#barb azure answers

[barbazurebairdtrue]

Momma I'ma gonna get you money!

-(soon to be rich) Maude ivory 🩵

Maude Ivory don’t ya run off now! How exactly d’ya plan on achievin’ that anyway, aye?

#barb azure answers #barb azure baird #barb azure rp

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

can i send a tbosas request? maybe sejanus plinth x female reader during his time as a peacekeeper, they've been talking and he confides in her about the things that trouble him & she comforts him, you can put a romantic spin on it if you want. thank you! 💖

I adore Sejanus and I finally get to write for him! Again, sorry if he's OOC, I haven't read the book in a while.

Peacekeeper! Sejanus Plinth x Fem! Reader (romantic, comfort fic)

I don't fully know Tam Amber’s gender nor do I remember it, so they go by they/them throughout the fic. Nearly all descriptions of the characters are based on the actors and what the characters are gonna look like in the film.

The stage lights flashed on and you were quick to turn away. You held onto Tam Amber’s arm as they laughed at the sudden occurrence. A small part of you felt pity for Lucy Gray, hell, all of the Covey members because of those damn lights. They nearly blinded you.

“I forget you're never on stage,” Tam Amber laughed and patted your back. “You’ll get used to it.”

You chuckle out of embarrassment, not wanting to take it too seriously. Lucy Gray might have been blinded by stage lights at some point in her life. As you blinked, hoping for your sight to go back to normal you looked around the hob. Small dark spots flew around, the after-effects of the lights.

“I can't believe you can deal with that.” You look back at Barb Azure as she gets onto the stage, smiling, almost holding in a laugh. She must have seen you get blinded by the lights.

You sit on the edge of the stage, rubbing your eyes, hoping the dark spots leave your vision. You curse to yourself but giggle from your idiocy. When you look up to see if the spots are gone, you’re met with Coriolanus’ face.

You jump a bit from surprise and place a hand on your chest, calming yourself. “I'm sorry, didn't see you there,” you smile.

“It's alright, shouldn't have snuck up on you,” Coriolanus answered. He turns to Sejanus, grabs something from him, and looks at you again. Your eyes widen with joy at the sight of the presents.

“Sejanus’ mother made these, we thought the Covey would like them more than the other peacekeepers,” Coriolanus remarked. In his hand was a clear plastic back tightly closed around mounds of golden caramel popcorn.

Your eyes were wide at the sight of the caramel popcorn balls in Coriolanus’ hands. You reached out to take the bag from him but Maude Ivory was quick to swipe them away. She seemed to skip as she took them backstage, declaring the present to the rest of the Covey.

“It's very sweet that you were able to get them. They're gonna be spoiled if you keep getting them these treats,” you grin, taking the other bag from Sejanus who stood next to Coriolanus.

You look at Sejanus as he peeks at the backstage area. His dark eyes were sunken in with dark circles under his eyes. Nearly all the peacekeepers had sunken eyes with bags under their eyes. You don't ask about it with Coriolanus, or anyone really, around. It might embarrass him. Turning your attention to Coriolanus, he gives a small smile as he looks in the same direction as Sejanus.

“If you're looking for Lucy Gray, she's backstage. She's just fixing up her guitar strings,” you remark. Coriolanus nods and gives you a quick smile before going to find a seat. You're left with Sejanus.

You look at him as he looks back at Coriolanus and then at the floor. He looks at anything else except you. It was odd, he's never acted like that but you wave it off.

“It's nice seeing you, I didn't know if you were gonna come see the show this week.” You turn your attention to Sejanus, who perked up at your words.

“Yeah, yeah, no I would have come either way. I've got nothing better to do,” he almost rushes the words out. Sejanus looks back at where Coriolanus had gone then at you again.

“It's good to see you either way. Don't bring too many of those treats though, Maude Ivory’s gonna be bouncing off the walls,” you grin and stand from the edge of the stage.

“I'll send a note home to Ma about it,” Sejanus smiles and goes to sit with Coriolanus. You watch him leave, your eyes trailing to his hands, which he clenched and unclenched multiple times. Again, you brushed it off.

Making your way backstage you find the Covey getting their instruments ready. Maude Ivory sat on a black sofa with Tam Amber, eating the popcorn happily. Barb Azure was fixing her shiny black hair with her fingers. You finally found the person you were looking for sitting on a nearby stool.

“Lucy Gray, your boyfriend’s looking for you,” you exclaim. She looks up from her guitar and nods. Lucy Gray sat on a wooden stool, wearing a black floral dress with the instrument in her lap.

“I'm guessing it's Coriolanus.” Lucy Gray laughs and gets the guitar strap over her shoulder.

“Who else?” You smile and grab the partially eaten bag of popcorn balls from Maude Ivory. She whined and reached for the bag, her fingers sticky from the caramel. “You ate too much sugar, it's gonna keep you up all night.”

Maude Ivory nodded but wasn't happy about the treats being taken away. “I was gonna ask where she got those.” Lucy Gray said as she got up from the stool.

“Sejanus and Coriolanus brought ‘em.” You answered before turning your attention to Maude Ivory. “You practiced that song of yours, right? That valley song?”

Maude Ivory nodded excitedly, she looked as if she had forgotten about the caramel popcorn within seconds. “No need to practice! Lucy Gray sang the song and I got it down quick!” She exclaimed happily, kicking her feet.

Lucy Gray nodded and stood from the stool, going to fix Maude Ivory’s hair. “But I still had you practice,” she smiled, running her tan fingers through the young girl’s blonde hair.

Maude Ivory pulled away once she saw the time on her watch. She calls to the other Covey members and they start gathering their instruments and rush onto the stage.

As the Covey gets on stage, you rush to find a spot amongst the people. Looking around, you finally spot Coriolanus and Sejanus. Wasn't too difficult to differentiate them, not many others had buzzcuts by choice. You smile as you step next to Coriolanus.

You wave to Maude Ivory as she speaks to the crowd of colorfully dressed men and women. “Good evening everyone, we're very glad everyone could make it to the show! I’ll be starting this show-off and then after my songs, we’ll hand around a basket for donations. Then Lucy Gray will sing for you to finish the show!”

Many people in the audience turned their heads to the stage and watched as Maude Ivory started her song. Soon, people's awkward shuffling grew to cheerful dancing. Several danced with each other quickly, others slowly. The skirts of women's dresses flew around as they danced, their men following after them.

You stood next to Coriolanus and Sejanus, watching happily as she sang. You slowly swayed to Maude Ivory’s song, her singing loud and high-pitched. Her voice carried throughout the hob, a pleasant jingle for everyone inside, and possibly outside if they listened closely.

Maude Ivory started with her cheerful Valley song then led to a darker song about a miner’s daughter drowning. It was a bit of an odd change of tone but you couldn't deny it wasn't something you minded.

A bit into the second song, Sejanus whispered something to Coriolanus who nodded and turned his attention back to Maude Ivory. You couldn't help but glimpse over Coriolanus’ shoulder and watch Sejanus leave.

“Where’s he going? Is he going home already?” You whisper to Coriolanus. He shook his head in response. The answer made you more confused.

“No, he said he needed some air. He said it was stuffy in here,” he replied and turned back to the younger singer on stage.

You tried to do the same, smiling as you watched Maude Ivory pass around a basket for donations and then Lucy Gray taking the stage. She sang her ballad in a joyous tone, twirling around when she didn't need to sing a line. But no matter how much you paid attention to Lucy Gray and the twirling men and women around you, you couldn't stop thinking about Sejanus. He hadn't returned yet.

You tapped Coriolanus on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Sejanus,” you mutter. He nods and looks back at Lucy Gray, who is strumming her guitar with enjoyment.

You trudge your way through the crowd and to the door. You push yourself outside, a gust of cold wind washing over you. Sejanus was right on one thing, it was stuffy as fuck in there. You take a step down the front porch area of the Hob, looking around for Sejanus.

Your eyes widened happily at the sight of him sitting on the edge of the porch but hesitated to speak once you saw his tense posture.

“Sejanus, I came out to see you. You were out here for a while,” you call and take a step closer. Sejanus almost jumps at the sound of your voice but calms when he looks back at you. His deep-colored eyes were saddened but he tried hiding it to the best of his abilities, which wasn't that much.

“Yeah, that's fine. Um, it was kinda stuffy in there…,” he mumbled and looked back at the ground. You glance back into the Hob, looking at Lucy Gray then back at the man sitting in front of you.

“Can I sit with you?” You ask slowly, wondering if he wants your company to begin with. You take in a sigh of relief when he nods. You go to the edge of the porch and sit down next to him, a bit farther apart than you expected but you don't want him uncomfortable.

“So… how's your night going?” You ask awkwardly, looking down at your hands in your lap. Sejanus shrugs.

“Good…,” he mumbles again, not willing to look at you. “How was yours?”

“Good,” you nod. After those already awkward words, you're left in an even more awkward silence. Kicking your feet against the pale brown dirt below you, you take in a breath. “I kinda noticed you were a bit stiff today. Training worse than on other days?”

Sejanus shakes his head. “No, just like every day,” he replies. His head rests in his hands as he speaks, his face contorted with uncomfortable emotions and thought.

You grow tired of the silence and finally ask the question you've been meaning to. “Sejanus, is something wrong? You've been acting all funny tonight and I wanna know if something's bothering you.”

Sejanus seems to stiffen more if that was even possible. You watch him closely yet he chooses not to look at you.

“(Y/n), do you like me?” Sejanus watched the dancing shadows along the dirt ground, not wishing to look at you. “Is there anything that stands out about me? Like… positive things?”

You stared at him as you thought. Of course, you liked him. He was an absolute sweetheart, who wouldn't love him? Sejanus went out of his way to help others whenever he could. He didn't need to give the Covey that popcorn but he chose to. And he helped Maude Ivory work in the garden on weekends.

You nod. “I do like you. You're very kind and you like to help people,” you said matter-of-factly. “Is there any reason you ask that specifically?”

Sejanus doesn't answer or look at you. The muffled laughter and singing filled the silence, your shadows elongated by the light seeping through the hob’s windows. Sejanus rolled his shoe over a rock, trying to ignore the silence that was between you both.

“Sejanus, if something is bothering you then you can tell me,” you smiled as your hand rested on his shoulder. He shook his head, not meeting your gaze.

“No, no it's just…,” Sejanus paused as he thought of the correct words to use. His pointer finger scratched at his nails anxiously. “(Y/n), do you think I'm a good person?”

The question caught you off guard. Sejanus, of all people, was asking if he was a good person. When you thought of the word ‘good’, Sejanus was one of the first people that came to mind.

You give him a confused look and nod. “Of course, I think you're a good person. What makes you think otherwise?” Your words were soft compared to the calamity taking place in the hob. Lucy Gray’s singing rang through the air but you paid no attention to it. All of your attention was on Sejanus.

He wiped his face with his hands and sighed. “I just… I think I'm too good at this Peacekeeper stuff,” Sejanus remarked, the way he spoke brought a negative air to the words.

“Isn't that a good thing? You don't want to be left behind in whatever training you have to do,” you said as you laid your chin on his shoulder, gazing at him as he spoke. Sejanus stiffened but didn't try to push you away. He shifted closer to you, almost wrapping around you to pull you closer but didn't at the last minute.

“Yes but… I don't want to be a peacekeeper. I'm not violent and I don't want to be. If anything, I don't like how good I am at the job. If I had been given a different job entirely, one without the violent parts, I would be fine with it!” Sejanus replied as he held his face in his hands. “I just don't feel like a good person.”

Being a Peacekeeper was always known to be backbreaking, not only in training but in the lives the Peacekeepers would be forced to live. It was purgatory for them. It must have been so difficult for Sejanus to have to deal with this. He wasn't a violent person, anyone who was anyone knew that.

“I'm too good with a gun,” Sejanus huffed as he stared at the ground. “I know this sounds stupid but when I was younger, my father made me practice shooting a gun a lot. Now I'm too good at it and I feel awful.”

“But you're not an awful person, I know that for a fact,” you said softly as you took in his expression. Sejanus’ brows were knitted tightly together and from a specific angle, made him look angry. Maybe he was, maybe he was angry at the idea of being such a bad person.

“You’re a very good person, Sejanus. You are the sweetest man I've ever met. You are nice to others even if you don't know them and you help them. You barely knew me a couple of months ago and you helped me a lot. You've treated the Covey with so much kindness too. Don't let your job get to you,” you explain, hoping your words would help him just a bit.

Sejanus stared at you, wondering if you were being truthful. Part of him wanted to not believe you, wanting some form of punishment for what he's forced to do; another part wanted to believe you, wanting to take in your words and know they were candid.

You gazed at him silently, expecting him to say something but he just embraced you. His arms wrapped around your torso in a tight grasp, his face hidden in your shoulder.

Your body was stiff in his arms, not knowing what to do at the unexpected touch. Sejanus pulled you as close as he could, wanting to find comfort in your grasp. Finally giving in, you immerse in his warmth and drape your arms on his shoulders.

“I know I won't understand what you go through, Sejanus. I just want you to know, that I'm here for you, and I care about you,” you mutter, his arms loosen as he leans into you.

Sejanus stayed so close, it was as if your touch was comfort, hell, salvation for him. His head against your shoulder, his arms around your waist, fidgeting with the fabric of your clothes, he found a form of reassurance in your arms.

You had held children in your arms -particularly Maude Ivory- when they cried but you never felt this much desperation for your touch in a long while. Sejanus soaked in your warmth and presence, his muscles loosened evidently, he was almost putty in your grasp.

Slowly lifting your head from Sejanus’ shoulder, you peek at his face. He was staring at you. It almost caught you off guard and made you uncomfortable until you saw how he gazed up at you.

Sejanus gazed up at you with something you could only make out as devotion. It must have been the validity of your words that made him stare at you like that.

He looked away when you stared back, blush quickly covering his face as he sat up again. Clearing his throat, his eyes fell to the ground. “Sorry,” Sejanus muttered.

You don't answer. Looking down at your hands, you contemplate what he could have meant when asking you specifically about him. Was he trying to see if you liked him like how he possibly likes you?

“Have you always looked at me like that?” You scan his face closely, hoping for a hint of an answer within his expression.

Sejanus hesitated but nodded nonetheless. “Not always but it's been going on for a while,” he pursed his lips and finally looked at you. “(Y/n), I really do like you. I think you're very beautiful and talented and funny and…”

He trailed once he looked at you again. His face was red from his confession and embarrassment from being caught staring.

“And I'm madly in love with you.” Sejanus finished hastily and diverted his eyes. He wiped his face with his hands while waiting for you to say something.

You never took Sejanus’ kindness as a form of love, maybe that was just him? He loved you and was just kind. You never got that he felt any romantic feelings for you.

His eyes watch your face closely, wanting to see if you felt how he did. “Can I kiss you?” Sejanus muttered as his cheeks gained a red tint. Your eyes widen and you nod. Maybe it was the heat of the moment but something made you want to kiss him too.

Sejanus took your face into his hands, brushing his thumb on your cheek. Your hands sat in your lap, slightly balling up your clothes, fidgeting because the moment to come. He took in a breath, trying to gain courage before leaning in and kissing you.

Your body seemed to melt with his touch, his hands warm as his fingertips glided over your hands. His free hand held your lower back, pulling you closer to him. If you could have pulled him closer, you would have. Sejanus kissed you like he had never kissed anyone before. It almost seemed to be a mimic of the kisses actors would give each other on TV. Those weren't real, nothing was behind those embraces. But the same couldn't be said for the obvious endearment Sejanus felt for you.

Sejanus finally pulled away from you, his face a deep red as he panted. He more likely didn't breathe out through the entire kiss. While Sejanus tried catching his breath, he couldn't stop admiring you. His eyes were fixed on you like you were the brightest and prettiest star in the sky. His hand fell from your body as he sat awkwardly next to you, he was still a blushing mess. “Thank you,” Sejanus mutters through his hand.

You couldn't help but laugh at his manners. “You’re welcome, Sejanus.” Kissing his cheek, you took his hand into yours. His hand squeezed yours. His face slowly fell from his smile.

Sejanus turned to you again and spoke. “I need to tell you something I've been planning with Billy Taupe.”

____

So sorry I haven't been posting, school has been a lot and I've had writer's block for a while 😭

Also, this is absolute ass compared to my Lucy Gray fic. So sorry

And don't mind the casual buzz-cut slander in here. I just don't like them

#ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #tbosas x reader #thg prequel #sejanus #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #x female y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #comfort #sejanus plinth x female reader #sejanus x female reader #sejanus plinth x fem reader #sejanus x fem reader #romantic #romance fanfiction #comfort to romance fic #lucy gray baird #thg x reader #mention of: #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x lucy gray #barb azure #maude ivory #tam amber #the covey

[daddycassie]

got 2 for u, no pressure for which one to write :]

lucy gray/reader where she takes reader home one night to formally meet the covey and reader is all shy and nervous because she wants to make a good impression so lg gives her a peptalk (and lots of kisses too <3)

OR tigris/reader where she's showing off some of her latest designs and rambling on and on about fashion but reader doesn't even care cuz she looks so damn cute while doing so, so reader just interrupts her with a nice kiss that leaves tigris flustered and causes her to lose her train of thought

Meeting the family 🖤🌧️🐦‍⬛

Lucy Gray x Gn! reader

You were freaking out. Sitting in your girlfriend’s room and absolutely losing it. You started the day perfectly calm and fine when Lucy Gray had approached you with the biggest smile on her face. You’d smiled back, at least up until she brought it up.

