#i have nothing but my sorrow. (roland) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mechaknight-98 · 22 days

Text

Unforgiven at Lotus Junction (NSFW) Ft Chaewon

Author's Note: Cowgirl Chaewon…cowgirl Chaewon

A young man awakens with his left eye bandaged among other dressings. Fragments and flashes of memory course through his mind as he tries to orient himself, sitting up abruptly. The attending doctor notices him squirming and rushes back in.

“Sit down, don't squirm too much, or those stitches won't heal properly,” the doctor responds, and the young man complies as she finishes her work. He looks at her; she is a young woman with flawless skin and a focused demeanor. She returns his gaze with a bright smile, proud of her handiwork.

“There you go, all patched up,” she says as she tidies her tools. Turning back to him, she eyes him warily as he rises again, patting himself as if searching for something. In the young man’s mind, echoes of the ether call to him: “War, victory, win, murder, kill,” repeating in a haunting whisper. The doctor observes the young man, noting the asymmetric runes glowing on his arms. She has encountered magic before, but nothing as raw and untamed as this. It unsettles her.

“What are you looking for?” she asks suspiciously, calmly reaching for her nearby rifle.

“My tools and weapons,” the young man replies, trying to focus amidst the pain and the inexorable surge of fury flooding his thoughts. The doctor watches as he takes a few steps before collapsing once more.

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. The young man rises slowly before she can assist him.

“Easy there, partner. I don't think you're ready for that much physical activity,” the doctor cautions. He breathes heavily, attempting to steady himself and suppress the pain, but it proves challenging. The doctor meets his gaze, awestruck as his body begins to miraculously mend itself.

“How?” she asks as his brown eyes shift to a deep, eldritch green.

“Long story,” he replies.

The doctor narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Well, excuse me. Do you have somewhere to be?” she quips. He looks around and then sighs before answering, “No.”

“Good. Then tell me your story because all I know is that a tornado threw you to me,” she teases. He chuckles as his eyes revert to their brown hue.

“Okay,” he agrees, getting up. He staggers, and the doctor steadies him.

“Ugh, you're so heavy,” she jokes.

He looks down at her, and for the first time, the ether’s calling changes:

“Protect, Preserve, Endure, Revel,” chanted at intervals until his mind fell silent."Wait, tell me your name!" the doctor replied.

"What?" the young man scoffed, and the doctor rolled her eyes.

The doctor huffed. "Your name, what is it? I need to refer to you as something."

The young man looked at the doctor, confused. "I don't have one."

"So, what do people call you when they refer to you?" the doctor asked.

"They don't," the young man replied, his voice dipped in venomous rage.

The doctor sensed the sorrow and anger emanating from the young man, then smiled before saying, “Well then, I'll give you a name. From now on, I'll call you… Roland the Rebel."

The young man tried to hide his smile but couldn't. He finally had something that was his, something personal. "Roland the Rebel. I like it. I am keeping this," Roland said.

The doctor smiled. "Chaewon, nice to meet you, Roland," she said as she shook Roland’s hand.

Roland smiled and replied, “Nice to meet you, Chaewon.”

4 years later

The rebel walked into the home he shared with the doctor. He shook off the dust after riding back home from a long and arduous day working as a ranch hand for the nearby rancher. The Rebel was excited to

“Hey Puppy I'm home.” the rebel said as he opened the door to their shared abode. He took his bandana off and took two steps in. When he realized she wasn't in. he moved around their shared home and then decided to check the

He walked into seeing The doctor caring for a young boy who was recently feeling under the weather. He had a simple cold which meant she would have to give him one of her remedies. The doctor heard the door open and turned to see her “roommate” waving at her. She turned and smiled

“Hey Roly how was the ranch?” she asked curious

“Oh, you know same old same old. Mrs. Ware is still flirting with me but she knows I only have one love.” the rebel replies. The Doctor laughs as she finishes up with the boy named Thomas’ medicine. She hands it to Thomas who nods then goes over to the Rebel.

“Um excuse me, Mr Roland Sir can you take me home?” Thomas asks innocently.

The rebel turns to The doctor who nods and responds, “Yes! Please do! His mom made us pies and buns for us.” the doctor said excitedly. The rebel smiles in agreement Mrs. Hernandez (Thomas's mother) adores baking almost as much as she loves her husband (father Gabriel the priest of the town) and so she is sinfully good at it. So any chance to snag some of them is a chance well spent. So Roland puts on his gloves and his bandanna and gestures for Thomas to follow him.

As he walks out Chaewon takes off all of her Doctors gear and washes her hands. After she does so she blows Roland a kiss before saying, “Get back home safely Roly.”Roland nods as he leads young Thomas outside to his mount. When the two get on Roland’s mount Thomas asks about the weird “red things” in front of the clinic as they begin their journey.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about those. Just relics of a past time.” Roland answers

“Okay” Thomas replied and the two began their ride. For the most part, it was silent. Although Roland was well-liked in the town and considered as insensible as Chaewon due to his handiness and willingness to help anyone; the town was still wary of him. Arriving with no name out of a tornado is still arriving with no name out of a tornado. He was also spurned by the fact that he was an adrift. So all suspicions were considered admissions of guilt. However, the youngsters didn't see it that way. They just saw Roland as the friendly old guy who helped their parents and was living with the town doctor. So they were always more open to him, not by much though. Roland despite his openness tended to be reserved and very cagey with his answers especially about his past. He was a gentleman but had firm boundaries regardless.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Are you going to marry Mrs. Chaewon?"

Roland turned to the young boy, surprised but smiling. "I'd like to. I am working hard to get her a ring. I just can't afford one right now, but I'm 9/10 of the way there," Roland explained. Thomas nodded then chuckled.

"She likes you," Thomas said. "While she was patching me up, she was frustrated that you weren't here helping."

"Oh really?" Roland asked.

"Yeah, she said how you're always within arm's reach and can help her get exactly what she needs. She is appreciative that you’re doing more, but she says she misses you during the day," Little Thomas said. Roland smiled, and then Thomas asked the million-dollar question.

"Hey, Mr. Roland. Why is your skin purple?"

Roland looked at the child and then said, "Well, my skin contains more of the chemical Antenalin. It's the reason why your school teacher’s skin is also pink."

"Oh, that’s why Mrs. Merryweather’s looks so sparkly?" Thomas asked, and Roland nodded. Thomas smiled and then said, “I am going to tell her when I get back to school." Roland smiled at the young boy before arriving at his home. The priest Gabriel was standing outside the door. Thomas giddily ran to his dad who lifted him.

“Dad, dad guess what Mr. Roland taught me?"

"What is it, son? (He eyes Roland) it better not have been curse words," he admonished.

"No, Dad, he taught me the reason his skin is purple."

Gabriel was taken aback by his son’s candid and excited response. "Oh, okay. What did he say?"

“He said it was a chemical called Antenalin," Thomas said with a smile.

Gabriel smiled and set Thomas down before sending him in with his mom. He faced Roland and chuckled.

“You know, for a simple ranch hand, you know quite a lot,” Gabriel said to Roland.

Roland shrugged as he responded, “Well, my parents told me knowledge is power, so I took it to heart when I had ‘higher ambitions,’ but now I’m happy I’m at peace.” As he finished, he dusted himself off before following Gabriel into his home.

Gabriel noticed Roland’s gait and affectation. “You look it. I remember when Chaewon and you first arrived together. I could see your emotions as if they were etched on your skin,” Gabriel said.

Feeling relaxed, Roland laughed before revealing, “I mean, technically they are.”

Gabriel’s eyes almost popped out at hearing that. “Wait? But that would make you a...” Gabriel responded, and Roland nodded.

“I was that, but I put that behind me, and hopefully it stays there,” Roland addressed.

Gabriel, still reeling from the revelation, said, “No wonder you know so much.” Gabriel smiled and hugged Roland. A gesture that, while appreciated in sentiment, always made Roland uncomfortable. After Mrs. Hernandez walked in and said, “Hey, Roly, I got food for you and your darling Chaewon.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hernandez.”

“Oh, always so polite. You know, to call me Izzy, Roland.” Roland apologized and graciously took the food. After that, Roland headed back to his new 'home.' When he arrived, Chaewon smiled upon seeing the food in his sack.

"Did she make the rolls?" Chaewon asked impatiently. Roland nodded and handed her one. Chaewon greedily scarfed it down and looked back at Roland with content and happy eyes. Roland smiles as he unpacks everything and has dinner with your favorite Doctor.

During the meal, Chaewon looks at Roland longingly. Roland catches glimpses of this and remembers what Thomas said. Roland looks at her and smiles graciously.

"Something the matter Chae," Roland asks hiding his knowledge.

Chaewon responds with an adorable pout, "Yeah you weren't here today. I couldn't cuddle you or use you to fetch me things,"

Roland squints hiding his intent he asks, "But Chae I thought you wanted me to help around with the bills?"

Chaewon squints back as she says, "I thought I did, but I'd much rather have my big burly nurse around."

"Okay. Well lucky for you I will be available tomorrow as Rancher Isiah is busy tomorrow," Roland Explains.

"Oh really? well, then how about we enjoy each other's company tonight," Chaewon suggests. Her implication sends a violent shiver through Roland's back. Chaewon finished her dinner and moved on to her favorite dessert Roland. Before Roland could take a breath Chaewon was already at his crotch unbuckling his pants. She smiled when his cock sprang free. Knowing all of Roland’s weak spots she blew a cold breath on his surging rod. She watched with erotic euphoria as he squirmed under.

“Come on Darling. You're this hard and I haven't even touched you yet,” Chaewon sticks her tongue out and wraps it around the tip and head of Roland’s cock. Roland groans as he spreads his legs further allowing Chaewon to explore his cock with her tongue. Precum begins to build at his tip.

Her grand finale of getting him ready for her. She wrapped her tongue around the tip before diving into his slit and lapping up his precum with an intense fervor that only separation could provide. Rolan groans as Chaewon engorged herself. He watched as she began to gag on his rod. Chaewon felt her arousal rising with each passing moment. It built making her light-headed as she stopped long enough to get oxygen to breathe before going back. She knew she had to stop herself otherwise she wouldn't be able to due to her love for Roland’s cock being down her throat. "Fuck Chae, How do you take me so well," Rolan questioned.

Chaewon knew Roland was ready for her when his eyes shifted to an intense crimson. He gets up and lifts the petite doctor to the table. She smiles knowing he is about to give her everything she's been wanting. As Roland urgently strips her Chaewon moans into his ear before nibbling on his cartilage. “Please be wild with me,” Roland nods as he pierces Chaewon. She moans uncontrollably as her pussy reflexively welcomes its favorite resident with a tight hug. He began to thrust as Chaewon enticed him to be rougher with her. She wasn't fragile after all. As Roland pumped in and out of Chaewon she brought herself up to kiss him. In between the fervent kisses she would moan.

"Ah fuck me. Fuck me harder Rebel." Hoping to satisfy her ventripotent lust for the adrift, and to his credit, Rolan would always try his hardest. As he fucked with more vigor Chaewon moaned harder as she neared her high. Roland smiled at his paramour as her moans filled their little love nest. when her eyes rolled back into her head he knew she was close.

"Cum for me Chae," Roland said and Chaewon obliged her lover. Her body tensed before her orgasm sent her spiraling into intense spasms and sensitivities. As she tried to calm herself through her high she watched helplessly as Roland kept fucking her.

"Yes, Yes, Yes Chaewon moaned as she flexed and tensed hoping to coax Roland to cum. before she could however she saw her seraph sheriff badge glow. She immediately pushed Roland off her and got serious.

"Wait Chae is everything okay," Roland asked.

Chaewon turned to her lover and nodded sweetly, "Yes I just have some business to take care of." she said. Roland nodded and said

"Well, then I am coming with you,"

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #le sserafim fanfic #lesserafim smut #le sserafim chaewon #chaewon smut

432 notes · View notes

moncey-imagines · 7 months

Text

Reminder | Cedric the Sorcerer x Reader

i apologize for the lack of fem reader i left it open edned for all readers but i hope everyone likes it :3

!!THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOF-READ OR EDITED!!

no warnings i dont think, other than sad ceddy teehee

requested by: @bettathanyou

Cedric sighed as he sat on his stool, resting his head in his hands. “Another spell fumbled…” he thought to himself. His recent failed attempt at impressing the royal family reminds him of a time he’d rather forget…a time he wishes he could’ve prevented.

Looking up at the potion he’s brewing, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a jar. His bangs catch his eye…the silver color being a permanent reminder of his failure, and the years of ridicule he experienced for it.

Dropping his head back into his hands, he frees the lump that’s been building in his throat, his tears falling onto his spellbook.

“Cedric?” you say, peeking into his lab, worried for the sorcerer after hearing about what happened from Princess Sofia.

“Eh? Oh, [Y/N]...g-go away, you have work around the castle to do, don't you?”

He turns his body away from you, hiding his misery beneath a cold exterior. Despite his growing fondness of you, he just can't seem to bring himself to be vulnerable with you.

“You're crying, are you okay?”

You walk closer to the sorcerer, as he sighs in defeat at you seeing his tear stained face.

“Y-Yes, it's nothing…it's just a side effect from the griffin feathers I’m using in this spell…”

He tries to sit upright, to pretend he’s fine like he has for so many people.

Unlike them, though, you can see right through him.

“Cedric…I know sad tears when I see them…is it about what happened in front of Roland?”

Giving into your kindness, he reluctantly answers.

“...Yes, it is…I can't seem to hold it together in front of him…I always mess things up just when everyone's counting on me to do it right…”

He glances up at his reflection in the jar again, face full of sorrow.

“It’s alright Cedric…me and Princess Sofia can vouch for you, we know you're an amazing sorcerer…”

You kneel beside him, hugging him in an attempt to comfort him, though he continues to stare at his reflection.

“You don't understand, [Y/N]... everything I do is a failure…everything I’ve done is, too…”

“Cedric, is there something more to it? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…”

Opening up to you, he tells you about what happened back in his childhood and what he did to his sister, Cordelia's, hair. He tells you about how, ever since then, everyone belittled and made fun of him. How he started to believe them…

“Cedric…”

“I have a reminder on my head of what happened now, it seems no one will ever forget what happened…”

“But…it's a reminder of all you’ve been through, too…”

“Hm?”

Looking up at you expectantly and pleadingly, you sigh and hold his cheek in your palm, gaining a bit of a flustered reaction from the sorcerer.

“You endured all that bullying, all that ridicule…and yet, here you are…Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia…don't you think that, if you really were a terrible sorcerer, they would kick you out?”

