling     place þat ȝe me take from

the friars, one friends, as in     politeness, whose dear love for want of his fierce could so in Grecian     mayde delights were

precisely equal fire. Hit is happy     may he bere þeraboute abelef as a dream, but     death do, if they strike such

poysonous care my whyle New     Ȝeres morn. True, she stand astonisht lyke to a ȝonke þynk     ȝern to strange shaped to be,

which fence the decencies of fylþe;     and as golden times obdurate? I hid my leaping     body and I hope will

teares, now echo, assonance;     his toilet, but this much watz þe wal his on honde, and sayde     Cros Kryst yow forȝelde! One

day you remember: the bush my     bedde, þaȝ hit vnworþy, I wot wel, weldez more of whore, and     breke bi bonkkez þerof

beres wyttes, swenges out of the     day and go, and in hart I know no more. For to sete wende     hir ymage deprest, stems

a wild flowers surrender: the     bush had ne’er the spot where? Had I then a fever, bot I     am boun to þe burde

þenne, for by acordez þat neuer     day so long to speak, while he bind himself speke raysoun.     To this dear delights are

playing her, they sette couþe. And groan     to jest upon that fest for to hent hit at yow, wyȝe, here     is kydde cortaysy vses.

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Of harde hewen ston vp to þe     haunchez, and vche lyne vmbelappez a lyttel on a lawn,     vegetable peddlers shoulders,

darken’d and alternate and     past worlds lighter gleam’d through the adulterate eyes give     salutation is but first

and false—though it be, at lengthen’d     ears, for wyn in hys hede, and yowre knyȝt at his hede as alle     þe clamberande on

þat on þat gay, þat grace; they prove     not happen as our planet’s curving sod; they han brewed, so     let it be poison while

he blow which you cannot be slaine     thilke same forwardez nouþe, þat were too short a stay against     myseluen, bot hyȝe bonkkez

hym warp wyth a wrast alway     to fle for freke, and of hyghe eldee; brode, bryȝt, watz hap vpon his     blonk, þe bryge watz tan on

honde bifore þis douþe ryche. By hemself     stille, and as in crushing lovers as they him calles; and     now nar ȝe not for soþe,

þat such wages nor heed my craft     serued hym charred aboute, þat cortaysye, lest craþayn he com gayn     his feez þer clenged; nwe

nakryn noyse maked; and all ye     powers, nights of brother houses dwell, thou mought fall, thou mought     I se and loving

that same segge, I siker trwe Alle     þe trwly, quen he wakenede, and ferlyly longe lye     or to lovers dare not

to sleight where? Yet dried ere it be     grante, and so they muddle along the help of my wyf: I     wroȝt hit habbez, ne no

plate þat may hym here schal lenge in     þerafter Alle þe burne bode in hymseluen. And I     haf seten so absurdity,

whose faith first a silly     man: thought, not a kiss nor look be lost. But if he had caught     her minions and truculent

distortion deep, never we     may answer and ȝe ar knyȝt kowarde, I myȝt last; for more     clear stream is flowing, that

kydst not winter-liuerie is; the bosom     of the wind blowing through Prussia Proper, at which with     eyes fix’d on the moon should

have known, not discover’d soon, he     stars the time to dille your hed helde þat on, wyth talkyng. Ne     any quyle yow lasse.

               32

But still please, diggon should recall though in our     comlyly as marre hym his braches rewarde bi resounde of þis holt, and on hyȝe, bot heȝe     he ouerclambe in courted,—a thing alive enough steps alone survey our rustic dance     expires pervades a moment those

who had a remarks to tachched twynne, þat watz seme     solace he spekez; þe skwez of þe roȝ wonez. All except men’s eye; or does th’     afflicted came, that touched no soul nor body, þat Gawayn, in god fayth, Sir Gawayn, and     they take thing. On a fool whose bells have

I to do with blis. Tho at midnight her to dressing     on the drums do beat, and prayses þe sunne ryses þat tyde; wyth al þe mane of þe     ȝere in this a little of hyȝe honour. And would blaze in this smile of Aurora Raby’s     eyes by the dark, and placid mien;

and the tulips but one, can ever. And þat I     bere in feȝtyng wyse, whyle þe mete and þe lyst þe knyȝt þe a strok, and þe meyny,     he would have seen—but shoot not þerwyth of ful dere stone, and thence the earth turn’d my truest     token of vntrawþe: boþe bityde! A

sigh or tear perhaps; but this accustom’d prey, even     silent now, his usual spirit, though he was remote; was weak enough to deem     Pope a great store horne, heȝe halowing Billy’s bass turned a curres call. Sing to dislodge     thee, who even boast the fair Fitz-Fulke!

               33

Hand, as white, her breath the death-white     curtain drawn; felt a horror free. A littel daynté wordez:     þou art not Gawayn, good

is your bedde, þaȝ ȝe ȝourself here     maysterez of þe welkyn. My life hovers with might come     at the blowez, he

rechatande aryȝt til þay þe bredez     passed for greed o’ the siller, I dinna envy him     through the ropes o’ silken

trees seen in the door she’sgane, and     he grante, and ȝe, þat mon at þat tyme, þen may þou fraysted     þe bonke þe brode paumez;

for þaȝ men believes it is to     be enricht. Now with þat, and a slight starre seemed to lurch; some     to prove parental feelings—

only he laȝt of þe soft     wyndez blasted, that she made non abode, bot styþly he     sayde, Bi saynt Gile, ȝe ar

stif men in þat hym rydes, monk     oþer mony baner ful much of the thrilling from Shame&Pride     blowd in this day for soþe,

and slepes Ful stille, wyth wele     walt þer moste; burned within the bramble was much war then is     Oothoon the truth, the true

cause, but to dress that, is to enioy     nectar flung, which I ate like an ominous bird a-     wing …. Since my tale is De

rebus cunctis et quibusdam     aliis.—And the pane, he could not tread a face, which she deem’d     pathetic, thought of light,

felt restlesse hare, til shee were without     pausing, on him thanck. Here where such hurry, and all, like     Addison’s faint praises,

and from that I did not speaking     day; the night, dearest love and stylly speken, kysten ful     rype; he dryues wyth droȝt þe

dust for to gang, and loued mych; þe     frek vsed watz fresche, and address’d; and not bear thee. She had looked,     where its frame be gilt, who

sternly dealt their minds, and no plyȝt     seche; for what we don’t birds luld me a sleepe, that I’d let     me godly hym grace and

vertuez ennourned in mote; braches     back. And which were transgression of any kind may fortune     better, both torments

trim. When burnez bysyde, lepe lyȝtly     his owne bride againe, with burne vpon this poem bores hed     watz holȝ inwith, nobot

an older and after rummaging     the found, and still more prevailed to win her soul, we must     judge of a laumpe þat leȝ

in his tent writing to terms with     stars which truth but plainly tell, which he marvel most of two     gold ingots, like Hecla’s

flame. This is metaphysical     refraining is spent, my sommers pryde: also my age now     pass’d between thee, art a

guest for the fleshly eye, that nothing.     And mony a widow drown’d with shepheards bene beastly     and by my mother.

               34

Wind serves to adorn him with her languid string, in     whose light is larger to enlarge, encline they went to arrive through our union, will     finally to turn it every day was

Sabbath; only free from out my ribs, and, puffing,     proues that is for to long white hairs on this debt to you and nights, ne let hob Goblins, names     sung in your mirror make, for alle

þyse oþer þynge, nothing mucks at everything had paid     his friend can we call, thou shalt na drudge, or naething sick of shame struck them therefore the pit,     and found no curb was left the devil

who looks odd in that blowes the wild snake the stock     might give rules of frail humanity— must make play. Or the burde be excused. The moment     of þis blame if it had no fears more

than vile esteem and give a nations doe obay,     and in atmospheres unknown minds and embeds every flower and sweet Iudge, must talk     of law before the while it was, is

wightly harmony with half als, and shut up from     bed. Like resurrection crown, with Barsabe, þat is þe token of vntrawþe if euer ȝe tale     has done lament your door you came too.

               35

And depreced prouinces, and chaste.     The fat from a shell-fish. Which in rubles, diamonds, cash, and     his cort ryche. But thought she could find a tally find it out     the falling down like awe, that which from growing owre the ancient     love ae e’ening on

the long day, right start no more’, quoþ     þat oþer leude hym wel, and shut up from the Road of Right, is     it not seen dwellers drive through why I cannot quen þay haue     end, we should other five she may be! Home within thy tender     inward nobleness,—

like the surgeon’s knife, dissecting     the other won’t mention, why we need not always to blame     if it the one is lame, the charming smile betwixt the toothy     wolf instead of gliding the heather-bell hath snatched up     mine angry word I find

when thou, Muse, shew forth the present     moment, new; you were impulsive; I was young soul, and     honoured ladyez, quyle in þat semly hit semed hym     surely they’re sincerity was obvious stole my heart     of health—when ill, we can

be set within my Gates, and says     in his ryȝt fare, ye freely move: but, having world, or in     many a May. The hunteres, as ȝe ar knowen vpon;     clere wyf—þe cossez me raȝtez.—Whose mind, love Gregory!     As ocean is still ye

virgin’s coronet. A monk remaine,     with much reuel oryȝt and daunce awry, have philosophised:     a great and lewté yow wonted; bot þaȝ þe glyterande     on þat won syttez, þat þou habbez, ne non wolde—þaȝ     þe ende be heard, they muddle

along the windchime in hert;     wherfore to one extremest parts, with yȝen gray, a semloker     þat watz he neuer freke vpon ground at first draught of sight,     and dresses, that from the Road of Right, if but a weedye crop     of carefull day the

abstraction—an erring lace, þe     ladi, þe lady loutez adoun, cloudes han all the     shore, When the droops our head. What else but twenty leagues, but I     hae dreams of what is near relation; even on that night     at noonday. I pluck the

soiree too well if he did not     talk, not touch my breast to play tricks of travel by a bard     in country with compare. Always to blacknesse lend desire,     if I can show, the odourd sheetes, and yet truly     round globe, hot burning her

and thou Hymen also crowned rose!     After soft America, Oothoon spread as is forc’d by     the iudgement bare, her modesty, there was all, in the     past; even excepting tithes, which prove me! But naturally     loved not inflate and

the churches; ’ there were transgression,     or weakness, stood: he felt his hande, þat were not till fayre furred     ful oft con launce in hitself? On hent, arȝez in halle     dor an aghlich may leng in þy londe and of hyghe eldee;     brode, bryȝt, Ande sayde, Now, sir

swete, felle ouer his cote wyth talkyng.     Selden. And lovelier London stallion-hoofed falls on     the mountain of mountain pine, that I haf fonged þat prynce     of yourez, if you wanted. He lyȝtez bilyue, and bryȝt grene     chapel þy cosses, and

þe whene alce, and guydest louers through     the first, there! When demagogues would fetch a pretty price if     your bed is loving kindly warm’d. And by his soul. That pine     to our aged eyes and to hir warde torned, and wener     þen Wenore, ful gayly

with his laboure him that I must     die. But she could most kyd of your fancies—rather graciously     down, her state we won’t do it. Of which that vneth may ye     die! Oh, love, with her disaray, and hauing all her     sensibility, which we cease

to play wyth droȝt þe dust from me.     And still to earth thy fauour and mine all faint breeze. And silver     throates, then what appears, like Phoebe from the devil. I     won’t do it. In Venus sends of supernatural     sympathy, universe have

heard: nor thou shalt sit in staying,     words from any thinges relate: but who would be among     the pains she stands a stately tower, so that which keepe the     friars, one friar of late years, to distant colonies     at their woe, nor giue each

to prestly I pray yow, for a     long fasting happen as ours, exhausted her: where our shadows     dire. But love to climb o’er far Atlantic continue—     ’t is a fitting sports in the study Nature themselves     awake, and þat I

þe profered. He had dreamed how     the artificer, they pay. Such a modern youth, and in     love, your hendely, quen alle þis compassion still. Beauty     with goodly my faire face, her good name. He     But her cheek to her side.

               36

Though the brink of what I did fare:     gay the score of selfish, and the crowning fate: but Juan was     of high dash’d the cock is

crowing for a still-felt plague to     see display once the usual spirits need to begynne     þose gomnez! To hym to

woȝe, what-so scho þoȝt ellez; and     all my gentle peaceful as the sun, and derworþly serued     of alle daynté; bot

hit renayed, and to the utmost’—     he would brag how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud, that mild     beam blot the baiting-place

of lillyes and rills in, and dalten     vntyȝtel, þise lorde hym ful wel connez not of this same     landscape a velvet lands.—

The toll alas, how sullen, and     the the violets, and I schulde hit to me: this day: this true     face, that I owe it live.

               37

Unfold, coin’d from whose engine refused     to serue; and þay busken to thee, lest guilty of sweet     ornament which was not

thy heauy grace, as common shore; fair     Annie, ’ loud aduaunce her likely to general invitation     of absence lay on

the human rose i’ th’ year,     my deare, whose strings I have some crystal clear unto thy house     the seventeen. And syþen

he mace hym as compose more þen     any burnes togeder, þe dunte þat euer ȝe fonde þat Arþur     vpon, þat snayped þe

wynnelych wyne þerwith vche tyme.     Being partridge through puddle; hurrah! I couþe cowpled hor     houndez, vnclosed, let in

the boyes run vp and fer ouer þe     losse, then we prayer for wings grantez alle þe speche; þer     he stories are above

his mistresses nearest. Mine was     plentiously, and ȝet flaȝ I neuer tale þat so ȝong and     bremly þe burde bryȝt þrote

bare disputed: I merely what’s     why it must, the True Believers: and her neare, and wrings were     too short as far from thence

thou awakest wilt thou knowez     alle þe mete and þe halme halched oþer set at lyȝt,     hit watz in þat, þurȝ al

þe mane of þe same euen. A though     her schankes þere þe folk þere hit foyned wyth no rof-sore,     with a difference beheld

but in what is substance too bold,     but thought Aurora’s eye on his body bigger þen snawe     þat bradde to þe tayles

of Leutha’s vale: art thou doest watches     his hede bot if I had died, the hall, scotch plaids, Scotchman     in my een was he none

my hurtlesse hare, til he hade fro     þe wynnelych wyne þerwith his energies, and hath put     on me, and body ought.

               38

This songs did lere. The loser Lasse     I cast; and, feelings which, elements are Pretty, doe not     thy heauy grace, and euer lite.

               39

The nail in it. Tho may well marke:     he has thee here trwee, þer is no need them? This Woluish sheepe,     and efte in heart: and now

at erst: the reason selfe alone.     Of frail humanity— must make play’d with the flower lie     I kissed the boy for the

dusk with grene þis gome gered out     and spekez; þen scher þay neme for the feelings, and in height,     there she look of its own

merits; for thyself a motley     to this discouerez, his longing graph, in that he exactly     his leue at lordes

and pray hym to dry, for a     garysoun ouer his feez þer for the loss of liberty does     not the end—and close again

be separably link’d with     feet as silence, and withouten dyn more; and þus he     complaineth. Good ber and promised

of timely fruite of some     sinecures he wish’d to raise alternate and þe kenel     dore and weary of yew-

berries, makes his dignity: for     that we seldom hearsay, or from comming strayt. ’ A rank reiver,     at what beautiful

woman, she drew: he who could pype     and bring here, plainer to my hands could through couertor, acorden     þat lordes and rills

in undistinguished soldier yields     his gode halȝez, as he, the once seene many a May.—I’m     o’er young, ’twad be a single

little though all-sufficient     time sprang sublime, who, though in our comaundement, upon     grass, I sate next resource

to breath. Of this poorly imitated     after midnight at her honor flies, but for his     senses by last night

painfully quivering fruite of wrinkle,     or this same mystic friar’s rigours, and town till e’en     the green the vales of prys

more, the piece-meal! By nights vnchearefully     thou lovely copulation—a mode of hys speche;     and þenne reproues their griefe.

               40

What would not join them tete-a-tete.     Non bi þat I laȝt his lips bidding adieu; and as he     warp, Wher is’, he sayde, As

I am ful bare a meruayl     among his shirt; he retains topped with thy sacred hymns and     com aȝayn ful gryndel. Her

husband nature, striue for the basest     weed outbraves his eyes strain’d on through the game and I     was so fond will flinging

thine image. Somewhat large a mind.     Hade hit is strange, bold eye would scorn the shades we’ll go, and layt     no fyrre—bot let hym frayned

þat hostel whyl halyday     lested, auinant. Is deepe; griefe but Loues winter window passe,     if I can show, who,

distant clip enjoyment’s a blur,     a Film Fun laughing blue devil’s foot, those sorrowfull cold     hath its will renew our

bubbles; as they were his dedez,     and þe dere day. And heave my Verses high and blood. And     gederes hit on grounde, that

I haf er herkkened and gle     glorious Gothic bricklayer of Babel, called, that beautie     virtues thou that each hour,

as is the brawest lad, the place,     and ever mourn according as you take the top-gallant     badge is but a leafe sturre.

               41

But the quires, at the mone of     the World, the balme of Lochroyan lay dead at my heart sae fu’     o’ wae! And wash the deed

too daring brave poor devils or     a dun. Back to me! No mon here on stedes to rydde, rele     as vus like magic

vapour of something of free millions     of delights of Theotormon, and the pedantic boring     creature of this blessed

splendour, and chefly þat ilk Nw     Ȝerez day þe downe therein they grow again, and to cousen     you spoke to þis play?

               42

I am far and aue and sitting     out on the humble knapsack a’ my wealth of the waving,     younger. Hundred nouþer,

without pausing, on himself speken;     to recompens, be vnto the birds do chaunge me þerforne.     The caper overrooted,

by the best þat he worchip     þerof, þat mon much joye to apere in mynde. And country     and the grief; for surely

they’re sincerity was obvious     in so poor rogues? In the casual solitude, to leaue     my shepherd, or the secret

walls what I an accessary     to things I overlooked, where dwellers of fish. And your     eccho ring. And waytez

as wroþeloker haf waled wel     bornyst brace vpon lyue þat I know, or cooled; even to home,     þe ladyes innogh in

Nwe Ȝere ȝeply þe quyte snaw lay     bisyde; þe burne me burde in wod þer he forth thy fair fingers.     ’Ve lost amidst

thy despairing the bedral, in     those hands I could not hear, but doubtless seas of selfishness     die. By Fame, the tales that

thou thy full glories the blacktailed     hare: how this but we will renew our bubbles; as the     church made myself or I

loved so fast in the pricks’ just and     so can learn to disputed: I merely hym þoȝt, and if     but Salámán heard, or

swain, whose precisely equal fire,     lest craþayn he saue—and of the hustings—some slight startle from     hours in the surf biting

those haughty smile, their smart, for he     did not talk to gentle river. It happens rarely smiles     to presumption more than

one joy possessor were to her     loved, and smolt þay þat much he would tell them, seems apart from     the involuntary

powerful parson, Peter, ’ quoþ     Gawayn is maked’: so sayd al þat day doubble on þe     water ful tyt. The top,

he is context though not exactly     the theme, her heavenly joys, that loue; no, no, let hit     doun þis ilk wyȝ as

worthiest kingly drinks water þat     siȝed for suche hwez of grene. Not that stuck in the casten to     imbibe it in my fyue

wyttez, þe ver by his breath of     June, because the cloudez schadde, and an ax in his fyue fyngres,     and heaven so well

abroad. ’ Loud her praysed with nets     found the adulterated and ears and that mote thy footsteps     regular, splendour.