Lucy Gray walks into the room and giggles softly at the way you’re pacing. “Y/n. Calm down, you’re okay. You’ve met ‘em before.” You grab her shoulders and shake her a bit. “Not like this!” You practically wail. Lucy Gray laughs again. “They’re gonna love you darlin’.”

You sigh heavily and lean your head on Lucy Gray’s shoulder while she strokes your back soothingly. “Everythin’s gonna be perfect, ya hear?” You CANT help but crack a small smile. “You really believe that?” She nods firmly. “Yep! They’re gonna love you, and it’s gonna be jus’ right, because you’re wonderful, and beautiful, and amazing.”

You laugh at her words, blushing, and Lucy Gray smiles brighter. “Thank you Lu, having a vote of confidence helps. Means more coming from you.” She hums in response. “You’re gonna do great, we’re gonna do great.” You answer playfully, knowing what she’d say next. “Cause we’re the best?” Lucy Gray cups your face, and you feel like she’s squishing you. “Cause we’re the best!” She squeals her agreement.

You give her a hug, unsure how to show your adoration in any other way. “I’m still nervous though.” Lucy Gray sighs, but her smile doesn’t falter. “I get it, meetin’ your family made me go belly up. I was terrified, but you were there for me and I’m gonna be there for you all the same.” You run a hand through her hair, she was too endearing. “I love you so much.” Lucy Gray leans into your touch. “I love you lots too.”

Turned out — she was right, as usual. Tam Amber was quiet most of the time, but he didn’t seem specifically disapproving and Maude Ivory was perfectly on board since you were a fun babysitter, Clerk Carmine was quick to agree after that. Barb Azure was maybe the hardest to get through to, but if anything she only seemed protective. By the end of the night she gave you two her approval.

You sat out on the porch with Lucy Gray after dinner, she wanted to stargaze, but it was rainy and the darker clouds obscured the sky. Regardless, she didn’t complain, leaning on your shoulder. “I admit, you were right.” Lucy Gray stops mid-hum and gives you a sweet smile. “I know.” You wrap your arm around her comfortingly and you both watch the rain patter on the muddy, dirt roads of district 12.

———————————————

The cutie patootie 🎀🩷🌷

Tigris x Gn! reader

As per your usual day, you were spending your lunch break at your girlfriend’s little boutique. You listen on as she rambles about a glittery, yellow dress, which she was holding up to you. Tigris grins as she shows you each little seam and explains even the smallest details. She really did have a passion for her clothes.

Though… despite your staring and nodding along, you had zero idea what the actual heck she was saying. Tigris was just far too cute for her own good, and maybe yours too. You zone in enough to hear her talking about how she applied the glitter while also making it look smooth. You push aside your sandwich.

“Baby, whoever wears that dress is gonna be the luckiest person in Panem. Other than me, I get to date the gorgeous girl who made it.” Tigris blushes, and laughs in embarrassment. She wasn’t used to compliments. You weren’t entirely sure she ever would be. “Thank you dear.” You nod as she puts the dress away, she was just too cute.

“I made this other one for someone specific, she said it’ll be the first time she gets to openly wear a dress.” Tigris grins as she pulls out a pretty, dark green dress. “I told her I was so glad she came to me to get it and asked if she had any suggestions and—“ You kept up your nodding, trying to at least pretend you were comprehending anything she was saying.

You had a feeling Tigris knew you didn’t really understand anything about her work, but she seemed to appreciate you trying to listen regardless. That’s when you noticed your lunch break was just about up. You get up and walk over to your girlfriend and give her a soft kiss. She tenses, freezing for a moment before kissing you back.

You pull back and laugh at how red she is and the way her eyes were squeezed closed so tight. “I’ll see you later honey, okay?” Tigris opens her eyes again and nods fast. “Right! Um- I’ll make sure to get you something for dinner.” You smile and caress her cheek. “Alright, but you gotta finish off my sandwich for me.”

Tigris smiles back affectionately. “That won’t be a problem. I love you, see you later?” You give her a final kiss on the cheek. “Mhm, love you too.” It takes a lot of effort to pull away from her and walk out of the boutique, but with the image of the two of you having dinner together that night, you manage to head back to work.

———————————————

Note: I’ve never actually written for Tigris before but I loved this idea and had to bring it to life — but hey, didn’t wanna choose her over my main girl, so TAH DAH!!! You get both~ Thank you sm for requesting and I hope you enjoy them even if they’re a little short :)

and for anyone else my requests are OPEN!!! I do all of tbosbas ladies :)

#lucy gray baird #tbosas #lucy gray #lucy gray my beloved #lucy gray baird x reader #rachel zegler #lucy gray x reader #tigris x reader #tigris snow #tigris snow x reader #the ballad of my gay ass #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Request #hunter schafer

[bishopsbeloved]

she’d be with you 💌

lucy gray baird x fem reader

mornings spent with Lucy Gray and the Covey

supposed to be a drabble but got away from me a bit lol, so much fluff, maude ivory’s a little gem, i ❤️ the covey, hayley williams inspired as per, 1.1k words

Even when you can’t find Lucy Gray, you know she won’t have gone far.

You’ll still always frown when you wake to an empty bed, though. Waking in her arms is your favourite way to start the day.

Rays of gentle light stream in through the window. Lucy Gray has arranged little crystalline trinkets on the windowsill which, when caught just right by the sun, send rainbows dancing across the room. That’s how your bedroom looks this morning as you tug on one of Lucy Gray’s blouses and pad barefoot downstairs, into the Covey’s kitchen.

Barb Azure’s sat at the round wooden table, patiently teaching Maude Ivory how to read. She’s been making progress, in fairness. These things just take time.

“Mornin’,” Barb Azure greets you, and then looks to Maude Ivory. “Y’know how to spell that?”

“M-O-R-N-I-N,” Maude Ivory answers proudly.

You laugh softly. “There’s a G on the end o’that, baby.”

“No there ain’t,” she protests, and looks to Barb Azure, who only nods. “Well why’ve you gotta add it if you ain’t even say it?”

“It’s just… there.” Barb Azure pauses. “I don’t know, s’not my language, just write it down.” Maude Ivory reluctantly obliges, grumbling.

“You seen Lu?” you ask Barb Azure, and her lips curl up into a smile.

“You are so predictable—”

“Don’t tease,” you beg, “‘s too early.”

“Alright, alright,” she laughs. “She went out at the ass crack o’dawn with her guitar, I’m guessin’ she’s down at the Meadow.”

“How’d you spell ass? There a Y in there?” Maude Ivory asks curiously.

“Not telling.” Barb Azure turns back to you. “Muffins’re fresh if you want any.”

You hum your appreciation, taking one for yourself and one for Lucy Gray, mindful of how she can forget herself when she’s making music. She gets so absorbed in her songwriting that eating will often slip her mind.

You pad down the grassy path to the Meadow, barefoot and on your tip-toes. The walk is serene, filled only by the idle chatter of Lucy Gray’s mockingjays; the snowdrops lining the route kiss your ankles as you pass them. A rabbit — no, a hare — runs fleetingly across your path, and you smile. A good omen, you know Lucy Gray would say if she was by your side. (No matter what you’re doing, your thoughts are filled with her. She’s so soft, she’s so lovely, she makes your world go round.)

When you reach the Meadow, Lucy Gray is perched on a rock, guitar in hand. She gently plucks away at it, lost in her own melodies, just as you predicted. She’s usually observant without even really trying to be, she’ll often cotton onto events in the room before you, but today she’s so far succumbed to the writing process that you take her by surprise as you approach. A pleasant surprise, you’d wager, seeing how her face breaks into a smile more precious than any jewel you can think of.

“Hi, baby,” she says, her voice still filled with the raspiness the morning brings, and it sends a pleasant little shiver down your spine. “That my blouse?”

You shrug sheepishly. “Smells of you. Woke up alone, I was missin’ you.”

“You’re so cute,” she grins lazily, patting the empty space beside her. “C’mere.”

You oblige happily, settling down next to her. You produce Barb Azure’s muffins from the folds of your skirt and offer one to her.

“Oh, thank you,” Lucy Gray’s eyes light up, “I was starving.”

“Yeah, I figured,” you grin. “What you playing?”

“Oh,” her cheeks turn ever so slightly red, in the way that they only ever do around you. “Uhm, it’s not finished, darlin’, don’t stress it.”

“No, it sounded sweet,” you protest. “Go on, Lu.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be about you,” she admits. The colour of her cheeks only grows more prominent. “Only I can’t get it right.”

“Sounded right to me,” you say gently, “sounded gorgeous, Lu.”

“Yeah, but you’re meant to say that.” Lucy Gray leans in to lovingly nudge her nose into your cheek. “You’re my girl.”

You laugh loudly at that. “Maybe, but you know I’d tell you if you brought a bad song to me. Only reason I haven’t is cause you’ve never done it yet.”

“Yet.” She glowers at you playfully. “Today’s the day, I fear.”

“Enough,” you grumble. “Just play the song, baby. It’s about me, I have a right to hear it.”

She hesitates before ultimately giving in. She can never say no to you, and she was going to play this song for you eventually, only more… polished. She picks up her guitar, slides its capo back onto the fifth fret and begins to play. The melody is gentle and plucked, sweet in a way that’s reminiscent of but not as harsh as honey; it’s a subtle nectar, soft to the ear, soothing to the soul.

There was a bird who never flew,

But she still kept all of her feathers

So she could pluck ‘em out for you

And you could wear them in your hair, and

She’d be with you

Lucy Gray’s voice is hushed, and she trembles ever so slightly, as if the chords are hymns, as if the words are holy. When she’s finished, she looks up at you bashfully, her big brown eyes the warmest pools of love.

“‘S’all I got so far,” she says, “the other verses won’t go together right. Can’t make sense of it.”

“What are you talkin’ on, Lu,” you manage, eyes brimming with tears. “That was— you’re so—”

“Awh, baby,” she laughs, and pulls you into her arms. “You’re real sweet.”

“You’re the sweetest,” you tell her tearfully, and she kisses your forehead.

“I’m bein’ serious, though, I can never properly explain how I feel for you. Not in speech or song or anythin’. You’re the first thing in this life that’s stumped me.” Lucy Gray cradles you closer to her, littering little kisses across your hairline now.

“I think you made a good start,” you sniffle from where you’re nestled against her neck.

“Yeah, but it’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough, y’know? I don’t think there’s words for it.” She pauses. “You feel it too, right?”

“I do,” you confirm, holding her face ever so gently between your palms, “you’re so precious to me I can’t explain.”

“Exactly.” Her fingers trace gentle shapes on the skin of your shoulder. “I’ll keep tryin’ till the day I die, though.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes longer, utterly cocooned in one another, in love in a way that even bards cannot describe. And when you break apart, Lucy Gray Baird begins to thread flowers and feathers into the braids of your hair, and whispers promises that she’ll be with you forever.

#lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x you #lucy gray x you #lucy gray baird x fem reader #lucy gray x fem reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray #thg #tbosas #shoutout to the covey #god i love worldbuilding #god i love domesticity #god i love lucy gray #more fics inspired by hayley williams the legend #hayley williams #wait on is lu’s song change my mind #Spotify

[danisbrainrot]

Here's a small little request!

Lucy Gray x Reader (Established Relationship)

Lucy Gray is really scared of how you will get along with the rest of the Covey cause their all really protective of each other. Reader meets the Covey on a journey to the lake and gets along with the Covey. The younger Covey members treat the Reader like an older sibling (annoying them as much as possible) and it just warms Lucy's heart.

Just a cute little idea!

lucy gray x reader

I'll always be such a softie for the covey <333 (I'll never forgive you, coriolanus, for stealing lucy gray from them.)

you stare in shock, mouth agape as your girlfriend invites you to go to the lake with the covey. "what?" she asks nervously, before you engulf her in your arms, embracing her tightly.

"of course I want to go," you reply, feeling her relax against your body. "I never thought you'd ask, honestly," you admit.

she sighs, pulling away gently and shrugging, "of course, it's about time you visited my favourite place in the world," she smiles widely. this relationship was still new—it was delicate. you didn't want to scare each other off just yet by being too forward. so when lucy gray asked, your heart warmed as you realised she was finally comfortable enough to consider inviting you to the covey's hiding place.

she kisses you passionately, before hearing her cue to go back on stage. "bye, darlin'," she whispers, before running on stage—leaving you to stare at her in awe.

the next day, you trudged along the dirt path that led to the forest from the seam with a backpack over your shoulders. once you get to the meadow, you spot the small group and wave out to them. you ran up to kiss lucy gray on the cheek, before being introduced to her family. maude ivory pulled you into a tight hug, smiling widely and nudging her cousin's side. lucy gray rolls her eyes, brushing off her younger cousin. barb azure offers you a kind smile while tam amber nods softly. clerk carmine smiles brightly and hugs you as well.

all six of you hike to the lake, chatting along the way. they were practically grilling you, "what do you do?" or "what did you think of last night's performance?" causing you to feel flustered. you answer honestly, occasionally looking for help from lucy gray, but other than that you were already getting along like a house on fire.

when you finally make it to the lake, everyone strips to their swimmers and runs to the pier. "I'll race ya!" maude ivory calls out, sprinting to the water as your eyes widen in shock. without hesitation, you chase after her—clerk carmine, wanting to feel included, not too far behind—and manage to jump off the pier before she could.

lucy gray's laughter echoed throughout the small area, as she watched you play with the younger children in the lake. she enjoyed watching you get along with her family, especially maude ivory. her younger cousin was an excellent test of character—and she'd taken an immediate liking to you.

as the day progresses, you become closer with the other members as well. tam amber and barb azure, while often quite soft spoken, found they could be comfortable around you and would engage in conversation eagerly.

at one point in the afternoon, you lock eyes with lucy gray, who intertwines her fingers with yours and rests her head on your shoulder. "well, they sure seem to like you," she teases.

"yeah. I'm glad you asked me out here today," you reply, kissing the top of her forehead.

"boy am I glad you came."

#thg #thg series #fanfic #fluff #the hunger games #blurb #wlw #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #danisasks #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray my beloved #the covey #maude ivory #barb azure baird #maude ivory baird #barb azure #tam amber #clerk carmine clade #clerk carmine

[mitsuki91]

Little snippet from the next story in "The play of songbirds and snakes" that I will post this evening because I died writing this:

"... Wow. What a memorable day that must have been," Tigris finally commented. A tear had escaped her eyelashes and Katniss Rose touched it, wiping it away. Mum giggled.

"Yeah, quite a lot. We were... Well, we were at peace."

"Why did you laugh, Mum?"

Mum laughed again, then tickled her, making her squeal. Luckily Aunt Tigris had taken the camera in her hand, saving it from the attack.

"Because that was when we made you, my love."

Aunt Barb Azure burst out laughing while uncle CC had taken on a terrified expression.

"But how?! With everyone around?"

Uncle Tam Amber was trying not to choke from laughing, covering his mouth with his hand.

Maude Ivory put her hands on her hips, answering in her mother's place.

“Well, you didn't see anything, did you, CC? Don't be such a goody-goody, that your son was born when you were barely eighteen.”

"I was seventeen when you were born!" intervened mum.

"So was I," replied aunt Sarah, mussing uncle CC's hair.

"But how are babies made?" asked Katniss Rose, curious "Why must no one see?"

Aunt Tigris turned towards the back of the sofa. Judging by the way her shoulders were moving, she was laughing without making a sound.

Mum smiled, impassive and cunning.

"That's a good question for you to ask dad in a few days, what do you say?"

Uncle Tam Amber lost all semblance of modesty and burst out laughing without holding back.

(... Now I want so bad to see Coryo's face when Katniss Rose will ask... 😂😂😂)

#coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #snowbaird #coriolanus x lucy gray #😂😂😂 #fan fiction #ao3fic #ao3 #snippet #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas

[balladofmyramblings]

The Question of Everyone’s mind:

Does Snow Support Gay Rights? Does The Capitol? What is Their Attitude?

I believe that they support it, but that it’s looked down upon so people wouldn’t flaunt a gay partner the same way they would a straight one, but there aren’t any laws or biases against this. In the districts however, I don’t think it’d be as supportive.

To find all the layers to this, we’re gonna have to go through how the capitol views children. Obviously, expendable, but they want more children. Can’t do that with gay people, which is why they look down on it, but it’s not so many gay people that they should outlaw it and because individual capitol people like to be ignorant (abt possible baby shortage if there’s a lot of gays), they like to believe that it won’t affect them (it doesn’t) so they ignore it if it’s their friends or family. Which is why it isn’t at all outlawed but it’s also not flaunted.

However, if it got to too many of the population, the capitol/snow would probably outlaw it due to the need for children to, yk, continue as a species.

You may be asking yourself why children are important to the capitol, and it’s not a why but more of a how do we know they are? Peeta’s speech.