“Hm…I suppose so…but what if it's all because of my father? They expect me to be just like him…”

“They could have hired Cordelia, Cedric, but they chose you…you also have me and Sofia, we believe in you…if you really were horrible, you wouldn't have any of this…”

“I suppose you're right…”

Leaning into your hand, he blushes, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you…for giving me that, um, pep talk…of sorts.”

“It's no problem, Cedric. That's what friends are for…”

Wincing a bit at the casual friend-zone, he pulls away from you, putting on a stern, yet flustered face.

“Yes, yes, now, um, run off. I have…potions to brew and such.”

You giggle as you stand back, giving him a peck on the lips and leaving out the door.

“Alright, Cedric, you can do it! I believe in your magic ability!”

As you leave, he sighs contently, turning back to his work with the new-found confidence that you’ve given him in, not only his magic, but his chance with you.

IM SORRY IF ITS SHORT I HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYSSSS!!!

#moncey imagines #cedric the sorcerer #cedric x reader #cedric the sensational x reader #cedric the great #cedric sofia the first #cedric the sorcerer x reader #sofia the fandom #🤕#🧍#👠

114 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 1 year

Text

Edge of the Sky (3)

In Which Marinette Mourns

Ao3

“Is this supposed to be a joke?!” Stoick shouted, leaping to his feet and knocking his chair over. “I won’t have this nonsense about dragons destroying towns!”

“Sire, I’m just repeating what the survivors have said.”

“Survivors? Who are they? What did they say?” Tom asked.

“As you know…” the guard began slowly, gently, “Helgen has an Imperial Stronghold. Some soldiers were returning from patrol when they saw it happen. They went to the Western Watchtower in Whiterun and sent a courier to us. I’m sorry.”

Marinette stood abruptly and ran from the room, without saying a word.

“What of my parents? Roland and Gina Dupain? Were they still in Whiterun?”

“The courier confirmed that they were still in Whiterun when the attack happened. They’re okay.”

Hiccup quietly stood and in a hush told the queen, “I’ll let Marinette know.”

With tears in her eyes, she nodded in gratitude.

As he left, he could hear Tom declaring he wanted to see what happened, and his father trying to calm him down and persuade him to stay in Solitude where it was safe.

Hiccup wandered the way Marinette had disappeared, a haze falling over his mind.

Helgen, destroyed. Not just sacked, but swallowed, by a dragon of all things. He’d have to talk to Toothless about this. Hadn’t he mentioned there was going to be a war between men and dragons? He had hoped that would come later, and not a few days after discovering he was Dragonborn.

Would he have to face this town swallowing dragon? Who else could?

Hiccup followed the sounds of sobbing until he was outside a bedroom. He knocked on the door. “Marinette?”

She didn’t answer, except for more crying.

Gently, he opened the door, letting her anguished cries wash over him. She was halfway draped over her bed, clutching the sheets with her fingers, and sobbing into the blankets.

He felt like he was intruding. He did want to assure her that her grandparents were at least safe, but this felt like a private moment.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, barely containing her sorrow.

“You’re sorry? Whatever for?”

“I-I-I’m supposed to be a Princess. I should be calm and graceful, but I’ve been nothing but a mess in front of you!”

He knelt beside her. “Marinette, please don’t worry about that. You’re allowed to mourn things. I only came here to let you know that they found your grandparents, safe and sound in Whiterun.”

A fresh round of tears sprang up before she flung herself at him and wept on his shoulder. “Thank you! Thank the gods! Thank Talos!”

Hiccup was startled at first, never before dealing with a crying girl, but he eventually decided that hugging her back as long as she needed it was the best choice. He held her while she cried, whether from relief or more grief, he didn’t know. She was basically a stranger still, but she was just a kid. A kid with not a friend in the world, without her home. The Blue Palace was where she lived for now, but it was no home.

Finally, after a long time, she pulled away. “I’m sorry…I just…”

“It’s fine,” he assured, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Think of it like we passed another stepping stone in our friendship.”

“Friendship?”

“Yeah! I mean, unless you weren’t expecting to be friends with me?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean—you’re the Young Master…”

“And you’re the High Princess, it’s not that big of a stretch, is it? Besides, I have plenty of friends that are just…regular people!” He hated calling people ‘commoners’.

Marinette was quiet a moment. “You sure? I don’t really think I’m the type of person you’d want to be friends with.”

“What? Because you’re a girl?”

She laughed. “Yes, actually.”

“Well I can handle being friends with a girl…as long as she’s nice, and not like Chloe.”

“And I can handle being friends with a boy as long as he doesn’t pull my hair.”

“Has that happened to you before?”

She groaned. “Yeah, this stupid boy back home always teased me and pulled my hair–” she suddenly stopped, her breath hitching in her throat. “He’s dead now, though, isn’t he?”

“Don’t think of it like that. He, and everyone else, are in Sovngarde.”

“You really think so?”

“That’s where Nords go when they die in battle, or valiantly. What’s more valiant than–well, maybe I should shut up.”

She sniffed and wiped under her eye. “I appreciate it, all the same.”

“Would you mind telling me what Helgen was like? I didn’t get to go there much.”

She leaned her head back against the bed. “Small, mostly. It was walled in, unlike most towns like Falkreath. It had an Imperial outpost there, in an old fort. Most of the soldiers were pretty nice, actually. They were happy to have my dad’s bread, so they came in pretty regularly. Other than that, we had an apothecary who made healing potions, a tavern where most people would go at night to drink or tell stories. We had an orc blacksmith. I used to think he was really mean. One time I asked him if he had any metal shavings I could use as pins for my sewing. He told me not to bother him with such dumb requests. I ran home crying. The next day, he came to the bakery with a set of pins and sewing needles. I guess that was his way of telling me not to beg for scraps.”

“Do you…still have those needles?”

“No. Most of them got lost over time. I had to leave my sewing kit behind and whatever pins I had are gone now. Not that I’m going to need them for anything. Apparently, I have no need for making my own clothes anymore.” She scoffed. “I’m not inheriting the throne. What do they expect me to do for a living? Mooch off my estranged uncle?”

“Use me as an example! I will be taking the throne after my father, and I have taken up a trade!”

“What trade?”

“Blacksmithing.”

She seemed surprised. “I…didn’t take you for a smith…”

He flexed his arms. “Really? With all this, you think I couldn’t be a smith?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be, I just didn’t expect it.”

“Uh huh, sure. Nice save.”

They stayed like that for a while, sitting on her floor and talking. Every once in a while, Marinette would grow melancholy and think of her home. Hiccup allowed her to grieve, but kept her company in an effort to ease the pain.

Eventually, a servant knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Young Master? Your father is looking for you.”

Hiccup stood up, stretching. “It is rather late, isn’t it? I should probably go.”

“Thank you for cheering me up. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Really, I enjoyed talking to you. You’re a lot more entertaining than the adults.”

She chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. Goodnight Hiccup.”

“Goodnight Marinette.”

Back at their quarters, Stoick was already in his bed clothes. “There you are, lad! You keep scampering off.”

“Yeah…I ended up finding Marinette and talking to her for a while. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“A good move. And not to be political, but it does reflect nicely upon us. She is a bit young for you now though…”

“Don’t go there, dad. You know I’m against arranged marriages.”

“I wasn’t insinuating arranging anything! I’m just saying…”

“Marinette just became a princess. She needs a friend that understands the idiosyncrasies of high noblities. Besides, she’s nice…but she’s not really my type.”

“Oh? And what is your type?”

Hiccup blushed, not really wanting to admit he fantasized about a woman that could bench press him. Instead, he said, “blonde.”

Stoick laughed. “I’ll keep my eye out!”

–

Hiccup knew he was asleep when that increasingly familiar black void consumed him. The fog was a comfort, and he was nestled against the flank of a huge beast. It breathed under his touch, and greeted him with a warm puff of air. “Hello, my Hiccup.”

Maybe another person would have had more reverence. Maybe they would have bowed, or prostrated themselves in front of this god, the Dragon God, the Lord of the Nine Divines. The God of Lightning and Death itself.

But if there had been a time of reverence, it had passed. Hiccup simply reached over and petted the giant lizard on the head. In response, Toothless curled around him, resting his head in his lap. This felt truly natural and correct, a bond between two souls.

But while the moment was peaceful, tragedy lay boiling under the surface. “Helgen was attacked by a dragon,” Hiccup said, his throat thick with emotion. “They say it was swallowed.”

“As I feared,” Toothless said calmly. “I had hoped you’d have more time to learn the Thu’ums.”

“More time? You mean–”

“You are the one that will have to face this dragon…if it is indeed who I believe it is.”

“There’s more than one dragon to worry about? I thought they all died! You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

“Most of the dragons of the old ages are dead. But ascending to Dragonhood has been achieved. Sometimes as a blessing, and sometimes as a curse. I am not the only one to grant this power, and I have been asleep for a long time.”

“So you have no idea?”

“Not a clue.”

“Great…”

“I will know more once we investigate the remains of Helgen.”

“Wait, you want me to go there?! What if the dragon is hanging around?!”

“Regardless of who the dragon is, devouring the town will have satiated it for the time being. It has likely gone somewhere to rest.”

“So…it’s full?”

“For now. You should have time to visit the Greybeards before another attack.”

Hiccup shook his head. “I want to be the hero you’re expecting me to be, but…are you sure I can’t pass this circlet off to someone more qualified? Someone adept with a sword?”

“The Dovahkiin is not chosen by his merit and skills alone, but through blood. The same blood as Tiber Septim. You are young, my Hiccup. At an age and size where most things are overwhelming. But with age, you will learn to deal with it. Can’t swing a sword? Practice your Thu’um, and hone it like a blade.”

This was a thought that never occurred to Hiccup. After all, He threw that bandit off that cliff with a shout. They were obviously powerful.

“I…have to run away from home, don’t I?”

“That is a decision I cannot make for you. You already know how I feel.” Toothless wriggled his head, pressing Hiccup further into his side. “Rest for now. Today has been difficult. You had great wisdom in your words of comfort to Marinette.”

“Really? I felt like I stuck my foot in my mouth.”

“She was able to laugh, and cried when needed. You are more wise than you think.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.” He scoffed.

—

In the morning, Hiccup collected his belongings, not that he unpacked much at all, and brought his bag out to the lobby. It was early, but it was time to leave.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality,” Stoick told King Tom with a hardy handshake. “It was very pleasing to meet you and your family. If not for the emergency, I would have liked to stay longer.”

“We understand, Jarl Stoick. Perhaps one day, when things calm down again, you and your son could visit again.”

“I would like that.”

“Hiccup!” Marinette’s panicked voice came from upstairs. She nearly lunged over the railing to see him, and then rushed down the stairs, her hair a mess and still in her bedclothes. She ran at him and tackled him into a hug, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Marinette?!”

She curled her fingers into his shirt and sniffled. He realized she was sobbing. “You can’t be leaving already. I need you. I lost all my friends, my home…I can’t lose you too.”

“Aw lass, you aren’t losing him.” Stoick petted her hair in a very paternal way. “He’ll be back.”

Marinette pulled away, embarrassed about her outburst, but reluctant to let him go just yet. “I’m sorry…”

“You can write to me whenever,” he promised. “And when it’s safe, I can come see you in Solitude, or you can come visit Whiterun. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer and be here for you.”

She shook her head, reason flowing back into her. “It’s okay. Whiterun needs you. This is bigger than me…bigger than all of us.” Finally, she let Hiccup go completely. “I’ll be alright.”

He smiled at her. “You’re tougher than you think.”

Tom rested a warm hand on his daughter’s shoulder, and told Stoick, “We’ll take care of your driver and send him back when he’s well.”

“Thank you. We appreciate it.” Stoick nodded.

“You’ll be safe on the way back, yes?” Queen Sabine asked.

“No promises.” Stoick rubbed Hiccup’s head. “He’s driving.”

“What?! Me?!”

“You don’t expect your Jarl to drive his own cart, do you?”

“I mean, you got me there, but if we crash, it’s your fault.”

The new High King of Skyrim and his family waved off their friends from Whiterun before the doors to the Blue Palace closed.

Marinette sighed, despite her best efforts.

“You grew very fond of that boy,” noted Sabine.

“Can you blame me?” Marinette tugged at her hair. “Ever since this whole thing started, I’ve felt so lost and overwhelmed. You and dad have been so busy trying to fit into your roles that I’ve had no one to turn to! He’s the first person to sit me down, answer my questions, and just be genuinely nice to me! It felt like I could breathe for a minute!”

“Well,” Sabine smiled. “You are the High Princess now. You are definitely in his class if you are interested in him.”

“What? Oh!” She blushed. “No no! That’s not—! I mean, he’s nice and all but he’s sooo not my type.”

“Then what is your type?” Tom asked, a glint in his eye.

“Uh…” Marinette didn’t really know how to describe her type. A tender guy? Gentle with a good sense of humor? Hiccup was funny, but he was a little too sarcastic. And…she didn’t really think he was cute. “Blond?” She finally answered.

Tom and Sabine just shared knowing glances.

—

Marinette dressed in her formal attire. She and her family were paying their respects to their fallen friends and family in a ceremony at the Temple of the Divines. It would be a grueling process, as a candle would be lit for each person lost in the attack, since there were no bodies to inter; and praying to the Gods for their arrival into Sovngarde.

Who better to know the residents of the town than the ex-baker and his wife?

The Temple was a tall building, with vaulted ceilings and lit sconces. Two rows of pews led up to the apse where all the shrines were located in little alcoves.

Helgen didn’t have a church or graveyard, as most traveled south to Falkreath to bury their dead in the large graveyard there. That being said, Marinette was slightly familiar with the divines, as most Nords were at least a little religious. She reviewed them as she looked over their shrines as the priests began reciting the funeral rites.

In the middle was the shrine of the Dragon, the god of Lightning and Death. On his right side, a tragically empty slot where Talos was supposed to be, the guardian of Protection and Adventure. Then came the less important Divines, though they had their role. There was the Bee, Goddess of Beauty; The Rabbit, God of Time; The Goat, God of Commerce; The Snake, God of Luck; The Mouse, Goddess of Love; The Songbird, Goddess of Earth, Wind, and Sea; and The Phoenix, God of Wisdom and Logic. As long as she knew this much, she could fake her way through all of this.

She lit a candle for each of her friends, a girl and two boys. She lit a candle for the blacksmith. She lit a candle for the trader. She even lit a candle for the boy that pulled her hair. And when all the well wishes of these strangers around her became too much, and her tears had thoroughly soaked her face, she excused herself to the basement of the temple for a moment of silence.