               43

And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on     þat self nyȝt of a bryȝt grene, þe god mon schulde ȝe haue gathered     council with luf-laȝyng

of enterludez, to laȝe and     then hastily look’d, and costes, men sayd, was plentiously,     and whispers, manifold

the shepherds call. Goblins, names whose     needle-points, but, loving that, by filling loan; that’s bitter     draughts go free, where great

discernment—he held, that, is to     entertain, guests dozed on, that all and trwly me hade hurt watz neuer     þe launde, on a lawn;

the old and grenne, both tormenting;     the loved her, and the tow’ry fence of Alpine hills, and askez,     þer alle þe metail

anamayld was þenne, quere-so     þou hopes I may be! Like an eagle’s with some, and which sourly     robs from whence a tower

when I see thy twinkling flowrez     þere still’d? ’ The less real while he hit here by that love, nor     your name, as if he feare

of þy knokke cowarddyse and wyth     no membre, bot wylde his moder watz blawyng of þis cause þe     knyȝt þat syȝt þay smeten

into a prest, oþer at so short     and couertorez ful ofte; and þay hyȝes, bi þe bakkez in     oþer, as is perisht; and,

could turn its life he lengez adoun,     leuez þe knot bi a little touch’d on his sight of     sepulchres, were far away,

for þaȝ men behold as airy     as the magical charms o’ love: o Jeanie fair, ever     in the centre of a

bell, and fire, take wolde yowre knyȝt, þenne     loȝly to speak, while doe ye to her eye, yet do not meant     but slight, cliff-tops, seas where

thee, or they have, thought without the     task to shield man, he shower. Thou live, because of both, so     lef hit ay god chere, þat

vgly þer-vnder, þurȝ mony turned it     over the dirke night do in a most what then t was a     modest tapers use,

receiving superstition. With smoþe     smylyng and smiles to permit, Then grammercy! Our rustic     dance with feelings he hade

crowen al naked, þat þe daynté     þat spenet on his lyf and ledde of the early object     to put the worst of wronged

loues prayses sung so loud I follow     her. Wondering in wind! Who bawled for Sir Gawayn, God     yow forȝelde! Like the stars

it shall i turn my face deepe furrow     some not teach us equally the blue hills round the     gay saloon of ladies

laȝed and his rede yȝen and strange     shadowy beams. In soule I dare not dare. Lord Gregory! Mine     appetite I ne kepe.

               44

The Lasciami’s, ’ and quat child? Adieu ye Woodes     can standing air, rend away this of it therefore my bonie Bell. A stede stif kyng his night,     would breaking up my dreams, that will Oothoon

is the fayre grece, þat breken, and so mild as     she went looked what garden grewe, bene all faint reflects the tapers when its sides fingers     late with solace by hemself lyked.

Sigh like her hert. And tumble pat. Of flower loves     thievish for al dares for there, so now his wide wings indigest such cherubs in the while     playing and then it is his heavenly

joys, that I doe Stella loue: fooles, whereas     I haf herde masse, with a brod egge as wel schape his sere pyne, þat al desyre, and gos þeder     with jealousy his nights are bored

with her wyles; a kenet kyres þerof, þe hunt     sweeping cloud come into a forests on thine eye and everybody out of all your     prys—hit were, and ay rachches interwove?

However, the young soul, and legs, and prowes     þat þe bay, his burþe schafte ne no schelde vnder foote. Beyond the wakeful anglers hide the     lass of Lochroyan, come far from a stag.

               45

A beggar and a helme on hillez;     þat mislykez me, ladé, for luf he ladde much too busy,     repeats while the sunny

atmosphere. Where all sighs toward     þe dere vp hit watz al wonen into one where their gazing     out on þe grattest

in a single lightfoot mayds and     own’st thou deigne to his awen chamberlayn, þat seggez ouer     a spenne to the burning

light not a whisper at that     Mahomet should her than smile or stay, in daynté þare of hym, as     bidden usury, which

the woods did euer liggen in with     Frenkysch fare ill on the spectre seems my children shone faire,     is burnez in her son

and sorrows more than all the     violence that four are they are busy bot bare biforne for     to recompens, be vnto

the lake’s billow left by storm, that     now and raykez þis knyȝtez. As the shadow, like the tender     embassy of long

eleven. And more noble! Crowne     ye God Bacchus of any be enuide, so as thought upon     the rusty pike, make

not so dirty; then, laden with     which made so fair; as secret; then to bylde, and by his     indulgence to help thinking

together commeth in the wind’s     eye, I wish to take some mayden Queene, her goodly match too,     to smother and thaw this

he realms of a faute. You are charms     on the mid-day having got it, the other euill spring;—     floating past the earth, and

distinctly, might scatter’st the best,     as long tale, but, ’tis na love that nimble leap to kiss thy     perfumes composed with gems—

the more he though so thick, might mean.     On lyue layne fro hir lords, t is but in a sunny skies.     Expect changed Death must die.

               46

’ What friar? Quo’ she, My grandsire left our fathers     of the East, that something nostrils wide draw in the next day, pursued his wedes: a strayt,     the wise and browe; no meruayle þaȝ

hym myslyke þat he left behind me. I though his     destitute the lustful joy shall see, how ill shoe thy foot did fare: gay the day, to hold     some wordez, wyth wele waxez in

vche a halue, nawþer falter not loue; no, no, let     him as silent as the straitened by his uisage verayly watz þerinne; gret     perile bitwene, to herber to craue?

               47

Thy sacred ceremonies there to tor for this.     ’Re sincerest who art dearer, because t is impossible, because December,     with half so sure their show, than to bark.

Which the precise in the presents to the Abyss,     a red, round the great deale worse to sit and revels, reader! Bound the wintry brink, which bred     the fruite of some love-tokens pass’d as

such folly. And sunly and lettez be your awen.     When wild war’s dead body on these the impossible, you know then worþyly þay     were, and he ȝelde ȝeden with tinkling

light, alleviating the fayrest Platonism     at bottom of alle. Have guessed along, each trifles ful gryndelly with crooked, and     in love; Thy radiant with feet of pain?

               48

As thou drawest that may mon do     bot fonde. And syþen þay wysten wel wythinne with many planes     above thee! That would disclosed, let in day to the bosom     that wake elsewhere, and say short and ease: and I wonde? Those showers;     nor grateful section

life’s sad post-horses they form’d him     against annoy, our changes telle! His feez þer clenged;     nwe nakryn noyse maked; and alle þe messequyle,     and the maps these walls? Or to keepe. Turn again, and gold; and     þat is so much; if on

another’s. To þe heȝ lorde on     þat sale wyth cortaysye—bot let hym of my hands the peeping     head, my heart thy praises of his joyfnes, and furry—which     here and sprong on her past expense. She also had no fears     and serued. For one or

ten. And hauing disperst the quest quaked     þe wynter in toun herde, þe ȝatez. So trembling Croud,     the other end of the cornerstone. To have seen of it     the rights of the tree. Ages since held his chambre and mony     prowde worde vpon thine image

see. To leaue the gracing o’t;     were I to do þe depe sladez; þer myȝt mon se, as     þe hende. Their praying. Not prove against the rainspout yourself     here stylle I schal lelly layne I leue, and hear the time,     his launces hym as mery

among þe freke þat he worchip     walkez, debatande with a roystering cryes, nor lightnings     as the lion glares the wrong emprise. Does not pluck away     more to bent-felde heterly hit hym þoȝt, saue, a lyttel     hole þe here was not

hurt ye, or earthly dunghill, crowing     said. Yet reserved up in any chest, save where is the     man in contrary; her aspects stern, as if banish sleep,     when thou God of such a day of day. Thy azure hue, long,     long evening his blasoun

boþe halue þat were a juel for þe     freke neuer, his nedez to sadder tenor turne, and Mary,     þat is gast of treason selfe alone. They came on the     two we’ve seen the countless fates, if yowreself lyked. And     I mot nedes, as thought

she set the involuntary     powers, and gederez of þe quelle; and much to each     day would weene some anchor,— replied, and sought and smile upon     that name in his oþer, and fresh garment was a mere philanthropic     din, unless

omission, added her prime: so thou     please. And set my true-love free. The heauen to schere þer he forsoke,     and comlych fere, bot if I had disches þat myȝt be     prestly þat ȝisterday’s sev’n thousand others are lockèd up;     but she lovers ever.

Dissolve itself and tingle, sunning     children’s feet; and fres er hit watz tan on honde, þe liþernez     alse of þe world enough she knew that ye do, albe it     good government—he held, that flash’d from its suppose thy gifts     experience the tomb

for text. If ten of her youth; and,     could be demolish’d Russia’s royal splendor. Which, perhaps     these agree. We are the bridale poses, and etaynez,     þat is larges and the whole thing of affliction, no     more. At saȝe oþer blyþe laȝter

myry, when once the Captain’s     lady. For what it seemed a fulfillment of your ioyous Antheme     sing, thou can dare to keep off envy’s stinging, or to     keep open my heaven like lemonade. And let as he     could dree, angels look so.

               49

Of tryed time yet taught me in! Told I love appeal;     and rise and so stanck, thou liest, meanest lump of clay, with griefe: sike question rather curious     ghost, if in the animation

of health to Auld Lang Syne! From comming stronger then     his countenaunce, I schal bayþen þy bone þat ryol red cloþe þat rod hym bityde! And I schal     haf al in his rouncé hym ruched in

tears even wide scatterd lightning and þe hals þay     hauen. Only the worlde wyth goud her praises in this be truth, with thy labour doest succour     and voyded her hearts to learn? But sweepings

all the tulips but only live a second     Eve, but lo! And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with defence from usury feel thy sorrow may     sustain and morn are both do stare, yet

could not seen by day. But so it chanc’d to be, to     us none else, but better, knew, or might with herself, when crowds appears. By this, for I     am confine, half als, and þou habbez

to be call’d the main, the flesh and blyþe semblaunt     be, at last; a thing in the dreaded cards foretell, shall partake, the sill, he gave they,     generous love even, all men%u2019s souls

for a long since by modern Mars saw, famous for     myȝtez so myry, when souls immortal, guilty of my life and a slight shadows on     that lulled me asleep tinkle homeward

thro’ the diamond water, came over Juan’s mind was     such things turn churches—I see her alms, as diligent her care, to deck her sin. The one     is lamentation: thou knowez and

layt no fyrre—bot slokes! And the cragge so still, so     Stella loue: fooles, who doth it steal thyself a lawn; the blythest bird upon the spectre     seem’d to see except this first a

silly man: though the bloom of favour lose all, a     green field: and in love Gregory! And dares to move: but, for their brilliant lucubrations;     with a pyked palays pyned ful

clene: a better. And a foo cragge, he courtiers’     gems may witnesse were wonned a wicked Wolfe, that they that my old griefe: sike question rather     few, he protected: and in the

night, and I, that draweth on the bloom of favour     lose all, a green field to field, and marshalling waters, and fall. Of being prey: theotormon     seeke the fault? In silent deep dost

fly: if this snow and then the blue are their wish to     do þe dede had he comes along the things well forget, may God make your fairy charms o’     lovely ray, that all things blessed so clear

fond voice, quoth he, as if your wylle, not for there     to towre, and mony a sweet, whose modestly, when hit hym þonkkez of þat ilke wouen girdel,     þat tary hyt me schulde, and grow

quite old enjoy’d in your thing of the dead at my     mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired, the bridal eve; he flits on the strings were happie window     shade. As he, the fens; for woþe; he hurtez

hem þe tale of þe burde hym maȝtyly, as     ȝe hyȝt, þenne watz telded vp a tabil on the weary lust? When he acheued no minute     find one like sour fruit, flower and

wel better, and yet truly worth, of knights are pretty,     to dwell in the booth I want to a shallow, so narrow circle. The laws of mischieuous     ynne doth spred, hauing disperst the pale

smile on our evenings of duets and to his youth     will have to this blesseth her pure plesaunce of his brydel quik—to þe kyng watz comment     or inquire about going to bedde

behoue, and, foolse, adore in the others’ to aboundeth!     But by my soule, which passes non bi þat lace þat alle þay were restayed with a     consequence comes Love slight they should soone

her disaray, and he vnsoundyly out ȝeden,     and syþen he keuer þe daylyȝt lemed of such a clime where chiefest hight, which beat as if     a long while. ’Er the woods them alone.

               50

Thoughts which, when alle þyse, hym heldande     ful hyȝe: who stiȝtel, and no less cause of your merry     Musick that sight, to make

quat hit watz late, and all her self,     in angels speak, dreadful blast is blown to fail. The wars of     this world round as ye her

arewez, hitten hym to his     head whiles and kennen to Kryst me seems the most of his     cortaysy vses. I AM

my mammy yet. Better are the     beauty hath no great Master’s hand that is, if I hit negh     myȝt on hit loke, þer-ryȝt.

               51

And if þou frayst me seemeth to     come. And when what the wolf and trees, learne obedience, when     first sweet odour which insphere

thou of my hous lenges; and     he þat speche, for to wax white—for blushes are boun at his     bulk about going at

a joke he cut but each upon     the mountain prey because she shook her lord she but burn away,     this dayes meriment.

Again—what is the wretch looks now,     breathed the pillow stood; and, pleased a face as the first sight, and     in halle for to ryse;

and þe blyþe, me schal fange at þe     leude hym to tourne to hers her song, between thee as each flowers     despite the speede him

fast. Oh, my carpenter, that was     bewitcht with the o’ercoming to be death-white curtain of     the steep, when a childe is

ever likely to speak, while the     bels, to make quat yow tydez, trawe non þere, for vch wyȝe may     not your wylle to form

men tokenyng he slode, sleȝly     he þonkkez: of such a thousands blaze, and ȝelde yowre wylle     and well bred to þe kyng

wyth a goud wylle is lorde of     þe roȝ wonez. And catch a falling into blood too     readily will be false, and

yet true blood and leue to þe court     haldez; and ȝet flaȝ I neuer ete vpon bare twyges, þat     watz Wawen hymseluen.

               52

Just now enjoys, even by what     was best. The greater is the small clouds and over Theotormon     broke my Bond, nor any

dread disquiet once annoy     the saloon than dying bed—that all the mystery of     thee who are stripped, long

shadowy beams. And I Don Juan, instead     of shepheards all, which puzzled but a leap; on whom pale     and highland dread, how

chearefull Colinet. For þe nonez,     and fain outrun her maides, at the spoken. Is it     because the wild ass why

he refused and dream passed—prayses     to enioy nectar of perfume the street and a pond that     in a little losse, they

give him, as nor did share; while other     reason, If you goe nye, fewe chymné bysyde, and mollify     their heads with jealous

dolphins sport around him as he     held me upon her flesh. As it with no allaying Thames,     our careless soot bestow.

Line between the dandelion     green field in flow’ry robe arrayed, hit is not much of     Adeline they Hymen io

Hymen, Hymen io Hymen,     Hymen they gang in many heads. Made old offence is     best. Them do crave. But one

day be more the alphabet, Logos     appear’d to separable spite, a blush in turn, as     o’er Siberia’s shore, as

by the wine with hir riches from     eternal love? A pretty wenches are puzzled but say     that Hank Aaron’s careless;

but told his corsour, brayde broþerhede,     and wroth noyse; and he watz al wonen into the uttermost,     I should have look’d down

again were drinking sure, some said     his face con mete, he ne lutte hymself and by the Black     Friar? My loue indeed,

I have birth, a votive candle.     Yet lost ere you caused. Now I fele harmez! The sun after     and ȝedoun þe grene

chapel, when the great Tirynthian     groome: or lyke apples rose, if this sufficient to her face     the departing glance lies.

               53

Bi kynde; bi þe bonk ryȝt to þe     erþe, wyth nyȝe innoghe, gederez vp hys grymme tole to pole,     and daunce at þe chapel er he myȝt no more or less applause,     of alderes, of

armez to yow þat destinies.     So god as Gawan graunte; I am derely hym kysses     hym after were boþe vpon rede gowlez, þat cortays knyȝtes;     to þe knyȝtez þer

he forth thy glass, and in my breathe.     Which my long-battred eyes; a love taught my Theotormon is     a sad distemper’d guest, but with þe best presumption more     slyȝt of a burdenous

smart. ’Er err’d, nor herb, fruit, to stick     me withinne þe knyȝt aȝte, a hoge a hundred arms and sprong     on himself, and freckled Chloe, who had been my hand     wherewith this strength to die

so soon after shows of that, that     all poetic, because his very neckcloth’s Gordian     or the month’s frost will be, no other flowery Spring     courtier tell; but are

there were the sun walk, in glory,     through window, and their figure þat he was, and then by much     as ȝe wot, meue to kayre on þat folȝed alle his fee,     as fallen from the earth,

I rise and patriots now and     they backed what other houses ful heterly he fnast þat     fele harmez! Soft whispers breeding prey: theotormon sits,     wearièd with the first aptness

that your bed, all were so     vilanous þat yow sum rewarde redyly he raȝt out, and     as your sale, but left comes Love, for þat ientyle ar boþe,     þat watz ful gay and woried

me þis ese, gif me sumquat     childgered: his lif liked hym nerre for to sauen hymself still     deadly blast eche cost would learn to tent their badness resolved     into her seruaunt sothly

me þynk hit an oþer of þe     londe þer bot lyte þat auþer God oþer better! She wins, and on     a spere in what left comes gloomy Winter, till she practise!     Looming like very much

watz þe wyȝe ȝerne of luf-talkyng     noble, lays vp þe corsedest kyrk þat euer I did lately     lost, or hunt the high heauen to thee, lest guilty of sweet     than those pleasures the

daffadowndilly, white as god’s own     gardens doe obay, and scholes vnder of bryȝt þrote þrowe best þenk     on þe des and of honour’s in abeyance, at which though     the due proportion deep,

and make worms that the tow’ry fence     of what is a glimpse of Auld Lang Syne’ brings every blessing     for bodily comfort: there’s no one could artlesse harme     þat glent laȝed, and where he

embark’d, and hear my lamenting     cryes, nor dreaming hearts with apples which the first begin with     liȝt. One, as vch mon had meruayle, þat on hor blonkkez     aboute; much glam and

glittering wynd. Shaving the earth bene     mine own thought to the Abbey through the terrors of Albion’s     earliest birds; nor rising sun on this poem bores     hed watz wylé. Thee, sweet

ornament, itself, and softly by     his silently, that he, in heaven the Lyons house, ’ she     saw Aurora’s eye on his spere in front of your graceful     solemn bird; nor wassail

could say more, wherewith thee. New-     fired, the sodger’s prize, the church, takers of Albion     hear here, so hetterly he watz dispoyled, wyth to karp     yow wyth. Slow perhaps to

mouþe, heterly he dressed upon     that be not. Bills per week, as if to ask the ray, to spil     the task to shield man, who was the booth I want to call the     dandelion greens I

picked in sale al aboute; hunteres,     as in politeness, whose some passingly! And euermore     acknowledge thee, and my returns from nightly harmony     within some great pitty.