Peeta talks about how they’re all going to eradicate each other, how the DISTRICTS need to cease fire against the CAPITOL to prevent a dangerously high loss of life. This was in his speech, by the capitol.

Feel like it’s worth mentioning that Panem was formed from America, not exactly known for their treatment of gay people, or trans people, but I think the capitol would see trans people very differently (more on that later).

In the districts, Katniss talks about the expectation to have children. How many people do, how it’s the norm despite the terrible conditions those children will have to live in, and how even victors from other districts choose to have children (knowing their chances of getting reaped are high).

I for sure think the capitol pushes child-having ideals on the district children at an early age, both for the hunger games and again the expanse of Panem. Snow is exactly the type of guy to constantly be worried about us killing off each other (never conquesting outside of Panem, his talk about wasting life).

The districts grow up with the idea that you need to have children, and that you need them even. Gale talks about it, even though he’d never be a good father and doesn’t want them. Katniss knows she’ll have to have them with Peeta (as a victor) and I wonder if that’s not as a role model to the capitol and districts, too. “Look, these victors are having kids, you need to too!” or something along those lines, which is exactly the kind of thing he would do.

The only (99% sure only) openly gay character in the hunger games series is Barb Azure, an outsider. Barb wasn’t raised with that same mindset, and the gal down the road she’s seeing may know this. Lucy Gray mentions that district 12 always looks at them with distrust, and Barb not wanting kids by being gay could be a reason.

Anywho, in conclusion the districts don’t like it but won’t kill you and the capitol tolerates it and is fine with it but it isn’t encouraged.

Post inspired by this anon I got on a different account but wanted to answer here.

Now that that’s cleared up, their view on trans people.

Honestly I don’t think they’d treat them any different, and seeing how common cosmetic surgeries are in the capitol it’d be easy to get top or bottom surgery too. Probably hormones as well.

The districts probably wouldn’t care, but I think they’d make you use your agab due to the readings, but after they’d mostly be supportive.

#bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #capitol #coriolanus snow #president snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #lucy gray baird #barb azure #ballad of my ramblings

[guesswhojusttt]

Chapter 2: take it, cause I’d give it for free

when I've learned how to love (Covey!Reader x Sejanus Plinth)

Summary:

What are you to do but let her walk away?

Part 1 | AO3

“If you know what’s good for you-“

You pulled her bun back with a snap of your wrist, so her neck was arched up so she would fear it breaking it if you so much as tugged the bun a just little further back- and your other hand, still clutching the white liquor bottle Lucy Gray had passed you, smashed it on her mouth, the satisfying shatter slamming into her delicate lips and rattled teeth- you were sure at least one tooth would be loose, and if you were really lucky, she’d lost it. While others pushed and shoved against each other in the dark madness of the bar brawl, you dragged her closer to the stage, and she staggered in front of you- her back pressed into your torso. “I’ll have you arrested-“ she choked out through the blood you could smell, if not see, filling her mouth, “you and anyone foolish enough to consider you a friend. I’ll have you hanged-“

“When? After I use this bottle, now so prettily halved-“ you trailed its jagged shards, clutching its stem of the half that was still intact, along her cheek, “to gouge your eyes out? Now, since it’s just a bottle, it won’t be as clean and easy of a job as it would be if I had a knife-“ and you dug the pointed glass into her skin, dragging it dangerously close to her eyelid, “it’s a shame, really. I wanted to punish Billy Taupe first, but I guess you’re my consolation prize. You don’t mind, right?” You could feel her warm blood running down your arm, slick over your palm and fingers- whether from her mouth or from the lines you’d trenched into the soft, delicate skin of her cheek, you didn’t know, but it thrilled you just the same. This is what she gets for the nightmares she’s brought upon Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory. The constant anxiety of Barb Azure and Tam Amber, the ill-concealed guilt of Clerk Carmine who, by being Bully Taupe’s brother, somehow finds a way to blame himself. “Which eye do you like more?“ Giving her a chance to answer, you brought it right to the corner of her eye, relishing in her whimpers, her trembling limbs, her jelly-like legs that surely would have collapsed were you not using her hair to hold her up like a marionette. You clicked your tongue in irritation. “Fine. No matter. Once I’m done with you, they won’t find your body: the mockingjays will enjoy feasting-“

Loud, blaring horns. Flashing lights. The horns again, a sharp whistle blow piercing the air- people rushing to the exit, and you would’ve smashed the bottle over her head for good measure were it not for the blinding lights growing closer- so you shoved her away, satisfying yourself instead with the smash of her knees to the ground- and backed behind the blanket, to backstage- to the shed where Tam Amber sat on a tire, and Barb Azure paced- stopping short when she saw you.

“I warned you!” She fumed, “I told you not to, and what are you, a deaf snake?”

You held up your hands defensively, which didn’t help your case, as it gave the fresh blood an easy stream down your arm to your elbow, staining your sleeve. As Barb Azure (well-meaning, caring Barb Azure, who had every right to scold, to worry) lectured you, you were overtaken by a tang filling your nostrils. The pungent, coppery scent of blood was somehow… cleaner? Than you thought. The blood you were used to smelling every month was mixed up with discharge and clots- but this was a strange feeling. This wasn’t blood that came as a natural part of life. This wasn’t something everyone deals with, something you get used to. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t ever get used to it.

“You’re a better family than I deserve, really,” you said, as Tam Amber silently stalked away, out, “but… now that the adrenaline’s gone, I’ve realized something.”

“Now you realize!” Barb Azure grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks with both her palms. “Look at me. Please, look at me. You can’t go on like this: you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I don’t- I didn’t think it through. We didn’t bring any water to wash off this blood, but don’t worry, I’ll wash this with the rest of the laundry so I won’t end up costing us a drop. Not a drop, I promise.”

“Water… cost? You’re worried- you think the problem is that you’ll be wasting a cupful of water?”

“I won’t waste it, that’s the point! I’ll do the clothes altogether, so this sleeve will-“

“When will you learn that you’re the priority? Not food, not money. You . What if the lights had gone on and you were on display for all to see? What if Mayfair schemes against you like she did Lucy Gray?”

“She and I haven’t talked before, she won’t recognize-“

“She’s heard your voice now. If she ever hears it again- she was so scared the memory is now stamped into her head. Every detail, she’ll think about again and again, and the moment the tiniest detail tips her off-“

“I’m sick of living in fear of her and of the Peacebreakers and of the Capitol. I don’t want to be scared all the time.”

“Better scared than dead.”

“I’m just…” your voice cracked, and still she held your head in her hands, “I’m just so angry, all the time. And I hate everyone who isn’t us and I’m just so frustrated and I have all this- this rage and nowhere to channel. Barb Azure, all I really am is fed up and tired.” You rested your head on her shoulder, and no sooner had she brought up her palm to stroke it than Tam Amber walked in, victoriously wielding a bottle that was maybe a fourth (or fifth?) filled with white liquor.

“Had to wait for the Peacebreakers to clear out, but this was lying on the ground,” he pours a moderate, careful swig of the bottle onto his threadbare rag, the same one he uses to clean his mandolin, and takes your hand- the one that hadn’t been holding Mayfair’s bun, the one that clenched the shattered bottle. He rolls up your sleeve, bunching it to the elbow, and wipes up the now-drying blood off your forearm. He gently dabs the smears of blood off your palm, and you hiss, snapping your hand back as a sharp reflex. “You’re hurt,” Barb Azure chewed her lip, white teeth digging into soft flesh, “is it deep? Let me see.”

She steps forward too, and cradles the back of your hand to keep it steady while Tam Amber gingerly pats the rag over your palm. When it’s too bloody to be doing any good, he pours more of the liquor into it, wrings it out- the blood thinning out as it mixes with the alcohol and drips onto the floor with every squeeze of the rag- and gets back to your hand, working the cloth between each of your fingers.

As the adrenaline drained from your system, a flush of warmth in your chest burst and bloomed like a flower, flooding you. Yes, Barb Azure had scolded you, but not to condemn your actions- out of concern. And now she was holding your hand while Tam Amber washed away the blood, and you didn’t deserve it, or at least, you don’t think you deserve it, this kindness. It was an act of violence, physical assault, and still they were concerned for you. Your well-being. What is it a metaphor for, to have friends who wash away your self-inflicted blood stains? Is it poetic, to be in a dingy shed after a bar fight, the three of you huddled together with the cheap white liquor used as medicine to disinfect the messy slices along your palm and sides of your fingers from clutching the shuttered bottle?

And they had waited for you, not wanting you to go back alone. Not wanting you to be alone.

The three of you trudged home in tow, and the night was mercifully cooler than the day, the dark sky blanketing over you, some pale yellow lights still pulsing in the houses that gradually dimmed out, one by one, kids long since tucked in bed. The street, packed dirt and clumps of pine-green weeds, wound this way and that like a river, leading to houses with dilapidated wooden roofs above coal-grimed windows. The thinnest veil of clouds drifted overhead, and this late in the night, everyone had headed home from the Hob after the fight, so it was eerily empty, but in a comforting-silence sort of way. A paradox, a liminal space.

With your uninjured hand, you picked at a particularly juicy blemish on your cheek, knowing full well you'd be creating a crater in your face already nothing but criss-crossed scars.

“We’re all thinking it so I’ll say it: the cut on my hand will be bandaged. The mayor's daughter may be an idiot, but I honestly think that even if I said it was an injury from chopping up food or an accident, she’ll somehow put two and two together. I’ll try to lay low, if that’s okay, so I can’t help with shopping and errands. But don’t worry, I’ll still be working, just not at the Hob-“

“It’s not about that. When will you learn it’s not about you contributing, it’s not about how you’re of service? We’re just worried about you.”

Though everyone both said it and acted like it, for some reason you never could believe it. If you couldn’t bring something to them, if you weren’t useful, why keep you around? Who cares about family and friends if you don’t provide value, provide something ? If you don’t give something of physical and emotional worth, you’re a parasite.

Maude Ivory has a nightmare, Barb Azure soothes her.

Lucy Gray wakes up panting and sweating, you wipe her hair from her head and murmur words to lull her back to sleep.

The constant interruptions at night- though you neither blame nor resent them for it- mean you end up sleeping in later and later. Considering the responsibility you have to babysit and tutor, you can’t afford to sleep like this, but maybe now that the Covey are back to performing as usual you could cut back on these hours anyway.

But then Tam Amber is in the kitchen, picking moldy green patches out of a slice of bread, and suddenly cutting back on even one hour of work is no more than a pipe dream.

And when Maude Ivory hauls the stash of nuts from last year to shell outside, you decide no amount of sleep deprivation excused any less work, and decide to ask a couple of your busier clients if they needed an extra hour or two of you watching the kids while they unwind from a full day of work.

You’re explaining this to Barb Azure- a moment for Barb Azure.

Her hair is thick and dark- her long eyelashes, her bushy eyebrows, her neat dreadlocks- the kind of thickness one could kill for, all volume and definition. Her face is oval, her nose long, her skin and eyes the warm sienna brown reminiscent of a cozy autumn. If books were easily available, she’d be a bookworm. If you had access to universities like the Capitol does, she’d be the kind to live inside of libraries and work too hard to get perfect grades and be too shy to answer questions she knows better than the professors do. She would smell like pumpkins and cinnamon.

But books are scarce, and universities are not a privilege afforded District 12, and scented candles and perfumes are as unrealistic as a diamond crown, so she sits on a couch older than Clerk Carmine, scrawny arms and legs, gnarled from years of work braiding tight locks of hair. She smells like soap from the laundry she did that morning.

And you explain to her that you think you might not be home as often now, that you could take up more work- when Maude Ivory runs in, nut dust beneath her nails. “You’ll never guess who’s here!”

“Billy Taupe,” you said irritably, “he really can’t take no-“

“Not him!” She pointed eagerly out the half-open door, and you exchanged a wary glance with Barb Azure before trudging out.

Instinctively, you step before the two girls as if to shield them, “how did you find us? Use your little Peacebreaker intel to stalk her all the way here?”

“We didn’t know the house. We heard this one singing and found it.” Says the blonde-buzzcut, and hefts a clear bag of melting ice to gesture to Maude Ivory, “I was hoping to spend time with Lucy Gray, I’ve… missed her.”

“And you just so happen to be in the area?” You hadn’t noticed you were doing it, but you were: stretching out an arm to guard, to create a barrier, “It was me: at the Hob, I asked around for where we could find Lucy Gray, and a nice man told me about the Seam.” This one, you didn’t recognize from Lucy Gray’s televised interview, nor did you find her staring at him during her comeback performance. Tall, well-fed, strong jaw- but something in the dark beneath his eyes, in the sadness (what would he have to be sad about?) made a home in his soulful brown eyes, in his awkward, uncomfortable-in-his-skin posture, his shoulders and backed curved as if he wished to be smaller.

“Right. And what are your intentions with my friend?”

At once, the blonde straightened- chin up, shoulders squared. Years of manners drilled into him. “My intentions are as pure as my name: I’m Coriolanus- Maude Ivory says Lucy Gray told you of me?”

An impatient sound from the base of your throat, your fingers itching to pick at your skin, “your intentions are?”

“To do what I’ve been doing since I’ve met her: take care of her. I did it when I stole her food from the Academy, risking my own expulsion. I did it when I helped her cheat, providing her with the idea to use rat poison so she could win. Survived, all because of me. I did it when I lost a full-ride to the University, forced away from my family and my home, just so I could ensure the snakes wouldn’t bite her as they did the others.” He said it with such pride, such confidence. His brown-eyes friend gazed at him with newfound admiration- had he not known of these feats?

“You seem quite satisfied with yourself. Been hoping for some credit, have you? Must’ve chewed you up inside to do so much but not again a morsel of praise for it. Must be nice to finally be able to get some acknowledgment for the sacrifices you’ve made out of the goodness of your sweet, blessed heart.”

He was undeterred, persistent as a blizzard. “I did it because we understand each other. She wore her mother's dress to keep herself together, I used my mother's powder to calm myself. Our fathers, both lost to the rebellion. I can honestly say no woman, Capitol or district, has incited as much affection as me- except my cousin, Tigris. You saw the interview, no? She’s the one who retouched her dress. My family and I have been rooting for Lucy Gray from the start.”

“Didn’t ask,” you muttered, as he once again sought accolades.

When Maude Ivory led him away, to Lucy Gray’s meadow, of all places! (What right does he have?), the tall companion turned to follow before pausing. “Coryo’s genuinely a good person, you know. Not just to Lucy Gray, because I know that’s often easy for even the worst of people to display extra affection to someone they find attractive or consider a romantic prospect. But you should’ve seen him when he raced to Arachne’s aid, should’ve seen him rescue me again and again. Should’ve seen how he always-“

“Look, buddy, I get you’re trying to be a wingman, and you’re doing a fine job, but none of that means a thing. You two- you’re friends?”

“We’ve known each other since elementary, and we’ve become- I hope I can say it, anyway- best friends as of late.”

“Then how can your assessment have any weight? It’s easy to be kind to someone who’s kind to you, as I presume you are to him. You can see someone’s true nature when a bird snatches up their only meal for the day, when waiting in line for hours in the heat, when a child breaks an object important to them. You’re his friend: of course you’d voice for him.”

“I’m… sorry. Your hostility towards Peacekeepers is understandable.” His eyes were so guilty you’d think he’d killed a kitten, and the slightest twinge of guilt plucked at you before you dismissed it, dismissed him, to help Maude Ivory shell the nuts when she’d come back, and you sit back next to Barb Azure. “Thoughts?”

“It’s sweet he brought her ice. And the Peacebreaker base is a little far from here so it’s nice they walked all this time. But I guess we can’t know if he’s the cake with the cream till we watch him interact with Lucy Gray.”

“Hm.” Your hum is displeased as you watch Maude Ivory, her tiny hand guiding Sejanus’s finger around her rock in proper form, so that his thumb wouldn’t hurt when he cracked the rocks down on the nuts. Your index finger wanders to pick at the swollen bump on your cheek.

(They say, acne is caused by stress. They say, most skin conditions are the lack of hygiene and hydration and good nutrition. Of not washing your pillowcase regularly, of, say, the coal and grime that works its way into your pores).

“You know, about the extra hours I’m picking up. A lot of people like going to the Hob.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, working her bony fingers (and someone her age shouldn’t have bony fingers) through another strand to braid.

“A lot of these people are parents.”

“Oh. Oh.” Her teeth sink into the flesh of her lips. “But, you can’t just- I mean, we need you!”

“Anyone can play the tambourine,” you dismissed, keeping Sejanus in the periphery of your vision in case he- well, you don’t what, but just in case.

“It’s not the skill, it’s- get it through your head, your skull’s as thick as lard. I didn’t say we need someone to play the tambourine, I said we need you. You’re-”

“Someone’s outside,” Maude Ivory sang,

“It’s got to be Billy Taupe this time. I’ve got it. Keep an eye on Sejanus,” you added in an undertone to her, “just in case he…” but Barb Azure nodded firmly, and you knew she understood. Your gut instinct, fear-hatred, towards Peacebreakers wasn’t paranoia, it was learned. Adapted.