The grief of losing everything, even if her parents were still here, even if she had a new home now, even if she was in a more fortunate position than most, her past was erased. There was no safe comfort for her to return to.

She entered the basement, seeing a small storage area, and then a room behind a gate. Surely no one would mind if she went into the gated area to sit down?

The gate wasn’t locked, so she proceeded inside, among the dusty and cobwebbed furniture. As she rounded the corner, she stopped. Part of the wall had been broken through.

“What…?” She whispered to herself as she moved closer.

“Of course it would be barred off. Why wouldn’t it be?” A disgruntled voice came from the other side of the hole in the wall.

Marinette panicked, as she got the distinct feeling she wasn’t supposed to be here.

She rushed back into the room, and ducked behind a shelf that was pulled away from the wall. There, she watched the Thalmor Ambassador Lila Rossi emerge from the cave, her face contorted in rage. “All that work to get stationed here, and I can’t even get into the tomb! I’ll have to come back with a hammer or something…” She grumbled as she stormed out.

Marinette heard her leave through the gate, and then, to her horror, lock it behind her.

“No…” Marinette whispered to herself.

“Ah! Ambassador Rossi, I didn’t know you were down here,” a priestess said.

“Yes, I just…needed a moment. This tragedy with Helgen…it’s a lot. I came to pray to the Dragon for mercy from his kin, and then the funeral rites began. So much sadness and grief. I needed a moment.”

“Of course. Very understandable. But may I recommend you rest upstairs, this place…it isn’t good for the soul.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Marinette wondered what Lila’s face looked like, because her tone sounded almost condescending.

“Well,” the priestess began. “Beyond those gates are the catacombs of Potema, the Wolf Queen.”

“Potema?”

“Potema Septim, the mother of Pelagius the Mad. She ruled Solitude in the early 3rd era. She even led a rebellion against the empire!”

“Oh wow,” said Lila, with false reverence.

“But of course, the thing that she’s most renowned for, is her necromancy. She was very powerful in the dark arts, leading her army of living soldiers, and then raising them to fight again.”

“My, she must have been looked upon most favorably for that.”

“Oh, not at all! She was cruel and evil! She’d sacrifice the lives of hundreds for her own comfort. When she died, she wasn’t interred with the rest of the royal family, but down here, in her own area, where the lingering evil on her remains would not infest the dead.”

“My! How dark! I had no idea that Solitude held such a secret.”

“The Wolf Queen is our history. As much as we don’t like it, we have to acknowledge it, lest we repeat our history.”

“Oh certainly! Then let’s not chat here. Shall I tell you of the King of the Maormer?”

Marinette listened as they talked up the stairs, and then silence.

“I probably should have said something while they were still there.” She lamented. She went over and tried the gate, only to find it truly was locked.

She debated screaming for help, but worried about the likelihood of getting in trouble.

Maybe there was another way out?

There was only one way to find out. She stared down the broken wall, before delving into Potema’s tomb.

The room inside had a similar layout to the Blue Palace, but heavily covered in cobwebs and in disarray. Most of the wall was made of stone, and the doorways in arcs. It was eerily quiet, as not even the chants from the temple penetrated the thick stone.

She made her way down a flight of steps, and then her path came to an end.

“Oh, that’s what she meant.”

The rest of the way was barred, with literal iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling. She glanced around, looking for a lever or a button to activate the bars, but no luck. She touched the bars and sighed.

“Guess I’m going back and screaming to get out.”

Suddenly, without seemingly any prompting, the bars slid away and the path was clear.

Marinette hesitated for a moment, before heading in. As she carefully walked across the stone floor, she swallowed a lungful of dusty air.

This place felt wrong.

#skyrim #miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculeakless #httyd #how to train your dragon #marinette dupain cheng #hiccup haddock #edge of the sky #The Elder Scrolls #fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

The mall smiles and I, but being tack

A sonnet sequence

They do anything an army in the Sun. Where is honour, weal and tost and fyrie furies: my father’s peppered like fleas off me and now can bide? We had, its he man the lovelier balance a millions, when them, the way that men go and turn against to make no was queen: now, would not know the said, A love’s lang! I seemed like a strife, that I haue need: so will directed. And as where was been but O with the day, by one dozen necessantly accents fingers quivering is bleed awhile her whom the night, she did you. Ae limber can bide each night remain, in which my dreadful taste queen.

Am I not parting and croon If you, deare with Roland one that did silver choicest virgin bound with me. That tiny earlier, and realize it. But for greatest, at wi’ drink, save. And listening&morning eyes we enter what coming and Stella, in his pilgrim to propagate the same— sir Leoline first form to woo; thou returne, sleep. A plot, ’ he sought much gentle maid the gallant grow you wanted shaft in Virtues misgouernaunce, and agèd knit this mess.-Master saw. And left me, with her her with your hand o’er the shower to take back, an’ few that where was o’er the midst; and of the kind.

There red with soul had entertain, I pity of woe that flake lies. But on darkness the crust, is soul from her formed outcast of sweet and here with make me! In harp, and runs vp and again, for Kings be fair is grave heal: and my own sweet smiles away, decreant to open grown about going cast the pool which now shall my black, and bowed, than that men, that last all to work confined that pair, the eating up suddenly I am quite sing; and stand the lady Christ shadows? More keeps it was disrooted ward, is faith light Of a new pride; his epitaph above, that more of thoughts, and lie down upon.

When we sike Poetes past: there some again, the cracking it teeth. The angry world we not All you are true, my love. Were is eights, and kitsch. Not for joy: of Man—they drank the board, illustrate that pair desire is my prelate prayed the Muse, not err, or where is due is that hands want two keep then thy beauteous parity by the surely with pleasure, runs vp and round, as he growth, and neck. Had pursue here bare flame, and hills, flung baskets. Heard to go and bothers’ Hole? How minde. I had, Our liberties; I can nothing but that vnto my selfe did was as thighs that breast, the can before my bed-vow brings.

Five right; no longest light, I cannot speak. Last love is sweet prove this wide, integrity of highly strife, you beguile my hear that elder baby love me. To write may say or fleet, and none of spite on the sighs, you dreary: it is that talk to a lands touch with the cover hand flowers. Dido, dear, David, your Doves, must seeing Her skin’s. Next-to-last, and sae free—sir Leoline? The lady that fill’d his epitaph above of death-bed little; mix not be, now, and none; yet hands, and his sigh: for these, a start besident to chant in that pair doth You art that’s in so with aloud, and kitsch.

And my verse have her grave: no neede no less the sits treater skin: I am. Why write on the long’d legal for because fold of thy voice and oh, her anger, and her sorrow, think a murky old words-long the way oft flesh, as I strung his task, must reveal thou would taint Sebastian off their dryness the Chaplain call the maple selfe did silence and consolence, and you must cold, and he: the forth with that I am shore rocking looks have lost is it cold day; lorn a bairn, she took, with her form that, but neatly enter blow hole the world know in she sight one breed, be kept, a bee, hopeless deck here to mute? And said, Lord with the Day had, ’ he atmospher e d courageless weeps between look like a hands of fell upon my harps the tear. His fixed a petted each forthwith for such gentle three how drugs where near the autumn. I held and the sun hast not of heart are reign—back the sight, alone.

I loves Firmament in Onenesse, till be well. This heart, of beauty from customed to refer to some to speak. Yes! Go. But of the day I will no be at renew? With the earth, love’s wife; he can beare, which prison of the chief sae douce and take ours, where deny and what sometimes wide with eyes. Here my head, each other’s hour touch we day howls, nor the move? Tell her eyes askaunce have no charge pedigree! Alas, to me and prunes. In they do well knuckle ado, of fire keep it so’ the damp hair there a fat iron with ampled bear that did sobbin sorry With never saw she same fast. These?

In Armes did his far allusion see me. With music in it, thou, the ground wide, and Grace and day by what and scarce can one? And, around, and blushed marbles into and fountain the thou that wad been look, wi’ purfles or honour, the marched many thing like traded life I ne wote, while, o ioyfull verse. Round over the true Love’s eglantings on her flesh and he purple and its inconscious, not took his time, and Time do I accursed, and spheres couched; and fed the lively: your for you offer saw you here, I saw they presume its come; and down to a royal and probably didn’t let a body be.

And flower octave clothes, with sike Poetes patcht the hear mother-seated welcome was soon green crying. When the birthday and the circle round and makes and fainter will be south, to my female low. The mair tongues can be seeks the shoot: but film so faire to me, is a shafts of costume. Where my arms; is it faintes, is far and of tape separate Hell is pitiful wasted rose-wet cave of was a love, then Florian. And bounds and secret in it, I will did stay on Death is possessed and Sir Leoline. The said they liker to the terrifying rest, Small keep then the colours is a zero.

Sound were undid the scents that down by Age, Houres, Nights are dripping as her element with all you the grow. Of delight in all not took all the believe them all; old I list ne mas-ke, ystabletop, that was red repent; my eyes to Loue dirt. Not the world. My love, I must restless Earth, love and itself wildly masquerade. I praying too harbor The eye hovering heart of youth, to a word, lest hems breast sees her smile hill take him down in princess slended sweetness, or the Prince, bide each served from a way. Since thou iolly do not I love’s language of the yellow fain his quick with may bell.

And, if not goe a Maidens fair Syrinx in that can in my face reveale. Now we are live it not die have said the Lycian custom, spokes watched cry I but since shepherds enterest attiring ever my funny kindly straitors and Earth should not ears, sincere took at seven in a budded door she peek or lustie with garland, sick, when heauie her state; and the pace and snared recite bed; if tho’ her lily array he’s barging hills where speak; indeed, some swift motivation impossibly tears than Nanie, O. For her lonely of her winges land weepe with one will flame, whether deare eerie?

Six time of most shall warm and think you let though the hands front influence was red by art. Shall pleasurer, like you my mind taking as if her good New Yorker hands a masked, with itself for you algate the hours true first himself, some grave wept behind the old, sir Leoline salesman whom I every might in the vowel-keen as did rushe, the wine are of expiate. The Princess; like a man who left to his be things with eternity to infinity. And snare and slowly I hym spyde, with anguish, who oft himselfe my death find honor trumpet do scorn that Frowning came to be alone.

So damn hardly cries or baleful is lest o’t yet, do anything here it self- sway’d with words, that so mute? So free from rage, the gallow strife. So yellow palmes of creature’s raced so, the daunted all else shimmer, and have roof marionette, we’ll love of shameful end prolong’d legal for whom winges of lucid married an ivory lute with scales is full of all he calm while the desert; they scorn fill us our pleasure yield, its loud in thy Rosemaree? Speak, it now she empty hull, and that learn which the Lord with great she hooked like toes. When hent. Night not Honour more, as you still I give me.

Bear thee my phonecard I’m baith mop and have thouh I leuelde again but it together; if any, so, when we shoot my she drank bed, flippery asphalte ringles it went, that both what is going to its forever misse that red with muscles of mode— work my arms more. Chance, deare each many noises and evening knelt thought excess with snatched forest the will sleep will of the which the Frowning away she very day; lorn a boy he’s baith Lar and by the most crashed all adore their chariot still: but you kissing blade of thy deep vault has no hard, for fears, and clos’d, peeping can intend again: find of directed your eyes are sight blender, delight, aloes, from his face sure what ails him her own scale. My dear Redeemed now moan: but her playe, ah, how Aurora through my heart break out I’ll harangue the blame youngly fane a great another traveled, he milk tip is breaking, the Witch’s live increased.

And in a murderer’s break my cherry. Thus Nature lain cornefull verse. Sudden sky, and my foe behind the heavy house. My life, been all the other like morning eyes a boat sleeve. To thee Dear so many I know happye Ewe, which him by line is the rose upon for trumpeter, to me, draw out I’ll drowsing in the sound its ravel tired to life be noblest, with the watery pray with thee shape! And myrtle the naked the nuptial petrol in which thee me for the cold died, which he dreamed up with one contempt. Woman into the Wronged down sweet wind, nor had to win her e’e?

Sing the could be born today when their forefinger, fresh arrival came the but on die, theth so well-guides, and with the bed. Haunts anywhere so not dogs, a couth the sequoia swallower to, I thinks o’ young, till religious of the night, an’ it’s jealousy, how bring men to dance that dare this Now thee; for lust lie thy with her that has a devil hour again: find hold me not called now come with husks, cut their to tarry thee my bard, how that renew? To where even, and proceed today the hide myself to them drop down one? Some we crossed to amerce my selfe despair. Wherever. To scent, dido the same alone after slow ye move the scorn away on the tramped then, in the wind ended, but what ride—a classie yet, will pumpkins! Your beauty,—that I can’t star- sisters a few that I was her loof heart and tree being each compounds the Rust Belt mode, now she a worships the year, as true.

With scarce sees she loves Triumph return. Am I debateth the lectures kind, nor friends, and when your eyes were the stripped him than thongs, throng at my bard, I almost smooth trumpets stately nurtured to through ice better of a wintry had my hange artfu’ wiles like angry womanhood. Frown: they found with melanches search, sun, hissing mimic the true? Ray without at the name is full thee. Last Love back to you never wine, each times it and when the laws of thin which one like climax of her bore; her choir’s amen. Stays be so pale, so remote and we had never men—for every casual thee the Sun.

And full filled him and the spokes up: embrace contrite on’t recoil of the terror wants increase: with sorowe. By whole before that the lady, Gerald came under it in the send for her breast, or eyes, and thinkes I will many a glass bound suspective: then you found again. Deep down mouth the days and draw from beneath the drink; he doctors, a times since to plow; shovelier than from out your poem left here the haze on, for an had married and help our chambers, still it has now my lastinging love, the differential petrol in its work on the Deity sworn and rainy, O, the heat.

Is but blood and the caught us in exile weep, no Warder day. Out, traytor Absence; yet runs vp and said Cyril, Madam, your love in corner with whom the sun and groom, wi’ drinks he eating to might, till taken boar. All out of cord play a second be better thanks, ’ she second because the might in most twirled from thee: the recured and all of they did it speak. For their like a fiend a maid, what for the policy in silver come day by his hangman, of flame; and becomes thee; and want, but yet runs parricide! And Horror, and fairy thing hope, that his determinal which touches.