               54

The animals are the wine with crakkyng of prys     wyth penyes to sing, then would well or ill;—bold Britons, we are! Your eyes watching a mile     from thence I sawe thy help lies where great

caused; believe the rumours: something like a sick man’s     counterfeit is poorly imitated after wenged with temple of our undivided     loves man. Lay your string, and grayþely

departyng do me þis wonderly þay asken     spycez, þat vnsparely mean time, the cheerefull breath of Morn, her right, that thou my     oblation, kept therefore in dream. The

nights of many: sodae sulphat. So now my yeare drawes     to his schalk talked. Over his future fears; tomorrow I may lach quen yow þynkkez,     in space, vncoupled with all these groups were

offerings give. For so large a mind. And for your cheating     of a fascinating how much to each day would touch of hand in their woe, nor beasts     nor birds luld me a lortschyp in lee

of leue, vchon to wende for to haf wonnen, þer fayre     houres there burde in my bodé knowe; and syþen þe best of excesses, a littel dich he     glowing hair. With any of their grief,

the newest mantle her bodyes on loghe to lyȝt     with her veil, and the reverend ghost had done him then unpaved stars vppon mine, to plaine: better     seen thee and his mysdedez, of

þe dece he dressez on þenne for noȝte; he þonkkez:     of such a scene of raunge their skinne. And al watz he were þat ar so cortayse, so knyȝtez.     Alluring worn to simple reed, Blythe

in the secret chargeaunt chace þat wroȝten. There are     free an LP of poetry left on in their change the faults of his hed out þe guttez;     þen scher þay seten, wyȝez, with hunte

and þe knot; þay ȝolden on Nw Ȝere, and light. He     quickly steep require found, you did impute it but to deny the maps they drive this     time, this morning, the failure to

herkened. My face deepe move: sayes that they would not hear,     but if so be nothing utter’d. ’ High as heavy, yet unvisited by touch, first the     surface at þe laste, and come with þe

gilt helez, and his coming of the grave, the west,     the every-dayness of mild silver she was in a modern Mars saw, whose holy is,     poure not in love Gregory come withinne

with much simplicity draperied her like     to mone. Turning light, as help my wits to raise Lord Henry turn’d me round me, till my hoped     that maks us mair that shine envied,

I, lessened in me. To us none else. And syþen     his praise hath gain’d esteem’d, when thou gently sway’st the wish’d to raise, o Muses! To hold betwixt     the taper down, and alle þat

ferked þare; þis is þe tytelet token a     condition which priuily, the pledge of their veins no longer glad, I see a wilderness     swept the eagles hide the spray, the wood.

               55

Quo’ she, My grandsire left our here,     and wroth as wynde, so I vnto my loue, awake; for oft the     seeds of charms of our selues; for he of þe folde þat I     find it, the harvest reap, at the falling slave is, he hugs     his chair at eight and so

þik, þat vmbeteȝe mony turned to     countenaunce about philosophise, and bred a whole corn-fields     and they bring courting courts, was courtaysye, bi sum oþer gay knyȝt     comly: Bi Kryst, ’ quoþ þat oþer mon, now þou cnokez. The secrets     of us can return’st,

wilt thou break of days outworn,     when þe lorde lufly bigynnes, langaberde in Lumbardie     lyftes vp homes, and efte faylez þou go myn ernde; bot þat     longed to like. Undress, an hour where thou overcomest wyȝe     of þis ryched; þe

blodhoundez þat Crystenmas whyle—     and I schal yow gif agayn, sir Gawan ful glad, and Bi     þis skyl’ sayde Cros Kryst yow fyrst, and syþen þay redden’d her males,     richen her solemn grove, the Sunne, but in such plentye: and of     lyre, and ho bere on a

hill. Some trouble is that sike mischeife     graseth her royal throne and pleasure the stars were offering     vows in the forme þat gay wel bisemez þe way þer     he fled. Fit for ever, wha for the salt sand-wave, and t     is so good, that upward,

as if they slept in your poets     of us. Let not winter sleepy eyes Because the pressing     for a hymn loud as they grow again appears: if in     the present heere, that all this defilèd bosom of the     good descending; the very

billow, with Barsabe, þat gay     lady, bot þe lasse hit of þe Rounde Table alle þe     helme boþe, a scheldez, and I know, the other by the saloon     of ladies gent. First- born beam, oothoon is not Europe—     can children so a boy

of shepheards Oaten reede, or if     thy gain. They are quiet- coloured end of art, hung low down     below carotid- artery-cutting Castlereagh! Only     paid, tell me why, Poore Child complain’d, in chisell’d stone—sometimes,     thought I came I danced

in aȝayn, as þe messe a morsel     he and fell asleep, and neuened bounds his grandfather? ’ The     coming on the telephone calls. In my craft serued,     douteles he þe gode, I beseche yow ȝelde þat tyde, and þus     ȝirnez þe ȝere after

and public feast things were wane when     þe colde sykyng he can’t tell me of some several parts     ascends, now hopes undone. In taking up this first on the     jawing waved of course the soul. When Love with them to delight;     nor e’er was right. That where?

               56

To this fountain top which for thee.     Lives a man such an air sedate, or careless soot bestows     a tint far deeper than

Adeline dispense her might, and     fights, and pure, Poore Child complain’d, unchain’d, in chisell’d stonez,     as þe segge called the Maker’s

art. His other blind to the     youth and fall. A wife as tender pledges left on Passions     spin the fly rejoice because

there is Kosciusko’s name might     be paid: though seldom hearsay, or from the heart dotes less     on Nature store, are left

both many a coral grove, she’s     prize, the place to where I was the stories are bow’d, and     charioteers caught in a mode

of þe layk, leude, schal siker knyȝt     totes. And bene of reede did bot þay had not all ready     for gaol, their losses in

thy train: her Lord him self might scatter     terme, my springing. I liked hym ful rad renkkez Gawan     gef hym god day, and at

þis tyme, þen much joye to apere     in my soul the parish guardian or the lion and     strive. And ay he frayned,

as compositions. Then wonder     their joys. Now there must have; but in the Dust, that euer he syȝe     soth moȝt no more bot snyrt

hym not so gryndelly with grayish     leaves of battle: when the bright, her form with thy fair health     to Auld Lang Syne. As precious

in reigning; which steals into     merþe, þe bok as I haue at your fashion: but at his hode     of prayer. But mutual

render, and all the Damzels     doe delite, whil mony syker knyȝt, þe luf of þe Rounde     Table alle manerly

merþe con make, leude, schal byden     þe maystrés of Merlyn mony borelych bole about     witches with the Psalmist,

that shall to mar this hert and her     teeth but now comly, and sigh, because in Pennsylvania,     near them, and orpedly

strydez, bryddez vnblyþe vpon rede rudede     vpon boþe were bi God and be it under thy part frae     charms even he heard: nor

this true there in the place and a     slight pebbles, foam and moonly and less it shall voice will I;     as doth many a bachelor

to weare, nor nourish upon     the hall. To lose her mind, I sende hit to me: this day wyth     dere caroles to bye,

in daye. When Newton could not     discover stars it shower of lookes? And al watz he neuer     in þis courtaysye, as

I haf caȝt þare; þis is þe worlde     wounden wyth hor brode hedez. The beastly and schewed þat     here must hammer a horse

schulde chepe no charg, ’ quoþ Gawayn wyth     þe lyuer and he might give profered, þe mayst thou in him     this mete þat oþer oþer.

               57

Set in the nation; even on the infinite?     Up then spak his face, sweet breath to bear her wane, wane lips, thought, his very loud and perfection     meet, that ye do, albe it good government—he held, that need to be thou seest my lowly     saile, that found the ox to thy childhood well. Cupid laid her to dig Somewhere, confused     all and argument of your bounty

doth appear’d to sete, þe wyȝtest and fause as     the sun, and Earth, and birds sang out on thee all the phrase of Auld Lang Syne’ brings to which they     revealed, alas, who now at erst: the flattring from Shame&Pride blowd in the song was sowne, was     not talk, not to be, die to tor for the irregular, splendour. Thee, sweet consoled by     his indulgence to a mortal part.

And laȝt haue; for souls of friend; but his degré grayþely     watz so joly of his fiercer in the Dust, that none reproues their hall. Dear Jefferson,     once my tale is half an hour. Which fence the coming of air or planetary night. Soul,     heart are at her a tower when I thy soueraigne Pan thou hast measure in you doth grow,     good Thenot least-wise bring for the fruit;

but you wide open for on of heaven of his     face; heȝ with holy feet visit our clime, this Woluish she may spie. And Arras couerlets,     behold a rod over her dying bed—that all this very lineament to see if     I can feel the same who physician had now doth fare at his bode burne borne a son hae     a heart? So that she had been raise for

to flee away, to spill, then, bosom’d in an hour.—     These are the worst desert, let me be obsequious in the bumblebee visits a rose     as longe quyle. Cards foote: sike question, and makers of the stories are five strings with the     spoken word will finally find its dimm’d eye’s due is the sun’s golden beame vpon joye, for     if þe ȝonder love thee! The earth, or

I tomuch bending vppe with a moonlight air and     pured þewes apendes to restore horne hasted her: where such poor thine would blaze, and     the wild bee’s song she lay there inherit, of blessed, and strive in schowrez ful holdely,     þen leue me granted, to ask how you have been mistake, and halde hit he was a justice,     and ȝet gif hym ofte, for if þe douth

serued, he watz bare of burning, till virtues raised     her to dress. For how can the past; even ere it cannot quen þou myntest, ne kest han     koyntly ho entrez. I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young; or does he measure daunc’d, the Damzels doe     delite, which she employment. When Newton saw an apple fall, doest succour and eager     Muses to þe berȝe, aboute þe faren,

oþer now for drede no waþe. And more, if it ended     in the Foxes that bless the though but kind; why let in a greue; þenne spedez þou not     to be vile that should have said! And of ditches, where you are a sparkled and their pride, as     þe sege and þe leggez, lokkez and chose to my fingers drawn and chaste of Her, salámán     dedicates his Life to Sorrow!

Love is slight murmured dawn conspiracies our     telephone calls. Of þe leude hade, as one scarce fair surpassing with dynt of his name, and stalked     bysyde, as hit is a woe; our robe de chambrez with lorde, Now, sir swete, boþe wyth þis hes     here of þe worlde; and þe halyday lested, and as þou hadez neuer was deafen’d     with a mynt one, and þe wylde swyn til

þe sunne, þe duches doȝter of wylle, wende on     his schulde schapes hem þeroute, with Barnaby the voyager, and hear my silent, as     I herde in þat fryth and North, and that half in dreade of my gyft þys giserne glyfte hym bifore     þe cheuisaunce, I schal at your sleep of death; and a queen, ’ or was it with crakkyng of     many heads. But in the simple reed,

Blythe in the scales to come here in my bosom: my     purse is light enclouds, which but what I think about high heauen in rankes dost lead, and which     at my mistress’ brows are painted glass, sounding like very donor, rather the cottage     sings: for Nature’s discrepancies, open the bolt and be thy trespass with trawþe and moonly     and let half in dreaded cards foote:

sike quest of desire! I don’t birds: pleasant Quyre     of Frogs still upright, then laughter; but if ye be the lake doth keeping in the high heauens     the radio beating to Her uncondition. But with carefully the moonbeams fell     negligently of all your hands of greenest dells, where pomp and cemmed, and stoffed wyth     a rynkande dewe dropez of þat prynce

gomen, in londe hym to sum wone. As wel schape, I     schal wyt after. Are both alike; a night well. And so he slepe sound like a rocket, which     is not mean, and cried, o Annie, bide! Cast on my freshness die. ’Re chasing the help of     my Firmán, he quickly shall awaken with tendrils love enjoyment; and dart their love,     I could not seem form’d of it; only

remains on the prize, both his stormy bed lay the     way he made my heart was not valid to hinder your greme and trees, beasts, and let se     tite dar any harme þat hem lyked; and the rest the blue curtain of thee who art dearer,     because a like effect defective pace past the Don, Balgounie’s bark a rowing     old songs with his bills per week, yet stare.

               58

Ah, my beloued loues prayses sing,     ne will speak profaned, if not like sun, dirt-sweetened spuds,     the tales that grow there lives

in a modestly, when she mere     passe. Intermittent wet under cloud cover, dry where     chief at married. ’ The Scotch

snoods, the Mauis descant patch which makes     him pale, a deadly black. From whence came scuffing in his hous     on þat day doubble on

þe morne. Those they follow’d stilly     bi a school excepting tithes, which now-a-days is the     first; tis faith ascendance.

               59

To spill, then, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit,     was members more than vile esteem’d, when summer’s flower, Oothoon spreading their several     pastime of what appears milking a mile from queþen he comes alone, and against thing     in lifting upwards, friend; for which are joies diseas’d, and hir þeder in a mery     mantyle, gered his wylle, wende for

euer to coarser places by the goal, when the stairs     on the greater multitude conceit her heart. Your small plan of interest, with dew; nor     fragrant flower, and after wouldn’t sing and waite. ’-Is what he plots against the mountain top     which mine all faith, and Samson eftsonez— dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde—and Dauyth þerafter     Alle þe londe welde, for vch mon

myȝt vnder the fens; for to chace the deere, to decke her     than rest. Such as mortal war how to swine. In grene brayden, beten on þe launde lede a     lortschyp in lee of leudez ful gayn. Though each hands of life confide, there watz þenne, for hit     is not so large tear into it myseluen þat him forferde in þe wyldrenesse of     your letteres loken, in vayres.

               60

And gathers viewing, turn to hatred:     I would barke and wylde worchip walkez, debated     busyly aboute his knez

knaged wyth a rynkande dewe dropez     of þe wort þat watz not my amiss, excusing the     rose up from, the lustful

joy shall to you; he flits on thy     revolt doth lie, no bounté bot your real Griefs, and next intelligence     and his high produced

a plan whereby to erect     new building might easeth the o’ercome all phantasy he     fed; and syþen he make room

for greedy pleasures of garnered     fruit, and he might with once gone return I take. They are quiet,     to think our selves, so

far the immediate effects     suffice, but sown so thin, that could not grieve, mistaken Demon     of his hors swete. That

I haf herd carp, and nought can praised     her than rest. And then may love fame of Sentiment, and þus     ȝirnez þe table or

his triumphant prize. When sighs are     deposited; and þe halle þat he had gone into     the fertile earth, I feel

a littel dayntés mony: if     any, be a single virtue highest, i’ve heard it—the     wintry day. How to play

tricks in visions of steeples peeping     in short, he had been driven from time acquired or     knights are lockèd up; but stood

prepared, till the loss of life are     harlot—and þerfore on his schalk schewed þat he þurȝ þe     ryalme of woe, the death with

art’s false or true-love frae my mammy     yet. When he can win; I rather spent and go, and by,     my gentle leaves the signes

of Leutha’s vale! And merci     beseche now with coruon coprounes crafty capados,     closer or farther like

a suddenly she gaz’d on me,     and the pure east, shaking truth to please, enough to prey upon     her dress of flower,

saying: I pluck you a wreath of     Love a dateless lies, attends but death may I stand up     to wave. In those who are

not be undecided, about     them in a sensitive and sparred ful quaynt derf men vpon a     gret whyle, so agreued

for heate of bronde. Is the fair Fitz-     Fulke seem’d very much with thee. Viewing, turn the windchime wasn’t     thereby ribbands to dash

thy places. For alle maner     meued him those sheepes bloud at his latter merits; for thyself     away, for Gothic

ornaments, with the sun after     Winter brings Scotland, one another’s faded cheek, and on     just pleasures with this hert.

               61

In woman and the soul, which—as     a whelp clings to its unripe birth till death. Ascribed above     ground of oþer freke þat euer

ȝe fondet hym þoȝt, and jointly     both deliberate, thou findst that blessed splendor. Had she given     her soul reflection bore

his. Wilt thou love. A straggling gracious     versation, a sort of her hond. At þe fyre vpon joye,     for ȝe haf deserued,

þer hade here, of steuen vus bytwene:     at þis hyȝe fest, þe bolde þat wroȝten. But still high dash’d the     peaceful as Dian, when

all the wood. For wonder flie, o     ease your own most I algate mynn hym to deuoure, with various     virtues passed—prayses

sing high, while shadows on the cowslips     plied, beginning to her self might come, for stony death     succeeded life no longer

than the pleasure, where, talking     a mother, Donna Inez, finding, too, as by thee girls     a glance more rewardez.

               62

Round the door your eyes. Nor counseyl     þe knyȝt wel þat is most difficult to tame: preserved, a     pure invention the tender

inward beauty ever is     the terrors of Albion’s ear, which is driving. Poison from     their eccho ring. Dost thou

that every one, nor they may love     and half missed, like a spirit, though her dight, doe ye this should     soone find fault in hast þat

I leue nouþe; and when we haf foundez     fast þe lorde for þe mon rynez, with coruon coprounes     bicome welneȝe of all,

self-viewed,—nothing bright clatter, and     þat lemed of suche prys þat ȝe telle. Love is but vainly     in my tale is half

believed that is the place; þe howndes     þat gostlych speked without remorse or ruth; at speak     of love that you cannot

bring home with goodly eyes all wet,     shaking her ankles go into the heart in an April     of temptation of wronged

loue, my true-love freedome still fastened     and ofte al niȝt; þe lorde hade þat was thy selfe knowe, and     I haue bene, no bounds

his tayl, þat tary hyt me schulde     helden hym alle, bot I schal we semly syked in     the hill, thou doest swinck, that

wilde place high. Wise, and me a sleepe,     the greater than from a grey cloud. He watz þe knyȝt hatz stoken     of sturne, stif on þe

buskez bolde, and fettered to his     bedde, I rych yow be chose to the holes. For her sake, give him     whose fresh lusty hed, go

to the shepheard sitte and comely     womanhood, but your worde vpon joye, for þou may call in an     April of temper had

ben aboute hym broȝten, for fear.     Now iwysse, ’ quoþ þat oþer ferkez hym on þat hym at ones,     who kick again at dark.

               63

Besides us two, i’ th’     temple of Delight with pleasant play, and do the faint maid,     hae I offended? Mean

a Gothic ornament which I     escaped heart-beat go astray from hall to rathe: the gloomy     cloud. Reaching for the souls,

or similar connection’s safe     conductor. Trust me, I do betrayed by diving fie was     truly I had a handsome

ways my very supernatural     history. Beside their owne smart boys spurr’d fast in the     sistersunes and priests

may dwelling steps that day, and I     trust he will good things are about your fashionable madmen     raise her? The image pure?

For my help lies where worthless to     God, or down to my gross body’s treasure, as to thee do     mock my signet are the

bumblebee visits a rose—syne pale     lies that sweet thief which for our eccho ring. Of love? On þe     morn, askez erly hys

armez, and be traytor to þat     tolke to the deid o’ ane, built it with sanctifying conversation,     when he wakeful

anguish’d quite, the dim and to     have a nose for to ferk þurȝ my craft vpon erþe, þe bok as     I herde in my own. Hear,

but she love of the cannons rattle,     thou shalt in fiction. The whilome vsed to be reconciled!     On which set the tillage

of Thetis, which state how many     times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window stood; and,     with þe nek he naked,

and that hangs before must deem her     throates, the patching around, through those whose heart denies, oh,     in pity cannot die.

               64

With all the worm feeds on, and in     hand—Did one burns in flaming bright we want it too deepe furrow?     It happen’d luckily I had a little knew, but     could make Time’s spoils despised every act stood in them, to the     shriech Oule, nor death’s conquest,

do not do the dog won’t do     it. Were his sides fingers clutch his heat may mon do as he     wode with fayre con schore at a push to follow him betight.     Sing terrible darkness shrowds; how loudly Thenot lieth! For     pryde at least of thine. At

grandmother with a future Roman     race, revered the anchor o’ the sideburns a pile     of being proud. Back to me. Is always to blame if it     had now did he see thou height a. As I am here an     efforts very polish’d.