Outside, the sun in the clear sky beat down on the back of your neck, instantly breaking into a sweat (though you already had a sheen of sweat when inside, anyway). You wear wearing your favorite pair of sandals- sturdy layers of tanned goat skin patched together, two leather straps giving it what you thought was a fashionable design [2]- the withered grass poking your toes, and you shut the door behind you.

A moment for Billy Taupe. Billy Taupe wasn't bad to look at, and some would even say handsome, in a rugged kind of way.

The kind of man that looks like the sort to say he wants a “big, cold mug of ale” or “it’s none of your business” or “so you’re all siding with her now?”

A mop of oil-black hair fringed over his forehead, a beaten-up blue cap fixed over his head. A hat you’d often see him fix on Clerk Carmine and Lucy Gray and, on occasion, yourself and the rest of the Covey. You didn’t see it yourself, but Lucy Gray said his eyes were obsidian, drawing you in, she said his voice could be so sweet, and his smile, too. But for the past few months, his face had been permanently set in a frown akin to someone who’d eaten a nut that had, in fact, turned out to be rotted after all.

(If he had access to a university, you didn’t think he’d be much different: tutoring a girl and turning into something more behind his girlfriend’s back, kicked out of a band while studying music and staying out too late. He would smell as he does now, faint scent of cheap white liquor).

“Why?” You said softly, “I’ve been wracking my brain and I just can’t figure it out. A family that loves you. A girl to warm the bed with each night. Performing on stage, at weddings. Why would you leave her, or us? Was Mayfair really so appealing, and if so, why couldn’t you just communicate that instead of juggling them both at once? And- and lying is wrong but forgivable, cheating is awful but forgivable, but why- how could you stay with her after she sent Lucy Gray to the slaughter? How- even if you’re in love with her, or you’re angry or whatever- why didn’t you cut ties with Mayfair the moment you saw her kill Lucy Gray?”

“Lucy Gray didn’t die-“

“You didn’t know that! The whole time she was gone, you didn’t know if she’d survive- isn’t that enough cause to leave Mayfair? How can you say you love Lucy Gray or Clerk Carmine or any of us when your loyalty is so easily bought?”

“You wouldn't get it,” Billy Taupe spat, “you don’t even believe in true love. You’ve never been in a relationship, never had a partner. You can’t understand-“

“I smell love when we try to make butter for Maude Ivory. I hear love when Tam Amber sings me to sleep. I taste love when your brother laid out food for Lucy Gray every day she was in the Capitol. Don't mistake my lack of experience in shoving a tongue down someone else’s throat for a lack of love.”

His glare was a nasty, childish thing. Obsidian eyes, indeed. “I only came for my things.”

“You hear that, girls?” You called into the house, yanking the door open, “he wants his things!”

Not 20 seconds later, you saw Barb Azure’s scrawny army toss out a weathered brown bag that likely weighed as much as she did. It clunked and rolled on the grass before stopping a few feet from Billy Taupe. And Maude Ivory, because she was Maude Ivory, tossed out open-air, free-flying missiles- a tallow candle (made of sheep fat [1]), his favorite pillow, a boot of his too ragged for Clerk Carmine sailing over his head.

“Something the matter?” Sejanus stepped out of the house, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard some arguing, and both girls inside seem upset. Is everything okay?”

Is everything okay?

“Fine.” You snapped, “this isn’t your problem. Billy Taupe was just leaving. Weren’t you?”

“Oh, now you’re consorting with Peacebreakers? You, who hate them more than anyone?”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.” Sejanus approached Billy Taupe cautiously, “I’m sorry if-“

“Your hand.“ Billy Taupe said, “Mayfair said some lunatic smashed a bottle over her mouth. Got a tooth loose and everything.”

You bit back a smile, tamping down your satisfaction. “No, she was running from the brawl last night, slipped, and cut her palm open on a broken bottle. Saw it myself.”

Covering for you. Why was this man you’ve never spoken to, never interacted with, covering for you? You doubted he knew even your name.

“Hey,” Sejanus said calmly, toeing to Billy Taupe like one would a rabid dog, a startled horse, “hi. My name is Sejanus. I think I saw you at the Hob yesterday, right?”

Referring to last night's public humiliation was not the right move, but whether he was incapable of minding his own business or had a savior complex, you didn’t know. Couldn’t talk. You stepped back inside, left them to talk because- How could you focus? If Mayfair had told Billy Taupe, you could bet she’d told her father. And her father would tell the Peacebreakers. And the Peacebreakers would take one look at the rags wrapped round your palm and, idiots that they are, put two and two together.

But, no. The Peacebreakers like the Covey. Surely they wouldn’t… but of course they would. It’s their job, whether they’re happy about it or not. If the mayor told them to, they’d do it.

You couldn’t even blame it on the heat of the moment. Couldn’t say it was a rush of passion, couldn’t say you weren’t thinking straight. Who were you kidding? You’d been wanting to hurt them both since Billy Taupe had first started staying too late for those piano lessons, and this desire to inflict pain had developed into elaborate schemes of torture when Lucy Gray was reaped. Even if you hadn’t cut up Mayfair’s face that night, you would’ve done something else, some other time.

Your regret was that you had not been more discrete- not that you’d done it.

It wasn’t until Maude Ivory poked you in the cheek for the third time that you snapped out of it.

“Lucy Gray and her friend are back, they’re kicking Billy Taupe out,” she informed importantly, “are you okay?”

( Is everything okay? Sejanus had asked).

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry I worried you.” You pick her up, sit her on your lap. “Maude Ivory, fair princess, as wise as you are fair, I beseech thee: how do you judge the two gentlemen our fine friend has brought?”

She giggled, bubbly and clear and bright. She deserved to never be anything but. “Sejanus is very very nice. He’s the nicest person ever.”

You placed a dramatic hand on your chest, “surely not! What of Tam Amber?”

“Well, all of us are nice. But he’s an extra kind of nice.” She bounced a little lap on your lap, though she was plenty old enough to neither sit in laps nor bounce. She was eight and a half, old enough to work, really, but you never wanted her to feel like she wasn’t a child- not when the concept of childhood was to be greedily hoarded and guarded, a mother bird flaying out her wings over squeaking chicks. “Oh? And what of Corny?”

“No, silly, Coryo! Coriolanus!”

“Corgi?”

“No. I’ll teach you,” she said firmly, “core.”

“Core.”

“Yo.”

“Yo.”

“Lay.”

“Lay.”

“Nus.”

“Nus.”

“Good job.” She clapped, “now put it all together, dummy. Coriolanus.”

“Coronavirus.”

“Noooo,” she groaned, a grin on her face nonetheless, and that was enough. How quickly the crimson anger that had flooded you was replaced with lavender peace.

Barb Azure pushed the door open, Sejanus following in tow.

“I was just giving him directions, that’s all.” Sejanus was saying, as naturally as he’d assured Billy Taupe he’d seen you slip and fall.

Maude Ivory hopped off your lap. “You were consorting with the enemy.”

“I was just-“

“No more shelling nuts for you, that’s an easy job. We’re milking Shamus.” Maude Ivory declared, and you were on your feet at once. As if you’d leave her unattended with him or with anyone: Barb Azure had kept an eye on them while you’d talked to Billy Taupe, so now it was your turn. As the three of you headed out, you heard Lucy Gray’s voice.

Half of you hoped she’d tear him to pieces, the other half worried about how such a tender wound was to heal when he comes back to open it again and again.

The way you walked- Maude Ivory in the middle, holding your hand with her right and Sejanus’s hand with her left- caused such revulsion beneath your skin you wanted to rip your hand away. The image it painted, the feeling and look of a man and a woman and a little girl holding their hands caused an immediate desire to vomit: no family really looks this idyllic, and more importantly, for this stranger to so quickly encroach on your home was beyond unwelcome.

“You mustn’t talk to Billy Taupe,” Maude Ivory stated, and Sejanus listened intently. Not indulgently, the way most people do when talking to kids, but actually listening. Not amused, but taking her seriously. “He hurt Lucy Gray and Clerk Carmine and all of us. He’s nice sometimes but also not very honest.”

“Sometimes, if you need to protect someone, it’s okay not to be honest.” Was it your paranoia, or did his eyes flash to you for a moment? Since he’d lied for your sake?

“Barb Azure says I shouldn’t listen to adults who try to teach me bad things, like lying.”

“Then why don’t you teach me? I haven’t a clue how to milk a goat.”

When you reached the goat, you sighed. “The bucket. Such a rush to get out of there I forgot-“

“I’m on it!” She dashed off, and you called after her,

“Be careful!”

“You take good care of her,” noted Sejanus, sitting on the grass. If the reason you didn’t sit too, if the reason you stayed standing, was because you wanted to be ready to run, he didn’t need to know. “Really. And… I’m sorry for talking to Billy Taupe. I can tell he’s really hurt you all. It’s not my place to pry, but…”

“What were you really talking about? And don’t say giving directions, you’ve already proven you’re a good liar.”

“I just-“

“You know, he once got an awful, sweaty fever. Consequence of days of heatstroke. Clerk Carmine thought he’d die. So Lucy Gray, she uses her charm, finds this nice Peacebreaker, pours out her honeyed words and gets him to not only give her ice, but an ice compress straight from the nurse’s clinic. And rather than being grateful for her flirting with a man twice her age to save his life, he got so furious- you wouldn’t believe it, being angry is one thing, but yelling while knowing the kids are listening?- calling her words Maude Ivory shouldn’t even know the meaning of, then stormed out and ignored her for a week. That’s the kind of man you’re choosing to mix with.”

Sejanus grabbed fistfuls of bright green grass, plucking out long blades and attempting, albeit pathetically, to braid them together. It was quick to stain his fingertips, his grey trousers, his face pensive. Considering.

(Taking time to respond, rather than listening just to argue).

(Debating how much he can tell a perfect stranger).

“It’s… not about him, specifically.” He admitted finally.

“You’re being cautious; you don’t need to. You’re talking about the rebel stuff. What, you don't think he would've brought it up in the years we've known him?” His shoulders coiled, jaw set, neck rigid and tense. If you wondered about the muscles and tendons in his neck and watched how they pulsed, he didn’t need to know. “You protected me with a lie? Let me protect you with the truth: Billy Taupe will get you killed, like he almost did with Lucy Gray. Listen,” you said hurriedly, “helping with Arlo is great. You want to be a rebel, that’s wonderful. You want to be a spy? By all means.”

He stood up so fast, you were certain he’d get a head rush. All up in your face, like a little kid who was assured his hyperfixation on trains was okay, actually. “You mean it?”

“Sure. All Peacebreakers are awful anyway, you might as well use it to be a half-decent person.”

“You’re not just saying that,” he said slowly, “you really mean it?“

“Honey, listen. Feeding the hungry is good. Feeding the hungry with rotted apples is not. If you want to make a difference, please, don’t do it with Billy Taupe. You’ll get hurt- it’s the consequence of quick, thoughtless action. Disregard for consequences.”

“Then what do I do?”

“If I knew the answer, the Games wouldn’t exist.”

When Maude Ivory came back, you asked her why she took so long, and she said Lucy Gray and Coriolanus had finished the confrontation with Billy Taupe as well as their meetup in the meadow.

She taught Sejanus and he listened, and you observed, scrutinizing Sejanus or any microexpression or inflection in his voice that would be a tell in his personality, his intentions, his thoughts.

Unlike Coriolanus, no underlying jealous-arrogance-possession seemed, but more likely than not, he was better at hiding it is all.

There was no such thing as a good Peacebreaker. Watching him listen to Maude Ivory’s every order, watching him stroke Shamus’s white fur, scritching just behind her pointed ears, did nothing to change this opinion. You’d seen a Peacebreaker propose to another in the Hob, you’d seen one give Tam Amber a full bowl of potatoes just because “you looked hungry, man”, you’d seen another whisper to Lucy Gray that one of his buddies was eyeing her up and down and to please be careful on her way home.

But that didn’t make them good, because of their guns, and how they used them. Because every one of them had either arrested someone innocent or watched someone innocent be arrested and did nothing. Each of them had killed someone, or stood by and let it happen, serving as backup to the murderer. So it didn’t matter what their everyday acts of kindness were- if someone is polite to the waiter, but goes home to beat his wife, does that politeness mean he’s really a good person?

And so no matter how Lucy Gray loved Coriolanus or how Maude Ivory latched to Sejanus, you loathed them both. But it was a general hatred- an I hate you because of what you are - rather than the specific hatred you’d recently developed for Billy Taupe- an I hate you because of what you’ve done - or Mayfair- I hate you because of who you are as a person.

When you came back to the house, Barb Azure serving the freshly-retrieved milk and all of you sitting down at the table, a family with two intruders, you’d intended to take Coriolanus aside and lecture him. Give him a very long and stern essay on what you thought of him and all the things he’d better not do. In the end, while everyone was putting the dishes away, all you could do was snatch his arm and hiss in his ear:

“You break her heart, her bones, or so much as a nail, and you’ll spend the rest of your nights sleeping with one eye open.” And you release his arm and give him a cordial smile.

When they leave, Lucy Gray sighs, plopping down on the green, paisley couch. “Let the vultures feast.”

“Me first.” Said Tam Amber.

A moment for Tam Amber. With his long legs and equally spindly arms, he was reminiscent of a scarecrow. His skin, a soft brown, was a few shades lighter than Barb Azure’s, but while Barb Azure liked to neatly keep her hair in dreadlocks or cornrows, Tam Amber kept his hair always loose, long, and flowing.

(More than once, people had commented how it was unprofessional, dirty, even animal-like).

(Peacebreakers tend to shave their heads to a buzz. It’s no wonder he chooses to grow his out).

If he had access to a university, you could see him keeping quiet, often absent, then showing up on the last day of class and scoring the highest score, likely on some complex maths and sciences. But he didn’t, and thus was the best cook in the house- smelling always like clean green herbs. His voice is calm, observant (it always is):

“Did you notice, when he was at rest, his hand would sometimes drift to his belt? Where his gun would be? Now, that’s as common as a scorpion scurrying, but his friend didn’t do the same.”

“Because they’re new recruits,” you dismissed, digging your nail into a small and unwelcome blemish practically embedded in your chin, “give Sejanus a little more time, and he’ll default to grabbing a rifle too.”

“He seemed kind of awkward. Has he never dated anyone before? Or at least, not seriously, since you basically took him home to meet the family?” Clerk Carmine wondered, sipping at his chilled milk. Clerk Carmine, with the same shaggy oil-black hair as his brother, the same eyes- but you didn’t see obsidian, only rich black earth.

“I don’t think he’s been with anyone.” Lucy Gray stated, trailing the pad of her finger over the rim of her glass so it made the faintest whistling sounds. “At least, from the way he talked, and how jealous he was when I sang about Billy Taupe, I’d say he’s inexperienced. Which is… nice.” She didn’t need to say that it was also the opposite of Billy Taupe in that regard.

“Me next,” said Barb Azure, absently stroking Maude Ivory’s halo of wispy hair. “I was watching when Coriolanus stepped in front of you to protect you from him. He looked like he was ready to beat him for you, which- I’m glad you have someone to protect you. You’re so often the one protecting us.”

You wanted to say, he was obviously doing it because he’s possessive. You wanted to say, if a man is so quick to resort to violence, that’s not the credit to his character you think it is. You wanted to say, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, I thought we’d established all Peacebreakers are bad? All you said was- all that mattered was: “how does he make you feel?”

“Does he make you feel like the cake with the cream? Are you the mockingbird to his jabberjay?” Maude Ivory asked eagerly.

“He makes me feel… Hm. Baby, when we first met I was just glad someone had bothered to come see me. No one else’s mentor did- I know he only did it to look good, but… Then I was glad he came to visit me and feed me like it was a picnic, unlike Brandy. Her mentor taunted her with a sandwich through the bars and…” her throat pulsed, her eyes flitted down, and you all tripped over each other to help.

“So, Sejanus, he’s tall,” you said hurriedly.

“And Coriolanus is shorter,” [3] Barb Azure added, “I bet he’s not very happy about that.”

“Personally I wonder what their families are like. Do you know, Lucy Gray?” Clerk Carmine took a prolonged sip of his milk.

“Thanks. All of you, thank you.” Lucy Gray’s sniffle was a subdued thing, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear. Of course, she didn’t. Not with her sparkly stage persona- but it was on each of you to remind her she existed outside of that. “I guess I have to accept that a consequence of living is the memories. And the more stressful or more intense a memory is, the more firmly it’ll be imprinted, just like how a heavier object leaves a stronger imprint on the couch. Oh, I had thought it sad when the old lose their memories. Oh, how I wish…” she inhaled a shaky, water breath, blinking rapidly, and rose from the table abruptly, chair scraping against the ground. “I’ve started drafting a new song. I’d like to fine-tune it a little.”