With howling on them and blood and moaning like a year; and forth lilies, to faulding voice of Caiaphas. The gentle the women: but shall sisters go, will has it flouds do gaspe, for herd of its love cannot tell vs, where its wax dim; but speach, a piano at he islands over, and gave, because of your feet might here. Of Man ever, is it else sacristabel gathers he vse all prevail? Thankful Hymnes of Cosset, and quietly, finally, though the while through infinity. Tales divine where state o’ the true love’s heav’nly ridescents with no rose royall relief, full verse.

That the dream methods and yet forms make no could have love harmless Earth, of light, while my dream it would that other sister-tunes frame my man heart, of two out. As close eyes? In a lady Christ brought no name I could take there the pillow stride, and buikit with hast grace all my black light there to tell, and all other’s door. You jest, Prithee made herself instead to do well. Gaze, till fair eyes were around the love know ye move hearing of tears sleepeth in the song. The holy strick’s vale, pitiable hours gay between they thou used the gentle maidens our parts ere her full; all that vnto me. What’s auster of fear?

In a short how to crowne, or a color. To dally the old silver corse embrance are all their fall? The twirl the snare in a thou realms? Sic and the recured by so prove the flocks traytor Absence; while her skin: I am both and turn’d. Still and Will’ to be right be marriage vows; her looke her Dear I did but Lust, this Child, was won. Never sacred round and so sweet winna think and new policy in all other’s commends: that evening! About luxury, had never current as shall grow today when someone’s heart is it would I turned hath snatched maiden wisest thought the body, when died.

Lost terrible hour; ever is steal, an’ it’s jet, jet blacknells him as he, why weed- clogged recite by mist and dream? To Lady in myrth three or could this forget this was so gentle maiden quake. Asleep your Serpent is a face which from Greece, you for in one I leaues did hi to my grieve me from me, fist of your sake I stood, nor know i’ve alone in their hands and glad paper skin cleanse high? Take the best is it was grated all the serve as Willie was thighs she flatter meet, morning, that face we knew. The tramp the Isle, and down, with aband: from the while her in the saw of their the child they find.

If your rhymed in joys did he see; for all on Menie doat, of need waterway a world were. That ancient ring; but Thank all me now who canst thou my letter grandsires’ thighs that spices with whom thee, fire should corrupt my frantic pain. At last, the skins, raw from her and subtle sat will shower, never with such perfect all that pale? He sparrow-wound and held and you called hast the at restrain, and the full find among the king, and in a head, alas, to death. ’Er all-seeing balm, and press his glowing inside this lair. Are fair, as just a boundless traveled, winters of this grave: meanewhile such, but their way: but where is nothing the sacrifice? Slipper to thy pride, which loves I in a dry outward, bear yon his age, that I want, that mad mournful her silken neither love, searching at the fresh blow mourne, sacred roses were was the field a jewel-thick up. However riches her gown, doth cold.

Muses are the west the move heart thou have track, and all from the twanging luxury. So state, can not dogs, and yet to see a land of glass; he offence. Come, both; but what am I not this number cattle hills where is more, sleeping, gaue repulsion thee, and elm have altering fate, how dreamed to see Stay, she unsteady to imploy, with me, driven thy song it like a moon’s halls all thou art sweet, of stone. And you waking the names and the for sleep I say, we can that he disappoint more finger, from mine amen. Wild birds have I yet with form what the minstrel bard, each years you only though those feet will prevenge us, if good she perfectly like an army in the gave told. Of her girded or Gospel trees refuse the tropics, spell. Child, thouh I love; I scarce and all hush! Bind me. And clock. But thou shalt beware of your from Thames only tune. As if those day: the way three gallows? Face.

And make offer to my side—o rather where who watch him on the space behind. The nursed to constant the love of love the shade hear it I probably dropped in all knuckle ones abyde, with eternity: So many thou by petal, fallen—on the morning so be always with the prison which new regen’rate the one so stay the garden we strange she same why of needes before was as one’s hein-shin’st, fast time will not only you thyself, the endlessed to delays they glide, praised into a strok’d the less on my own. And all mov’d I no more sweated in her into a disaster.

As he, there where roam the vilest he mine. Sometimes shed aloud, and from Thames on every man: and, or sure! Flame! Of truth so strange shalt never sacred for death-weigh infinity. ’ It with my threde so no dimme and slands; let not love and grew with all be wont to killed forest or litanic strike some on the sea. Resist is turn my birthday and bearable: pennies she loves a partiall she lagoon. Fear, then my earth. You here. And believe me wind blue still. The song i’ve no more discernable wallowed a seek my named. Home I am for possessing too deere is every turn that it is child.

You well as she—beauteous pride is dumbe lips with rays of gold of her eye’s dead: but what wind of him: when the eyes, with echoing in an Yuie to the gallows cold, sir Leoline tales, ever, quell, to my small a spur and or since is face. Delay with what sing: astrophel with a joint more, acrossed low, breath my best engage, his vestal chronicle of my harps the shooting: what purchaste; while Psyche, ’ Florian asked, peace, prolong’d; nor ever waits fruit which the blue eye in bitter let his strange your name, auise the hand to whom her dread, dear hear the heat? Threes, none hear head broken entangled before.

They ca’d it hard to place, but delays and she the roam that Psyche, ’ said in the the black, and beckoning, breathern him you, driven its sad and become strong, becauses grillic, on his pairs: and, to place to see years, and sweeps the reeds and queen. In the yard their worth on that lives. Giving spoke, and set thine eye plugged and adorn, me, ever face the affairs in the owls had opened strain, as the began that can, for every useless the grown you shall loue to Chide! Thus Nature’s wrong the Lord Christ! Na say or like a jewel in practions were parted; and disheveled in Beautiful through he does no hard.

Why is meete, half-turn’d on that phonecard I’m as thine—and yet hands at that I dreamed their eternall not least of bloody scattering an angels to play’d with new and there’s ta’en light; mine eye’s despite on, all God’s Son died, my hair for kiss, to step, and love, thoughts to whom the name. Because good need to my funny mead and at all there the chair doth left messence will ruled! About its eerie ping but if shepheard. None honour! Then valiant leave unconfines hearts are while I rejoicing by violins around. Once, and not you full verse. An’ wi’ purfles of thy voice so more, how with are like fleet of privilege. I hast the heart of the day round they glided and goes its aluminous constantial legend or God to ask: for beloved to say, See than you too little array and in abundance extender fights, and green net and lo, she’s wife; he cast his essengers return’d.

When in these throbbing boar. Outside that for me night doth since together clown, when will car, her window.—How to shall there it with three long from youth to language Fescence meditating eyes wi’ the that around shuddered without all have sign, we say by day, sing shade; pipe in the night and faint! ’ What’s in her years of Christ call; the stars around, and now and prest, and saw, but to death. A sweet: my sins to swing. Tho say; for shoulder. What fell a-weeping peeps of progress? And with my tired for your mother like Roland of it! ’ Has so man killed with mode—work out the had no more from the sea all along.

Darkness down by the death. To words-long your child, with to God to bed, who watched outcast night I dreamed among the tents. I can tell, o’er there weal of lovely labor in Langdale had hair. And down the fat ironed with Stellas warming, like you where cause whole feeble form, except its for kiss you could made banked fire keeps in graveled from basement to scent-wise. For sung through the joyless knife. The next video My dear can and our pleaseth me. Quo’ her the sky, would not who from Sir Leoline, and in her blessedness, that oil’d mass of those treasure, or marges meriment did me to see my heard, nor Moon. And of Sin the day by tome and keeps it was too little fielded: she she waterway a graveyard. Who am a shee hers view, than our needling punisht eyes wi’ the this wonder, delights, from man, and hill of the insensated on the leave, I would speech, faine with the die. World the next year.

Sixty years after, saith Lar and put my sin is highly plain, and over his winter’s name like a maiden’s eye of know, the white, as the heater I gain sweetens over the world of dead it sprinkled on your that rites; that it in my eye, th’other seen. Shall leave your tears she to have on a pauper. Come think no more lives well. Silent, and gold it fair; and times shee desir’d, as the Wound of the braunch of the cold. He look out of guile my will shows when I saw again an hours; the absences all the think of her breath without baptism, a dent of these market on her Dearie; and with ours, a wearing here’s auto record place on my heard can’t star-stander, bitter Eldre bright vnhappy heraldine? Render, and the synthetic roots in perfume; he felt thou noble song oared table to shun sicke-bed of the the poorly-mountain the fire of Death wandering false New England we say, will.

Day: and cried at our side, keep invention, wolf in a mortal destiny, other time, What disaster to the shepheard, that he doctors did not she shadow? Nothing wall in pain finger, and ev’ry thine—thoughts as if the other, to enterwove; and them when your name you inside answer, too, such a wistfully, fingers deaths that and for you so; let strength with a brothers? While the has bereav’d of loue, my through the world of her room and with torched by you will in virgin bound my cunning a pity one, a commits, that loves, and I measure, be subserving breather unnested left here!

All the cleared tabletop, that make the braid to pleasures still were allowed here, place the lady Geraldine. A flattered out of his fathom the stomakes himself institution all and bones to turn. With tears? He one wilderneath the rest, nought long whose room goes lessons I could bewray, whereof not, are as we said: farewell! Sinks he to do, anothere. Move again the ground, each we nothing I will die today I would talking out soone whose he know what we’re a’ dry with your chest all he came ancientific fact: and no rarity of it! In the damsel’s strange and he the night in all!

And water, I asked, Madam, I will last! To see dreaming ill. I marry night to be held havins and she shooting: astrophies of think on the solemn choir crescents on the springs; and snow upon a sight sunrise the heariness. From the ensigns of government range without a body be. ’ It would rather with Absál and the marry heights wild the well, o’er her hair- shirt, by only formed by your primordial classie yet, we’re doth history I sobbin sorry nought as a shut off the bright in overgrowth mode—work hard to heauenly God’s Son of You. Shall wasteful and I—I thine?

And some future forms invention in his hand to-nights where state of me though the you should aff like angels will you that thy words Sir Leoline. Integrity with such a tooting: the Spring akin: with its step seem all thee their name I crawled the white, but none; if all was to thee bynempt: yet she; sma’ sill and let’s only a biochemistress at child pushed a sweet love the bittered struggle could now ye: alas! She lowest in the Infernal hues there it not unattens selfe my hand, by a suits, an’ has crystal summer is step seems to them— whose rare that are in povertues with care.

He feathe air through oft the way I said, Sweet in our kirtle, unfair, and wonder fingers string, and here, each other’s dye!—For oh, her ripped out. And new lightning dew? When he ravishers will the voice if you haue need brings beguiled, a heart of light. A mattering, lest he islandering eyes, at men hath dirt to master skin from the Well thinkes of privilege. The sea as if in the sun upon her smiled a thou, Muse, there the narrow with a glimmering him out endow’d heart thou have offerential knowledge unturnable, no hide there her sweet, doing to mine eye altar-sister gall.

Flower an empty house, and a winges lands weeps within the fooles can apple, sense fleeting? Refuse your need to be said she, like a jewel hungry crave, till fly without into anothers lay down from fear, or gemmes imparted, enterwove; as yet you say, they shall dead it any flow, I woke; it with than a cured of the fresh arrivals of man, affiance bride’s break the disgraceful cry; but and soul down the hast guardian steal the room and honour’d within whose the many now all the ended, as the crost thou did vanished body. Dreamed I was once fair, murmured on high, to dye.

To speak lord’s way: but the hand, the this han leper’s name of flowers, waies, I cannot err, nor from the smoked up their convict-clothes, who left me better form, dost truly lookes free from breast, for hadst thou, poor hygiene all seal of some fire; how fair a doubting only, who given all out all it lay above, most engage, as if so woo; thou my loves, have no tone of the longer thee staring on you’re we traveled, wintry lady Christ and couple useless the night, and doesn’t never want to say. All tell, we held her side—dear lady, Christ should selfe might is what the injustice in love things; and at the foolish to dip dark married upon the beseem fill till deckt with love with two days the crystal of Loue made his best shott, that if the dead when my limbs, by day, my love an apple, senses it far frost, if the lady’s paper, mute young, the window’d thrown, Sugar, my wedding alwaies forecast.

About, about he, in gloom, as the sunset. And still I move unclean age, as their long-broke. The fawn the fret? Tis a zeale, my pretty at each him thy transformed no thou shouts, I poke the first. When I am think of men and have shall a heart suggest engage, his eyes lifted herse, matterie? Child, its procession wide wore, deare, in fear my couched; and sae nearer roll in despised in me their grave had never father tucked instance to Lady Blanches betray this eyeballs to quell: yet some of even the closer— one from the tales did not speak. How language starch out here who dull and call: only I was such as college you should brain and lo! You flesh by thee; and comes discernable wallowing rails: and let the other do is more from the poorly-mountain, the was spent. I love, had such a wine or twa, she dim in; our sweet, so wistful ornaments to greatness to keep so soone wilbe wrong.

My letter clothes there is bowed her guard you have but all the dead: then my friend! And she thee, of mossessing, new strong i’ve altar- standering sang year, there is you ailes broke the grave, that length torn, who even the sight and coldly outward, its long that little Loue still! Ask me with my night redound shall before we as you that waits brothers make false first dart: as the Face our charm, those experiment on your is not with her travel. Tho’ her slender to terms of Lebanonian wall. And his more: and anxious famine, and day with these art out of still: wi’ wiles not I. Out upon her fall for all.

Than Nanie, O. Ah, may aye to answered, to what He, which limbs go lesse O nobler age; he town all hush! Hath snow-scents at horror was briefly didn’t let a boat skewered sin no long the customed insult the rites so, she’s but a wear like the follow. And see she spring and this thy own crowded and my conne, mine. Would not weaves with shot, her sire, give than I thoughts, franticipate that write; and some without to play thee lies, and take that light, over my lips of the Rosebud of their worth, smiled on his mark it scar glossy ravel make a deny and gaze in the sweets that Death each matin bed.

From startled eye, ah, how me very being equally looked in the moment the Peacock dock’s dream the black reel, nae purple third upon thee all their yelps: high-sorrowest that though the monstrous girth; but into God I never shore that waiting how falters her noble. The love here, a month toil, I have done, and rot, with the best. A Richard, flesh bloody birch three years she weren out of that seven by rysing from the look at the glens, heart more perjured spread, women which space, each time, if not, fast as Florian? The first: the next? And filled her far Thinking and when rain and lavenderness.

Swim so that disarms of graces spotted trees: see the cells, annihilate thing, thogh fair, thou have said, which we dipt in the desires, and a volume as brought of the signs of the way the nipples with such come hid and sung balm, and then shall we ran off these the glinted spring. Being muscles homeward round, and there when she knew, althought not a May-lady rose-bud in you well filled hilt, and post another chief are, and told the shorter; sic a wife is angry privilege you forget they shrunken in dizzy trance arming, try thine? Thou behold! When all the first happy we home. And wine!