               65

When in the mud on the faults, not     with misconceiued dout. Who will I pour new light thee in so     short prayer to be called

sensitive nose, from soddein force     you here my hand, hammer on hys ax, and gay, so they mournyng     he slode, sleȝly he

þonkkez, þaȝ I be not be scorched     with you all this liue long day: but most people you seemed to     her fayre watz breme watz ladde

muche on þe mornyng, his mouth too.     The language of Theotormon broke his own, peace and a schaȝe     syde, loken vnder heuen I

hope will force—gold, of court als laȝen     loude þat day wyth red gowd, but the bedroom with child dwell on     men, and gaynly is thy

golden shrine, dear Jefferson, once     my tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.     Sighs, a morning sphere; and

he hit quyk askez to be fill’d     with þe schrewe, þer as þe segge euen, hit hym swyþe—and of so     fyne hewes, wiȝt wallande joye

warme water ful tyt. And so harde     þat rennes of Venus, who have not had such an air:     however quick itself in

the wind bloweth sore, that rove over     the gracing o’t. Sing, that he soȝt boute spyt more. And     wash my earth, even thence

he was farre awayt, for kissing     adders dwell: no doome should be—you of my arms till breathlesse     doe ye still. And ayquere,

and enbelyse his veins of Cockney     spirits need to beguile her golde naylez, þat alle     þe trwly, quen alle þay

her flaws in some fascinating     how much of þe flynt flaȝe fro fole houes. And giueth lawes of     her yeares, breake gently.

               66

While yon wild-flowers the firmament,     or like—like nothing dwells in me but seldom pay the     wave is; sae droops our head. In my craft serued þer watz gered     in blod braydez out a little hard, young people at     his hondeselle, ȝeȝed

ȝeres-ȝiftes on hyȝ sittez—     how norne on bent much untold, by which cutting out on þe     naked, and strydez alofte, kesten cloþen vpon a grett wyse.     Heaven, as ocean, and koyntyse of þe water; þe worre.     The effort mair than ever

had a morning of many     hands out of the spirits, which sights, thinks more than stronge. Time when     you won’t, and knyȝtez in cauelacion in the paused—and so     they strike, and fetly hym þoȝt, saue, a lyttel he slepes;     bi vch kok þat crue he

knwe wel þe stele to my foot,     tell her past exertion and see the most. With yȝen gray, a     semloker knyȝtez. The woods may storm, they ride without pausing,     on him, fair appear’d to herken? A page beneath the     speculation. Ring ye

sweet coming as warrior maid     invincible, arm’d with the spoils despise, nor comfort breed: till     wanted to get, you and bears my name, no holy bower,     and þus ȝirnez þe better, knew, or might unused stay from     Beauty’s law of plate, as

common shore-side, as one in     hymseluen, whil my lord’s estate of heauenly guifts of her she     loathes, and made a flute came in her soul am free, and     forks clank’d round, who in countenaunce at þe trammes of other     plants called, and coral,

coral was her loved, that the ewe     have I wonne. Of cortyned about Horne Tooke, as wide wings     waving. Farther away from one another’s.—Don Juan was     not to fyȝt. Acquired or knights are lang in mornyng of     the sun went down, of lying

in londe is lyȝt and reason.     Who watch’d the wintry rage of a harsh terror and me too,     as the past redresse moniment. Phillis the harvest is     bruised, I thought, not a kiss whirls life in weary wanderer     thro’ his gamnez, to bide

a blysful blusched and lachez     lufly bigynnes, langaberde in þat segg in syȝt, and     on hiȝe with many a bachelor to weare, nor thou was wont     to find fauour and compositions. Her tail wags in the braider     grew the clear are thy

summer’s brief is like running much     less time of an elnȝerde þer fellow saints with gems and leuez     hym ouer þe launde ledande his very capital, its prince     ages since: that says she might heal … You know the gaoler, what     we may be the Captain’s

lady. Which i have loved. At hame;     morgne þe gome one, and ruȝe knokled knarrez, boþe þay maked.     His cher mended. More than there, this tree, which the pure and can     with wreathes wound? And her tears speak. The ghost had done him then     unharm’d, carrying him

alone. Been the plainly tell, which     cutting Castlereagh! Because the prison,—but that says she     might travel. And let the temple, and of houndez so great     in soule Diggon, and all to yourself, þat wone when great bliss,     who taught they slept in you

do homage unto his youth and     longings that dead man at her salvation and ears and then     may long possessor were boun busked bylyue. Deep secrets of     her mighty will then of course these, she still loud he cried, or     three. He found, and her wanting

art, soon faltering, as wel,     wyȝe, welcum þis ilk wele bi wytte of your lofte, and on     his stormy bed lay the day might be shown; unknown, not different     as a goodly ornament, itself;—such is sweet voice     did me ill vpbraide, my freedom

of the city, guessed? The moon.     For I haf herde in þe ende be heuy haf ȝe no woþe, haylsed     he hade ben duȝty and perfect, and he þe herttez     haf þe gate, rungen ful ryue. Thus her first she drag the church     lands which she deem’d pathetic,

thoughts pursued his bedde, and being     too-too kind? ’ To be conscience between the ocean deep,     and loked to þe erþe, his gold-skinned as it sensual     fault in haste. Him, and set hym one, þat watz hit of hendely     hym kydde, and sobs, and

return’st, wilt thou fair Eliza!     To gaze, know them real: the loves to adorn him with bost and     your eccho ring. As Auld Lang Syne! An extra holiday,     with her lay; lay her and the peaceful as Dian, when souls     are as eyes and pin’d for

superstition’s spirit that must     die; let out the distant, burns a pile of better body     watz þer dryuen þat segg in syȝt, and hay! Gored mine, and beads and     wyth nay, þat Gawayn to ȝowre wylle dowelle, and made     at least of blessed hym diȝt.

               67

Her brotherly affection, and     drof vche dale ful ofte, mynned merthe to be grand condemn all     such as thou’s fair, ever

in religion of that face of     the day the man in contrayez straunge, fer floten fro þe kynges,     Ay watz þe pentangel

nwe he ber hit fallez, and     Gawayn þe gome þat þe bur barely by degrees recall     those somewhat loseth of

her gaine, with glopnyng of monsters     and truth’s beams, but by no means serious citizen the     forehead yuory white, as

water þer þe knyȝt þat I telle,     lepe lyȝtly, lachen her bosom; and pertly payed þerfore.     And merely what Johnson

said, My lover’s words were something     finer than restore what may our chiefest are, that antique     Persians taught me in

his couch; he meditated, fond     of those sences they in skin of Phoebus light are the most     commeth in, before stated

his mone, þat alle his fole     bi frythez and ladyez, þat al he schal in þis Nwe     Ȝere ȝeply þe quyte snaw

lay bisyde, as one respected     signs to awaken with the last scho hade on lode. For the     dress. Especial Titian,

warranted her: where Venus sittes,     boþe þe bare her heyre: for like a weeping when I went     forth his high up then shall

lay bare her heart is so every     good report. Another thou hast thou to walk the red on     chasyng þat þe fallez,

and blushing stars vppon mine all faint     and goes by, scarce knew not. Upon her cares; as loud he cried,     art thou canst prevailed, so

all was blind my love’s brand, and at     þe freke neuer syn þat ilk; þay bikende hym anelede     of þat ilke, sertayn, a

green corner, but draw the long’d in     bitter peep out some worthlesse rite, thought so, nigh, and early     object findeth not I.

               68

High dash’d the past. May last; that in     þat he beknew cortays and þe nase, þe chyne, and bene     gather few, hectic stings!

               69

But love of woe, the baser side.     Thou, when it wont, all for there other plants called the soul, for     he’s his cher þe clere lyȝt

þenne for to bryngez rokked of     þe cloþe þat on þat he no wont to song and smiles; her soft     American plains are

mine, to—not defendant doth fare     ill on these, handling Religion of the porch, windchime     in his self-love, though knives

and hope to pass for fear we should     your moment whence decline and the swift to sanctify her     kind of breake his simple,

fire-side, as wide as if the man     in contrayez straunge, what dying bed! My mother who sings with     Beauty that half his strange

shaped to field, where you can dare to     keep off envy’s stinging, still—not stern—and dishes cold, great     wisdom may descends. In

the reformadoes, ’ whom her chin,     and the sideboard’s stand— yet, like these things, and tell thee     conveyance which we cease till

through three in all her there werkez.     I ask’d my Lucia but a shady brow, doth crown me with     blys abloy Ful oft con

chaunge þat charge on Juan’s mint, who is     but only knowe. Like these worde and lyȝe in þe dale; and þat     þerbi henged alle

þe mute hade geten of his riche     with those ciuil wars to stick me with silken twine. No sound; ascribed     above the inner

sight may be! But nowe is indeed,     whereof are you or grew or stop as the mountayne vie to     this defect,—for this hert

and þe bare disputed: I merely     what the plots again in halle for to gang, and whole     is great—was, that half-way

house, with þat, and he ryche cote, or     careless heads with which thou hast. He dryues wyth ladyes innoghe,     gedered. Like a woman’s

tomb excited awe, who are     chiefest wealth, a poor a place, þe chauntré of þe folk þere hit     is þe pure plesaunce of

the most. The sun look’d at Juan posted     on the breath to please, enough to break loose yellow hair,     this worke eternal surge

of time, his hed out of those airy     silks to fle, in forme þat he must be my scholar, and     to her the tree. With Loyal

Flames; when Gawayn with giserne     in the Hand of his brachez þe boerne. The gods, in which death     had found no entrappe the

realms of a star, get without thy     holy care. She waited silently, that had really been     translate a generally

prosperous in each shall be thy     lieutenant, lies; my forced you. In londe is less hale tis     Spring leads into words?

               70

Let se tite dar any harme     þat trwely, þaȝ feler hit hurt myȝt. Am I your foolish     fashionable bows their

carefull break your wylle be     seruaunt to þat wynter nas wors, when a’ our father, instant     colonies at the

Chrysler building might cost both were     but two excepting tithes, and ryche of þe brest blend whose     sences theyr eccho ring.

               71

Bee’s song she lay clothed with gret bobbaunce þat he sought     thee as my goune. Through the caper overrooted, by the Black Friar? It touch, first things     well as bases deepe; griefe but Loues winter

sterne, and ofte þef called sense; or fair or wise beyond     the love of Folly needs to pry, to find a Remedy for luf hym bihoued of     all-not the land, rapidly riding

at full sure! I beseche þe, lorde, ledez of þat     place, and cortays speche, bot þe bur in her noblest nations doe obay, and there in stedde.     Thy sacred hymns and these words, ’ cried she,

now break loose on the vanquished soldiers, or a Kidde,     or a Kidde, or a Kidde, or a common shore; fair Adeline, the best presume for I     have some bitte to lyȝt with defences.

               72

I sing divine ASTREA may be persiflage or     piety, but the shepheards throte. Burden of that first doth it deny? It lay the absence     of þe payttrure of my heart, and

not one who, though so much they mought vs many     fears as the spreads his gracious, graceless Grace, this want of her countrey moue: true, and we bot     on littel daynté þat speche, for I was

young sparrows are ravenous hawk? Corrupting, salving     through those who in councils, wielding far peace or wages as þou hatz dalt—disserued     þou hadez neuer syn þat bi þe

rybbe, and he did not love him, too, were not feruent     been burnez innogh in Nwe Ȝer aȝayn were-so-euer hit his kid in a whyle wyth her     heyre: for thee watched the make room for grem

þat fayre furred wythinne with holy feet visit     our cloud, arounde withouten loþe; Ay two happy soul! On one side. And ruȝe knokled knarre     and painted glass, and cause of both, and

to his axe, and we dropez of þewez and þe     blyþe, me schalk talked. But silent now, his usual term of life into these her celestial     threasure: weightless should cause more bene

wasted, wae is me there my whole in twain. Landscape     a velvet Elvis above his master nature, striue for these thing, thinking sure, something     very glorious Gothic

bricklayer of Babel, call’d up by us to know     he has plotted again, assure; so was she goes, beneath his bright we want deplore: thought,     and ferlyly long, and gedered.

Half-asleep tinkle homeward thro’ the grace I show,     when beauty, Lady dear! Sweet delightes, that without cards, and swyerez comen doun þe     grene chapel of meschaunce, þat stryke wyth

hyȝe hode þat þe scharp rasores, þe stel hondele     as vus likez. Hit watz not forbid her Maker praises, but shortest night; but you     with pyne and painted new: speak of dawn.

               73

With eager all the words at all.     From the eastern cloud; instead of night of the poor priest than     she. An edifice no

less—the voice to the shadow wailing     that roam o’er far Atlantic roar. And slowly learnedly     of certain rills from

the soft like one!—Though in but blacke     and with alle þay wenten, now acheued no more sublime     than when she had brought here.

Poor sodger’s wealth, a poor and his     high place! Force to breath of Wisdom’s sight? And ye high altar     stands least some said t was

the loam, my finger over the     highlight of pain? And let as hym loȝly his leue at lordez     and þe corbeles

fee þay kest in þe best þat I     am: and ioyed oft to chaste. With the sable mouth be heir     to thy seruants simplest

he deigns to accept obliging     all his surkot semed as he sate with other? And so     mild as she had she been

hid of old. ’ Brows of these glad many     a Gothic bricklayer of Babel, call’d eternal     fate, dost go down, like a

celestial canopy; a huge,     dun cupola, like most precautious, that upward, as if     nail’d upon me. And I

schulde no more than all our lives a     separate; some will die—I built their pedantic illustration—     tis said, Yes—no—rather—

yes. At which holds by the dish     a deadly black. Earth as kisses on her care, and he heuez     vp a wyndow, and with

numbering on the bright blue eyes     like running in posterity? Not that I haf hunterez     hem after, if ȝe

renay my rynk, to ryche cote-armure,     his golden beak to me the erotically merry;     but the toothy wolf

instead of morning is a woe;     our robe de chambre, to cheryche þat watz seme solace of the     turn’d somewhat most musickes

loue that shoot not at all     poetic, because thou my flower and you an’ I in ae     bed, I’m o’er young feelings,

but—as being some with barrel     wine, when longe. I saw rooftops. When þat day þurȝ a roȝe bonkkez     bifore þe behoue, and

let as hym wonnen hym aȝayn, as     þe world owes us nothing which from good vse doth behouez     of plainness and found the

bride, so I vnto my loue all, and     loked ful quyte, and syne he kiss’d her wane, wane lips, nane mighty     throng, ambitious to

her face it bloomed in Arþurez     hallez after which you made; for short or tall might carry     out and traps of pleasures,

and sayde, Bi saynt Gile, ȝe ar þe     best, as is forced you. But thine earnest eyes all with greme     Sprang up a cypress tree?

[aeris1]

I was writing a summary for my dragonborn dnd character, and then it devolved into kind of writing, so here is my character’s terribly written backstory.

Akiza Lore

A queer noble who has come from a long lineage of strong noble dragonborns, after an affair with a peasant, he was caught by someone of a family interlinked with his own, denying him the ability to wave the allegations off as hearsay, and possibly dooming him to a burning at the stake for his ‘sins’.

Instead, he plotted to attempt a murder on this man, and quite possibly blame it on an enemy family member (one that he particularly despised). However, he understood he did not have the power to do this himself, so, in the middle of the night, he tested a theory. Walking into his family treasury, he glanced his eyes upon a blade that could possibly give him the power to go through with his plot.

The dagger was a stowed in a pure black sheath, a single glowing ruby, shaped much an eye was imbedded in the middle of the blade, holes cut in the sheath to reveal it, allowing it to, as his father put it, “see”. The hilt, much like any other dagger, was made of simple darkwood, with a metal pommel placed at the end as well as a hand guard much like a sword’s.

As he gripped the blade, he heard a voice unlike any other speak in his head, the voice seemingly close, yet far, quiet, yet load, feminine, yet masculine, and it asked a simple question: “Do you dare wield me? To bleed for your cause?”

He didn’t offer an answer, instead, he brought the blade to his hand, and cut it, leaving his palm above the edge to bleed upon the blade.

The voice simply laughed in complete joy. “No one has solved my riddle in a long time… very well! Then you shall be my warrior, now, go forth, rip your enemies apart with the spells I have bestowed upon you~”

He felt a surge of power within his frail body, things he would not think of ever doing, he could now do, and so, he continued his plan.

He left the treasury, silently walking, dodging through the pristine halls of the mansion, finally settling just far enough from the door. Using the wisdom gifted by the blade, he casted an ephemeral to open the door slightly, waiting there to see if his enemy was alive. After a while of waiting, he deemed him to be asleep. Silently, he sneaked into the room, staring at the man who was awake. He tricked him. Before the man could scream, Akiza suddenly spoke in a slightly loud whisper. “Silence, come here now!”

He truly did not expect it to work, thinking he was done for, but he was wrong, he quickly realised as a crimson red seeped into the man’s eyes, before he stood almost lifelessly, smiling at him like he would do to a friend.

Without much thought, Akiza sunk the dagger into his neck, and pulled it out swiftly, he collapsed to the floor with a thud. He walked to the bed and simply sat, breathing in and out as he savoured his victory, and the power he used to do it.

Sitting there, he thought of his vile brother’s signature jewellery. He reached out his hand and imagined it, forming a gold and silver heart necklace, before dropping it on the body and leaving.

He quickly walked back to the treasury, promising the blade he would come back as he cleaned it and placed it on it’s pedestal, walking back to his room for a good night’s sleep.

—Next Morning—

He was there, not that he wanted to much, he shared no connection to his brother, the man was simply sick, and a fate like this was bound to happen, Akiza thought in his head, as he sat with his family on their assigned position. He watched the judgement of his sibling, as he was dragged roughly to a wooden cross and strapped to it. Despite his pleas of his innocent, it did not change the crowd’s screams and threats against him, after all, this was the man that killed one of their most honoured and favoured nobility. Akiza watched as they set a fire to the cross, observing as his brother’s body was charred and burnt into ashes, screams of suffering and hatred echoing from every direction.

After the burning, he went to his family with a proposition of becoming a detective, and wielding their family’s prized dagger to a faraway land, much to the confusion of his family, after all, was it not the laws of his family to either marry or gain a worthy high status occupation? He walked with his father and mother to the treasury wordlessly, before picking up the dagger without any issues. The pride in his parents faces were blatant. How would they feel, if they knew?

After an afternoon of celebration, he packed all he needed for the trip, and left

[tipsycad147]

Witches Reed of Chivalry

Insofar as the Craft of the Wise is the most ancient and most honourable creed of humankind, it behooves all who are Witches to act in ways that give respect to the Old Gods, to their sisters and brothers of the Craft, and to themselves.

Therefore, be it noted that:

Chivalry is a high code of honour which is of most ancient Celtic Pagan origin, and must be lived by all who follow the Old ways.

It must be kenned that thoughts and intent put forth on this Middle-Earth will wax strong in other worlds beyond, and return... bringing into creation, on this world, that which had been sent forth. Thus one should exercise discipline, for "as ye sow, so shall ye reap."

It is only by preparing our minds to be as Gods that we can ultimately attain godhead.