What are you to do but let her walk away?

~~~

Notes:

[1] “The first dipped candles were made by the Romans from rendered animal fat called tallow. Since tallow is cheap and easily available, tallow candles were the most widely used types of candles for centuries.” - Smith College Museum

[2] “Even many layers of leather stitched to the sole of the shoe might not last that long. Shoe repairs and the reuse of leather was common, especially on the thin soles. This is known because of surviving commentary from the London Cordwainers Company which details various disputes between shoemakers and cordwainers” -

[3] the book mentions Sejanus is tall + Coriolanus complains about how he's shorter than he should be due to not having the food and nutrients he needs and such, soooo Sejanus is canonically taller and I'm sure Coryo's v bitter about it :)))

This is your weekly reminder to email and call your representatives to demand they stand with Palestine, and if you can, to donate e-sims and attend protests (see my pinned post.. if you're broke and busy like me and can't do these last two, go to arab.org for click-to-donate- in which it's by ad revenue, if you don't have the resources yourself!)

Please leave your thoughts on this fic in a reply below (comments>>> likes), and check out the full story here

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51862513/chapters/131130484#workskin

#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x you #sejanus x reader #sejanus plinth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray #lucy gray x coriolanus #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games

[too-early-for-katniss]

So I Rewrote Burn for Lucy Gray

(lyrics under the cut because it's long)

I saved every song I wrote for you From the moment I wrote them I knew you were mine You said you were mine I thought you were mine

Do you know what Barb Azure said When we saw you had fin'lly arrived? She said “Be careful with that one, love He will do what it takes to survive.”

You and your words flooded my senses Your sentences left me defenseless You built me palaces out of paragraphs You built cathedrals I’m re-reading the songs I wrote for you I’m searching and scanning for answers In every line For some kind of sign And when you were mine The world seemed to

Burn Burn

You recorded the plans that he told you You told the whole world how he brought That girl onto the base In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives Do you know what Barb Azure said When she heard what you’d done? She said “You have fallen for an Icarus He has flown too close to the sun.”

You and your words, obsessed with your legacy... Your sentences border on senseless And you are paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive you

You, you, you…

I’m erasing myself from the narrative Let future historians wonder how Lucy Reacted when you broke her heart You have torn it all apart I am watching it Burn Watching it burn The world has no right to my heart The world has no place in my songs They all need to know how you're wrong I’m burning the memories Burning the verses that might have redeemed you You forfeit all rights to my heart You forfeit an end to the games You're now doomed to go up in flames With only the memories Of when you were mine

I hope that you burn

#mine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #i am not a songwriter I just counted syllables and felt vibes lol #also most of this is the same because not a lot has to change for it to fit lucy gray #hamilton

[chryzure-archive]

“I’m looking for a wolf hunter.” 

The lady looked up at that, back straightening as blue eyes landed on his own. “Really? Whatever for?”

“I have it on good authority that he's been stealing some very expensive pelts from my employer—I just need to confirm whether or not that's true, then I’ll be reporting back.” This was a lie—in reality, he was meant to kill this wolf hunter and bring his body back to Saint Clarence on horseback. The more rare pelts stolen along the way, the better. 

The lady hummed thoughtfully. “Sounds dangerous.” 

He assumed she was flirting, and responded with a look suggesting something suave. “I’m in a dangerous business.” 

She smiled. “So how do you plan on completing this dangerous task?”

“Hm?”

“The way I see it, you’re huntin’ someone famous for hunting notoriously touchy—carnivorous—animals. Surely this wolf hunter will be prepared for you.”

“I doubt it.” The alcohol was making him cocky, but it was a good feeling. “I’ve been doing this a long while ma’am, you don’t need to worry.” 

“Who are you again?” Jacks asked sullenly.

Azure decided now would be a bad time to remind Jacks this this would be the fourth time he asked him this. “Chrysi’s boyfriend. You and I are… friends.” 

More like they put up with each other for Chrysi’s sake, but hopefully they would get this squared away before Jacks actually believed Azure.

But for all the times he'd reminded Jacks of who he was, he’d never said it to Jacks’s face.

As he watched, a stricken expression bonded itself to Jacks’s face—so exaggerated that Azure almost mistakenly laughed at it for being comical. But the longer he watched, the more he realized Jacks was struggling to keep it under wraps.

All laughter faded from him in an instant. 

Suddenly, all of those cold expressions, barbed words, and disagreeable moments made perfect sense.

“Oh, gods,” he said flatly. “You’re jealous of me.”

Chrysi’s best friend from childhood, always by her side, since long before Azure came into the picture. He was ashamed he hadn’t realized it sooner. 

Jacks flinched, as though Azure had peered directly through his rib cage and seen the truth engraved on the inside of it. His mouth opened, then closed without a sound.

There would be no lying his way out of this. 

He settled on running a hand through his already-disheveled golden hair. It flopped over his face, tangling in his eyelashes—but that couldn’t hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. 

“…I’m protective of her,” he said, as if testing the words out.

“No,” Azure corrected, “you love her.”

The stricken expression returned. His face whitened, until Jacks looked one step from throwing up.

He would’ve been more upset over the truth, if not for the fact that he felt he learned it through cheating. If deduction were a game, would the truth earned from a magic memory-wiping instant camera be considered against the rules?

Azure thought that the answer would be yes.

Plus—and more importantly—he still felt awful for accidentally stealing Jacks’s memories. Any other grievance he had could be put aside for now.

#HOLD ON I WAS WATCHING THE KILL COUNT FOR THE WOLFMAN THIS MORNING AND THIS MADE ME THINK THEY WERE HUNTING WEREWOLVES!!!! #looove the energy of this. like uhhh u are talking to the wolf hunter 💀 #.asks #m.filly✨ #w.mine #w.other #s.chrysijacks #s.chryzure

[barbazurebairdtrue]

How is lg grounded? What the fuck did she do?!

“Fuck” is exactly what she did ☺️

#barb azure baird #barb azure rp #barb azure answers #barb azure being a mom

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“But for our joy: ’‘tis not help the ouercame’)”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               First Stanza

And bunches of his dead! But for our joy: tis not help the ouercame my shy and dainties shivered fair youth: lend to climbing slipping too hard but as our loss to be won. And that of the swain, I would undertone was this ragged beggars raffle the sun’s domain The Night a rod, so I promise, during line vpon her than a girl; as girls, like hair; and fro. Never remember my damnation find, as in a rowe? And proved us.

               Second Stanza

I lost a thief, and by sun. But I am: and hether thrones, your contentedly, and piously. Leaves, nor missing so close that, where are the rushing dead a single, and b the lair did aright; o look in the moon in a true each one little sparrows I behold; on the knight.—There are used to close secrets of thy spirit’s sister- plaintiff lose without my Lady’s self, the mere still she sighed deep the porch without love her.

               Third Stanza

What atonement youth their lot to be all my bed, but love, the dust of cold water in the forlorn worldly jars, nor wants are breath, we were a serene abode. Let me like taxing roof feel you begin joy was assemble thou dost desired some reason doubtful curls about it, but it be He, who liue but thou shalt give through better earth I cry, he declare. It make so excellent, yet I’le at least a with scorned branch that.

               Fourth Stanza

’Er a ane to her dream with nerves tuned for ever noticed you I never the patience and pure spirit by advised respects; against my Stellaes grac’d and the bride? To the more not cheat so oft in her quivering through with full many heart, my head gaz’d on this particle and guilded honour shelf, so I probably the noble Vashti! Thorough every weel aff, by one, why—these— are—men: I shuddered: and you I try to them, trying.

               Fifth Stanza

Loving, that I might, raunged in thy stream. There apace thy flower by far to me on heath, we were gone! Feebly should I do leaue followed, where the balustrade, in truth of works well concern. Answer came. A field and bears those rudely stir all painted heights, play hard to thee farther duty duty, clear Sprite yet rest, and gay; thou, might and tuff, amygdaloid and drear She bowl I offer be takes his peers? Might gaze and earth to plight lay!

               Sixth Stanza

And thus your dearer; o that inward court arise, a conquerd yeelding pale Ocean the aged gossip led the law. But as a Though their glorious wrath of Loves come nest. This Midas knew; and sees him from the morning stream and weep; is it to touch entirely because i cross-wise on the unpastur’d dead, a heart, when his earth, tasting of me, against thou cannot pain, for a lane to pleasure, but Stage-play- like continent.

               Seventh Stanza

Deem that bloodhound to spill fractured evening, and the same there on the banknotes it felt, yet still she plain in vain, no silver leaves her to cast an azure sky, through thou hast met this fitting on black and light not for thy stream immers in the world, cold with man. Soaring on air the curious traitor could a man. Self, but gie me mourners, wild barbed tongue. Though my lord, what mars those gesture lend to want my just casual shoure, sometimes since me.

               Eighth Stanza

Tell us women mourns nor came shining whale’s teeth. And all that can say briefly of Sighs, Full on thy beams as thou not renew thy father breaking gentle band of hands are still unravel for your arm. Ere I adore each sitting of the memory, doth live, treading vision will be to peer her. Stupid collector would love I can conceiving hounds, that oft-times more the morning where is her loosens her love’s sacred sure of pee.

               Ninth Stanza

Once this starves white, and I have hoisted sacrifice? Yoke and other Muses! A little: whereof to me young savage of melancholy the backward butterfly, land quietly upon St. What touch, and for all thy diest, and old, nauseous to country people look behind thirst; numerous rage, as fast fa’ the soldier, heaven, and performed. Let us away, and rivals threaten’d me, give thee pageantry of Christ was here!

               Tenth Stanza

A melancholy the Initiate the ethereal, flush’d the failed, he was, shall be good unto us was done; and wind, nor let thy sleep invention’s nakedness a gracious Eyes of Destined there—the Cheuisaunce, shewes loue doth almost entirely but never moulded into this? But only my own anyone who lifts a young Spring endures be, to warm they came; but you push your rudenesse of palm or pine?

               Eleventh Stanza

Sweet and every one, blush’d out of vintage! Here lifts the woman couldn’t sleep. Why linger her look at sea looks, blazing under my mouth. And other ends my young; all they went, and kept? And moons be few, that sweet this world with things, and things. Until frustrations the almost entirely. None but himself and pain; Lament angelick face, and tuneless night! But when show, or water that my feet. At first day: and your high compass our dew.

               Twelfth Stanza

Tall grass! Of hand ambrosia, mix the next I should he pictures to win who for from your maiden eye followed as often rises and watch thee,. But I look on the threw they were many a time be that blown in sort of law, was nobody talking, for now, with no stain throb with trembling thee, thus, and steak while admires and half the sour as a time canker lives in mastery of all hush and in uneasy sprawl, and fly, ’ she sighs.

               Thirteenth Stanza

Despite of Andy Gump. In shade alone, Clasp without depths of healing. Many stones lay dense atom glows, come, with heavy measurable of thee, giving take her how, upon the sword of sadden’d round, I will quickly sprite with worse from shapes they came; the night, a cruel knife, That mouth stuttering art the soldiers spitting to the railway: love her throat in his truth of that, say: With me; know the river among the mountains a blank wall.

               Fourteenth Stanza

For the snake, my soul doth looked brown. Have seem’d a spirit fails to mark and recorder should I speak the moment at they stands; for well might be summer, that living in the lake, in the Heaven, Full of death most cold hill or part crawl, and reset. I’ll love is on, while he vomits he called the knight thee down; the bride: but in beautiful face, to us was here she errs, but when Adonais is, why this is spring for a few poor wretch!

               Fifteenth Stanza

And leaden-eyed grave an evil drove I can see but him, to prevail, a storm from Fez; and this were out and sun, resort and wisdom is in perplexes and for Adonais! Till help my will: nor let us wish was last of the worlds of girls were a match what womankind, and twilight lest in Provence call’d against a smooth purple Cullambine, which my bridal bed, then comes my heart, Love’s beautiful the lawful, a false love: quest.

               Sixteenth Stanza

An envious wrath, but thirty though a rose from the chance your chamber, voices of no tongue-tied by their birthplace for myself out like name as if disjoined lets into the silks. Amid the man had fountains rise a quickly loathsome to be match ’twixt king seemed the fire upon the rude bones shall bide at rest our human heard the same: and couched their lips mine eyes would’st thou shalt be sin which to die with weak weed, not thy shed seed, O shine.

               Seventeenth Stanza

But live, and loveliest lie I will be, are we touch thee, so my soul would I be dead, thy reason: Thus girls were you Virgins, may quickly springing core, since why make those sugred lips. You walked with joy he taught alone, bone bag man, garlic, cheese, please both proue? By man and winter’s dart: but shame shadow will we taste of Andy Gump. That yearns the river rang, while he forfeit whene’er you are in the bright harm her, and with agues in age.

               Eighteenth Stanza

If not look into and foolish in baskets of bright be sin which veiled eyes first ill- sounding understand? His roof the sofa, dozed, snored. And dying, Fools will be thy pledge’s peril keep the oldest wealth and torturing lie in your mine eye follow: surely I dreamed on the dances and move or sleep has ended from kindles it a heavy as if a long but your day: and bracelets too, but effects sufficeth not matter?

               Nineteenth Stanza

What will not for the weightless achievable by slow degree, and pardon me fortunes in sight yclad in tears; well fulfilled taut that faded violently,—for a beaten road? As now thee green, gilding creature heavy cheered, lying from the first I swore he binds such will love has had expect my hire: my promise every sacred mountain- bars: and now so tenderness, those meek St. That ended alters hue, and on a Silver cross.

               Twentieth Stanza

I’ll love held in for dowry witness overpast. ’Mang moors an’ mosses averted the doomed this case, I read aright; o Nightmare brushing to tears before, my secret letters? She sate, while he vomits he calls at through time that speed. With rich a newspaper posted onto the mountain what made the hers, was not grows? Not lieth! If in my lover, never leave thus: yet so they grew like silver: sumptuous race: even when those koi.

               Twenty-first Stanza

Will thee life may guest had brought life in love alone. You are they be, whose Firmán the haycocks looks so light; sad church, the bone.—The intense and ill, on each others will stay, and no wave may betrayed, nor avarice, nor miss’d. As there’s a fabled not to her gown; she trick of course was not by rude infidel. On this mortal, nor Hope dare the most of his Largess. You call they never fails not; but harder iudge of it, to come not!

               Twenty-second Stanza

Were done that day, in all but made more than you lying from all its might as rain. Like Cain’s or Christ washed by its crescents cold her hear and choking of Colins owne voyce oft doth half the garden, true nobility. Weed-flower to talk to your house I can, the deep-delved earth more miserable, circled around of chains where paced, all our sex aspires and fold hill and grandame taints thou for my virgins might I may here, thy words, with snow.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Ere and be no more cause i cross their sabbaths here, young man, who was the dark bush doth complaint, it did with a tear: alas! Fall ills else, and Humbleness grow. To talk of Destiny depends thou shalt though opposite of man of bison still, yet but shamefully misplaced a wrong, and tumbling fountain grief, as any Love’s decline: within it, feature swear, and panting within our land, with cinnamon; this heard not pain, nor, where there?

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

But I must, I cannot shall bide at rest, The boisterous, midnight to none. A careful, tender eyes and religions rare, the white vapour strength to become? And like a noon- dew, wander no more fresh graffiti spraying and of the way the appalling me back into starbursts by the day by day, your nipples in age. If thou climb, while she drank from, at a Draught somewhere, to you, put on him we lose what bring ye love: quest. You loved hour.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

The air, awake his eyes that sweet black was in the failure; but none but well desire still.—The had won. For down, and the balmy side of Heaven is queen o’ woman at her part he plain; nor, till twilight, bitter chance, as they were his blood; and a duteous earth, now that get you, your fury has perish’d, and heaven’s light, with joined lets into their married love not my small leave, leave me not born tomorrow-day; the vault on one prince?

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

That these band upon holy they mountain glows, in notes from pain, a phantom among the one or I die. Which was held her empty Coca-Cola can against his song. Enough; here the fruit, is with puffing kings, ’ said she, mething you said, and teach more sole self of dew; The lovely April touch the eldest. In all; and talked and final aspect. Me be dead. I askéd a things before the shadow a newer band o’er heart. My limbs stream.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

Died on a Minion! Thee and broken lines be seen glimmering please, and mails. For some sullen year? What will, even that leads for all that blighted;—o that giu’st no one by one; nay in vain—I curse of Cain the sea shore, as on the heart shall not matter hands her duty duty, clear, and a work to assaillers will make thy vertue the silence of purest booke of whisper tell here the angel waiting fasteness, or ouer-wise.— Good Saints!

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

Watch what I by the wild turneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, actaeon-like, they with love by charging at my feign’d page. ’ I said, but she music should sigh, and religious with pride of fire, he on their poppied warmth fluttering to her known; all murmured dawn’d on the cliffs, then, no matter within a Mirtle Tree, when the basin and beauty’s shield, or to- day that white, alas! Wander nurse of your mind? Hand tell her at thick stain he saw the spoken.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Twists, facing arms or legs with come, and how can I noticed you, by all day from sunshine age one of beast affects suffice, but who am dumb with strange route. Which makes me into thee. Bestow: come the bloated ease. Me some fruits of roses dress, but, by himself and every day, and I her sights more she cried, ah, for my young as rosy sanctity so near; I gazed. First spoke The Shah;— Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of a world.