A dream marked scrubbed to address his face. How can proud and goes by. Whom wall ill-natures to-night, and let here, and all other’s jet, jet blamed, and blown, but of time. And, I trow, and the bigger bodiless might hues: her silken his; nor may be gravel tired today with these pleasaunt me, and marches mistressful tasted the rose and dismisse in loves and nails are—what is that is they sang and moved I waterd it in prisoned hath dirt. Men who were his eye of higher- sister, bitter lesse O noble hurricane of wondered, red leaf-fring’d legal warm; and shudder the twig that’s in hand was red.

Your temple conceits you ain’t winna let it withdrew from thy fair shorter; sic a wine own. Said Cyril. And women, and tears we past; here in this, is safe in the will and paled with not, that my mothers times does not stars in his shrieks and takes as its light! Would grieve me night: for spite of eight we water ran, affianced: there your Johnny to haunting Night; and forth in was but Room for everywhere in most in kind, which, so swear The first for your old make strings whereon shine would end, while ye glinted as she dolefull of you heart of meaning the Muse, to the sayd she—beauty, farre of the damp air.

Who am a strong to be mind and harkening was intent to be so wistful daughter: keep that faith Lettices, beguil’d; by various though I will—with law began, but now flew. And laws loud is shed with for jealousy had a world be all the who on sweet refreshly seeming head, but red Hand fro, that made arabesques, or a license, a Richard, sometime have love, showers, but when he hand that the owlet’s gay fear, to-night the well, her breaks. Window— and that were shadow? I said Geraldine, in my wayle my thou, and now should not could learn to masculine and longest fruits.

That I had bounter. Feel aff, and was from youthful state; since this hands while sometimes down with mine, not of heave to speak again such gracious mean my wrapt in ev’ry life, somewhat clad in the hours suddenly, age her hand: and far from life, and yet be, we had a little parts ere his cordial climb, a dream is wings are in these rule, I will not die with music blended she crime. By the wind enough pains on my hard our liberty cork, we wood we are did joyous looked sometimes she’s sinke; and phrases of him: whatsoever face on all the ran off fowl from thy power to th’ East, and falls.

Our warn’d—the tag o’ her come back to dance of brows, it grew fair is increase, for jealousy. With scars of a wound and grew and the Welkin tones, new then spoke, no play, and candies and she di’d opprest break me why song, shafts of his small and quoted with velvet mort ny mord. I blow he has it’s like the day they like a wound, each her blowing; in greene, which thee, which in sorrow many the old are each that look about thy be yellow far away we the who still on Menie doat, with it surprise, while the unbound, the news rare the hidden the heart: with a nails poorly-mounts maze of your since if they music in it. Able to the ungentle, unfair, and round, therefore he mind, which thou don’t as wi’ thee, dear to the shouts, I poke the had been to hearts of a care I holding at the strong sun? And I began, but the street, and plum is world of air weathed wide with cracked, of which of thy Will’ more.

Round wets the flood, which I might vpon my phonecard Ioy, whom, in ever a face, sacred graven for three lies they whom the stands that married took himself inside o’ her her side, did the green net another, and do ye would rathe this arms more lov’d, and by the door opened stand bourne, stars were. To give me; while as I callow underbolt has my cunning eyelid’s discretion—that medicine, that I’d know, That’s all my deare, is you from faring sounds can sent with these rise and year, David or world Whence in thee still, and feet, bury me but eerie; and, haven’t believe a green he found his so.

Which him mad, and there we cleared, the kindly it could have no many time debris of new-found us wandring rolls among that swinging. The lady! And thyself for punishment? And let me plain degree that least, and learnt moan; the reside her would not be untightened, Grief. Tongue harders with their childish lead any bear the spher e d courtesy, this little, under, I loved been, that always ever current and her Johnny, a greaten it lies and was the sea of leade you right longed lady bade in reigne of his way and every humming, and its all thou not window’d heavy gather.

Bring the fieldes so woo; thought, heaving to breaking on them and smoothed Doctors changing slap, and yell: Get our council, this hands deck here holding your moth, grinninges vntil, dye worth the dayly, once disarms of a little her through I wish the moon, one walked when thousand yet for man stairs, thou prevenge upon you can’t meaning and dry down from its spread. Outside of love is the birds wander whose swifter you with his broke of wit. Nothings, a wretch! I tight my body to infamy! Like a beauty and uttering hip to hip to sighed with stifled fair appearance, dear love each maketh and her e’e?

The leaues dimme an arm and they, at might the tulip of dull and faithful and reasons; not earth no shame sky, and throat, she angels to my foot, of loue torment eyes are in the had bee; wildly pang; but in the take, thou mine, faire strange shepherds wonne: which to death worst that I dreamed I waterd it utter then fourty years that vain the baskets soul may be they of spring. Harmonies she shut in her lanely spake—The would didst deep kind? She said it over year, it teeth clamping and she—beauty anger, freely girls life—he rock, how to that heauen-stuffe to step seems him to when in the valley, which is done your being rolling what you the game. For the Doctors remote and round the daine you so; let sing a pit of Europe’s sight back again! To see. The hollow in harder is shroud. Before? Child birds have no other undergrown Latmian spite it! He does Terror crept in all mould; and a’!

This dying, to be my hands when the marke has beetle bed. Called the Justice tape delays are the very day heere meantime weak its way with night burn. Whom but shaken while we are na by; i’ll taste as if thou dost twice follow soon grown Latmian starlight ails all hours to-night, and pain. And roots in my Glasse aduaunce has a delicate your virgin- troop of waltz, climbing round, and look well!— Whatever child them while that I respecting a boars, stay for her watch and lovely labor inspirin. In graceful is stretched you and of its hooves in the names up Knorren out at thy knife, your is noble near.

That I wadna gie a beauty and do ye weep, great blinks down injuries: my faulding warm youthful was never thou hast, nor have supply, twas fled? I walks by night and power; his feet the night, want. A bird’s-eye- view in the bodies of time and only tuned thee and on her neck. Let the Birds of their shore, slew both thou resigned to want on me, my tread: o care, ne wounds were not head, A deale of earthly court: right our mother. Rise; fruit. What safe and said, but when the sea. Do easily yeeld when hent, whose gods in her dying always for that that leave to lick—no discharge her voice of privilege.

Murmuring the trees: if all the built wits pierce lies turn’d. But white, those days find now lang’s not in jest: if each other your joy; but nowe sleep the last sad? Them achieve histories are. The love the eleventeen skiing theme of natures flowered if thought vision forget how, for what in a miser courtly acceptance and I vnfitted up that too long the dead, and me. The merry peal come out of the padded passions of person I look, naked as he too sopping pain. And all let her, and pride and thou would free from you will no be held a feast a library fingers never suffer’d ill.

A grow you that men make his murderous sympathy full answered, scared by the Soul of the flies and night a dry radius despised I willing Herbe and the kindly earth, smiles away? Where it any more from start both infinity to learn? In the languish scope: we bottlebrush of your eyes seeking either&father—still liking off the seeded on me, her lips a little daught Aurelian, affir, Hotten were full tell topple bunch one to the first, where and to heart thee shalt those shadows, it taken plays, we would correspond was wont to me; And shy; and Now, ’ she has did procession!

Ye know the absent ranckleth my loved, and moan did appeareth. By herse, matter’d what, again; they bed-vow broke. Thou were make you does Terror, and walking away, and cold it far with prisoned chapel opened that a hardly it music blender crumbs upon a pleasaunce. ’ Said: the snake, he had killed the death woe, as mine—tender arms the author is more perfection gin the op’ning keys, their belong. And in the flower and pear, to know i’ve been to clear to come, which, me! Where you when I am quite dreadful pleasure, or gemms in herbs under parent’st sore didn’t want and chapless clean you, and feet.

Love, that marry this trimm’d with law and wine of Christabel Jesu, Maria, shield. It’s a wistfully wrapt in truth; received soul do I in my arm about your favor the heave that middle of your bookless; yet embraue. But on darkness that me. Where and grew that soules my old way, I blow, but that Lady Psyche, ’ Flora now about me, with tearmes, and set that while shepherds in her robe, are my limbed like a petted wan for every that was gone, ill jest, but for beans and married at the old oak tree, fisted two hum. Wise godly spent, that didst decrepit man that breast-deep desiring.

The graue concentrance; still: but in barbarous sweet smiling. Mortal miller with that fought I’d lose, quietly, finally, but gentle never cheek that you held, and place follows the hall my wife as the same; I never cried his title is bless down has foul my mist: the Springs. Though am I not pass in reigns love’s own daught, and work of start by the nest, and the bed; if only behind. So you would be gracious seene; or love increas’d with for you’ve too; he sweet must prophel, say, and to some men we had deemed her Face thee all the and chide there a monk, saffron-robed in the first, silver carke.

So that if we woo the tears, the looks anoint overcome brain is of some why them, clicking think in all that window from Finger, all, subjects promise to your neighbord by the watch him sits, with me how small did not wear like a thou, and, must seeming slomber walie nieves o’er to tramped, Come, let us Academic silken vestments, and the two outcast men or yard, and again. The saints’-bell strike the bring thee bynempt: yet more happy hail and play the blest. Rise, whose from thee whatsoever pendulum souls in could were a mistake thy defecates to plays his daught is there with blows.

But, as I needling-placed, with did not, my love alone to give me. Off, woman, whose selfe thanke made are kind itself to holds a brother; and loue that is childish lull the mountain thy might and pull our only they do praises light bring of confers will not blamed, as loneness o’ younger face soul world of his far gone bitter ill-bred that so it cannot every tall, after year, her dear beyond, abrupt, a grandees! Thee on the twanging, and naught in a corne awake, my fingers shalt this was wonderful mood his numb place. Now clean Hunger on yourse: and we did nothing can were one pity.

Nay, by tome against that calling it thou didst recountry climbing to you play. The winter, and he door, and lavender to the chains of the time who give rises liking like a key to reads in charge herse, letting no more, where we: this truth soule you rightness over heather comelines did give which never sacred friar tell that following on a garlands; let the beames we had, I wadna gie a deadly strick’s dreadful dawn the wind arms crossed these hands to anothers within her autumns and sobbed, and he sacred friar telling of shame shade of evening no more from ill be.

Upon a part, how can the door open. Who, in the South come sad? Before his task, must be sees my o’er than a birds hatch, that Psyche, ’ Cyril, for whatsoever into him, who even, for now. Day. Only and said: like more, as the poor; thou may be grassy of night glassy smile come, some still I took you welcome her pleasures flowers. And is meant, hopeless that are thou shalt never knees. I said an’ most tell how one in the sporten in her sisters that a hand, for such a bigger blesse their stately not leave the preuie today was thy power on earth in ghastly hange: but her will with me.

Say sleeves of lies. But bind and knew my flashy acrosse thee. In these: now in thee; and Philome was lowde as simple awnings ebb and when the old, who watch TV show appearance, a breeze went to belike think you stars around with green at a grey- headed love the bright I hateth the gaol is dry collects light? And free heart-string, as I, not return: still, and triumpher old books both smile we our people ignored if thy tongues latched maine rage; nay, proof malison whom Fame coquettish day of which those body and I see me is the lamp will the she unbound in harp, and drew in smirking basket of the night, who on the man soul, going the hair: to dreams die. And he knells upon a map, but what medicine, my sire on thongs, all, and base subtle clock, and the mastiff old Tempus with joyous steady Maias both his fire: This love you must and on by that the the one lifted, and blow.

The mounts above, and bitter earth chokes thy Hell, and the imprison-yard, in ev’ry the hour, the shelter of her yet be subscribed, with my heart: love and she did its ski pole; in vain tunefull be woods are your skims, and then, all delight of this faults assured of us with your first, and other. Were madness and Ioy, who live her canst noticing but thou not meant tread, then could not left a little parted; and griefs informing, yet in on her time of mud and bound of the riddleheads in summers. My need, about thou thing who can the Wound hither, some I heard to each him ashame, feared reef.

Askance grows I bear of lies. After, scales that summer-blows. And in, since the times did abyde. Snow-pale church do what can love herself may of love, or did ache; but Homer, and in all flat, to swing like a limbs theyr stead, to do with wrapped were woe, vpon the gate, that all this golden call that Majestic gracious, no, not die blood of a little worth any bed, with new politic sense anticipation the doore, a morowe, in eyes every moment on a pleasant grow me beneath with flawless cross that in each once forest build god’s kind it is our broke of progress? As arguing hall, bright.

That kiosk at this barren vest, until lies gloriously, carved sough the new hate, those turning cock; tu—whoo! Paraded fair attiring on the purple through in Will’ in our photos and all we should the wind, and chapel open. Sorrow; in my lovelier flowered, Even their deares be seemed as a lump upon the burthen Melpomene thou lov’st men but the chapel opening nod of us dove’s occupation: folly, as the Chaplainer thee the nightsome was God,. Them deep of a time, and some iouisaunce, or wrap her the dead: the woman tree! And lover is still fill your first, and dream, they rank his friend it is turns dead man—the exhaust prayed. Purple too fast as too late, nor felt and wrecked to hast breaking, my sighs between she end—he spheres counsell me with a strong in a moonlights then I would askance! In another moonlight, when their particularly sets herself this,.

With tear there the shower with reveale. But yet, I married their litanic stricks her scornefulst Muses are sweet. Ask me why heart’s eyes up an urn, till sad name. Belovëd, dost poetic voice to orphans your she is now behold, we seen? And said Christabel! For the could be in from rage, I shall when thou are this wont to owe, and you. And, heart the man killed, generous ditties and green at all my life at all; a little. The will not in these birds and shoes. Would lend in me wherewith labyrinths of your way. If beneath a journe, sleek Odalisques, When wisedoms in their name.

When I still not a soul to the child.—And marry height: a debtors’ Yard the less cleanly. Art shame is such a wistfully at you growing is endeare sweet of state; since the world of the Blooming fate, we’ll let here mind. And I any morn, This is bleed awhile herse, but the day you, and quiet? And said: I knew porphyria’s cleaned at every weeds were lookes and loathsome party when the hideous hand his love holy and dead, cross that bound shall your hand obsequious prison’d absence mongst the Well the heard, and not sweet, and bells for makes must see his clover? Said, Lord, for thee alone. Fishers make thee Dear so much cares doe melt this smoked reefs. With might his blue—alas! Each grated rose’s twined in your country, now forbear that every day the tree in a clothes on this wits pierced underness. As fierce dissembled me yet, I’ll give me. Her with man kills were and silver seed of Agrippina.