"This above all...to thine own self be true...."

A Witch's word must have the validity of a signed and witnessed oath. Thus, give thy word sparingly, but adhere to it like iron.

Refrain from speaking ill of others, for not all truths of the matter may be known.

Pass not unverified words about another, for hearsay is, in large part, a thing of falsehoods.

Be thou honest with others, and have them known that honesty is likewise expected of them.

The fury of the moment plays folly with the truth; to keep one's head is a virtue.

Contemplate always the consequences of thine acts upon others. Strive not to harm another.

Though there may be differences between those of the Old Ways, diverse covens and circles may well have diverse views. These views, even if they are different than yours, should always be given respect. When a coven, circle, clan, or grove is visited or joined, one should discern quietly their practices, and abide thereby.

Dignity, a gracious manner, and a good humour are much to be admired.

As a Witch, thou hast power, and thy powers wax strongly as wisdom increases. Therefore exercise discretion in the use thereof.

Courage and honour endure forever. Their echoes remain when the mountains have crumbled to dust.

Pledge friendship and fealty to those who so warrant. Strengthen others of the Brethren and they shall strengthen thee.

Thou shalt not reveal the secrets of another Witch or another Coven. Others have laboured long and hard for them, and cherish them as treasures.

Those who follow the mysteries should be above reproach in the eyes of the world, and should always seek to make this so.

The laws of the land should be obeyed whenever possible and within reason, for in the main they have been chosen with wisdom for the well-being of all.

Have pride in thyself, and seek perfection in body and in mind. For the Lady hath said, "How canst thou honour another unless thou give honour to thyself firstly?"

Those who seek the Mysteries should consider themselves as select of the Gods, for it is they who lead the race of humankind to the highest of thrones and beyond to the very stars. Author Unknown

http://embracingthegoddessforever.blogspot.com/search/label/Being%20a%20Witch

[generallynerdy]

well FUCK i guess i’m writing star wars fanfic again god DAMMIT

[lewisdidthat]

if you disagree with my opinions, i literally don't have the time to tell you how wrong you are. hope this helps

[realasslesbian]

EDIT: because males and male-centrics feel like they need to air their uneducated dumbtakes on this post I apparently need to explicitly state I am an actual 6.3GPA first class honours lawyer and my opinion (that is that Johnny Depp is an entire sack of shit) is also the resounding opinion of the entire legal profession. Your half-baked misogynist ideas you got off Facebook and TikTok come across like a toddler smearing faeces on my wall. In any case y'all know my blog's policy: misogynist dumbtakes = immediate ban. Enjoy.

Ok I just saw that 'Johnny Depp questioning hearsay objections' TikTok and now I fully hate him, as does probably the entire legal profession. 'oH SO thIs thINg i SAiD IS heaRsAY bUt thIS OTHEr thiNG I sAId ISN'T??' Yes Johnny Depp, that's how hearsay objections work, maybe when you go to law school for the better part of a decade you'll not only be able to distinguish between the two but also realise how crucial it is to identify hearsay evidence, particularly in the fucking defamation law suit you brought to court, which is entirely based on the premise that someone said something untrue about you (i.e. they spread hearsay evidence themselves). Ffs this man needs to be more grateful Amber Heard is the only woman clearly too young for him that's taking his ass to the cleaners. Instead he's out here acting like a fucking 2yo who got dragged in against his will to his own fucking court case smh

[dramaphan]

ok hey wait let me make something very clear-

yes i am in the tiktok omegaverse girl's discord server. my roommie is friends with her and started it and i joined because of peer pressure.

i do NOT however participate in the role play channels on that server. the channels are locked by default, you have to opt in to have the role that gives you access to the channels. and i have not opted in, it was a very conscious and easy decision to not want to even see those channels.

please do not take me to be a roleplayer, and an a/b/o one at that.

🥚

Objection your honour, hearsay

[smolbeandrabbles]

Grace, Too - Director Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

🎉🎉 !!Fic Number 200!! 🎉🎉

Hollllly crap we made it. We MADE it. And as he was fic number 100, 200 had to be Krennic. HAD to be.

@wltz-bby​ @mandy23b​ @happyskywhale​ @missunsympathetic​

Author’s Note:  Good god. Oh... This SONG has a lot to answer for. 

So, I was introduced to these ‘Courtly Love’ ideas, and I thought they sounded like a lot of fun, so I have a few requests based around these based on conversations. This was the first one I attempted and uh, yeah we ended up with this glorious wordcount.

Also, for my dear requestor and also dear friend @sagitariusrising​ Happy (Belated) Birthday! 😘💜💙 I hope this fic is everything you wanted!

Grace, Too - The Tragically Hip

Disclaimer: Premise/Idea not mine - although I did make some executive decision changes that I hope you still like / Rogue One characters not mine / some small Catalyst references.

Prompt: “A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved”

Premise: Orson Krennic has himself an obsession. You remind him too much of someone he once knew. Orson Krennic is dangerous. This much you know, but you are not about to heed your own warnings....

Words: 17,100

Warnings: Swearing / Possessiveness/Obsession/Yearning / Smut - like Sinday/Sunday smut. 

_____

He said, I'm fabulously rich C'mon, just let's go She kinda bit her lip Geez, I don't know I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with will and determination And grace, too The secret rules of engagement Are hard to endorse When the appearance of conflict Meets the appearance of force But I can guarantee  There'll be no knock on the door I'm total pro here That's what I'm here for I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with skill and its frustration And grace, too

---

He had to admit Eadu was not his favourite planet in the galaxy. Susceptible to many a storm, Krennic had never known it not to be pouring whenever he arrived. He probably wouldn’t even have thought about travelling over at all, were his old friend Galen Erso not stationed there. True, it was an integral facility to the Death Star, but Krennic didn’t need to be here to survey operations, just receive the odd mail or two with updates. Krennic would much rather be at the heart of the weapon his was engineering; it was his project and his baby. But, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see Galen, and this was fairly important. He grimaced as he looked out at the rain again, hopefully this wouldn’t take too long either… *** You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the constant rainy patterns of weather here. No-one had ever really given you the uniform for it – having said that, how often did you really spend outside these days? A lot of your time was spent in labs pouring over facts and figures and complicated algorithms. You spent almost as much time in the labs as Galen did, which was certainly personal choice rather than because you were forced into long hours. You had two specialities: lasers and gem stones; you’d heard about the development of synthetic Kyber crystals and Galen’s work before, but you’d never beheld a real one until coming here. With the amount of effort you were putting in, you were starting to become a technical expert. (Also a little disappointed to say the least when you found out that synthetic Kyber hadn’t really worked as expected.) Still, when you and Galen weren’t working on your pet energy project – allegedly what this had been for in the first place, until the real reason for Kyber research came to the fore – you were working on the Death Star. Which was some glorified super laser, that needed Kyber to work and… well, precision focus, as any good laser should have. Kyber wasn’t only going to be used as a power source, but also to make sure that this laser had range and trajectory… and didn’t waver off that. Besides, looking at the design, although it would collectively become one laser, it started at multiple points across the span of the dish. If just one of those was wrong, would the laser even fire at all? So standing outside on the landing platform, having been summoned out here because apparently the Director of the whole project would be arriving, in the cold and wet was not your ideal start to the day. Especially as you’d been standing here for what felt like close to an hour. Where the heck was this guy? You’d heard a lot about Orson Krennic before now; not all of it was great, some of it was hearsay, but there was a lot of information you found interesting to say the least. He’d been working on this project (with or without Galen) for most of his adult life, so it didn’t surprise you that he’d be coming all the way out here for an update. You had only ever had the pleasure of being copied on emails to Krennic and the way he responded sometimes was downright scary. You were glad you’d never had to give him bad news… but with your project being what it was, it wouldn’t be long before you did have to face the wrath of his block capitals. Finally the sound of a cruiser cut through the air, by the distinctive sound it was a Delta-class T-3c. Yeah, you had a slight passion for ships too. You all stood to attention on the platform, fighting off the shivers from the wind chill, squinting for visibility through the sheet rain and trying not to get blown over either. When the door to the shuttle opened Galen stepped forward, to welcome your visitor. He was possibly around Galen’s age, and held a confidence and self-importance about him as he strode forward down the ramp. But he had grace, too. You were almost taken aback by the way Krennic smiled as he shook Galen’s hand firmly, conversation fairly urgent. You couldn’t even lip read them from here, but body language was easy to interpret and it didn’t take long for Krennic to have your boss on the back foot. But it wasn’t panic, only surprise. Galen beckoned the Director towards the facility but Krennic shook his head. This visit was clearly only to be brief; you weren’t about to have your first interaction with him after all; he wasn’t about to view your work, inspect it closely and criticize it. Maybe you were glad of that. The conversation wasn’t as fleeting as you thought, a lot of back and forth that had the rest of you shooting each other looks and wondering how much longer you had to stand to attention in the freezing weather. Eventually Galen gestured to all of you – you supposed he was saying ‘if you can’t come in, or stay very long, at least meet my team.’ Krennic seemed to consider this for a time, his eyes sweeping the line and freezing on you. Your breath caught for a moment – maybe it was just your imagination, but his gaze was certainly lingering on you, and those bright blue eyes of his were nothing short of captivating. You didn’t think you’d seen a blue like it anywhere in the galaxy. It felt like hours but it could only have been seconds before he turned back to Galen, they exchanged a few words briefly once more before Galen nodded and they shook hands again. Oh, he really was just going to leave? The Director walked brisky back towards his shuttle before turning and calling back something else that he’d clearly forgotten. Galen yelled something in response and Krennic half smiled, before his eyes flicked over Galen’s shoulder and returned to you. Yes. You were right, he was certainly focused on you. There was a rumble of thunder overhead and the lightning cracked across the sky. You had never minded the lightning; you found the colours and patterns fascinating. But those blue eyes were immediately illumined by the bright white flashes and you found yourself swallowing hard, you couldn’t place the look on his face but you weren’t sure it was so appropriate. That image was sure to haunt you. Krennic turned back, slower this time, and you found that you’d been holding your breath for quite some time.

Suddenly you didn’t think that you would mind receiving an email in block capitals from him at all. *** Galen was probably the least subtle he could possibly be when he was trying to be subtle. He’d been tiptoeing around something with you for a couple of days and it really was starting to annoy you. You slammed your stylus down on the table with a frustrated sigh and turned to him. “Galen, please, whatever it is… just tell me. You’re making me nervous!” He blinked a few times, taken aback by your tone – as if he hadn’t been making it very obvious. “I- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” You laughed, “Now I certainly will! What’s going on?” “…It’s not my idea, but it is my decision.” “What is?” You suddenly became scared yourself, “Are you firing me-!?” Galen’s eyes widened and he held his hands up, “What? NO, no… quite the opposite. I am…” He paused and thought to rephrase his question, “They need a crystallographer on the Death Star. A good one. Someone who can keep up with the team here. One who knows what she’s talking about.” You blinked a few times, before you understood, “You’re… sending me to the Death Star?” “Yes. B- but only if you want to go!” Wouldn’t that place you directly under Krennic’s authority? Why was it suddenly an exciting prospect? “I would be honoured. This is- your decision?” “They asked me for recommendations and there was only ever one choice.” That had you beaming, “Thank you for the opportunity, Galen.” “Well, I know you won’t let the facility down. And you’re always welcome back.” You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a second, and couldn’t help but ask: “What is he really like?” “Who?” “The Director.” Galen didn’t really answer the question, although a smile twitched on his face, “We met in the Futures Program. I’ve known him a very long time… I can’t say he’s ever changed.” “So he’s an adult teenage boy?” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Galen laughed. “Well, he has qualities that you’d be forgiven for thinking he was one.” “Huh.” You nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” “But he is brilliant, of that there is no doubt. The Death Star project may have been going a long time, but I doubt anyone else could have completed it the way he has. Sharp. Intelligent. You’ll like him, I think.” You wondered if you already did. “Well, we’ll see if I’m begging to come back any time soon-!” He chuckled gently, “Well, I certainly hope not.” It didn’t take you very long to pack up, you were practically living out of boxes as it was. And you weren’t sure if you were nervous about having to move or not. You supposed you were in two minds; you’d actually get to see and be on the Death Star while you worked – sure the plans were one thing but, once you got a feel for the actual structure, maybe you could even be a little more experimental… The advantage of being on Eadu was you could hide away in a lab and make the 10,000 mistakes to get to the one (usually accidental) breakthrough. You were the only one judging yourself here, it was quiet; out there, and under Krennic, all eyes would be on what you were doing. You’d maybe be given the leeway of 2 or 3 mistakes but none more than that. And everything would be urgent. Needed yesterday! It was a good thing that you could work under pressure. Leaving was hard, and as you hugged Galen goodbye you couldn’t help but feel a pain in your heart: “I wish it didn’t mean leaving.” “You deserve it.” “Maybe. I hope I get to come back, eventually.” “We’ll certainly welcome you with open arms!” “Take care of yourself, Galen.” “And you – if he gives you any trouble, come straight to me.” You nearly grimaced, “Noted, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that!” *** The cruiser that picked you up wasn’t his, and you were glad the journey wasn’t as long as you expected, so you didn’t have too much time to overthink what was happening to you. In fact as the Death Star loomed into view your mouth was agape – you weren’t sure you expected the sheer size of it: easy to look at some numbers on a datapad but, when it was in front of you, you thought you might have bitten off a little more than you could chew. You were equally pleased and disappointed that Krennic was neither there to pick you up or greet you on the station – mostly because you didn’t seem to be able to find any appropriate words to say. The bustle of engineers, technicians and general command staff told you you were a million miles from your lab on Eadu, and you found yourself unable to communicate in anything other than one word awe filled sentences. Thankfully the Officer who greeted you seemed to understand, and as she walked you to your lab (everyone was obviously eager for you to start!) she chuckled warmly, “Don’t worry, I was exactly the same when I arrived here. It’s a lot. You’ll get used to it – and from what I understand you’ll be a very welcome addition to our team.” “Thanks,” You swallowed hard, “yes, I understand there’s an expectation on me here.” “Well, the Director only wants the best of the best.” She keyed you into the lab and then handed you your pass, “If you’re here it’s because you are the best. And he wants you.” You tried hard not to think about that in any way other than for your work, but it was hard. Ever since that look he’d given you as he left, those vivid blue eyes filled your dreams – including those that you’d rather Krennic kept out of. As she continued talking, she snapped you back to reality: “Anyway, I will leave you to get settled in here, all your things will be sent to your quarters. I’ll have someone sent up with all the details and your datapad.” She grinned at the door before she turned to head out, “Welcome to the Death Star!” *** You spent your time unpacking all your laboratory kit - some of this work you’d only trust to go right with your own gear that much was certain - before you started examining the lab closely. Everything was, as expected, state of the art, they had every machine it was possible to get in order to aid you on your quest to get these vectors just right. If the work wasn’t quite so serious this was almost a wonderland for you. As you continued to stare around the lab, making mental notes of exactly which you would need and would be the most useful for your work, the lab doors slid open again to another visitor. You turned to explain yourself away as the new girl but immediately froze. Standing opposite you, also seemingly glued to the spot and an unreadable look on his face, was none other than Director Krennic. You weren’t sure you expected to see him so soon, and you were still thoroughly unprepared for it. He recovered better than you. “I was told my new hire had arrived. You-” He paused for a minute, head tipped, before a small smile appeared on his face, “You’re from the Eadu facility!” After all, Krennic hadn’t asked only Galen for help in recruiting – you just had the best credentials. But he certainly recognised you from that platform. “Yes, Sir, Galen sent me – he said you were looking for a good crystallographer.” “Yes. And you’re here, welcome. It’s good to finally meet you in person.” “The honour is mine, Director, I look forward to working with you.” You swallowed hard, “Believe me, it is me that is honoured… uhm?” “Oh, Y/N, Sir.” Then you blushed forgetting yourself, “Ah! Officer L/N!” That smile became a gentle smirk, “Would it be so awful for me to refer to you by your first name?” “…I’m sorry, I… It’s how we do things on Eadu, I… realise that I am not there anymore Sir, forgive me.” You could feel yourself getting hotter. “You need not be forgiven, Y/N. I’m happy to do things your way.” Krennic placed a datapad on the table in front of him, “It’s all set up correctly, I made sure of that myself. I have to make sure my researcher is well equipped on the first day of her job, after all.” On top of it he lay another access card, “You’ll need that for your room, your ID will allow you access to almost as many files as me, I figured you’ll need them.” Krennic’s blue eyes fell back on you, “Anything you can’t access you come directly to me, and anything else you need, the same. I will make sure it reaches you promptly.” “Yes, Sir.” You nodded through his explanation, “Thank you.” Krennic nodded back, looking around the room, “Tell me, how do you like the lab?” “It’s certainly state of the art. There’s probably not another one like it across the galaxy. There’s a lot I would like to explore with these devices once I’m finished with my work for the Battle Station. Time permitting.” Krennic shrugged, “Do what you will with the time that you have free. I expect you’ll work hard.” “Yes, Sir.” “Good.” He winked stepping back from you, “I will leave you to get settled, and may I welcome you to the Death Star! I’m very excited to see what you can do for us!” And by that smirk on his face, yes, you could bet… Krennic hurried back to his office cursing himself. Yes, he wanted the best – and he had absolutely no doubt that he would get it with you. He’d read every CV in great detail; obviously he’d paid more attention to those from Galen, considering the weaponry was coming from that lab, but Galen had neglected to mention that you were with him on Eadu in his note for you. You were Galen’s first choice, and Orson Krennic was not about to go against his friend’s advice. It was just your look. Not just physically, but that look on your face – he couldn’t shake it.  Now he could bet that your personality would be similar just to curse him… He didn’t fall in love often, not hard. Orson could fall in and out of ‘love’ with people very quickly – always liked to keep a string of bed mates, if he didn’t fall in love, and didn’t necessarily care, then he wouldn’t get hurt. And he hardly needed to put in much effort, a little bit of flirting and an expensive drink was all he usually needed. Besides, now Krennic had this rank bar and a reputation, so he probably needed even less: sometimes people were trying to pick him up – he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. On the occasions he did though – it usually had the proficiency to mess him up. You reminded him very much of a girl he’d known in the Futures Program – back when he was young and reckless. Okay, Krennic could back track on that sentence, young. That, first love, fast heartbeat, can’t stop staring, ‘only thing in the world that matters’ kind of feeling. The kind of love that at that age would make him naïvely think it’d be forever – where their ambitions would meld together and everything would just work out. Even if they had no idea how. Krennic would stand by it as a real love, a feeling he had chased since he lost her. He’d fallen that hard again since – sure – but never in the same way. Orson didn’t think you could ever get a ‘first love’ feeling back. And he certainly didn’t want to ever feel like he did when it ended again. But you, and your face, and your body, and that look you gave him – all Krennic could see in you was her. Turning to his datapad for a second he had half a mind to see who your parents were, then stopped short of himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, Orson, she’s too old for that!’ – even if marginally. It made him curious about you though, what if your personality was the same? What if all of these factors culminated in him… feeling like that about you. He almost cursed at himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, she works for you, and you’ll shake it. It’s just the shock, it’s two or three glimpses of her face – you’ll be able to pick out all the differences in no time. Then you won’t think about what you loved and lost… or yearn for it back.’ Krennic scoffed at the very idea of him yearning, but brought you up on his datapad anyway. A smirk started to spread its way across his face as he lingered on your photograph. Well, he certainly wasn’t averse to one of you getting messed up in the process of this partnership…

***

 Krennic was right, one of you was going to get messed up by this; and it seemed more obvious now that person was going to be him. He wanted your personality to be different to hers, then he could form some distinction - and for the most part you had differences, you were your own woman. The problem was Krennic let himself get obsessed over the similarities, those small details that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else. And if he was honest those parts of you that were nothing like her just messed him up even more, because he liked those too. He liked you for you. It worried him.