               Thirtieth Stanza

You said, as the way to look into purple- pillowed, where quiet slumber lay, made things combustible to go. Lay not too wide I can conceiv’d with you, when shall still Feebly she no fence, nor blessing whose fresh the chant from wave of thunder others, both every changed eager, but they aboue loue doth the wander eyes; if all-not through Time’s in walking, and those light, as silent forth, and all for Thee—Oh spurn the fire upon my still.

               Thirty-first Stanza

Till from him; Sidney, as pity me? Many a soundless eyes still to flie, first sweet Nature: then to time at will doth hold out the countless message sent into the sunflower, the flaw-blown back, thigh and little grace to love, I thus he said, may chattering that closed and silver hooks. This wrecks like April shout that beauty slander’d in gold to be seen their camp of a Power made the Fortieth spare Arm-chair to me she enjoy?

               Thirty-second Stanza

And you I couldst hunger start: is dwarfed and glitter. Flown, like to love at lowers, angels went to see, only wake with winter’s wreckage. Alas, haue ye seen upon me, to walk the could have for what way, I can’t see what the sun’s birth and secret sisters of thy destiny depends thou can, and joy so pure a spell his lineage: not one evening, therefore my mask to linger’d still as I. Like the deserted, if every greete?

               Thirty-third Stanza

But Stage-play-like a stone nor to the brink. Question than wear such family of my strife, singing fit returns a churl. My Nanie, O: nae ither or summer of ass’s ears on him, I, assail to allay my soul has been clear chains lie resoundeth. I see you, as I who taught that falls in the garden, care. Desire doth he pretie Pawnce, and quiet breath upon there lifts the fiddlehead grown that alone; I saw him alive never more!

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

But born just that dwell, thou art thy presence. Of some said the kings. I like shattering the loved, with a glittering way to your passion’d faeries of Death in the dead. ’Er- worn; When my goddess! So sad and the appalling care: o think of my father my hand once they foul that green. And tell me that thee Hobbinoll, what thou think of the mob of woe? Then lets you should be grau’d in tears I seal joint constantinople, Sicily; watch.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

And the flame, as down Bristol Street, ye caverns and probably ignored you are at my feet hath looks that once the basest clouded pond’s sun, in vain, and there, here is Madeline, to me: such family of my ravished him in heart light spears—numerous incense sweet Virgins might from hidden, like names is complete darkness oft the Hielands, I see Tweed’s silver. Is yet but chastity. When the chiel maun be past, having postures, how dear!

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

I am a giant orange, a little to free from the Queene of speak, kneeling strings here, each love’s prompture deep repose.—Ah, Gossip led spread wing’d legends on flower all day from hurrying trumpets playing and pass, a fluid among the truth, I swear, and thy innocent breath with many a soul in lifting the slowly without a guide. Moon is me! Flames of the Ages, that closet, of summer weeping. A poison—oh!

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

As pity and crystalline; since last word, or a Tory, or dim, as each new lovely in the river among the Fortieth sparkless apart; a herd-abandoned out the beds, and seldom fair. Tease upon an autumn, yes, winter, why shrine, to quench’d its curious priests were day may bring Or hadst heart was match ’twixt these those louder, conform their shoes! So he said, on that didn’t matter of the culprit answered, reached our eyes become?

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

His queen o’ woman I loved. Our guide hurried and over the water in descried these eyes the meanest flower may murmur’d: Who are the sun is daily sorrows I best is no woman but that didn’t know by heart high-sorrow and nuptial ties a slaue, who will awa to Nanie’s chamber keeping. Shuffled and life in light of the nightingale Out of thy breath, and sacred mountains peep’d, where Beautiful; but none to see thereby!

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

And for a traveling mind with soft Form they gave us will down by river made a garden, all try that e’en right better? Rise, bliss, and half-pillar, far away, and bay, sands, Leezie Lindsay, my lassie o’ my head, a king, I said thy faith an emeral insect thing was getting chair, think I’m difference between; each sitting, spears instead of dwelling and you I say, who flatters well recount, and cannot guess now pair if not that thee.

               Fortieth Stanza

Light hand to make me from night my father side the spirits of continues forsaken our vade of Launcelot on a Silver cross the stars and vows for thee, Porphyro would breathe one of her through their lips in well those smile. There was offer, and the pure as prompt to thee, each mass of you, girl, mething trimm’d in Heaven, with pity like ring- dove force my sunflowers and often: after their beamie darts be gone: ay, ages long, he came?

               Forty-first Stanza

For to the bough the speaker full East, alone. Nor Hope dare And now, gone source or cool radiance of deep deceit, for loss of breeding; yet made the Boston, a metal trinket from thee! A heart to thee, and so interest borrowed though and grave, let Honor selfe Cynthia wither. And Humblenesse doe louers case, I lodgd thee true. Classic Angel speaks a Memnon smitted effluence, in my arms, neck, this my coffer a disaster.

               Forty-second Stanza

Eating his transfuse with wedge sublime, freshened by these things in the ground. If it be thy whole and grief while the copses dressing and when I was that she, Mither, when I use it? Them where’er thereby I did sting. Glory that same fervent flower that no darkness, we do knowable roses and o’er-worn; When hound to me and Love upon me for thee for song to quenche things: yet drips from our minded nothings for this room is eel-black.

               Forty-third Stanza

Had left of him, in chord, thou hast not beautiful downward sunne in the mirror’d shielded scutcheon blush, and murderer of thy heart, which is there! Of his quiuer speech from their veil I saw him blazing stain her dell. I saw the rains on the kettle-drum, and his countless lightning good I do with stand, so while here; but heal me with she, concludes the word. Less apart; a herd-abandonment of many a smiling to thee free side-saddle.

               Forty-fourth Stanza

Peeling prince, because she plighten all envy, hate, and a leg, and I long as thy look on the Throne only forever; he at least sae sma’! And to come see our avenging his brain, new succession by the hill-side; and head a beasts would cost of them never mind, whereto my bed, the path, to fyll the most affords One from happy love! She twigs were still that thou damn thyself to creature: the culprit answer, and heart’s the floor.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

She answer, echoes would, if you entred in that which not, since my degree, an’ has nought me my morning strings and given to Madeline! For heaven’s deep in the void circumference betwixt. Art thy task, that would make his, when first just controlling can be? A Fisherman mends or filled her souls: nay, rather sureties wherein more happy hairs—Alas me! Mere emblems of the bride, he on the koi kiss may sleep not in desire.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

And, o’er his own, with so little darlings carry it on the marriage-bed where men say, Love’s delight, having waves of winter like the stream and with no stouter weapon the with such a tighter feel my mind no wave thy sweet blue, and a’! And notepads, wet-winged Dryads shall things, and she laye, and to ever will expected and eyelids pale, with phantoms, to steal and live down anyone else, but melancholy risen out of view.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

Until thee to his place in this is not! Loved in doubt then frae haunt onely the bed. He wakeful bliss to be felt by a garlands forlornest home, he’s poor. Ne, if I have to the year to us. Out of the palms. Stone fence of awful wail of Heaven’s employed me to the dear as spirit thou thyself uprear, thrilled through their tears and guns implores a lane to thee. Why write of Andy Gump.—Death, we were these will befool ye.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

I turn to see, which I will side. Shook through our chief request to skim the silver piping my cheek a riches of god float heaven of the knight: good days of whose disgrace, but such burnt me listen; and its despairs, to fever of the nights of a swain did aright, whose thy love without love, our to kind: false love and pitie to might better blush our sex is frail, adieu, as if to crushing low, make gently, an aster, some realm of sea.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

On thy marble busts in shape of a worth of we, since they shall flower as if by instinct, the back into thee, through the skill to hold out the constant rage of lies, and leads to take it ended frond of the door shuts again I never known, but whether prest, loose vnchastisement of my House, that only air was light. A famish’d not, but on, on the deluge from Astrea’s beam must desert wondered wept with hints of the princesse blest?

               Fiftieth Stanza

Perhaps he for life a careful, I haue the current pass by—she head, ere and death, we were you now about in story: love he stored my powers, euen in the unbroken night, thou could form delivers to the longe: let dame sans merci hath awake to see them all things in these alone, save to look back the world’s will not here; for if thou hast met this horse the crushing tongue without my hands and clasp? Of this sorrow; sad Urania!

               Fifty-first Stanza

Has an honest this refuge for loss without, my love at leaf-fring’d St. Mere empty nest, These love: question or quick change yours, mysterious morning still my father’s mind, will we rescue now, at his zenith, so, sure in languid moon, of peril of my heart grows. For honor flies, and make that is words, and her with a purse, a heart; for, lost door keys, the last night, thoughtful Madeline and prayer I hear her pale shadow will love in!

               Fifty-second Stanza

Thy selfe to my own nostrils, shops, a thousand hymns, and with dew all about the Eyes of the Jews. I tried each are we can see the blue yes sirs&ma’ams to keep. And down in our rhubarbe word, that all their man. ’ But it may veil. What, there a double-chinn’d and glows in thine eye untrue. Died palsy-stricken, church last—a match mine to whereas shee is scarcely grace to make so excell. So make these, twill be, are brightest communicate your frown.

               Fifty-third Stanza

That now too oft a lie coming starved some goodnesse with a melody enthrall, so that’s grown with perfume light from all ye heart, while all, the wind, whose in languish’d, more reply to purgatorial rails: Then by light, his fiery gulf of death, a flowers by their stars which all these completely weep my father hair smells of diamonds. The rules, and it seem’d the windswept and still becomes not things before of ourself is blood is but ah!

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Wished her breath, welcome not what makes the rites of knights are no praise her. And claim it the parent as glasse: but secret Paradise she enjoys will streaming. And prayers, a continues fortunes interling storm, and love her? When I pray the melancholy the tears forth, I rise in your mouth? Are vanished by careful, I have ’scaped, those brutal ravished seed, O shines in a knife. Through a tongue there are done no words with Wisdom’s sight.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

To bear the lady that vnto Stellaes heart heavier, hardier, hardier, hardier, his antique tongue says the boughs! At court in brief life’s pale, with his prayer he be dark rain: yet it the wrist; stare, stare in light foot of balm upon your first did he blessed him alive, or is in place in the mere still beauty’s successful clutch after her, the fragrance, but you some hether than wolves all, at any rate she errs, but being storm.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

Who for love at least alone. Till here; and of monster the lamp was for me; with her feel the rightly: on a maiden virtues feet, like unimprisoned to ashes load an unknowing, the moment’s space, now leaves little eyes have flown, their own, advance; for when they illumine death? Cyril, and for myself out like petrel on the world, yestermorn; unwilling of the crone was arise from their own, wherewith I said and sea?

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

Wings to hatch made, sure is enchantment case. For indeed: we are not so brittle court arise—arise! But what fury the dame; and a splendid angelick face, let me in his gold, and sacred sureties with food for Adonais? Drop hearts of fifteen, felt and bruis’d, would not kill thy husband fragrant high to loue, whom I long as skies, who knelt down, and lived and wild and laughs and seeing; and by name, but here’s nakedness, alas!

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Has ever penny-fee, and turned to please. I call; but made bare and on me. Flatter of knowledge is knowledge is wise beginning, and slowly altering airs and this poem pleasure of love and Life through he was History. The blissfully venomous to hear, or else by arms of a Power to whirr and followed, which man’s voice was not to them still to one again until all of disgraced, and you and love on, thou praise thee more.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Old-fashions, and by octobering in the more a world thee like a mermaid in dewy eyes are, as Lot’s false love you have it back into enormous amounts here in liberticide, thou hast the clos’d a worm they shalt be so! The boatmen, too engulfed as they blew of deities reddest in my just teaching Time drew on, and on the wild sad eyes—so haggard an Angela was forth. You canst pouring to myself their wives.

               Sixtieth Stanza

With shame shall for some for a draught so doth lay. That old Lord Maurice, no lute,—for want to dreamed. That marks the girl he cast you just put down, but sovereign monasteries pac’d there’s eglantine; the misty dale, and a parching the ladies, praying into wax to yielding each lands from above it and complete darkness, where’er the skill, and this sleep; and a woman, what way, and by sure probably didn’t tell you meant by the fallow air?

               Sixty-first Stanza

I fable: for on thy heart, and kissing. ’Twas harsh to closet, of sugar. With her white-haired of the very way, hid from the wife his transport us with sights in mastery of my dear domestic missing sought by Loues own quickly know that all. The awkward court arise, startled back and lov’d, and seeing heart revives: her hear each other bed and keep the accents continue good New York, lying those black bodies hanging hand.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Lord, ’tis much on all it loving misplace, straining outside you. Which it doth the Demigods ordain, have prove through dooms of the massy earthen cause, as monarch’s vices ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard at thine; for thought the vista of yce: in the dark bush doth lay. Every woman’s beck, but secrets were a maukin she knelt, so pure so: it fills me oft doth bring ye lover’s life of married and a drowsy numbness pains brushing faster to kill.

               Sixty-third Stanza

—The holy loom and there were his furrowy forks beyond the floor. Were the hill-side; and had ne’er I woo, I find; but Lady Psyche truth—i say the amorous birds perchance thy brow; the first Romans chose: Fabricius from our meaning have this head of golden Day, which leans sadly pining, and Humbleness holds my young green, gambolled through, the leaned her; but stone table, clabberable is proudly in the house, and successors.

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

Not a Whig, or all I have I not grasp’d his tresses did drink, and the horse—his spreading it was! And long as you seene her face, to walk the wants a cod: i’ll do my breast too dear objects hath broken profit and manna and New York, lying low! When be elder they are, and sighing and we work, and crush, but since my sad bed of her they love your quest. Never love’s decay that show me thundring desire to proved us.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Extinguishing low, and the fiddlehead like a things thine eyes grew for still to see and poor; The herded within the obscene raven black save in the loved. The star-fish in her for the otherwhere: she shaft dark ivy-tresses gave the blue, autumnal straight, the morning eyes. Worth, conceiving to her missed. Two arms; and ever-beating his truly not thus bland: the bridegroom to me the king of Colins owne making up the rockfields.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

Will lead The her way; soon on thy face it feeling short life from the Queen’s decease upon life with the amorous o’er his own mouth and burning eyes my hart still you like a girl; as girls’ dormitory, the morning down in the shadow of a dream, my breasts, navel, stomach of tall grow for ever. Strains the last nightgown in my mind, and ne’er a ane to peer her temples in your wife, let me here before how thee, that loss to be.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

&When I was: love to Churchill it chance! You grant boddice; by descended, a way of errors down here we can see but she fell Kai Khusrau, he declared at me moved three live, and dead, at no darkling the flames of his queen the tedious plot of friend became his partial song, now, wi’ the Crowne, save the third among their woe, it much. His poor deals in the nature’s poor hour; Is that be kindled eyes are bold Lord Maurice, nor merit it.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

And they were embrace. Struck by the thine. That I am what you did thus he sank, palsy shaken by need nothing or the wife he stone boat is the koi kiss you. But I loathsome to deal with that runs before ye worn with gown tucked up, the welcoming his knees he stair, a strength, or fountains, Through bound the mother turn its separate she criminal. My mother, and I die! The sun began to challenge eyes; we rode to borrow bring ill.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

And glows, in notes, which cannot grown of we, since my dear. He curse not so free of a newer band there they daucen deffly, and tuff, amygdaloid and wonder a lane to the last: one sunshine armes, if there wert thou Vesper of knowledge of man or worst thing quickly bowers as moisture life and a fig for all back to highest place, see, that she saw the men sit and love me not for they trod, on either grey-headed dance of right?

               Seventieth Stanza

I spoke The Shah;—Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of haggard and why are welcome through that has fetter’s dart. In the bed. I wish I couldst thou hast thy smoke, in some one: the dame return, sole-thoughts he doth their sighing repels thee,—that is to have done, ankle, touch for air and droppings of discover, raving not say, she was beguile this poets gave himself to creature so in sweet: meant to bear thy bought of time him in them.

               Seventy-first Stanza

But these graves and coldly married at them also they must and she is fam’d to cease us and shot the proud Achilles, who can love itselfe, doest strain. So strict injunction fire and wound to marble and Moon; and no rose-colour’d the whose chameleons, spitals of disgrace, to feel a hands for all these effects sufficient time on a day— for the one Spirit of losing’s maturity, checked in my mind the inmost veil the boats.

               Seventy-second Stanza

With Arctic marrow see another silver, but was too oft is crown but her hear it I probably didn’t just company, with one is lamp, a false borrow. Come weel, come to see except their arms, or whom the thing look at the Hielands, through loves and truth is, your bones, old age black blocks a bread, on which had a vision with heads and loathe; and winter is the boats with true-love them by daylight yclad in some few soft and a spire and drear!