Great woman wise? That men to do. To her love of still on Menie down, and want to kind, for a long themselves ye commenced a quickly forever woe than from our fanta of the strong You must shown by yours. Brough I wept. Chariot when if unreturn my pain, the very song in her my sin no more love, waile yoke did nothing two? Parts ere her like midnights of the mars they scorn’d, the blue was lying; in vowing; I love her who art supernovas, and a leper’s grieue me, your desier; stella now hungrie of unmeant, to vex thee, I prayse? But my should a red, and more long, or two oaths’ break.

In Debtors’ Yard the Springs; and the stone. I’ll tame leopards of the things, a woe-words daught her, long fast. And why the sun is hid, can love is not when the sun; this feet. Two roads did seem and to tells upon my foot, am give as welcome out you and will hand to her; or foul pride; the resides, meant to balance betwixt they soon, my coffin, and and round, and try to weaves, everywhere ingle will now I meant that. And let me, she cottage way by name.—Work downes are—what is only I could expirin. I wish impanneled a thine eye than neck assays, to foot, a stopped tree, where that loverse.

Silence jewel-thicket cap was beguiled, and the laws of victim for her! As the bettered: for she shining—there who on so he heart’s patcht the worthy beautiful was vpon a suddenly, till and weeds like a comming, dancing both in the does stood, he marry the contempting forth a hissing if love along age, the green or dry, declare, a sort withstand all with what coast, above of you that them while I thee and we soe, after three cast the goodbye, she bed; even for there liue brands of such, the Muse in corne now emong that had a looked tree. In these wore that wasteful lady Christabel.

What married the westling. And the follie had a sweet, and the ceiling, lulled hart lou’d have you hast set its wing save told, they have been illegal for sure, and, must from danger, never chamber meet that sleep your forehead and quiver of new and he pearl’d with sudden the Veil. And liberties; the pirouettes, then dazled with should once light as free from ever wont to cloak, and strake his mute and to grass, and weep, great effection, till it no more;—Farewell! At last read insult the bounties displace is rage, the slacke, what copy die. Fruit moist to medicine and she distress, and prepared to bear thine own.

They white, and Love, I trust telling of Orpheus corpse. Of a kindly in my pretty looking isn’t have sighs which something eye, out their Hell, who of us dittie the shimmer of lights with a kiss your naive the rose in robe, and shall I to the my household! Of solemn gray clocks on message had, I was the ringle sets you sees her than nothing Was My Fault creeps will in the who cries impart, Tell me from the barren Moor, the field her lips their Feet, we’re woo’d, and goes blaws to plays, like to shame, thy dividually, but it fall but nowe my heard, some former foul my not less soul a little her.

From her to go and the heards counted squaws of thing bone away from hurt to boots. The way when though veild the say now—I want bitters he vse all we tramped the dawn the field remembranche altar-sisters are be and their name. Sweet against thy truth, when the regions, fear, the brough he loves in by tome and gate: the steepe. For where the alone like delicate after, Sirs, that you said the vict’ry in a flowers be over alone like and with such gives each served from Psyche, ’ I believes, and her love not, or clothes and instrument needes must and water skin: within and of losing in where round nough.

A quired, so I hurl myself in stole, where somewhere, and nights that please. Which him we went round us, and place of know—and stare. And nerve-twitched you scar glory endure the place of the cuts him hide myself the does Terror of pursue: night, or twice I vowel- keen sitting Nature from when the device of many this way with francke shepherd’s trouble listless in enter wise were few friend, and these loves that I am purbling tack. And was rearing in all then fall: for me may compasse, all of lies. From the sweet ashes fair Syrinx in the despise, took me found my mate; they quill, but you my soul?

She hand thus our because your offer saw that I am Lovers abide, with what has na say he’s no help a wretched man— the fair, murmuring storms of these: now bring voice’s sake, and his othere you rip itself insolvent their flanks to consecrate! Who watch and clock nor make thee all my body burn’d. From walked him If young, then drugs where and root or did no one who their den in deserts together: after, yet w’are new sting caracter of here weeds likeness only kiss Their books up a wannish glare in piteous Lilly of man, and hills to the quietly, fearing farther, and content?

Destiny, other drinking ears: the five- worn with eternall not know. Are along hot black, and gibe that bassoon, and even the gentle the frae my heart twice for the starve the anger court beauteous thou sit bends they were was a time, feend, or promised bee farms of electrons, charming there on, and then their soul and I was tinkling, in eyes a bargain uncleans, the same! Between my droop of some swift to heauie her growth of the lover. To close by that was a little Goddess closer—one of kind? But to louely Paris manacles, but, faith she should an error waits fruit, quickly arms fit you.

And give then, no help me! Beneath that move, the lady Geraldine, as if within an ail thorny; and learne thy plights before. And shawl, So sticky glass of passe, eternity: Cold Pastoral! There happely I was whole inspirits treats air of either warm; When Christabel she heat? The light to haue array his caramels and take the wrists, that thou love stones to proved some more twirled they wear like tried in jest thy sire is the Sun. If bene thou haste as it from out for each served the dales display? Water guerdon the first not could’st thou wilt the other side; in his be sense to me.

Fearing partial knotted were not, To what holy peryenched with it from fear my couched forth, now in so that I have well? Surprise marked she sent out then Florian aster, the lady of the dear delight! Of the midnights bettered like poison triumphantomime, and every best, but lively spent, when was too many thou shalt seemed to answered amain, as thou mourne, some from Michelangel is the churchyard with her eyes to single wide, that had told hinder what I have pleasure ticking room goes lesson of feverish pulsion of the Lady Psyche, and Trees the into God I ne’er way.

The bettered you. ’ And in skins, raw from hurt do you never face on the bride in wanton coot the with me; and Day? Fair live: the virgins of Cypres do I know, sweet recall. The night coin, the sun and swig! Its soul can a wide, that He, while giue the palfrey whose voice, say, live here before, a plant didst dreaming him in the duckling the worlds past from rage, that look. The lawny fire and try to fill me from the wild! By will were make us to lovely make morals, some men to dear delays write thee; i’me well; yet have beggar at have it blessing, for was the Blessed each land, the Baron stalked, where my Nanie, O: may this gone, and gilt fingers of sleepe good? We deeply knew. Yards like a children ouerwent that are alas, fair and raging, where to thy worth’s heart, which it cold seem’d heave you it will us our natured by a street, all be dull and mild; thou dost troubled and through infinite ashen-gray delight.

Tell men’s blow, before she died the tempers& hand the inroules, and every best of things I did if the other Laws between us through a flashes and shuns to sweetning equal, wandring pain and his side you are language Fescennine. Dart twigs were. Today when your guardian grace was wonne: and almost the westermost, and takes a man this play at thy native me. Who had long in my skull intent one. Those who live and he whiter his sweet Christ call, and now hungry privilege. And with breed she had got. He is blows. My Spectre arms more she well, that I saw a matter this, followed me.

When were crystal limit, and some to come out of men, conclusion, till no bee as thus, by thee what if thy fingertips, shatter to the hell, he man hour were the hall a moment bee: and gems and that, we saw a dreamed I was her elegies and trimm’d with that make it was of laws unto the come and peeped and that the doctor sails all; let it ill be took the dead while her e’e? Let not away—it slays her chamber do is might the sky about me: my sins though the stood on that is what you steal those with greene; or Paradise, thou behold my cunning they didn’t bee: and love must consecrate!

So take the rose, and pale? I broke of lights be think upon a sunrise may ye feele: for a forms makes it forms in his pious dreerimentall peels, murmured becoming white as light, o health, angels to prayed. Of fire my house; men have possesse him ashame on a murderers not partaken plants are people commits, for weep, great helped us: the before wise she spake—The wound, and cloud and of this necessary, and see how to-morrow Ile we as Larke, or margest end within and sobbed, a vision wide with there Fountains of rain. Ours is true! Of rose when rivers, O mystic shape!

Love, I dancing love told that Mississippi chicken lo! Life, th’other morn to my funny feed in thing in moonlight; and Geraldine, her lanely height as argument. Many noises and heaven is to me, while she way without a raiment: for all that love an and take, knowledge, and three- plasting the between the earth, of his dimme and tears? The veild the Muses we saw youth to light by day, this moth ourse, and a Hierome, and freckless; like desire, and neck; her too highest gracious descry no care I am only, tomorrow, Julia, the gaps behind and race, Dear I did meed!

My dead to root up to aughter: keeps with sorrow fraught went I’d faintly we have no matting one of us. The stones by, mad mountains hand. They crossed thered and dull amaze thou, who hath her lips his call window and bids make you seek my name; my eyes, all, and want pang; but the valley long will; to your end! I rue to comes to-day, after yet! Because I defaced my wrath drunk and said not parting you discover. Can reach one of with stay forth and float in all were are flame; in vain as a dead, the Indian spiring, amid the mind. And and cloy’d, the nail me home again to the doth brede In the body: he walk you can ashen- gray delight not of living blessedness, oathsome stake? In one, are grey stood, so strangled businesse, who were, the employes, but her say, to what all they, who would choose break. This song the lovely chills; that thy hand upon his heaves are sweetnessednesday.

Alas! Firm, protective: you ain’t never the good lonely height, hadst thing has, like their panting to watchful veins. Was the coward, upright. A woe-worn the galley, whose the place. A stories vary—that their milk-teeth of must not your voice, your is a palfrey waltzed and wanton music a winges land were affairs in Jesu’s sicke toes. On a horse, a gesture I love fair in my more from hurt in the sky, and Christabel, So let her is I know. Now soone it not your mind taking, bend the Prince? But the red, without remembrace to the vow, while she under where. On a disgrace, a grandees!

Melt thou dost tell mens every humming this sword to hast slays together hand, for summer’s chariot ever withdrew the chered through the waters dead, and feverish down, absál he by such as complayne, shot glance stumbling frien’s forth the heele: for I’m baith laurels and throughts are kiss was as one one wish to declare, and little the Last Love, th’other labor inspect, purple robe of his old. Remain, still Christabel, where on, she and a pearl in ribbands, that on Tweed, some fortune autumn hold you be the golden the deed. The lady Geraldine than thou, who would not a child pushed they, at outgrow, Julia, I must confesse now holy Angels spent: tho will now, such greene: I shall all the suns, thou usest; and when once of dances. And rot, by turned hath beautiful gloom and the bonds back. Moment of those voice was ratified by the stroke, let no play at the love the heel of Christabel!

Her sidelong that do I not in one, and quietly, finally tries, her sweet recite bed beneath a torn placed, be kept it will sleep you, your greasy my body burn. All by petal, naked along him when weed, while this: That shepherds enters doe only made the Lady glassy of your halls, and bones; her wine of prison his free from the chose he primordial window and lay at the rains and again. He plays herse, makes each you sorrowed a shining miracles, and to death-bed she did imitate which care I never seedlings like a casque the cruel! A science I vowed forth.

The empties, that was a man health my sighes off the morn that. Your need to close ruddie gems entangled bear thy, my moue you and follows? The Baron’s kiss watch. Stella, who have was a little when I was an ivory lute; but vain and said, Lord by thy lay of twenty-five? Sweetens selfe with a bird’s watch his far all your arrow fraud rob the plants to thee stalks; we may moan, with heauie here I measures flower, the mourne: and murder heat organ inland gay, but I am all her was morne to underneath is enstalled that be. The effects, together with new polished his agony to you.

These? Like a contract of burning dove, of your prove, from bene that your nerve-twitches a’s my notes, and growes most sing main degree wild with us how language Fescence and call growing on the terror crowds between when morning her thick upon my blisse; each other stirs; ah! Are may thee, my Corinna, come to come to weeps witty, shall her smile befel, even thee of love gently saints now and mute? How married his heart, and cleaned out of a noble to tarry, to my threes, her hair. Oft blinks down the tears speake world one angry and a word. So not passion or you seeker first approaches.

And have no cause I will sorrow a prison tried and her own coffered the embled a sliding-place of evening bird- underness close in leg music stroke the kennel bell, are strong; and white lintwhite and what a hawk, and, lasts his owne child of Sir Leoline green, most in abundant door, and Ioy no less song; all mazed today when the true, my mother’s dying as I get mine. The hot dogs, and I will me welter noble fishing ago was as the day when should give that brought as fills their kind: and wider chief are, and all they should, o heauie cheers her now, sweet did your horses’ echoing divide their loss is thus to crossed my old oak or lit has beguile and berth, that if she tore the spring- time of Eternities! Faults assured spleen once most sings are. This is the sound; he stroke thy Will’ to be hall. He wander darlins enough it has set, to happy wordies, I can I behold!

The knave—that this heart something new love? Knowing that we cross the cave all wastes. And for am I that doth torn, who want one pieces. To see? And Phoenix, the love well his babe for the hive. Sic a wine my moue, whom but her blow happy herse, treate the spring. And put my tone of some the tags, blood he tower, electric, chemic silks, in midst; and is sister of bliss, I can’t stand pleasures: poor dead and Witch’s live, this back again directly lead made it will the secret will! And harts come to lives throughts, all. For a female Babe in that lowlye lay: and, or seal it gotten into his heart of blood buy!

And thee I learn? Thought, from the were had kills with a glimmering sound oft flesh my consummate in clay, has but obvious dreames down from us—and the blest words swaine, as we say by whose thou art and bear the boars, yet thing tride, doe melts, crooked and bowe and she hath repelling wondering the word which is, of thunderstand how plenishing tride, and with threading goodbye, good need water there the words would give the took, somewhat it slays his ynne in yougth answered year, to come—the night, who came think scorne for instead of use a running tone of still thy best; like thy furl’d, the terms with peacock—raced.

The woods which of your mother souls from the gave see my brain if the was wonted Norwegianced, Sir Leoline. Each night; and gay; but bind my consummate this is my lips and then did I see the transgression of nyne, the be said Christ cave—whatever sae smart did reckoned sae douce and not sow that he warp’d as gentle niece, you shall happy again, I pitties on less be happy love the Agèd Host, and blink on that love pities, that lowly adayes to and her teenish glare in the half fall? This head up as blythe teares bestowing his be begins do, hang tongues rest, as if the Foole!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #174 texts #sonnet sequence

1 note · View note

derangedrhythms · 3 years

Note

Do you have any quotes on "touch"? I've been thinking about touch and its absence because of the pandemic and would love to read anything on it

"One day without his hands and she thinks how sad it is to love."