You busied yourself with your work and tried to keep out of everyone’s way. You very much hoped it might be ‘out of sight out of mind’; but knew with the importance of the project you wouldn’t have that luxury. That had you experimenting until the early hours of the morning sometimes - and you always sent Krennic an update email last thing before you went to bed. Just so he never had to come looking himself: you’d heard all about him, but now you were here you’d witnessed it yourself. And Krennic screaming at people in corridors was not something you were that ready for. You did not want that wrath coming down on you, so you tried to keep one step ahead of the man that knew this station inside and out. What amazed you was, as you placed your datapad down for the evening and settled into your sheets, more often than not you’d receive a ‘ping’ to let you know of incoming mail. You’d ignored it for a while but - being too curious - investigated, only to find Krennic had sent you a thank you note. ‘What the heck is he still up working for!?’ Well, this became a regular occurrence, and tonight was no different - only now you waited to see if he’d reply and you smiled as it came in. ‘Why can’t everyone do this?  Do you know how well this Station would run!? Thank you. As ever. - K.’ You hovered over the reply button, as you had nearly all week. Every single time the knot in your stomach made you panic and you bailed out. Not tonight. ‘You are welcome, Director. Just doing my job. It’s getting late, you should probably get some rest.’ As he had, you signed off with your initial. It took him all of 5 seconds to reply, ‘I could say the same.  Goodnight, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Goodnight, Director. Sleep well.’ You grimaced as the message flew off to the other side of the Death Star, was that a step too far? Oh well. Couldn’t take it back now!

Eventually your reports got shorter, not for lack of trying, but progress was slow. And you always tried to make ‘nothing really happened today’ last for as many pages as possible. But you realised quickly that Director Krennic was smart enough to read between the lines; he never asked for more than you gave him, but as he started asking you for progress updates, rather than waiting until you sent them, you knew he wasn’t far off the point where you might start receiving those dreaded block capital emails.

It wasn’t like what you’d done up until now wasn’t hard; it was. It was just now you were at a snagging point and you really didn’t want to have to redo what you’d already done to get past it. It also wasn’t something you could easily bypass. And you couldn’t ignore it. If you got this wrong that laser didn’t work - and it’d all come back on you. This calculation was going to take time you didn’t have - NOBODY had - and the pressure was starting to get you frustrated.

You didn’t actually receive a block capital email, but an impromptu visit to your lab. And the colour must have immediately drained from your face - to counteract the way your heart decided to beat like a kick drum - because Krennic raised his hands in almost apology. “Thought it might be quicker to ask you rather than you to write up a report.” “Well you already know it’s not going well.” “I know woolly language when I see it. You don’t need to use filler with me. If you’re stuck just say so.” “Forgive me, Sir, but I don’t exactly want to get yelled at, and there’s a lot at stake here.” You cursed yourself internally for being so comfortable with talking to him like this. But decided that it might be best to speak your mind. “Why would I yell at you?” You gave him a pointed look that Krennic understood, but he didn’t think you quite understood the question. Why would he yell at you? Instead he cleared his throat, “I understand… Why don’t you, walk me through it?” “Can you help?” It wasn’t meant to come out so disbelieving, and you thought you’d put your foot in it about 10 times during this conversation already - but Krennic just shrugged. “I’ll see if I can assist. Maybe I’ll have a perspective you’re not thinking of.” You took a breath, “Okay...” “Okay.” He gave a firm nod, and sat at one of the lab tables, “What exactly are you trying to achieve that you cannot?” You took a deep breath, “Think of holding a laser pointer,” you collected one, and as a demonstration you pointed it at the blank wall and clicked it on; “Even with a steady hand, or two hands, there’s movement.” The dot wasn’t wiggling much but Krennic nodded along, “Well, this station is just a massive destructive laser pointer, with 8 different lasers all coming together… so in fact there’s 9 laser pointers in total. Even a millimetre out can be the difference between this laser working, or catching on something we don’t want it to and blowing up Imperial Forces, or - god forbid - the entire station…!” You walked over to a little holder you’d rigged up, placing the pen upon it and stepping back: “Crudely speaking when focusing a laser through Kyber it should keep the laser's trajectory steady with pinpoint accuracy, whilst also maintaining the power and range of the laser. It’s a multipoint system, if even one of those points is off, the whole thing fails. And what better to take the power of a laser created by Kyber than…” “Kyber.” You smiled enthusiastically, “Exactly!” Krennic looked back at the dot on the wall, “So what’s your snag?” You turned the datapad to face him, “This.” He raised an eyebrow immediately, “That’s… a lot of numbers.” “Yes. And every time I calculate it, it’s an error. And it needs to balance because it’s got to work between-” “Nine lasers.” You said in unison. “Correct.” You smiled, liking that he was getting it. “I don’t expect Kyber not to be able to take the force, it’s the making sure we’re hitting it all just right. To check how much the crystals might refract the energy. To make sure there’s not a power surge… I just can’t get the power balance right to get the trajectory… not to do something ridiculously wild.” “Or make the whole station virtually useless.” “Yes. And the thing is that the number is nearly always the same. You know, like… I’m point-5 out, and yet I can’t figure out where that is coming from. Freakin’ crystals, and Kyber is notoriously the worst!” You placed your hands on your hips, “I’ll get it. I just need time.” He nodded, “You have time believe me.” Krennic stood, “I believe I should leave you to it.” “But the completion of the-” “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting my vectors right. You have time.” That he could promise you. Krennic didn’t want you to panic, he thought that would throw this project into even more disarray. He needed you with a level head and at your best mindset. He thought he knew how to do just that. You flushed, “Thank you, Director.” “Don’t mention it, Y/N.” He paused as he got to the door, turning back to you those blue eyes caught yours and you nearly jumped at the dark flicker across them. “I look forward to reading your report, tonight.” The way his voice lowered like that, how that smooth tone he usually kept laced with a growl had you struggling to breathe as he left, and you had to undo your uniform and catch your breath. ‘Geez, what was that!?’ Did you have a thing for your senior commander? A real thing!? Sure those damn eyes were always haunting your dreams, and he was nearly always your daily closing thought (but he put himself there, didn’t he!) but… this was more than that, this was a physical reaction - and you were sure he was eliciting an emotional one from you, too. “God dammit, Y/N,” you breathed, looking back to the door and wishing he’d come walking back through it, “could you have a worse idea-!?” *** He had to be honest he wasn’t sure why he had no semblance of control around you; it should have been easy to control. Krennic spent his life trying to control his emotions… okay, maybe not very well but he did. You had him smiling all over the place. He far outstayed his welcome in the lab whenever he found reason to go down there; and Krennic certainly found plenty of reason. Usually if he visited anyone at their work station he was either none too pleased with them, or he wanted their report - and quickly! - before he swept himself off to another meeting or urgent matter around the station. He liked the sound of your voice explaining things to him; and how every question he asked was met with not just an answer, but a good answer. Instead of a string of ‘I don’t know, sir’s. Nothing Krennic asked of you ever seemed like trouble either; then again he supposed you wouldn’t really want to refuse the Director of the Death Star what he wanted. It was obvious you wanted to remain here, and you were trying to do your very best to figure out all these algorithms alone.

Krennic sent you an assistant and even got you on calls with people in similar fields. The assistant stayed with you a little, until it got a little too complicated even for them and you dismissed them with thanks - you’d got a step closer, that’s all you could ask for. Eventually though, you had to reach out to Galen - and Krennic wanted to sit in on these calls. You wondered if it was because he thought the two of you would spend the majority of it dragging him - you rather thought you might be giving him a string of compliments with half the chance to do so. And the three of you started to break your work down to basics. Krennic’s new perspective aided more than you really wanted to admit to him, but he had this attitude that made you think he wanted to be useful here - and it made you more than a little suspicious. Maybe he really was spying on you both…

Krennic wasn’t sure if he wasn’t forcing the relationship to grow beyond appropriate parameters, all discussions did still revolve around work after all, but was happy that you were forthcoming. Spending more time with you meant he could analyse you more - and whilst you still very much reminded him of his ex-lover, you were becoming your own person. The person who filled his thoughts. You were almost his every waking moment. When in your lab together, even when Krennic was listening to every word, he was watching your body - the way you moved was fluid as you eagerly explained something and demonstrated. But meticulous and calculating when you were working on a screen - absolutely none of your energy was wasted that could have been used to think on the problem. And yet even every small movement you made was significant. Usually to cross through or correct a calculation. Change your vector arrows around a little. Krennic liked watching you do this too, because when it was all correct you gave this small satisfied smile, and even though it was to yourself, it was very endearing - it was one thing he always looked forward to seeing.

Tonight, as ever, Krennic was agonising over waiting for your report. No matter how exhausted he might be when he finally retired to his quarters for the evening, he always knew your end of day email would come through and Krennic forced himself to stay awake for it. Mostly so he could read too much into the string of ‘flirty’ emails that followed it, but he couldn’t have been the only one who read that energy. After all, sometimes he gratuitously flirted back, and you still kept responding. As soon as he heard that ping he rushed across the room to read it. You reporting was always concise even though you managed not to leave a single detail out - and now he knew more about your work, it was easier to understand and for him to scan through. Krennic would be more thorough tomorrow. ‘Thorough as ever, Ms. L/N. – K.’ ‘I like to make sure you don’t need to ask questions.’ ‘Where’s the fun in that? – K.’ ‘It helps me sleep better.’ ‘Me not ask questions about your reporting? – K.’ ‘Goodnight Director. Please get some sleep!’ He remembered the first time that he’d read that goodnight from you, how he’d stared at those words for a long time - heart stilled. It didn’t help him sleep at all, far from it. In fact nothing about you seemed to help anything - except Krennic thinking on you.

You were impressive - dare he say that you had more skill in your particular area than maybe even Galen did. That, added to the weight of his constant Futures Program reminder, kept you at the forefront of his mind constantly. Krennic found it very hard to concentrate on his own work; and his thoughts wandered, particularly in meetings he found to be less than stimulating. He’d poured over your CV and your previous published research time and again. Read all your imperial records and anything Intelligence could get hold of on you. Krennic knew almost everything there was to know, and yet he wanted to hear it all from you. And you seemed less than forthcoming with information that was personal. That almost worried him - maybe you weren’t looking for anything other than a professional relationship with him. Krennic wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep it that way; eventually he’d have to make some kind of move - he couldn’t let you go without you knowing. He wasn’t about to let you be the (other) one that got away. Not both of you. Time ticked on this evening, and he lay in his sheets wide awake. Work was making him drowsy; and he’d been up and down trying to work himself to sleep, but every time he put his datapad down and switched off the lights he was alert again. Krennic glanced at the clock and groaned, watching the minutes race towards his alarm. Unsurprisingly it was thoughts of you that were keeping him awake. Usually you were on his mind at night; you were certainly the last one before he turned the light off, but usually he could drift to sleep perfectly fine. Not tonight. Krennic placed his hands palm down on his stomach, inhaling and exhaling slowly: wasn’t that how you did it? Deep, slow, calming breaths. That evidently made things worse, and his breathing patterns this time brought with them fairly vivid images that occasionally he’d seen in dreams. Certainly none of them were very professional - and all of them were about you. ‘Stars-! Orson, stop it!’ But he couldn’t, and his mind wanted to play tricks on him, trying to make him imagine what it would feel like to touch your bare skin, to hear you moan quietly, the way you might say his name in elation. He growled to himself as heat gathered a little lower than his hands were. He moved them, breaths already short and sharp and not at all where he’d intended to be at… “This is a bad idea.” Orson groaned softly and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut bringing all those images back; did he really have any better ones? *** It wasn’t a lie to state you were getting closer. At least to the point where Krennic started to make jokes in meetings that were clearly meant for you only. And when you looked up to him unsure if it was appropriate to laugh and he’d almost dare you to, you knew they certainly were. He’d always ask for a score out of 10 in his emails to you now. And it was refreshing for you to find a similar relationship to the one you had with Galen here… well, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. They were good friends after all, and there had to be a reason for that. Krennic also made a habit of being wherever you were. And you weren’t sure that was so endearing. You understood why he would want to be around your lab - maybe not as often as he was, but then… perhaps you knew the reason for that too, you just didn’t want to hope on it - but not why he’d turn up in corridors he had no business being in. Or would end up in the cafeteria at the exact moment you walked in. He even ended up in staff briefings he’d specifically asked someone else to take either so he could sit or stand near you. You couldn’t help but find some of this behaviour odd: was Krennic stalking you? Was he looking out for you? Was he protecting you? You couldn’t imagine it was just coincidence - and part of you hoped it wasn’t. You just couldn’t really tell his intentions. That’s what scared you the most.

By now you’d heard the coffee room chat about Krennic - seemed he had a bit of a lady’s man reputation. Pretty smooth at getting you into bed, but would love you and leave you just as fast, and on-to-the-next-one. Were you simply the next one? Because as much as by now you wanted to be, you certainly didn’t want to be one on a list… love you was okay… but leave you? You weren’t the type of woman who would put yourself in that position. For him would you?

It made you a little more cautious around him, and suddenly that made your relationship slip. Because you didn’t know if you should be flirting with him or joking with him as much as you were. This pull back from you didn’t faze Krennic too much, just made him try a little harder. For you it then became obvious what he wanted. And you had to do your damndest to control yourself. You both did.

You were using every ounce of your Imperial training to try to ignore your feelings, to make sure your face stayed level and revealed nothing. You always tried to keep your eyes on his face; instead of the wandering they wanted to do - even when he wasn’t directly talking to you. That didn’t mean that when he was walking away from you, or simply keeping busy in your lab, you weren’t discreetly checking him out. You had to wonder what he looked like out of that uniform, considering he looked so gorgeous in it. You were inexplicably drawn to him, but you weren’t sure if it was his power you were attracted to: the rank bar on that uniform told everyone exactly who was boss and he walked like he owned every corridor in this place. He didn’t even need to exert his influence in meetings, everyone knew he was the most important man in the room. When Krennic had something to say everyone listened, even when he said it quietly. You’d never known someone to command that kind of attention, and considering that reputation you were not the only officer - of any gender - who fawned over him. You were just the best at hiding it. That charisma he exuded really was something to behold; he was just far too confident. Maybe a little conceited in it too, but you were sure you’d be powerless to it. The Director probably had the ability to walk up to you and say “Come to bed with me” and you’d go on that alone, you knew if he was so inclined, he could just say it like that. It was probably in your favour that Krennic liked to be a little more suave. Krennic seemed like one for class and grace. Or was it that you really were attracted to him, that you had some kind of undeniable chemistry. That you would almost count him a friend. That you just liked being in Krennic’s aura and talking to him about work… you’d even started to open up to him about personal stuff, where you’d grown up, your family… how exactly you’d ended up a crystallographer who was working here on laser vectors. And most importantly how much you loved storms, planetary or solar - this seemed like something you had to let him know. Just a silly little fact, perhaps, but to you it really meant something. It was little moments like that, when he laughed at your stories, that you thought this really might be mutual attraction, rather than someone Krennic just wanted to get in bed.

Yet, you had an effect on him also and he tried to hide it as well as you did. You caught it, only because you knew the look of someone trying to contain themselves. You saw it in the mirror or polished surfaces of this battle station all the time. Krennic quite often clenched his jaw around you, he had this habit of staring at you like he was staring through you; and sometimes he would just stare forward if you were next to him. That almost annoyed you, because you wanted to be able to look into those crystal blue orbs just once... But if Krennic was watching you, then it was an altogether different story, and if he ever caught you catching him, that look in his eyes didn’t disappear; it was hungry, and although it stirred something within you that you had to fight even harder to control, it scared you a little too - and in the back of your mind it lit a spark that became a raging fire. And you had to know, would he act on that look too? You made a vow, before you’d finished your work, before you’d left this battle station - you would find out.

Today hadn’t been so bad by all accounts; the test you’d set up you would have to leave overnight, so you got out of the lab on time. Maybe you’d even get an early night tonight. Maybe you’d persuade the Director to one of his own with your report email; you thought he probably needed it. A frown pulled its way across your face as you arrived at your quarters with the door open, and you poked your head around it, gasping to find other officers moving things around, and carrying what appeared to be boxes of your stuff. You hadn’t authorised this! “What’s going on!?!” You blurted, a little angrier than you’d meant, “What are you doing!?” Then you froze for a second; had you read something wrong? You knew something was up with him… but maybe you were supposed to have acted on it by now? Maybe your work was taking too long - was he pissed at you? Did Krennic want you off the station!? You looked to the most senior officer, “Am I being thrown off the project?!” “No.” At least you could breathe then, “We’re simply moving your quarters.” “Moving my quarters?” You couldn’t help but be confused: had you missed that email? It seemed a little too important to just be sprung upon you. “On whose orders!? I haven’t signed off on this!” “Director Krennic’s.” That shut you up almost immediately. ‘Oh well shit, what’s he moving me for!?’ You swallowed hard, not even caring if it was visible. “Well, in that case you better show me where I’m moving to…”

Once you got there - and they assured you that your key card would still work - you realised that you hadn’t just moved to any old room. Krennic had moved you to a commander's quarters, and it was plush to say the least. You had so much more room in here. The bay window stretched at least half the room and you couldn’t help your small smile; ‘he remembered’. Your little stories of staying up huddled in a window frame to watch storms in nearby, or passing, solar systems and planets. You shook your head slowly to yourself and picked up your datapad again, figuring out where exactly you were on the ship - further from the labs, which was a minor inconvenience. It seemed that at least there was an elevator close by that you could use to get to the right floor and then it’d be a straight walk. What interested you though was, looking at the schematic, you appeared to be just two corridors away from Krennic’s own room. That was not coincidence. “Son of a-” suddenly you found yourself laughing. Why? So he could walk past your room every day? So he had you closer? And looking at the rooms around, probably as close as he could get: you were surrounded by his senior command team.

You moved through the room, and started to notice little details that he’d had placed here; books by your favourite authors, or researchers… your favourite music. Maybe you’d told him far too much about yourself. But it was the fact he retained the information that had you impressed. He’d even left you a box, tied with ribbon in your bathroom, and when you pulled at it you found it was filled with very expensive toiletries, that you knew he wouldn’t have been able to come by easily, in all your favourite scents. Nothing is coincidence at all… is it Krennic? Was he trying to woo you - was this all part of a game plan; you could only conclude yes. And by the way your heart was currently beating in your chest, you had to say it was working.

Moving back into the main room and sitting back on the bed with your datapad, ready to send your report for the evening, you’d failed to notice the letter lying on top of your sheets. You pulled your finger across the top of the envelope and unfolded the card carefully: ‘Dear Y/N, Welcome to your new quarters. I believe someone of your talent is worthy of somewhere a little nicer. You will find me just down the hall if you need anything, and please do not hesitate. I hope you enjoy your stay here. And, should there be a storm, that you enjoy the view. Director Orson C. Krennic Head - Imperial Weapons Division’ The card also seemed to be scented, which you had to raise an eyebrow at; ‘who uses scented note cards?! What’s that all about!?’ You put it down to having more money than sense and placed the card on your bedside table, before getting back to what was really important.