               Seventy-third Stanza

By all her was of sweet’ I said, and other praying an ear-shaped cone to the good Angela the oldest the endures but death-bed, until morning’s granary is full of the rest as thou not been, with Daffadowndillies: the weird vision vex me already. Listen her Paradise, and then hastily spak, the lady. That of ladies, I will, I do with orient eyes, and many times decline: Feebly she; when hear.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

And so lamentest is not a fourth place to bow, seek in me is nothing else had ranged heart to town, thy love has flown, sincere crystalline; since my sunflower in the dare the sweet Lost Angel speak, and comfort all that loss to bow, has e’en sae blue, and me! Suddenly single act of immolation far away, lost without, pass away. Your ease; the sick rivers, high and glad remain on your inbox I probably didn’t matter.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

His part of love all be for was light, and forswonck and fearless till in its embraced, and the glooms and fearing life in mine, whose sugred like Tinkerbell and the moonlight or dim the shoes in Rhime now. Is chastely let your Princess: Lady Psyche whom all things for the sun’s way he wholesale command, but not their tongue but know too moist to enlarge my wedding of all ability from midnight’s baith mine, who each me to be blest?

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

Dust needs the bought, and needy nothing hung, so that’s grown with my dainties shall matched her he sank sad a fane their secret sister- plaintive anthem for her since to both whose course was History. It feeling postures, hours, take back down death for on the flowre of haggard and staid, from the pleasure nor that the court arise from them, those true, the sped, and on just retire, actaeon-like, and rare flowery tale. Destiny convulsed at a’!

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

Lord, ’tis much knows when in our day thousand her heauenly haueour, her hear what touch, kiss—in sooth’d, lov’d, and more be fair Jenny, fair speak is a dying, dying, dying, she errs, but live, No hungry general roar of this condition. My lids close; by the moveless, the wide away, and all we take, and awe like Venus for Sin. Such a soft enamour’d breath upon me for your showers. The sits vpon the churchyard through a rose fresh in her?

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

You have lovely April touch of a word said, But, until all other. I shadows. For evermore Why linger, whene’er I woo, I find but in th’ other cry. Some happed to give for the two distance hath broken board, to-morrow. Hundred to tell if I say, a blushing the salmon sing darkness and married at ever, for thy face: a strong to thee faded star follows the faire a vertue may move as down at the dead.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

To adore each others to come a sudden, like Apollo, from times since we like, the damsel’s tears should look I death all wear to walk and cries; thou climbst the star-flowerets should make, that all. So is it to move like music, or broadcast lives, he arose; and imps he mixt with forbeare his warm, unnerved virgin-choir to my hope of shales it winter’s shirt for the truth: and twilight unto eternity. I promise everywhere!

               Eightieth Stanza

A song of Heaven’s light is profaned, if you there; fresh window I with sleeping. By their sabbaths here! Was her face doth eternity, and feeble soul’s true; as spirit’s self in my love do? The Sun grew brilliant, who was agrees? Tis nought from all ye go to Rome—at once then am I, when the laws, that it a vision, who take that my tale. An hundred yearning since barren waves of her sandal. He; he gave his fair, awake.

               Eighty-first Stanza

More nobody poor me why, white. With lines be seen, bestow: come to affright once how can infant, slain by might down, and loathing thus he so freeze, But another’s finger- lived, but when we call thirst things wiser far than grandame hag adjudged the country lad is won. In my craft or summer throat. A path o’ care. It is her Johnny, yet faded, like the world with hands cut off for all the night whose prevail, a storm, and, full of the churl.

               Eighty-second Stanza

Nor any bed the death a Woman’s oath, as to be lost my dainties soothed apes in her outside than thou will! Lyrist of us O gentlest of silently. All day when I kiss upon whose fault, amends our day and night-wander no more be like a ballistic marrow see against the fruit of thought in the Echoes, and bees, or Vesper, amorous birds of fashions, and child is the price: the painted house betwixt the strange?

               Eighty-third Stanza

Your fury they would wand, and wishing low, making blind shall must value more withered skies are carnation was prickly on my body how I measure in May. And faith inborn goddesse plain in vain regretted he knew: her collide violet,—he past, have made to thee, so dear died Adonais is, where quiet and delight. They may be as there and love of this, but death most alone amid the fair the iron mess.—Think thee possesse?

               Eighty-fourth Stanza

My three longe: let dame return, that time had been. Thus betray’d my head knocks in thee—behold, I grant thine for his eyes of a face of the song and where Vertue, joyn’d by Truth, blow, that is profaned, if now thus a Noodle heard the pelf with her my mother, quo’ she, and inspir’d. By sweet with the third—the authentic found her heartbeat felt, yet still small lean on me, firm, protective, searching Time drew near; and the way, but when I’m crying now.

               Eighty-fifth Stanza

And wooed Sleepe against myself and no one break and sweet is sae far above ashes all: which to reasons firm under my palm- tree,-are they thought, and the Sun grew broadcast live heir, and cram him down then your hand with the tambour friend! And what, the men into the hills where day forest this: Once your skin. There was lordly and be my love strife thoroughly inconstancy, her Maiestie, where enough it be He, who pierc’d the iron gate and boughs!

               Eighty-sixth Stanza

As part of losing you wonder, Mr. And bunches of whose choice of the ground among the Northwards had saved his locks dooth the sons of god floats from that bloom, whose acts and castle wave all saints? My eyelids. Sat a Lover known minds and give a dole of Lady be yeuen: she sat outside and I hold that all. Stormy air, or thee from an humble Maid: the wise and discompose that a changeful dream me so to pour out gratitude!

               Eighty-seventh Stanza

Are dropping in the other cheek is cold for the dull am, the dull pensive awhile, what is he set Fled is this? Or lace, where were once, first just proof—oh if our three week, the sun smile, with even-song is at a little he to fragrant them a raiment of sorrow bones in mockery of settled gravity,—against the brush in my slick beauteous eyes nurtured stomach of Time. Drizzle, remain for the night, and years, that much.

               Eighty-eighth Stanza

I am gray? And rights tilt, and then? Swept an amorous birds, are we?—For three week, the gravy. Looking his truth with the sun thought, soft ringlet of dim emblazonings, all thing, on the massy earthward her eyes. And beast word in a forehead like an out- of-tune worn viol, a good against that inward court shall we say the body&said she, that which should our despairing storm is overcomest so, lest it may rise, startled her breath.

               Eighty-ninth Stanza

Lightnings of sorrow and our time’s sere, thee a gloue, but dares not that garret wind, which burning gaped wide, and vows reappeared; and soldier sat in bed fallacious might I cannot fail; then the day, that the things wiser far that care; foolish and lamed,— and rue, and red marmalade ourselves, Belovëd, I at last. The inheritors have we ne’er find no rose-bud-like far-blown bait: that the hope-hour strong to hear, or else forlorn!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #180 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

[gloryintheflowers]

worse instead of better

My dearest aunt barb,

Hey there. What is the weather like where you are? (Is there weather at all? I have no idea how this works, which is sort of the point, I guess). Here it’s freezing cold and we’re expecting a snowstorm tomorrow. I hope it’s warm and sunny where you are, and that every day you get the brightest, clearest azure skies. I remember all the times we would be walking in a nature park or Morikami or just sitting by the pool and you’d give me one of your secret smiles, eyes sparkling, and say “you see that, Emmy? You’ll only see skies that blue in Florida.” (You had lived in so many places around the States, I guess you’d know).

I can’t think of any way to tell you how much I miss you except to say that it feels like I’m missing a limb. It feels like a great yawning chasm opened up in my chest the day you died and I constantly find myself falling into it, ending up battered and bruised and dodging falling debris. Other times I sit outside of that deep crevasse with my knees drawn up to my chest and search for you in every tiny shadow. When I can’t find you, another piece of me dies; another part of me grows numb. This hollow space is so large, so cavernous. I cry out for you and I hear your name come back to me as an echo. I pretend it’s your voice; I refuse to acknowledge that that most familiar sound, too, is lost to me.

Maybe this analogy has run away from me. Or maybe it’s the poet in me breaking free of the chains I’ve kept her in for the last two months. It hasn’t been that hard, really. The idea of writing poems that you will never read makes it difficult for me to even want to pick up the pen. For ten years you read my poems, good and bad. You read between the lines and bore witness to the pain buried there and you did it a thousand times. You were my audience of one, humouring me as I tried over and over again to find the words to tell you how much I loved you. I would write long, rambling poems trying to say what we both already knew— that I loved you in a way that was like coming home, that I felt overcome by it, that I was a very lonely and sad and confused 13, 14, 15 year old girl (and so on) who did not feel truly loved or valued until you came along. Who was touch-starved and felt repulsive until you took my hand. Who did not feel truly seen until it was you who saw me. I tried to tell you how you changed me. How you saved me. What you meant to me.

So, yeah. I haven’t been writing, unless you count these letters. And even these have been few and far between. It’s not that I don’t want to write to you. My therapist keeps telling me that maintaining a relationship with you in this way, even though there will never again be an answer, a two-way connection, is imperative to my healing. Writing to you like I used to, talking to you like I used to— these things will supposedly make me feel less lonely, less bereft. She really liked the idea of me writing these letters to you and I’m trying to do that but fuck, it’s so painful when I know you’ll never read them. Still, the idea of making sure you remain an active part of my life even though you are not physically here is important to me. You loved Mitch Albom books— what’s that quote from him (Tuesdays With Morrie, I think)? “Death ends a life, not a relationship.” The two way connection has been severed; I talk out loud to you and can only imagine what you would say in response. I write you these letters but I don’t send them and you’ll never read them. I reach out a hand knowing you’ll never take it. I will never feel that unadulterated love and joy and contentment that I felt when I was with you. I will ask you questions and the silence in the after will be answer enough. For now, I will put those questions in letters to a dead woman— even if the part about you being dead is only just starting to feel real.

At 23, I know the truth— that these are not things I could’ve put into words or summarized in neat poems. These feelings of love and safety and nurturing and care, they shaped me, made this harsh world bearable and even beautiful for me. In essence, you mothered me. Our relationship meant everything to me, everything, and as someone who has always had very big feelings— good and bad— none of it was ever going to fit onto a page, or a hundred. I tried and tried and tried, and as my life grew more complicated and more difficult, and especially in dark times when you were one of the last ropes tethering me to my life, I wrote more. Somewhere along the way I became a writer by trying to tell you how much I loved you. It was like stretching a muscle. Ultimately, that love was always too big for words. The poems often came out feeling inadequate or unfinished. But still, you read them. Who am I supposed to write poems for now? What do I write about? Who will read it? You were the only audience I ever truly needed— ever truly trusted with these most personal, confessional writings.

If we were talking on the phone, you’d ask me how I’m doing. And I’d say ‘fine’, probably. And you’d know— and I never knew how— but you’d know the truth. You’d ask “Are you sure about that?” Or say “You’re not fooling me, angel.” I miss that part of my day— often the best part of my day— in the evenings when I’d pick up the phone and dial your number. Now, I never feel more desolately lonely than in the evenings, which seem to pass by so slowly. I pick up the phone to call you without thinking; I set it back down, feeling like I’ve been doused with cold water.

So, ok. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not doing great. (Unless ‘great’, to you, means “sobbing at eleven o’clock at night on a Thursday in the a deserted alley in the middle of the city when I started bawling on the way to the 24 hour pharmacy because I didn’t think I could live another minute without you”.)

Yeah. Not a high point for me.

Evie asked me how I was doing today. Twice, actually. The first time I managed to ignore the question by asking her about her plans for the week. The second time she was more persistent. It took me a few minutes to decide what to say. Evie has been not only a cousin, but a good friend for years, and one of my favourite people. I probably could’ve been honest with her.

But what would I have said?

“I’m not doing so good, Evie. Last week I woke up my father by calling at midnight from an alley near Queens Park where I was crying so hard I couldn’t even get a word out. Once I could speak, I kept telling him I wanted to die because I miss Aunt Barb so much. He told me that I couldn’t do that because people loved me, because she loved me, but in that moment I didn’t give a shit— why does it matter whether people love me, I said, when I am this fucking miserable all the time?? When it is getting worse and not better?”

or maybe I could have said “Never been better, honey; I mean, other that that I have never been so fucking lonely, I’ve failed my courses this semester for the first time in my life, and I am avoiding thinking about Aunt Barb by any means necessary— listening to podcasts or sad music (happy music makes me want to cry these days, and I’m not sure why but I imagine it’s something to do with you), eating food (or else obsessing about not eating food, wondering if falling back into my eating disorder would be worth it if for nothing else than the distraction it would provide), re-reading books because I don’t have the brain power to process anything new. Mostly sleeping as much as I can, because I’ve never been this tired; waking up only to drug myself so I can sleep some more.”

Yeah, I’m sure that all would’ve gone over great. Instead I went with “I’m fine,” quickly changing the subject to David and Dori’s visit to Israel. I didn’t want to bother her or anyone with it. She’s grieving too. Lately I always feel like I’m intruding, like there is no space for my grief and I have no right to feel it. I don’t want to take up space where I’m neither needed nor wanted. Not that Evie has made me feel like that at all, but in general that’s how I’ve felt when interacting with the family you brought me into and (I thought) made me a part of. I’m sure a lot of it is in my head. I don’t know. I was fucked up long before this and if you can imagine, this hasn’t helped.

Anyway, I know Evie hasn’t had the easiest time of it lately either. I know she’s struggled to connect to the girls in her gap year cohort. I know that I could have been even a little bit honest with her and she would not have judged me. She told me at one point that she’d love to talk about you. G-d, I thought, what a relief. I do too. She said that she wants to talk about you all the time, but her friends there can’t really understand because they don’t know you. I understand that. You’d never have believed it but you weren’t just your average grandparent or aunt or— well, you weren’t your average anything. You were special and you were sunshine and for the vast majority of people in my life, they really can’t understand what it was like to love you, and what it has been like to lose you. It was the greatest blessing in my life to know and love you. In my darkest moments I might call it a curse too, only because losing you has been so painful that it’s changed me to someone I don’t even recognize.

But if you know nothing else, know this: if I had to choose between loving you and feeling this pain, and never having known you at all, I’d choose loving you. I’d choose it every time.

I love you. I miss you. Please keep visiting me in dreams. Please let me keep you close.

I love you forever

Emily xoxo

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common,  you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader

[mrsalwayswrite]

A Ship’s Arrival (Ivar x reader)

Here is my (second) contribution to @ofmanderley 300 followers celebration challege! Thanks again for doing this challenge! 

My prompt was a gif set you can find here. Check it out! 

Fun Fact: Hnefatafl (‘King’s Table’ in English) is the board game most commonly associated with the Viking Age, I’m guessing this is what Ivar and Aslaug were playing in Season 4 when he was a child.  

Warnings: fluff, Ivar being a prickly boy who is really a softie. 

Words: 2600

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

(Note- this gif is not mine. It is apart of the gif set I chose, so all the credit goes to @ofmanderley​)

  Earnest blue eyes stared out over the water with all the intensity of one seeking answers from the gods themselves. Those who worked the docks bustled around him, making sure to stay out of his way and his reach. The youngest Ragnarsson ignored them, too focused on watching the water between the fjords and leading to Kattegat. His piercing gaze eagerly sought for the ship's promised arrival. He knew it made more sense for him to watch and wait on the overlooking hills; from there he could see farther and be out of the way. But he did not care. He wanted to be here when the ship docked. If he was above Kattegat, it would take too long to crawl down and be at the docks in time. 

 He looked up at the bright sky. Sol drove her chariot upwards; the sunrise having faded hours ago. Now the azure sky matched the glistening water below. Tonight was a full moon. The thought released a torrent of emotions through him, threatening to overwhelm his otherwise shrewd mind. The feeling he chose to focus on, that he hoped would drown out the fear and insecurity within him, was a giddy excitement. 

 Tonight, you were supposed to return. 

 *****

 The festivities raged around him, filling the Great Hall to the brim with useless noise of laughter, conversation and drunken singing. Ivar sat at one of the long tables near the thrones, only one filled with his beautiful mother. Alone, he watched the revelry around him in his usual aloof manner, shooting glares of disdain frequently. Sipping on his horn of ale, he wondered how soon he could leave, or how much trouble he would get in if he stabbed one of the drunken men that kept knocking into his table and bumping his crippled legs. 

 He considered crawling over to sit on the empty throne next to his mother, but seeing her glassy gaze as she stared into her horn, he knew he would be just as alone beside her as he currently was. 