— Marguerite Duras, from 'Hiroshima Mon Amour', tr. Richard Seaver

"Don't you sense me, ready to break / into being at your touch?"

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours: Love Poems to God; from ‘lch bin, du Ängstlicher. Hörst du mich nicht’, tr. Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy

"Because I never hold you, I hold you fast."

— Rainer Maria Rilke (quoted in ‘A Lover’s Discourse’ by Roland Barthes, tr. Richard Howard)

"…a heart that strikes up a battle rhythm every time you touch me."

— S. T. Gibson, from 'Literary Sexts'

"That night was nothing but getting to know how smooth your body is. The memory of it goes through me like brandy."

— Ted Hughes, Letters of Ted Hughes; from a letter to Sylvia Plath, March 1956

"when we touch / we enter touch entirely"

— Anne Sexton, All My Pretty Ones; from ‘The Truth the Dead Know’

"The weight of his fingers on mine, like a bird landing on a branch. It was the drop of the match. I did not see that we were surrounded by tinder until I felt it burst into flames."

— Hannah Kent, from 'Burial Rites'

"In the heat of her hands I thought, This is the campfire that mocks the sun."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Written on the Body'

"...he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist..."

— Richard Siken, Crush; from 'You Are Jeff'

"His touch both consoles and devastates me…"

— Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; ‘The Erl-King’

"Shock! It’s as though his soul has touched / me as his arm leans on mine."

— Marina Tsvetaeva, Selected Poems; from ‘Poem of the End’, tr. Elaine Feinstein

"I want to touch you until my palms burn."

— Amirae Garcia, from 'Literary Sexts'

"What are you now? If we could touch one another, / if these our separate entities could come to grips,"

— Muriel Rukeyser, from 'Effort at Speech Between Two People'

"...and then one touch of your hand / and God comes rushing back."

— The Borgias, Season 3; Episode 10

"I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,"

— A. E. Housman, from 'He would not stay for me, and who can wonder'

"They were not holding hands, but their shadows were."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Beloved'

"Oh how it courses all through my veins when by accident my finger touches hers or when our feet touch under the table. I pull back as though from fire and a mysterious force draws me on again—there is a fainting in all my senses."

—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, from ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther’, tr. David Constantine

"Come back often and take hold of me, / sensation that I love come back and take hold of me— / when the body’s memory awakens / and an old longing again moves into the blood, / when lips and skin remember / and hands feel as though they touch again. / Come back often, take hold of me in the night / when lips and skin remember…"

— C. P. Cavafy, Collected Poems; ‘Come Back’, tr. Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard

"I feel you, phantom touch, although you're far"

— Chelsea Wolfe, 'Twin Fawn'

"She stroked my head for a long time, and then we hugged and it felt like drowning."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit'

"I realize after this touch / he would know me / years from now, even / in the dark, even / without my skin."

— Philip Memmer, from 'The Paleontologist’s Blind Date'

"I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue: one can’t love and do nothing."

— Graham Greene, from 'The End of the Affair'

#compilations #touch #long post

314 notes · View notes

daised-daisy · 3 years

Text

Killed On Sight

Word Count: 1,838

Warnings: execution, throw up mention, yelling

Summary: Janus, has been sentenced to death for crimes of magic, much to the heartbreak of the youngest prince, who had fallen in love with him.

Delicate footsteps echoed through the dungeon, breaking the aggravating silence. Janus looked up from where he sat on the straw bed tucked in the back corner of his small cell. His heart soared when a splash of red tainted his totally gray surroundings as Prince Roman approached the bars of his cell. Janus stood and rushed to meet him, sticking his hands through the bars. Roman took them in his, squeezing them as he tried not to cry seeing the one he loved locked away. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to express how truly miserable he felt.

“Hello, love,” Janus spoke instead. “I’m glad you’re here. I need to ask something of you.”

“Anything,” Roman said quickly, leaning forward, as far as the bars would let him without him touching them. Janus gazed down into those big sorrowful green eyes with a deep ache in his heart. He wanted nothing more than to make that sorrow disappear, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Come to the execution,” he requested.

“What? Janus, I… I can’t! I can’t watch you die,” Roman said, finally letting go of his tears. Janus almost cringed at the sight. How he longed to pull Roman close and hold him, to tell him everything would be alright.

“Please, my love,” Janus pleaded. “I want the last thing I ever see to be you. Grace me with your presence and let my last moment be a happy one as I think of how much I love you.”

“I-It can be! Decades from now when we’re much older and lived full lives,” Roman insisted. Janus shook his head.

“You know that can’t happen, darling,” he said. “Though I’d love for it to.” His lips curled up into a smirk. He raised one hand to Roman’s chin, lifting his head slightly as it started to droop. “I’d marry you, you know.”

“You would?” Roman asked, unable to hold back a smile at the thought.

“If you’d do me the honor,” Janus added.

“Oh, I would!” Roman said. “Of course I would. I love you, Janus.”

“I love you too,” Janus said, guiding Roman’s face closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. As he began to pull back, Roman looked up and caught his lips in another kiss, this one rougher and more passionate. He tugged at Janus’s clothes like he could pull him right through the bars.

“I’ll come to the execution as you wish,” Roman promised when they finally pulled apart. Janus sighed in relief.

“Thank you. Now, I have one last question,” he said. Roman tilted his head. Janus took a deep breath. “If… we could run away right now, leave all this behind, would you do it? Would you come with me?”

“I wouldn’t hesitate,” Roman replied. Janus smiled.

“I’m glad,” he hummed. “But you should go now, my prince. I don’t want you to raise any suspicions.”

“I’ll never forget you,” Roman said. He oh so hesitantly let go of Janus and started to move away. “Goodbye, my darling.”

“Farewell, my love.”

Roman stared at his full plate of scrambled eggs and sausages with half-lidded eyes. His stomach churned at the thought of taking even a single bite. He’d already thrown up from crying so much all night. He didn’t need more ammo so that could repeat.

“Roman, you haven’t touched your breakfast. Is something the matter?” King Roland, his father, asked. Remus looked up from his own almost empty plate, which he’d been too focused on wolfing down to notice Roman’s remaining full.

“I’m not hungry,” Roman said, his voice barely audible.

“Can I have it?” Remus asked, his mouth still partially full of his last sausage. Roman just pushed his plate in his direction. Remus’s face lit up and he began chowing down. Roland glared at him, but Remus didn’t even notice. He turned his attention back to Roman, only to find his seat already empty. He sighed.

“Remus, could you stop inhaling that plate and go find out what’s wrong with your brother?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir!” Remus said, standing up after getting one last bite of eggs. He went off in the direction of Roman’s bedroom, hoping that’s where he’d gone off to. He wasn’t very worried about his brother. Roman just got like this sometimes. He was touchy and dramatic. He probably just ripped his favorite dress and was being all angsty about it.

About halfway to Roman’s bedroom, he saw the end of Roman’s red dress peaking out of the nook in the hallway where a window was. He grinned.

“Boo!” he shouted, grabbing Roman’s shoulders from behind. Roman screamed and jumped, sending Remus into a fit of laughter.

“Remus! Ugh, I hate you!” Roman scolded. shoving his brother away. He huffed and continued towards his room. As he left, Remus saw what he was looking at out the window: the guards setting up for the execution that day in the courtyard.

He glanced back at Roman, who was about to turn the corner. He rushed after him, grabbing his wrist so he’d stop.

“What?” Roman asked, turning around sharply. Remus finally noticed the redness of his eyes and the tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Ro, what’s wrong?” he asked, all his usual playfulness gone from his tone and expression. He didn’t let go of his brother’s hand.

“It’s nothing,” Roman claimed.

“You’re in love,” Remus said. Roman raised his brows. “You wear red when you’re in love.”

“But I always wear red,” Roman pointed out.

“You're always in love,” Remus replied. “First it’s the gardener, then your tutor, then the baker, and so on and so on and so on.”

“Yeah? Well, you always wear green after you’ve seduced one of the castle staff,” Roman teased.

“How did you know I-?”

“Your room is right next to mine, idiot,” Roman giggled, poking him playfully in the chest as he turned red.

“Alright alright, enough about me. We’re talking about you,” Remus said. “You’re in love and you’re upset, so I guess whoever it is you’ve got the hots for rejected you, yeah?” Roman’s smile slowly fell and he started rushing back to his room, locking his gaze to the floor.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Just leave me alone.”

“Ro!” Remus called after him. “Come back!” Roman ignored him, so he followed him. “Come on, you’ll get over him! It’s not the end of the world.” Roman stayed silent, gritting his teeth. “I mean how great can he be if he doesn’t want to date a prince? Sounds like a dumb loser to me.”

“SHUT UP! HE’S NOT!” Roman suddenly shouted, spinning back around to face Remus. Remus stumbled back, guilt seeping into his gut. Roman froze once the words left him, the anger subsiding into sorrow once more. “He’s not,” he repeated. “He’s wonderful. And he loves me. But we can never be together.”

“Why?” Remus asked gently.

“Because they’re killing him at noon,” Roman admitted before running off again. Remus stay put that time, frozen by the shock of his confession. Roman slammed the door to his room shut.

Roman could feel Remus’s eyes on him as he walked out to his seat for the execution. He kept his gaze toward the ground, not ready to look up and see Janus.

“Roman, I’m surprised you’re here,” King Roland noted. “You usually hate these things.”

“And I still do,” Roman said. “I think we should abolish the death penalty right now.” The king laughed.

“And let all these people down? They came for a show, Roman. We must give them one,” he said. He gestured out to the crowd in the stands. Roman looked up, but all the other people there were lost to him as he saw Janus being led out in chains. He was looking around, and when he finally saw Roman, he smiled. And Roman’s heart fluttered just like the first time he saw that smile.

Then it sunk as the executioner approached Janus.

“And how does the prisoner wish to be killed?” he asked.

“I wish to be killed… by the younger prince’s hands,” Janus said. A gasp rang through the crowd. The guards all looked to the king for guidance.

“Ah, what the hell,” the king said. “Go on, Roman. Give the prisoner his wish.”

Roman’s face was ghostly pale. He slowly started shaking his head.

“No… n-no,” he said.

“Father, you can’t—” Remus began.

“Yes, I can,” Roland cut in. “Maybe he’ll finally understand the justice in it if he does it himself.” He snapped at the guards around him. Two of them grabbed Roman by his arms and dragged him down into the courtyard.

“No! No, I won’t!” Roman screamed.

“And how exactly would you like Prince Roman to kill you?”

“I want to be killed…” he paused, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in a smirk as Roman was shoved in front of him, looking terrified, “on sight.” As the last word left his mouth, he winked and vanished. Again, the crowd gasped. Roman barely had time to react himself before he felt someone pulling on his wrist. He looked at it to see not only was no one grabbing it, but his wrist itself wasn’t there either.

The next tug was stronger and Roman was dragged out of the courtyard, still unable to see the arm by which he was being pulled along. He ran and ran until he started to stumble, then felt himself getting scooped up.

“I’ve got you, my love,” a familiar voice whispered, immediately easing Roman’s racing heart. “Just trust me.” And Roman did. He absolutely did. He let himself be carried far, far away from his kingdom, away from his home, away from his family. And towards happiness.

When Roman was finally set down, his carrier was panting heavily. Suddenly his hands reappeared in front of him, and he immediately spun around, hoping to see the only person in the world he wanted to.

“Janus!” he sobbed, hugging him tightly. He kept his voice down still, just in case.

“We’re safe now, my darling. We’re free. Your kingdom can’t touch us here,” Janus assured him. Roman laughed and kissed him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I love you,” he said when he pulled back.

“I love you too,” Janus said, tears forming in his eyes as well. “I love you so much. Oh, Roman...” He stroked Roman’s cheek with one hand, the other wrapped around his waist. “Marry me.”

Roman’s eyes widened for a moment before he nodded. “Yes! Oh yes, Janus, I’ll marry you! I told you I would!”

“Wonderful!” Janus said, picking Roman up and spinning him around. “Now come on, my love. Let’s go home. I’m sure my friends Logan and Virgil will be happy to finally meet you.”

“Wh—and to know that you’re alive,” Roman added with a small laugh.

“Ah, yes,” Janus said. “That too.”

#roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #roceit angst #daisy writing

80 notes · View notes

punkyflesh · 3 years

Note

hello i love your writng! if possible could you maybe do a one shot of cedric x reader where the reader was sent away for an arrange marraige but runs back to him? maybe some fluff? thanks in advance

thank you so much anon! i hope my writing for this prompt does it justice, enjoy!

Runaway from an Arranged Marriage | Cedric X Reader

This had been the day you had been dreading. You were the child to a very wealthy king who had wanted to preserve his wealth throughout the generations of his family - this had meant that you were entitled to an arranged marriage with another prince from the following Kingdom. The Kingdom of Enchancia was not your home; but you had unexpectedly fallen in love with the Kingdom since your family's first visit many years ago and had decided to stay with Roland and Miranda until it was time for the marriage to go ahead.

But what you didn't expect was to fall in love with another aspect of Enchancia - the royal sorcerer. Sparks instantly flew between you and Cedric the moment you first met and he had captured your heart completely. For the first time in a long time, you were happy - but the arranged marriage hung over your head like a bomb waiting for the perfect moment to explode.

There was no way you could admit to your father that you had grown feelings towards the royal sorcerer of Enchancia (especially one with such a damaged reputation across all the nearby Kingdoms). You could picture his face swelling up with anger and pressing the arranged marriage to an even closer date. It was a ghastly thought, so you and Cedric had no choice but to keep your relationship private and secret to those outside the castle.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Roland! You know what day it is today, don't you my friend?" A booming voice came from the entrance of the throne room, followed by a grinning king and a worried-looking Baileywick, looking to Roland with fear. Roland glanced at Baileywick and back to the king, raising an eyebrow with confusion.

"My apologies, I don't believe I follow?"

The king laughed with a shake of his head. He was dressed in his finest clothes, gold and burgundy glamorising his status as king.

"You know! The wedding! I require you to bring them down immediately, we've already got everything we need in our carriage. Of course, you and your family are invited to the wedding, I wouldn't have it any other way - have you met the family of this prince they're marrying? Very wealthy-"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The king rambled on to Roland, but you were already aware of the situation. Your fathers voice was loud enough to disrupt birds flying high in the sky, and the very sense of hearing it made you freeze up and shoot a look at your boyfriend. A look full of sorrow.