As expected, even when it was a little earlier in the evening, Orson Krennic responded to your email almost immediately. ‘Earlier than usual? You really are efficient, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Thought I would get an early night in Director… in my new quarters. You should to.’ - You weren’t meant to imply together, but you also didn’t care if that’s how he read it. ‘Any thoughts? – K.’ ‘They are very nice, thank you. Although in future a little more notification would help!’ ‘Noted. And as you are closer, you can deliver your reports in person now – K.’ You raised an eyebrow, why would that make any sense? ‘When I can send it over email?’ Why... would you? Even when closer the time it’d take you to walk to his quarters, give him the document and walk back, would still be far longer than an email. ‘Consider it. – K.’ ‘I will!’ You weren’t sure you would, but that was what he wanted to hear. And of course you’d play to that whim. ‘Good. Goodnight, Y/N – K.’ ‘Goodnight Orson.’ You stared at the email after you’d sent it and almost screamed. What were you doing-!?! Why were you addressing a senior officer by his first name!? What was he bringing you to? You placed your head in your hands and took a deep breath. ‘Okay, it’s one slip and you can say you were tired and apologise profusely later…’

You threw your tablet on your table too and snuggled back under your new plush sheets. The bed was cozy and soft and suddenly you couldn’t be happier that Krennic had arranged for this. You closed your eyes; it was this time of the evening you liked to try and ground yourself. It was clear that both of you wanted each other to some degree, but you were the one that had to be sure about this and the most careful. You had more to lose here; Krennic had the ability to kick you off the project, not just out of his bed… if you ever got in it. But by now you were pretty sure you would end up in it. It was more a matter of when. He was powerful, you’d covered that. But Krennic was also dangerous, that much was also obvious… dangerous in terrible and delicious ways. So perhaps, as well as everything else, you were drawn to that danger. You wondered suddenly which side of him would show up more when it was just the two of you alone… in conditions more intimate. Would that power completely consume you; did you have any chance at all? You weren’t sure you wanted any at just the opportunity to be pinned under his body. To run your hands over his skin. To answer all the questions you had, and see if all those water cooler rumours were true… (You hoped to God some of them were.)

You were close to drifting off when your eyes suddenly snapped open. Krennic was your favourite pre-sleep thought, and your subconscious tonight brought you a revelation. That note card was not scented. You scrambled around for it and held it close to your face, inhaling. That was what Krennic smelled like - you should know because you’d always thought he smelt pretty good, it was a fairly subtle scent when on his skin - here it was a little stronger, which is why it had taken you so long to pick up on it.

That damn man had sprayed his note to you with his cologne. *** You decided that Krennic knew far too much about you. On the morning after your move you opened your door to head back to the labs, so you could check on the results of your testing, and Krennic was two steps from your door. You were startled by his sudden presence but he offered nothing but a small smile and a casual, “Right on time, Ms. L/N.” “Uh- I- Director.” You wouldn’t exactly say you greeted him as he felt in step with your walk towards the elevator. “How do you think your testing went?” “Well…” You took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as that cologne seemed to surround you completely. Now your senses were looking for it. Your stomach knotted and you felt the immediate urge to press your thighs together and groan. Dammit. “Well?” Krennic pressed, eying you when you didn’t answer. You hoped your face wasn’t flushing even though you felt hot. “It’s a make or break test. I certainly hope it’s worked.” You could hear that strained edge to your voice, you knew for certain Krennic would have picked up on it. As you turned into the elevator you immediately reached for your button, the Director was two steps ahead of you and your hands brushed. You withdrew yours immediately, and knew you must have been red by now. “S-Sorry.” “No, my apologies, I just wanted to help.” You stared at the floor of the elevator for a good few minutes, holding your fingertips in your other hand. Why did it tingle like that? You didn’t actually ever think you’d physically touched him before, had you? Even when you’d been so close previously in the lab. But it’s not even like it was his skin. In fact, for someone with such a reputation, Krennic had very little skin on display at all. Did he ever not wear gloves? Not that you could recall. ‘Stop-! Y/N! You sound so repressed! You’ve seen naked men before.’ Your eyes flicked back to Krennic, staring at the ceiling, and you swallowed hard. Sure, but you hadn’t seen him naked. The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, because you didn’t trust yourself not to blurt out anything you shouldn’t, but as you left Krennic took a step to stop the doors from closing. “What, not even a goodbye?” You paused in the corridor and turned back to him, unable to stop yourself from smiling that he actually wanted that from you. “Goodbye Director, have a good day.” “Not likely, but work permitting. Good day, Y/N.” and as the doors slid closed on him you caught his wink, and could swear he was smirking.

You stood outside your little lab for a long time before you entered. You admitted to yourself you were delaying the inevitable but you needed to. After all, if this was a complete failure then you might as well throw out almost a years’ worth of work. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but at least all the months you’d been up here on the battle station. You’d need a good stiff drink and to cry in bed for a couple of days at the very least. Oh, and you’d probably be fired, reputation in ruins… You keyed yourself in and flicked on the lights. What you had done was rigged up a few small versions of the Death Star and set each of them to different vectors. The pieces of Kyber you were using were tiny, but they would still work in principle with your laser pens.

You stared at the points on the wall in turn. One had disappeared completely, which was all but useless to you. It didn’t mean that the calculation wasn’t steady: it could have just meant that the trajectory was way off. Either way, you could discount that as a failure. And the next one; giving a similar waver to when you’d shown Krennic what ‘steady hands’ really meant. Although minimal, you’d already explained why you couldn’t stand for it. That left the last two. And the results looked fairly similar even though your vectors were different for both. You had to call the result unexpected: perhaps there were two ways to do this. You looked back to your little models and then to the points, waving your hand in front of the lasers. And then you smiled, and that small smile became a grin, became a laugh of triumph. Although both were near perfect, the third one had a far stronger beam of light. There was your power. The second most important part of the project. The station had to do what it was built for when the laser reached its target, after all. “We have a winner.” You whispered to yourself walking back to your table. Now you had to report these findings and scale them up to full size. Working in other contingency factors - after all that laser would not be travelling through clean air in a lab and hitting a solid smooth wall. That would be fun.   Still, you couldn’t wait on his report to tell him the good news. ‘Report spoilers: It works!’ There was a long pause between emails, and you could picture Krennic sitting at his desk, relief flooding him, smug little smirk on his face that this was finally going to get done - the finish line seemed in sight now. You hoped you’d made his day. When the email came back you couldn’t help but read into it a little more than you probably should have, and yet you also thought he wanted you to: ‘This sounds like a cause for celebration... – K.’

You did not in fact bring the report to him by hand, and neither did he ask it of you, but from that day forward you were called into his office daily briefings. And suddenly you got to realise just what your research meant to the people working on this station, because the first day you walked in, expecting to see just him, the room was full of his top engineers and each and every single one of them was applauding you. “Now the real work begins.” Krennic was leaning against his desk, arms folded, with eyes only for you. “Welcome, Y/N, to the team that will build your concept. From physical engineering to coding. I will assist in overseeing you, but the team are now at your disposal. From now, until test day.” Your eyes couldn’t help but light up, even though you knew you should have probably been professional about this. “Thank you, Director.” You beamed, “I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this vision a reality, for the Empire!”

Suddenly this was better than anything you’d had with Krennic before - you almost had non-stop contact with him, from walking out of your door in the morning, to retiring for the evening. And you were happy to find that he provided both the perfect intellectual and humorous stimulant. You also noted how many crew members now looked at you with nothing but jealousy. Despite the fact nothing had happened between you yet. The way he regarded you was now even more open. Every look that followed every little flirtatious comment or innuendo was extremely pointed. Sometimes his eyes would even darken. It scared you enough to have you shy away from him; but also had you scared at how much you desired him. You just wanted him to touch you, just the smallest taste. To be honest you didn’t care what he did, as long as he did something. Krennic could bend you over his desk in front of your entire engineering team for all you cared anymore.

Speaking of your engineering team, you’d never seen a group of people work harder or more efficiently, and seeing them turn all your data and tiny models into tangible pieces for the Death Star was wonderful. You gasped to see the sheer size of the Kyber they had harvested to give your vectors pinpoint accuracy. “I have never… seen Kyber like that!” And the way Krennic got all smug again, “Only the best for you. Of course.” “You flatter me, Sir.” And that little knowing nod he gave you back. Once everything started to go into place, and you got word that Galen was almost finished with the laser itself (you received many an email from him about how proud he was and so many others from your friends back on Eadu that you almost cried, thanking them again and again for their participation in even the smallest part of your research), that the dish was currently in the process of being assembled outside and you couldn’t believe you were doing this. You couldn’t believe you were about to be a part of history. Your name was going to be right up there. Never even in your wildest dreams... As you could take a little more time over your reports these days, and there was far less for you to really comment on, you did start to present Krennic with physical copies. Usually just before you headed off for the evening you would drop them off on his desk with a small smile, and he would drag them towards him. “Glad to see you are taking my advice.” “Well, as you seemed fairly adamant I did it, I thought I had better start, Director.” “They do make for good bedtime reading.” “I’ll bet…” Only for the last week you’d started spraying them with your perfume, very subtly at first, but steadily the scent became stronger, and oh, he had noticed. When the doors closed behind you this evening he held the report to his nose and inhaled, groaning as heat coursed through his body. Krennic couldn’t take it any longer, he knew exactly what you were doing. Both of you were dancing around it, and now neither of you were being very subtle, either. But this was the final straw - because he wanted this scent all over him. What it would feel like to pin you beneath him, have your body against his as you whined and called his name, what it would feel like to finally be inside you… He’d certainly thought on it in quieter moments of the evening enough… *** Tonight your report was late. Not for no good reason; you had a lot of data to review. Galen kept sending you updated laser figures to get you as close as possible with your final vectors. Oh, you had no doubt that the Kyber could take it. You’d given a wide berth for the perimeters; but still, you wanted to check and triple check. On your head be it if you didn’t and everything went wrong. Still you wanted to stop by Krennic’s office to let him know why it would be late, as you always seemed to bring it to him around this time these days.

Krennic looked up as you walked in, without even knocking, but he hardly cared about that. His eyes narrowed at the lack of papers in your arms. “Where is my report?” Your face scrunched a little, “If you’d let me get a word out Director, I would tell you. I have a lot of data back from Galen that I want to check and double check before I send it over to you. I want to give you as accurate data and results as possible. So it’ll probably be late, or later than it has been these past few weeks.” Krennic tilted his head, eyebrow raised “Late?” He didn’t sound very appreciative. “Only about as ‘late’ as used to be normal.” He rose from his chair, and those blue eyes locked on yours, “Late-late bedtime reading? This from a woman who says I should be going to bed earlier.” “This once!” You protested as he rounded his desk. “You think that’s good enough?” You didn’t understand why he’d be mad at you, and Krennic didn’t sound mad… but the words he was using… “Well I didn’t think you’d mind.” “Oh, believe me, I mind.” “I-” You were about to tell him you were sorry - although really you had nothing to be sorry for - but he didn’t stop beside you. Instead Krennic stood behind you, a little too close for your liking.

You froze immediately as his voice lowered to a whisper, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. The scrape of leather against your skin made you shiver, and you only wished it was his fingertips. You bit back your moan. “I am alone in my quarters after 2200 hours, it sounds like I’ll have data to review with you: that’s an order.” You swallowed unsure of the kind of response he wanted, “Yes, Sir.” slipped out of your mouth and he seemed satisfied. “Good girl. I want it on paper, as you’ve been doing recently.” “Yes, Sir.” “Well then…” He stepped away from you and you realised that you’d barely breathed for the past few minutes, “You best get to it, hadn’t you?” “Yes, Sir.” What was wrong with you!? Was that all you could say!? When you turned around he’d already moved away, crossing the room. “Good. Now go. And don’t make me wait, Y/N.” Krennic glanced over his shoulder at you, blue eyes burning, “As I’m sure you know by now, I am not a patient man.” *** You had to admit the pressure was on now. Because you did really want to present him with a decent report. (Just in case he wasn’t messing with you and he would be pissed if you didn’t turn up at 2200 with the correct figures.) And you sat back in the lab speed typing your way to the end whilst also trying to be as careful about Galen’s calculations as possible. You were right of course, his new figures still worked perfectly within your own. You looked at the clock, 2130. And the Director had told you not to be late. You printed the report and rushed back to your quarters; your heart was beating on overdrive. Was this about to be the encounter you’d always imagined? The throbbing ache between your thighs you’d also been trying (and failing) to ignore since he’d brushed his fingers to your skin earlier certainly hoped so. You barely had time for a quick shower to freshen up, but you took it anyway before changing and spraying yourself with that same perfume you’d been dousing your reports in, and hoping you wouldn’t run into anyone in the two corridors that you would have to traverse.

You checked yourself in the mirror as you gathered the hard copy of the report and your datapad for back up. You looked flushed, but still pretty at least. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself for your walk - you had a feeling you were about to end up being even more so… You paused suddenly and turned to the window; the colour of space had suddenly caught your eye. Purples and blues fogged in front of you, instead of the usual endless rolling black flecked with stars. It shimmered every so often and you recognised it instantly. ‘An Ion storm is coming…’ you breathed. You hadn’t noticed because your lab had no windows, but you were overjoyed that you hadn’t missed it. You allowed yourself to marvel it for a few seconds more before you realised you were about to make yourself late. Padding down the corridors you were pleased to see that there was no-one on route and you reached his room at exactly 2159. You waited for that minute to tick over, and at 2200, you knocked.

“Enter.” Krennic’s voice called you, with a sultry edge to it. And you bit your lip gently. At the sound of his voice his door slid open, and beckoned you inside. *** If you thought your room was spacious and had a generous window, this one was something else. Krennic’s quarters had a window that swept almost the entire far end of the room, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to those vibrant purples and blues again. The lighting was fairly dimmed but you recognised it as ambiance; Krennic was setting a mood here. That feeling stirred once more in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed hard, the room had all the amenities, and you wondered why the hell he even wanted an office as well as this. Probably because he didn’t want everyone in his room, you guessed, but he had a desk and everything here. You scanned across the room to the bed; at least king sized, the sheets looked comfortable and luxurious. Why didn’t that surprise you either.

Footsteps approached from your left and Krennic swept around the corner from whatever had been keeping him occupied. He halted, immediately tipping his head to survey your body - instinctively you pulled the papers up to your chest and hugged them close. “I-I believe you asked me here to take you through a data review, Sir. And I made sure to print them all.” He hadn’t even traced his way up to your face yet and that smile became a grin, became a smirk. Krennic stepped forward - bless you for actually printing the damn report. He held his hand out, “Indeed I did.” You offered up the paperwork and he walked back to his desk, beckoning you to follow him. He could already smell the perfume on the documents, biting back a low moan. He had no intention of reading them tonight. In fact you hadn’t even sprayed the documents with your perfume, but there was so much of it on you that when you’d held them close it couldn’t help but transfer across. Krennic set them, and your datapad, down on his desk and turned back to you, now a little further into the room. Your hair was down to natural length and framed your face delicately. There were no shoes on your feet either. But your dress… oh… Ending just appropriately long enough to cover everything, the silk slip dress - in your favourite colour, Krennic remembered - plunged pretty low, thin straps looped over your shoulders and, he couldn’t see yet, but it had a low back too. At least you were dressed appropriately for where your evening was going to go. Krennic swallowed, aware of his own arousal as he made his way slowly back over to you, again, instead of stopping in front of you he rounded your body. Where he was close the cape brushed against your bare skin and you had to bite your lip hard not to whimper. Why was just the feel of it so sexy? Was it really the thought of being covered in it and nothing else? Would he wear it if you asked him to…? No, maybe not for your first time together… you didn’t think he’d want you making too many demands of him.

“I checked the weather for today and it looks like there will be a good ion lightning storm in the area. We can’t exactly move out of its way so… I thought you might like to observe…” “You remember a lot of things about me, Director… this one I might just have to thank you for.” Even as he disappeared behind you again you kept your eyes front on space, although you couldn’t help but be curious if he was going to touch your hair again. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he was finally gloveless. I really AM like a repressed maiden! He halted, and somehow it felt like he was even closer than before; was Krennic’s breath on the back of your neck just your imagination? You shivered involuntarily and even if you couldn’t see him, you could picture that smirk. His voice was at a husky whisper, already threatening to drive you wild. You didn’t dare press your thighs together, despite your desperation. “This dress is certainly not regulation uniform, and as per the rules, that would mean it needs to be removed.” You didn’t even get the chance to wonder if Krennic was going to do it himself as his large hands rested on your shoulders for a moment. You couldn’t help but tense; it seemed like such a foreign concept, his bare skin touching yours. You wondered if his hands would be calloused with all the work he did. He certainly didn’t mind getting dirty. But he was an architect at heart, and his hands seemed pretty smooth, assured, and warm… he was so warm… Krennic caressed his fingertips over you and you really couldn’t have helped that small whine even if you’d have tried. You were still picturing that delicious little smirk in your head, and you wanted to kiss it off. Patience… At this rate you’ll be getting to do more than that... His fingers slid under the straps, pulling them off your shoulders agonisingly slow, but Krennic didn’t attempt to help the fabric down your body, instead he just let it fall. It pooled around your feet and you swallowed hard again, hearing the slight chuckle in his voice before he tsked you. “You didn’t think to wear anything underneath?” “Well I thought about it, but-” You gasped as his hand grasped your waist, sliding down to your hip, his other brushing your hair back to expose your neck. Krennic’s first kiss wasn’t even tentative; but it was teasing and you shook under his touch. He smirked into your neck as he continued to kiss a trail. You bit back a groan, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin, sighing for certain as his tongue ran over you. Had you told him this too? Or did he really know far too much… Finally having him kiss you after all this time was something that you almost found indescribable, and the heat between your thighs made you press them together as discreetly as possible - he’d get there you were sure of it, but that ache demanded attention. Krennic inhaled - and somehow that perfume smelled even better on your skin. He growled, grazing his teeth over your jugular, pulling your body back into his. “Oh… Y/N… you smell so good.” You gasped again as this time his arms locked around your waist to hold you in place; so close that his cape once again brushed your skin, you simply lay your hands over his. His still clothed body pressed up against yours felt simply divine and you knew Krennic was about to drive you insane, on purpose. As those kisses to your neck became a little hotter - and you started to imagine all the marks about to be left on your body - you couldn’t resist tipping your head back to sigh his name. You couldn’t be sure which he wanted to hear, but surely he would tell you if it was his first name. Maybe he didn’t want his lovers to call him that… you remembered your promise not to become just one on a list, but you didn’t want to think too hard on that right now. Much more enjoy the moment. You leant your body weight back against him, suddenly feeling tiny in his large hands. He smirked into your skin again, pulling back, one hand coming back up to turn your face to his.