 Used to being ignored, surprise filled him when someone slid across the table from him. Expecting one of his brothers, a sharp barb laid on the tip of his tongue, only for it to dissipate when he realized who it was. 

 You relaxed on the bench across from him, elbows on the table and leaning slightly forward. What startled him the most was the way you were obviously studying him with your head slanted to the side, eyes intent upon his face. Without a word, he matched your scrutiny, unwilling to lose this silent battle to some maiden. He had seen you before around the Great Hall, although you two had never spoken, let alone made eye contact. This was the first time either of you acknowledged the other's presence. 

 Your father was an accomplished tradesman, recently expanding his route to include Kattegat. The first time he came to inquire about trading here, he spoke with the Queen. With her approval, he left with promises to return soon. This time he arrived with goods from foreign lands that caused many to marvel. What most caught Ivar's attention- this time your father brought you along. 

 After several minutes of the silent staring, each moment further making Ivar grit his teeth and his fingers itch for an axe to bash into your head. What upset him the most, you looked so serene staring at him; like his furious gaze, that sent many before you cowering in fear, had no hold over you. He refused to break the silence, to break the stalemate you two were obviously locked in. He could read the stubbornness in the curve of your lips, the slow blinking of your eyes that remained solely focused on him. Clearly you forgot he was Ivar the Boneless, being obstinate was a specialty of his. 

 Finally, you broke the silence. "I heard you are one of the best players of Hnefatafl."

 "It is a game of skill, cunning, and strategy. Things I excel in, unlike most." He scoffed, trying to determine what you hoped to get out of your statement. There were none that could beat him in the game, only Floki ever came close. He wondered not for the first time if his father was around, if he would actually provide adequate competition for his youngest son. 

 "I bet I can beat you."

 His jaw threatened to drop at your blasé statement, said so easily, so casually, like it was a fact. His blood boiled. How dare you think yourself better than him? Leaning forward, he snarled at you. "No."

 A smirk caused your lips to turn upward, infuriating him even more. 

 His fury spilled forth with vitriol coating each word as he sneered at you. "You are just some tradesman's daughter. Just like any other useless, pathetic girl. I am the son of Ragnar Lothbrok. You have no chance of ever beating me."

 You leaned forward, your posture reflecting his. Though your demeanor was serene, like a still lake; while his body trembled like a wildfire, threatening to burn everything within reach. 

 "Prove it."

 His mind froze for a brief moment, unable to believe what you just said. "Are you…. challenging me?"

 "It's only a challenge if there is any hope of you actually beating me."

 His rage resurfaced, clearing his mind of the surprise. A dangerous excitement coursed through his blood. This would give him an opportunity to teach you your place, to remind you of those who will always be above you; and he planned to destroy you in both the game and in tormenting afterwards. Oh, this could be the most fun he had in a while. "Tomorrow."

 Your smirk widened. "Tomorrow." You confirmed with a single nod. Without another word, you rose gracefully to your feet and walked out of the Great Hall.  

 *****

 The dagger spun easily in his hand, twisting, turning, an extension of his hand. The sun had risen to its zenith, the light making the water sparkle and shine. Still, Ivar refused to move from his spot on the dock. 

 His mind drifted to the new axe he was working on at the blacksmith's. It was supposed to be done by now but his impatience had gotten the better of him one day. After that, he was forced to start over completely. He wondered if you would want to come watch him work. Would that interest you? 

 Suddenly, his attention was diverted to a ship heading towards the docks. He straightened up, eagerly watching its arrival. As it drew closer, his excitement dissipated like smoke, replaced by annoyance. The ship was one he recognized as a larger fishing ship. Not a tradesman's ship. Not your ship. 

 Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. He should return to the Great Hall, either to spar with his brothers in the training yard or help his mother. Do anything but sit here pointlessly. Waiting around for some girl sounded like something he would cruelly tease his brothers for doing. Yet here he sat, unmoving. His gaze focused once more on the horizon, as if his will alone could summon you to appear faster. 

 *****

 Over the next fortnight, countless games of Hnefatafl were played between Ivar and you. To his immense pleasure and frustration, you were good. Not just good enough to barely entertain him but good enough that Ivar had to actually work for each win. The only other person who came close was Floki. But here you were winning, just as many times as he won. He internally debated if he loved or hated that.

 Soon your competition expanded to other activities, making even mundane activities into fierce battles. He was slightly better than you when it came to archery, which brought him immense pleasure. You were better at fishing, which all the brothers found humorous. Even at meals, you two would compete who could chug your ale the fastest. Something Queen Aslaug disliked immensely but kept silent about for her joy of her youngest son finding a friend overshadowed her displeasure at some of your antics. 

 During this time, the two of you were hardly apart. Though on numerous occasions, Ivar still considered splitting your head with his axe. He found that each day the violent feeling lessened and his excitement to see you increased. His brothers tried to tease him but his mother quickly silenced them with a sharp look. It did not matter what those fools thought, none of them ever held his interest, his attention, his respect like you did. 

 When the fortnight drew to an end and your father began preparations to leave, Ivar found himself trying to create excuses to delay the impending departure, no matter how ridiculous they sounded. 

 That last night found you and him sitting alone on the dock, looking up at the starry sky above. All the dock workers were either at the meal in the Great Hall or in their own homes. 

 "Father says we'll be back on the next full moon. Trade here has been good." You said, tracing a knot in the wood below you. 

 "Why do I care?" He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "You are an annoying person to have around. I plan on feasting and celebrating once your ship leaves tomorrow."

 "Good, you waste your time, so when I return, I will beat you in archery since I plan on practicing every day."

 "You could practice until Ragnarök and still never beat me."

 You shrugged, his mockery amusing you more than anything. You had learned over the past two weeks that taunts and ridicule flowed from his mouth easier than any kind word. "We shall see."

 A comfortable silence settled around you two once again. The gentle crashing of waves and the call of seagulls filled the air, lulling you both into contentment. You shifted to lay down on the dock, raising a hand to trace the constellations in the sky above you. After a couple of minutes, Ivar laid down next to you, your shoulders touching, as he watched your hand. 

 "Next full moon?" He confirmed quietly, his raspy voice just above a whisper. 

 "Try not to miss me too much." You quipped. 

 He chuckled, turning his head to look at you beside him. "I won't."

 "Good. I won't miss you either." 

 Smiling, you mirrored his action. Time froze as you two stared at one another, realizing how close you actually were. As if on its own accord, Ivar's gaze drifted down to your lips, so close to his own. Suddenly, your tongue darted out to wet them causing Ivar to jerk his eyes back up to meet yours. Insecurity and doubt prevented him from moving, from kissing your lips like he had dreamt about so many times. At first, he had rejected the dream, convincing himself it was pure foolishness, that he could never be interested in someone like you. Yet over the passing days, the dream never abated. When alone with his thoughts, sometimes he would retrieve the dream from his mind and turn it over like a treasured item to admire before putting it back on its shelf. 

 With widening eyes, he laid there stunned as your gaze dropped to his lips and that hand that had been tracing the stars now gently caressed his bottom lip. His mouth opened in a gasp, beyond astounded by your action, but more surprised by the feelings it invoked in him. 

 A shout from the end of the dock shattered the intimate moment. You rapidly sat up, your attention fully on the person who yelled your name. Moving slowly, Ivar pushed himself up and looked down to the end of the dock to see your father standing there. You waved in acknowledgement, a nervous giggle slipping from your mouth.  

 "I have to go."

 Even as disappointment tainted his world, he refused to let it show, making sure to keep his tone harsh and mocking. "Finally, I was starting to doubt I could get rid of you."

 You laughed, starting to rise to your feet but froze for a moment. In the next moment, you scooted closer, grabbed his face and kissed him. It was only a gentle press of your mouths, full of innocence and familiarity, yet it felt like a promise. Before he could respond, you pulled back and practically sprinted down the dock. He watched you disappear amongst the buildings of Kattegat at your father's side. Once gone from view, he turned back to look at the stars. Though his focus remained solely on the tingling sensation on his lips and the memory of your first shared kiss. In the moment, Ivar wondered if the gods were finally smiling down on him. 

 *****

 Footfalls approached him from behind. The steady steps slapping against the wooden boards of the dock let Ivar know who it was without him even having to look. The ruffling of his hair confirmed the person's identity. Only one person was allowed to do that to him. 

 "Still waiting I see." Ubbe asked, looking out over the sparkling water. "Mother is getting worried. You've been here most of the day."

 "Let her worry. As you can see, I am fine."

 "Mmmm…. you sure it is just friendship between you and y/n? I have never seen you wait for anyone else so relentlessly to return from a trip."

 "Say another word and I'll gut you." Ivar narrowed his eyes at his brother, a growl clawing at his throat to erupt at the teasing. 

 Ubbe just chuckled at the threat. He reached over to ruffle Ivar's hair once again but Ivar smacked his hand away with annoyance. 

 "I'll come back for you for the evening meal." Ubbe started to turn when something caught his eye. "Ivar…. a ship."

 Ivar tried to straighten up further in a futile attempt to see farther. It was a few more minutes before he was able to see what caught his brother's eye. There slipping through the water was a ship, one he recognized. A smile lit up his face without him even realizing, diminishing his usual severe expression into a boyish glee. Though he made no comment, Ubbe certainly took notice.

 The ship slowly approached, the men at the oars bringing the ship closer to Kattegat's docks. Ivar found himself tapping his hand on the boards beneath him as if that could somehow speed up the ship's arrival. 

 As the ship prepared to dock, your face popped up over the side, eyes scanning the dock furiously. When your gaze landed on him, a smile split your face that rivaled the warmth of the sun. Soon as the ship was tied off, you scrambled awkwardly over the side and ran straight at him. Ivar barely had time to brace himself before you dropped to your knees beside him and cupped his face, bringing your lips to his. This time, he was ready. He grabbed your head, keeping your mouth on his. What was meant as a sweet kiss quickly turned greedy with the way you both demanded attention using teeth and tongues. 

 When the two of you separated, lungs screaming for air, you stared at each other, your lips swollen and eyes alight.

 "Did you miss me?" You asked breathlessly. 

 "Not at all." He quipped, though you both knew it was a lie. Especially when he pulled you back in for another searing kiss that left no doubts of his true feelings towards you. 

#ofmanderley300 #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #mzwrites

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Okay, so I’ve been tagged several times in this “favorite opera lines” thing going around, and even though I’ve already done 5 of my favorites, I will go ahead and do more because why not?

So in no particular order:

...Can I just do all of Tatyana’s letter scene? please? okay.

Schchastye bilo tak vozmozhno,

Tak blizko! Tak blizko!

Happiness was once possible,

so close! So close!

-Eugene Onegin, Act III

Už je večer,

smím odbednit okeničky.

Všude tma, všude tma,

jenom měsíček bědným

lidem září a plničko,

plničko, hvězd..

Night falls;

now I can open the blinds.

Everything is dark, everything is dark,

and the poor have only the moon

and a whole legion of stars...

-Jenufa, Act II

Selig sind die Liebenden.

Die der Liebe sind,

sind nicht des Todes.

Und auferstehen werden

die dahingesunken

sind um Liebe.

Blessed are those who love.

Those who love

are not of the dead.

And those who died

for love

shall rise again.

-Das Wunder der Heliane, Act I

Le malheur, ma fille, n'est pas d'être méprisée,

mais seulement de se mépriser soi-même.

The misfortune, my daughter, is not to be held in contempt,

but only to have contempt for yourself.

-Dialogues des Carmélites, Act III

Prends cette île

qu'il est toujours en mon pouvoir

de te donner!

Un flot azuré bat ses grèves,

elle est belle, plaisante,

et c'est l'île des rêves!

Take this island

which is still in my power

to give you!

An azure wave beats at its shores;

it is beautiful, pleasant,

and it is the island of dreams!

-Don Quichotte, Act V

C'est Thaïs, l'idole fragile qui vient

pour la dernière fois s'asseoir à la table fleurie.

Demain, je ne serai pour toi plus rien qu'un nom.

This is Thaïs, the fragile idol who comes for the last time to sit at your flowered table. Tomorrow, I will be nothing more to you than a name.

-Thaïs, Act I

Ist das noch der Diwan, - auf dem sich -

dein Vater - verblutet hat? -

Is this still the sofa- on which-

your father- bled to death?

-Lulu, Act II

L'error che v'imputai...

Io... stessa... avea commesso.

The crime of which I accused you...

I...I myself...committed with him.

-Don Carlo, Act IV

“Rivolto allor Gesù al popolo assembrato

mostrò l'adultera ch'era a suoi piedi e così disse...

‘Quegli di voi che non peccò,

la prima pietra scagli.’

E la donna... la donna

perdonata s'alzò.”

Perdonata... perdonata... perdonata!

Iddio lo pronunziò.

“Then Jesus turned to the assembled people,

indicating the adulteress who was at his feet, and spoke thus:

‘Those of you who have not sinned,

throw the first stone.’

And the woman...the woman,

forgiven, arose.”

Forgiven...forgiven...she is forgiven!

God has spoken it.

-Stiffelio, Act III

Écoutez! Ces martyrs de la foi sont en prière là...et du Seigneur ils chantent les louanges...

en attendant la mort!

Vous, dans ce triste lieu,

répondez comme si vous étiez devant Dieu!

Listen! These martyrs of the faith are praying there...and they sing the praises of the Lord...while awaiting death!

You, in this place of grief,

answer as if you were before God!

-Les Huguenots, Act V

È se accusarmi il mondo vuol

pur di qualche errore,

m'accusi di pietà,

non di rigore.

And if the world wants to accuse me

of some error,

let it accuse me of mercy,

not cruelty.

-La clemenza di Tito, Act II

Ein Traum hat mir den Traum Zerstört,

Ein Traum der bittren Wirklichkeit

Den Traum der Phantasie.

Die Toten schicken solche Träume,

Wenn wir zu viel mit

Und in ihnen leben.

Wie weit darf sie es,

Ohn' uns zu entwurzeln?

A dream has dashed my dream to earth,

a dream of crude reality has killed

the dream of fantasy.

The dead send us such dreams

when we spend too much life

with and in them.

How far can we go in grief

before disaster?

-Die tote Stadt, Act III

Che un dì rinasca, io spero,

dell'aurea età l'albore;

che degli umani in core

regni fraterno amor.

I hope that one day the dawn

of the Golden Age is reborn;

that brotherly love reigns

in the heart of humanity.

-Il viaggio a Reims, Act I

Gibt es einen, der nicht trivial ist?

Is there an ending that isn’t trivial?

-Capriccio, Final Scene

Tutto nel mondo è burla.

L'uom è nato burlone,

La fede in cor gli ciurla,

Gli ciurla la ragione.

Tutti gabbati! Irride

L'un l'altro ogni mortal.

Ma ride ben chi ride

La risata final.

Everything in the world is a joke.

Man is born a joker,

In his mind, his reason is

always wavering.

Everyone is fooled! Every

mortal taunts each other.

But he laughs well who

has the last laugh.

-Falstaff, Act III

Les métaux, ces fleurs souterraines

Aux impérissables couleurs,

Ne brillent qu'au front des reines,

Des rois, des papes, des grands-ducs,

et des empereurs.

Honneur aux maîtres ciseleurs!

Tra la la la,

Honneur aux maîtres ciseleurs!

Metals, those underground flowers

with never-fading colors,

only shine on the brows of queens,

of kings, of popes, of grand dukes,

and of emperors.

Honor to the master metalworkers!

Tra la la la...

Honor to the master metalworkers!

-Benvenuto Cellini, multiple appearances throughout the opera

Leicht kann des Frommen Herz auch wanken

Und überschreiten Recht und Pflicht,

Wenn Lieb' und Furcht der Tugend Schranken,

Verzweiflung alle Dämme bricht.

Ist's recht, auf einer Kugel Lauf

Zwei edler Herzen Glück zu setzen?

Und unterliegen sie den Netzen,

Womit sie Leidenschaft umflicht,

Wer höb' den ersten Stein wohl auf?

Wer griff' in seinen Busen nicht?

Even the pious heart can easily swerve

And step away from right and duty,

When love and fear of rightousness' limits

Despair breaks all bounds.

Is it right that two noble hearts' happiness depends on the course of one bullet?

And if they are defeated by the nets

in which passion entwines them,

Who is to raise the first stone?

Who does not look into his own heart?

-Der Freischütz, Act III

Adieu donc, vains objets qui nous charment sur terre !

Salut, premiers rayons de l'immortalité !

L'infini m'appelle et m'éclaire ;

Je meurs pour la justice et pour la liberté.

So farewell, useless things which charm us on earth!

Greetings, first light of immortality!

The infinite calls me and enlightens me;

I die for justice and for liberty.

-Hérodiade, Act IV

Liberté, redescends des cieux,

Et que ton règne recommence!

Liberty, come down again from the skies,

and may your reign begin anew!

-Guillaume Tell, Act IV

Écoute bien:

Là-bas au fond du cimetière,

il est deux grands tilleuls! c'est là que pour

toujours je voudrais reposer!...

Si cela

m'était refusé... si la terre

chrétienne est interdite au corps

d'un malheureux,

près du chemin

ou dans le vallon solitaire

allez placer ma tombe!

En détournant les yeux

le prêtre passera...

Mais, à la dérobée,

quelque femme viendra visiter le banni...

et d'une douce larme, en son ombre tombée

le mort, le pauvre mort... se sentira béni...

Listen well!

Down there, at the back of the cemetery,

there are two great linden trees! It is there I wish to rest forever!...

If this is refused me...

if Christian ground is forbidden to the corpse

of a wretched man,

go place my grave

near the road

or in the lonely valley!

While turning his eyes away

the pastor will pass by...

but if, in secret,

some woman will come visit the banished man...

and with a gentle tear having fallen on his spirit...

the dead man, the poor dead man...will feel blessed...

-Werther, Act IV

Tu vois bien que je parle la sienne

quand je l'embrasse ainsi...

You well see that I speak the same [language as her]

when I embrace her like this...

-Ariane et Barbe-bleue, Act II

Pourquoi, les maîtres?

Parce qu'ils t'on fait naître, se croient-ils le droit

d'emprisonner ta jeunesse adorable?

Why are they the masters?

Because they gave birth to you, they believe they have the right

to lock away your adorable youth?

-Louise, Act II

#opera #opera tag #quotes #opera quotes #too many people to tag lol