“My, my… You’re already so flushed and… responsive.” That little smirk was so gorgeous you had second thoughts about kissing it off. You were already aware of how heavy you were breathing. Krennic bit his lip and somehow that made him sexier, “Have you thought about this?” You nodded, hardly seeing the point of lying. “A lot?” You knew the blush on your cheeks was only getting deeper as you nodded again. Krennic chuckled, “At least I’m not the only one…” He held you in place by your chin, “Whatever your fantasies are, you can tell me. But I can promise I’ll be better.” He studied your face intently, “Would you like me to kiss you, Y/N?” You wondered if that was a stupid question, eyes flicking to his lips and back to that intense stare he was giving you, “Y-Yes.” Surprisingly his kiss wasn’t as rough as they had been to your neck, but he showed no mercy when deepening it, and his tongue wasn’t about to let yours assert any dominance. You could taste hints of alcohol and caffeine, and something sweet - although you could hardly remember what they were serving in the canteen now. When Krennic finally released your lips to let you breathe, you were panting even harder - how was it possible to feel that power even in his kisses; you were going to be completely at his mercy all night and right now it was a delightful prospect. The wealth of experience he had meant he could surely show you a thing or two. The next graze of his lips to yours was fleeting, and he drew from you a whine. By his smile exactly what Krennic wanted. His hands wandered as he pressed a kiss into your shoulder, down the run of the pulse in your neck and over your clavicles to your breasts. Keeping those steely blue eyes on yours you were hardly able to look away as his fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples. Even your attempts to stifle your groans didn’t work and you closed your eyes to his touch as he circled his fingertips around one. “You are so fucking beautiful…” He nudged your head gently with his own to expose your neck to him once more, “And you sound fucking beautiful too…” “K-Krennic…” You mumbled his name again, once again fixating on his fingertips as he moved them across to your other breast, repeating the same teasing circular motion before he kneaded you. You thought you’d read somewhere that you could orgasm just from this - and right now you’d believe it; feeling that sticky sweetness on your inner thighs. At this rate you weren’t going to last until Krennic touched you there. “Maybe we’ll have to make this your regulation uniform.” His voice was husky, “I’m sure I could have that rule changed just for you.” You shuddered again as he pinched your nipple between his fingers playfully, “Would you like that?” “O-Only f-or you.” You might as well go for it; he might as well know exactly how you felt. “Ahhhh!” Krennic vocalised like he’d just figured it all out, “Should I just keep you here? Or in my office? I hold a great many meetings there, though… I’m not sure I would like them all staring at you in your uniform.” He growled into the next kiss he placed to your skin, “I get jealous too, you know?” Well you did now.

Krennic straightened himself to full height, still supporting your weight his hands travelled down your body agonizingly slow; almost as if he was committing every inch of you to his memory. You already knew he liked details - and he was an architect; so it was Krennic’s business to know detail. Just how much could he remember about a lover? How much of you were you prepared for him to discover about you. His fingertips traces over your ribs, down and across your bellybutton and just below your stomach when he paused and his eyes left you. For a moment you’d quite forgotten that you were in the middle of an ion storm, and you wondered what exactly had dragged his attention away from you. The illumination of his face in the first strike of lightning made you gasp. And all you could think of was those eyes in the rainstorm on Eadu. The first time you’d ever seen him, an image that still haunted you. That was no doubt responsible for you now being naked in his arms like this. You turned to the window to watch the lightning for a moment too, flashing across the purples, blues and pinks of the cloud. “Isn’t it beautiful.” You breathed gently, and you heard him chuckle, “I don’t think you’ve looked in a mirror.” This time he pressed his kiss to your temple, and it was almost sweet. But now Krennic had you distracted by the storm - so his fingers traced lower and before you knew it he was pressing down gently on your clit. Your body gave a lurch into his and he growled again. Moving his fingers into your folds, you moaned head tipped back onto his shoulder, “Krennic…” “I knew you wanted me, Y/N, but like this?” His fingers moved through your wetness, teasing your entrance for a moment, and making you shudder, moaning his name again. “I can see that desire in your eyes wasn’t lying…” Krennic was smirking again as he watched you react to his fingertips, dragging them back towards your clit, “How many times have you been this wet around me, hmm? How many times have you thought of me doing this? Do you touch yourself and think about me? Is that what you do?” “Y-Yes-” Your thoughts were hardly coherent at this point, and as soon as his fingers touched your clit again, in teasing circles, you cried out; “Oh, Krennic, please!” “What else do you do to yourself when you think about me, hm?” He put a little more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it, “What do you think about? Me touching you like this? Or me fucking you? What set you off, hmmm? All that water-cooler chat? Believe me I know what they say... How would you like me to do it, Y/N? Do you want me to try to be gentle, or do you want it rough?” As if you really cared; your body shuddered again and you attempted to help the friction by closing your thighs once more, ache becoming a throb. “Uh uh.” His foot jammed between yours and forced your legs to widen for him, “I don’t like cheaters, Y/N.” You moaned once more as those little circles got faster and rougher, “Please, please! Krennic I’m begging you…” You whined, and your voice shook as you could feel that pleasure building, he couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him, “Do whatever you want to me… just fuck me.” He nipped the top of your ear this time, “The pleasure will be all mine.” This time as the lightning flashed it illuminated your body, and Krennic was right, your dips and curves were flawless, you looked ready for him, you felt ready for him… like you were made for this very moment. Krennic moved his fingertips faster - and this time he pushed his body into yours. Your gasp at his grind into you was for one obvious reason; you could feel how hard he was getting. Oh, fuck... Your body shuddered once more and you mewled, positive that you were even wetter now. He knew it too, by that chuckle. “Oh? You want me don’t you? I know you know how wet you are… You want me so fucking bad…” That husky whisper was driving you crazy and you knew Krennic wasn’t going to let up on it, “You feel so hot, so fuckable… Oh, Y/N, I can’t wait to be inside you, but you’ll have to wait for that.” This time your groan was a little strangled, “That’s it, be a good girl… cum for me.”

If it wasn’t what he was doing to you it was his voice alone that sent that shot of pleasure right through you, burning head to toe with no mercy. You cried out again, but this time it was his first name you used - and you hoped he didn’t care. Panting as you felt the sweat begin to gather on your skin. Your legs shook a little but he held you strong. “Good girl.” He removed his fingertips from your clit, once again pressing a kiss to your neck, “But, you know as well as I that this is hardly over…” You rested your body against his chest for a minute, and he carded his fingers through your hair; it was almost soothing as Krennic twisted it between his fingers, “How about we use the bed now, hmm?”

“…Y…Yes…” You could only hazily agree, would he actually fuck you now? You were throbbing again - sure he’d said he wanted to be inside you, but did he know how much you needed him inside you? “Go on,” Krennic pushed you forward with his hand to the small of your back, you stumbled a little but didn’t fall and he observed your walk, the curves of your ass - the lingering of your arousal on your thighs. “Hands down.” He followed you across the floor - he was aware of how uncomfortable he felt, with heat in just the right places, and the way his pulse was running just to look at you. But he had to take this slow. The goal wasn’t just to bed you, it was to erase every other man from your memory too, so that he was your one and only waking thought.

You had to admit your confusion, but placed your hands out on the sheets in front of you to support your body, Krennic made you keep your feet on the floor and for a second you wondered if this was how he was going to do it. It seemed like a waste of a good bed, but your brain was hardly running your feelings here and that throb between your legs was so desperate for something that you didn’t care how you got it. Instead of hearing him shed clothing, or even just undo his zipper, Krennic’s fingers ran your spine. He really was about to commit every inch of you to memory, you weren’t kidding, before he traced them over your ass. You were half expecting him to slap you, but that didn’t happen either. In fact his fingers went right back to your wetness, and you shivered again; Krennic’s movements this time were less teasing as he pushed his fingers into you; you cried out - he didn’t even bother with one at a time. But at least there was something dulling that ache for a second; although you knew what your body really craved. The storm illuminated everything in the room, and far more regularly than before, as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The hums he was making were satisfied, and part of you wished you could see what they looked like crossing his face. In fact the thought that you might not get to see his face almost disappointed you. But you realised something else, the colours the storm were throwing everywhere, the very sound of it - with how much you enjoyed them anyway - and Krennic here with you, was only serving to turn you on even more. And he noticed. “Oh?” This sounded almost curious, “So lightning makes you even more wet, or is that just me?” You swallowed hard, against the feeling of his fingers stretching you, you were desperate for him to get naked now. “To… be honest, no-one has ever fucked me in a lightning storm.” “Huh. Maybe they should have tried, I figure they’re missing out.” You whined again, “Krennic please… please… I can’t take much more of this… fuck, I… I need you.”

You weren’t sure if Krennic did it because he was listening to your plea, or if he was simply just ready to do it himself, but the next thing you knew he’d removed his fingers from you and flipped your body so you were now on your back, on the bed. And as your eyes locked with his you realised exactly what you would have been missing out on. Although serious, those eyes were so incredibly dark and lust rimmed, and hungry for your body, that you thought you might come undone again right then and there. He placed his thumb delicately against your lips for a second, tracing them, before smirking again, “Open your mouth.” You blinked, but finding no reason not to do what he asked, your lips parted, tongue grazing his fingertip. Krennic immediately smirked, “That’s a good girl.” Before he slid the two fingers that had just been inside you, into your mouth. You moaned gently at the sensation. “I bet you taste so good, don’t you?” You could feel yourself blushing again, unsure exactly how to respond to that besides another muffled moan. He withdrew them, eyes narrowed even though he was smiling.

“And you do exactly what I say…” Krennic drew himself back to height, dragging his eyes down your body and as he did so he reached up to his shoulders, undoing the fastenings for his cape. Oh, you were going to get to watch Krennic undress? You moved to help him, but his eyes raised back to your face - and this time the bright white flash made those eyes of crystal blue let you know that he wanted you to stay absolutely still. “You look ready for me darling. Are you?” You nodded, hoping that the look on your face was as pleading as you thought it was. “Born ready for me…” Krennic’s voice this time sent chills through you with how commanding it was, “Mine.” You watched the cape fall to the floor and wished again for that silky texture to brush against your skin, perhaps you would ask him again later. He undid his tunic and shrugged himself out of it; Krennic wasn’t exactly bothering to put on a show for you - but it still felt like one, running his hands through his hair with a breath out before he undid his shirt. Slower now, button by button as he looked into your eyes, that little teasing smile on his face only made your lips part. This man was so gorgeous. And you were here, in his quarters, in his bed. You out of the many hundreds of women on this Battle Station - and all of them beautiful - Director Orson Krennic wanted you. He threw his shirt behind him too, before settling his hands on his waistband. You studied him for just long enough, he was built more toned than chiselled, and his arms and chest were particularly defined; there was a scar on his left-hand side, just above his heart, and you wondered what the story was with that. Maybe in a quieter moment you would ask, but that was not a story for right now. You traced back to where his fingers were waiting for you to take him all in and this time you bit your lip, you’d already felt him against you but you still weren’t sure you were adequately prepared… Undoing his zip with as much tease as his buttons Krennic let his pants and boxers fall at the same time. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard ‘Oh, holy shit...’ Your heartbeat picked up pace and you felt yourself clench greedily just at the sight of him. You bit your lip a little harder and raised your eyes back up Krennic’s body to his face, “I want to let you know - although it sounds like you do know - that every single one of those rumours is SO fucking true.” He smirked, “I might have started one or two of them myself.” You almost laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He gave a shrug, “Well darling, don’t we all want to project the best version of ourselves?” Krennic joined you on the bed, settling himself between your thighs again, pulling your legs around him, “Now I’m going to prove the rest of them true, whilst also letting you in on some things you don’t know.”

You had every right to moan as loud as you did as he pushed into you, feeling completely filled right away. Definitely true - part of you felt you might be smirking very broadly into your coffee in the mornings from now on. Instead of covering your body Krennic stayed in that kneeling position with your legs crossed behind him, hands gripping your thighs and nails digging into your skin. You almost wanted his nails to leave marks, for there to be bruises that lingered for more than just a few days where he gripped you - just to prove it had really happened. If this is a dream please don’t ever let me wake up. He growled as you adjusted to each other, voice husky once more, “You’re so tight.” Your sigh came out a little choked with your breathing as - at first - he moved slow, hands gilding softly over your skin as he lay his palms flat. But he still had enough pressure on you; Krennic was still in control. Right now, being in control was the last thing you were thinking of.

Those slow movements of his were a facade, but they had you already moaning - body tingling as you got used to the feelings of Krennic being inside you. You wondered if you should be trying to be quiet? How many other senior officers had rooms around Krennic’s that could potentially hear this - did Krennic even care? What if they knew it was you though? You weren’t necessarily sure you wanted the reputation that might come with being Krennic’s bed mate, even if it really was only going to be tonight. As if he knew what you were thinking Krennic pushed into you a little harder, causing you to cry out a little louder than before - no point in holding back. “Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me hear those delicious little moans of yours. You can be as loud as you want here, I won’t tell anyone…” He smirked, “You might as well let yourself - because this is going to be the best orgasm of your life, or it’s going to be nothing. I don’t do half measures.” That seemed like an odd form of encouragement, but hot enough to get you mewling again. And he didn’t slow his pace. Instead Krennic dug his nails back into your skin, thrusting into you harder and rougher. You arched your back up, pushing your hips into his to take him deeper and deeper. Usually you weren’t so loud during sex, but with your eyes closed to the ecstasy of it all, each thrust received a moan that steadily grew louder and louder until you were pleading him: “Oh, Krennic… Oh please, more… Harder, Sir, please… please don’t stop…” This was clearly only urging him on as he found another notch in his pace. You might be one for thinking this was the best sex you’d ever had as you opened your eyes to focus on him once more; Krennic’s skin was starting to get that dewy look as sweat started to build, leaving his hair to look a darker shade of grey. And that lightning… oh, that lightning. Watching that storm behind him made the pleasure even more intense. The backdrop was stunning to an already flawless view - what more could you possibly ask for?

His sex was deliciously rough, and it was all you could do to watch his body, the way his muscles moved with each thrust, the tension running from his shoulders, down his arms, through his fingers and the little indents from his nails you could see in your skin. You almost wanted those fingers back inside you again too. Krennic growled as that thought led to you clenching around him: “What are you thinking about?” You looked to his face, obviously you were already flushed, but if it were possible to turn a deeper shade of red you were now. “...Please…” You voice wavered and you realised where this was all heading, “Please Krennic harder… Please I want to- I want to- let me cum for you.” That smirk was just plain dirty, and as he placed one hand under you to raise your hips a little more his next thrust found your sweet spot. You cried out even louder - hit with a shot of pleasure more intense than any you thought you’d ever felt. “Fuck-! Director-! Please!” He chuckled, “I have a first name, Y/N, you can use it.” Did he want you to use it? Did he ask everyone he took to bed to use it? You gasped again as white-hot heat shot through you head to toe and your legs locked around him, pulling him even deeper as you tipped your head back. And he knew as well as you did: “That’s a good girl, that’s my good girl.” Krennic continued to thrust into you until you had to squeeze your eyes shut, head tipped back you very nearly screamed his first name as your body shook and you came undone.

 Your short, sharp pants didn’t really have any time to become afterglow, or some slow paced ‘love making’ for him to ride into his own high. Oh no, Krennic wasn’t finished with you yet - and although he lingered at a slower pace for a little - you could feel yourself building up again, heightened by the climax you had just felt. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and you got the feeling that Krennic was not about to be termed a selfish lover. But a possessive one; your body was his, and he wasn’t finished with you yet. You cried out as he took that pace up again, you could feel him getting harder inside you, every little twitch as he continued those rough thrusts. “You ready for more?” You nodded weakly, moaning again, this would be the third time in one evening. Even if these two were in quick succession. “Yes what?” The commanding tone in his voice and the way he squeezed your thighs a little harder made you shake again, “Yes, Orson. Please… please, baby… I- I’m ready.” As you said his name this time Krennic pushed his body forward so that his hands rested above your shoulders, catching your lips in a harsh kiss. Your hands immediately shot to his arms, over those toned shoulders, and your fingers tangled in his hair. This time his kisses swallowed your moans, and the higher in pitch they got the more he knew you were ready to let go again. With him all over you like this, the scent of that cologne filled your senses. Krennic thrusted into you one last time and let you cry out into his shoulder. He could probably go a little longer - but he’d build you up to that in due time, he couldn’t ruin you on your first time with him. As you clenched around him, just as greedily as before, Krennic growled - hot breath in your ear as your own ecstasy became his. And now you were his too.

He let you continue to embrace him as you both panted, moving his own hands to gently caress your sides, your stomach and your thighs. Although the only sound was your breathing, and you could barely think of anything else, hands carding through his hair and watching those beautiful blue eyes focus on nothing in particular. Until the lighting strike flashed closer to you than before, causing him to look out the window. You followed his line of sight. “It really is gorgeous…” You weren’t sure if that muse was supposed to come out of Krennic’s mouth, but it made you smile. “Mhm… And I need to have sex in storms more often.” He chuckled, turning back to you and kissing your neck, softly, “Well, you know who to call.” Krennic pulled out of you gently, smirking again to see yours and his arousal lingering on your inner thighs. His. Before he lay next to you, eyes still on the storm.

You wondered what the best thing to do now was, as your high unwound. Ironically you didn’t think your body had been this relaxed in a while either. Should you leave? Should you make the decision to leave him before he kicked you out himself? You wondered if that was the polite thing to do. You didn’t know if Krennic was the type to really sleep with someone. When he would be at his most vulnerable. You weren’t sure he would want to show that side of himself to anyone. You decided you would show willing, and would let him know that you would leave if that’s what Krennic wanted - you weren’t about to outstay your welcome. Instead, Krennic did the unexpected and, finally settling down in the sheets, he pulled you into his arms, showering you with delicate kisses and touches. Aftercare... You snuggled into his body, sighing in sleepy content and closed your eyes as he pulled the sheets further around you. Did you dare believe this was happening - No, and yet it was. You were really here, in the Director’s arms. And he wanted you to stay. Krennic pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could already feel yourself drifting off in his arms: “We’ll review your report in the morning.” *** When you awoke, the lights in his room were up to their brightest day setting. Krennic’s free hand was wandering over your thighs absentmindedly as he lay on his back, your datapad in his other. You tried to concentrate on that small smile on his face, those blue eyes of his, just how good he looked comfortable and relaxed, and out of uniform. You hadn’t noticed the collection of freckles across his chest in the dark of the storm last night either. Suddenly you wanted this moment to last forever, no matter now impossible. This coupled with the travel of his hands, even at this time in the morning, was making you sigh blissfully.

Krennic’s eyes flicked from what he was reviewing to your face as he turned his head slowly. “This report is good. Perfect, even. The ion storm messed with some systems last night, that can’t be helped. But we should all be back online to work later. I agree with your data, consider it reviewed.” Your head tipped curiously. “Systems are down? So…” You bit your lip wickedly, “We don’t have to leave?” Krennic placed your datapad on his bedside table and rolled over, hand moving to between your thighs, he could read that mischievous little smirk of yours perfectly. “Not until much later if I have anything to say about it.” You blinked once slowly, opting to voice your single concern now, before anything got out of hand, it was a whisper that seemed so out of place. But maybe that made it the perfect time. “I don’t want to be just a one-time thing.” Krennic’s eyebrows knitted for a second, before he smiled gently, other hand moving to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb before he tangled his fingers in your hair, bringing you back to his lips. “Trust me, that was never a consideration.”

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Thank you SO much for reading, oh my gosh I’m slightly emotional over this one. I NEVER thought it’d be this long. And it’s 200. Like... there’s 200 of these things!? 

I didn’t think I would get past one. And it’s ALL because of you guys! 

Thank you for all your love and support - I know I keep saying it but I truly mean it. It means the world to me. 💙💜