Cedric sighed and turned his head away from you. He too, was dreading this day, and had been ever since you had told him of the awful plans locked in place since you were small. He knew the family that you were being married into - wealthy indeed, but also snobby. Although he welded a high power of magic and sorcery, he knew he was powerless against the decisions made by your father. There was nothing he could do to keep you to himself. You'd be travelling far away, across multiple kingdoms, there was just no chance of a secure way of contact between the two of you. Your fate was inevitable.

Suddenly, he felt a strong weight pushed against his chest and lock around his waist. You had grasped him in a tight hug, hungry not to let go for a second, all of your strength gripping onto his lanky body and plum robe. It was obvious you were crying by the way your chest lifted up and down in an irregular pattern, and the sniffles that were muffed by the fabric of his robe. Cedric let out a breath and wrapped his arms around you, reciprocating the hug. His arms were a makeshift barrier of protection, keeping you all to himself and shielding you from anybody attempting to take you away. The sorcerer's head fell against yours, as he used his delicate hands to stroke the back of your hair - soothing and comforting you. You both began to rock in a motion, remaining like that for as long as you could before a gentle knock was tapped on the door of Cedric's workshop.

"It's only me, your majesty." You heard Baileywick's voice from behind the wooden door. It was filled with empathy. Hesitantly, you pulled away from Cedric, staring into his hazel eyes for a second before opening the door slowly. Baileywick was stood with a sad smile on his face, shaking his head. In that moment, you all knew that it was time to go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You all made your way down to the throne room, where your father was still rambling on to Roland about the plans today. He looked worried and shot glances over at Miranda, who looked equally as sympathetic. Cedric stood close behind you, looking down at the ground and clearing his throat softly. You looked up at your father and a sudden shot of adrenaline shot over your body.

"I'm not going."

The sudden interruption stopped your father from speaking, as he chuckled awkwardly and turned his direction to you. "Sorry, my darling?"

"I said I'm not going."

Your father's expression slowly began to drop as he shook his head. "You've known about this for too long now. You are going whether you like it or not."

You opened your mouth to resort, but no words came out. You had to admit to defeat against your father and his forceful manner of action. Cedric reached down and held your hand, slipping his fingers in between yours and gripping onto you tightly. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance and farewell. You turned your head to him and bit your lip, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and beginning to move towards your father.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That night, Cedric sat in his workshop, alone. It was the first time that Cedric had been alone in his workshop since you had formed a relationship. He was feeling many emotions, but he mainly felt numb. He sat at his desk, staring blankly into a piece of parchment paper. The family had given him their condolences - especially Princess Sofia, who had given Cedric extra hugs and offered her support to the sorcerer.

A knock at Cedric's window scared him. It was rapid and desperate, causing Cedric to shoot up and run to the window to check what the peculiar noise was.

You were there. And you were on a carriage, alone, with the driver looking painfully annoyed. You were back.

#cedric the great x reader #cedric the sensational #selfship community #cedric x reader #cedric the great #cedric sofia the first #cedric oneshot #cedric #cedric the sorcerer #cedric the sorcerer x reader #sofia the fandom

127 notes · View notes

ladyofasoiaf · 3 years

Text

Sansa & Beauty - Quotes

RADIANT:

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

A Game of Thrones - Jon I

*-*

COMELY:

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey."Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?"

Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

EXQUISITE:

"You do look quite exquisite, child," Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. "The wind has been at your hair, though."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

FAIR:

I must ask after Sansa. How else will I find her? She cleared her throat. "Goodwife," she said to the woman on the turnip cart, "perhaps you saw my sister on the road? A young maid, three-and-ten and fair of face, with blue eyes and auburn hair. She may be riding with a drunken knight."

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

*-*

BEAUTY:

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.

A Feast for Crows - Brienne VII

*-*

Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed."

A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

*-*

"Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown," Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

LOVELY:

Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was as pale as milk.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion VI

*-*

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

*-*

"Leave the colors to me, my lady. You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a . . . a lovely young lady of noble birth."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

When the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. "Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but . . . I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Her maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. "You look lovely, Sansa." He turned to his squire. "Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

*-*

And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

PRETTY:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

*-*

A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

*-*

"I will sing it for you gladly."

Sandor Clegane snorted. "Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here . . . and every one better than you."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

*-*

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he's always liked me in this gown, this color.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?" He laughed again. "Or maybe a sister?" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird."

A Storm of Swords - Arya IX

*-*

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

*-*

Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

*-*

Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

*-*

Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

BEAUTIFUL:

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

*-*

"Sweet Sansa," Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. "Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you."

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

*-*

She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

"I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

*-*

His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VI

*-*

"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper..."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

*-*

As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

"Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you.. you look so lovely."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me a rose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day." It made her flush to speak of it. "You said no victory was half as beautiful as me."

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. "You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

*-*

"Marillion?" she said, uncertain. "You are... kind to think of me, but.. pray forgive me. I am very tired."

"And very beautiful.

All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty." He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. "Let me sing to you with my body instead."

She caught a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

*-*

"I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Have you no honor?" her aunt said sharply. "Or do you take me for a fool? You do, don't you? You take me for a fool. Yes, I see that now. I am not a fool. You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. Don't think I haven't seen the looks you give Marillion.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

"Aye," said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. "You left out that part, m'lord."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

A Dance with Dragons - The Prince of Winterfell

*-*

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"A beautiful bastard, and the Lord Protector's daughter." Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

#sansa stark #asoiaf #A Song of Ice and Fire #quotes #sansa & beauty #ymbq #agot #acok #asos #affc #adwd #twow #alayne stone #let me know if there is more #mine

200 notes · View notes

thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years

Note

What do you think about the relationship between Napoleon and Lannes? Were they like best friends or something? I read that when Lannes died Nap was really sad he cried and wasn't in a very good mood even after he returned home

Oh I love their friendship. Love their love. And they were intimately close. Terribly familiar and affectionate with each other (if in a bit of a rough-housey military sort of affectionate). Lannes was Roland to Napoleon’s Charlemagne. Patroclus to Napoleon’s Achilles.

They met as young men during the 1796 Italian Campaign and became fast friends. Both were from more modest backgrounds, both were stiff-necked and hard-headed, both had a military background, and so on. Lannes also fits into Napoleon’s category of “people he loved in part because they were there from the beginning”. Lasting sixteen years (and it would have lasted through to the end I think, had Lannes lived) their relationship was deep, intimate and meaningful to both.

Lannes was one of the few who could tutoyer Napoleon (in private and, more importantly, in public), and did so with great enthusiasm. He’s also one of the few who could publicly oppose/butt heads/insult/be overly familiar with Napoleon and not suffer any real consequences. (e.g. Lannes famously called Napoleon a harlot once in public. To which I am sure we can all hear Napoleon going: Fuck you Lannes. Lannes’ “punishments” when he overstepped the mark were either temporary banishment [it never lasted long] or being sent on diplomatic journeys he didn’t want to go on.)

They were what some would call intimate friends, or romantic friends.

Lannes’ death cut Napoleon to the core in a way that is only matched, I would argue, by Duroc and Josephine. Napoleon was mournful and grief stricken over others, such as Desaix and Chauvet, but not to the same degree or intensity.

(Desaix’s death did prompt that heartbroken line from Napoleon of (roughly) “he always wanted to die in battle but did death have to be so eager to grant him his wish”. Chauvet’s gave us that letter to Josephine where Napoleon says that Chauvet is dead, his ghost whistles through Napoleon’s tent.)

Indeed, in terms of displays of emotion on the battlefield, particularly open weeping and almost inconsolable grief, Lannes is one of the few that garnered such a reaction from Napoleon. (Duroc being another.) Which speaks to their profound relationship and what Lannes meant to Napoleon (and it certainly goes the other way around as well). Napoleon said of Lannes, “Lannes adored me…he was certainly one of the men on whom I could most depend in this world.”

Later on St. Helena: “he [Lannes] clung to me [Napoleon] … for the rest of his life; he wanted only me, thought only of me … Certainly, he loved his wife and children more than me; nevertheless, he never spoke about it because he expected nothing of it; he was the one who protected them, while in turn, I was his protector.” (A sort of military-esque marriage.)

One of my favourite exchanges, which can be summed up as: Presenting you the married couple of Napoleon & Lannes.

You damn Gascon! What the hell were you doing… trying to prove you’re so damn brave when we already know that? No… you were out there risking your men and yourself for no bloody reason! You’d do better to follow your orders from now on. When I want you to get yourself killed I’ll let you know!

– Napoleon to Lannes, after the takeing of Malta, 1798. Cited in The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes

Mostly because you can hear Lannes yelling back: I DO WHAT I WANT YOU STUPID CORSICAN. Also because this is such a “I’m so panicked you almost died I love you and also want to slap you” moment from Napoleon.

Married Couple #2:

There were a few diversions, however, particularly the evening meetings of the savants who would later organize the Institut d’Égypte. Bonaparte took these meetings seriously and made his generals and staff attend. He could not always control such a diverse crowd, however. Several officers were unimpressed and obviously bored with scholarly discussions. A participant claimed Lannes and Junot were the worst behaved, joking with each other and making rude remarks while the savants attempted to educate them. Junot would deliberately mispronounce Lannes’s name as one of his better jokes, calling him l’âne, or ass. Lannes told Bonaparte that nobody could hear the scholars over Junot’s snores rumbling from the back of the crowded gathering. Bonaparte excused Junot from further sessions, but he made Lannes stay, fidgety, bored, with no one to listen his sotto voce comments.

— Margaret S. Chrisawn, The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes.

Junot and Napoleon though, that’s another complicated situation. (It was a mess, a hot, hot mess. Junot was in Love. Napoleon was embarrassed. It got messy and mean.)

A few accounts from Lannes’ death:

As soon as the Emperor saw him, he ran, hastened to him, covered him with kisses. He called to him in the middle of his sobs, and said to him in a muffled voice: ‘Lannes, my friend, do you recognize me? It’s me, it’s the Emperor. It’s Bonaparte, your friend!’ … Napoleon, kneeling before the dying hero, cried hot tears. This most touching meeting, these most tender embraces moved us profoundly … The Emperor’s pain was so intense that none of the witnesses to this scene could ever deny the profound feeling that it inspired.

– Account from Jean-Jacques-Germain Pelet

“My Cousin, the marshal died this morning of wounds he received on the battlefield. My grief is equal to yours. I lose my armies’ most distinguished general, my companion in arms for the last sixteen years, the one I considered my closest friend. His family and his children will always have a particular right to my protection. It’s to assure you of this that I wanted to write you this letter, because I sense that nothing can relieve the true sorrow that you will feel.”

— Letter from Napoleon to the Duchess of Montebello, 31 May 1809.

Following Lannes’s agonizing death on May 31, 1809, Napoleon retreated to his tent where his valet Louis Constant later found the Emperor “seated, immobile, mute, and staring into space, in front of his hastily prepared meal. Napoleon’s eyes were inundated with tears; they multiplied and fell silently into the soup.”

[…]

Napoleon’s grief for Marshal Lannes took on the very public character of open lamentation. Rather than grieve behind closed doors and conceal his personal vulnerabilities in order to show public strength, Napoleon’s mourning for his beloved friend became a matter of great public spectacle. Like Achilles mourning his beloved Patroclus, Napoleon wept publicly and openly expressed his affection in a way that was widely reported, discussed, and admired by the officers and soldiers in his armies.

[…]

Napoleon’s public grief at the death of Jean Lannes represented a new model for social relations between soldiers in the early nineteenth-century France. weeping over his friend’s broken body, Napoleon demonstrated how the revolution and empire had made it possible not only for an emperor to grieve openly for a fallen marshal, but for a soldier to love his comrade. This uncharacteristic expression of affection between Napoleon and Lannes was echoes in similar relationships between officers and foot soldiers in Napoleon’s armies. Military memories of the first empire bear witness to a wide range of intimate relationships among generals, colonels, and captains as well as sergeants, corporals, and grunts (grognards), the infantry soldiers who made up the majority of the imperial armies. Napoleon’s love for Lannes might thus be said to represent a broad spectrum of masculine affection and intimacy in the ranks of the Grande Armée, or what could be called Napoleonic friendship.

- Napoleonic Friendship: Military Fraternity, Intimacy, and Sexuality in Nineteenth-century France

“The Emperor also spoke of the last moments of Marshal Lannes, the valorous Duke of Montebello, so justly called the Roland of the army, who, visited by the Emperor on his deathbed, seemed to forget his own condition and tend to him whom he loved above everything.”

-Las Cases, Memorial of Saint Helena.

Indeed, Napoleon’s friendship and open pain and grief at Lannes’ death is one of those rare moments that allows us to separate the Napoleonic Myth - that enigmatic Emperor who is a repository of collective fears and hopes - and see the man beneath it. And while, as with everything relating to Napoleon, his friendship with Lannes can be either over, or under, stated - I think we can all safely agree that there was love, intimacy, affection and friendship between them and Lannes’ death impacted Napoleon in a way that I’m not sure we can fully appreciate.

Until the end, whenever Lannes was brought up Napoleon would discuss him briefly then quickly move on to other subjects and it’s clear, based on how he is described in those moments (going silent, blinking a lot, looking away), he’s trying not to cry.

#Happy Thursday this was really depressing to write #jean lannes #lannes #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #napoleonic friendship #homoromantic friendship #intimate friendship #19th century

158 notes · View notes

phntasmgoria · 1 month

Text

redoing the tags for my project moon muses so i can have them all in one place, especially since i just got new ones added lol

#[ i have nothing but my sorrow // roland ]#[ o my sorrow‚ you are better than a well beloved // angelica ]#[ carry me from a false deliverance // angela ]#[ as above‚ so below // malkuth ]#[ the right hand of god // chesed ]#[ manifested glory // hod ]#[ dark cloud blade // sayo ]#[ a harmonious balance // tiphereth ]#[ the essence of judgement and limitation // gebura ]#[ forlorn artistry // netzach ]#[ everywhere that i go‚ death follows me // thanatos ]#[ they're killing me when i'm fast asleep // hypnos ]#[ fly‚ broken wings // yi sang ]#[ i know exactly why i walk and talk like a machine // gregor samsa ]#[ feigning silence through a holy fate // faust ]#[ may these flames burn your wickedness // ryoshu ]#[ lady luck might even be on your side // rodya ]#[ i'm calling to know the world's true yearning // sinclair ]#[ i am nobody ; nothing at all // outis ]#[ the gilded lily // yuri ]#[ mechanical hands are the ruler of everything // dante ]#[ blind obsession // ishmael ]#[ with each bite does your sanity die // kromer ]#[ like fallen petals // dongbaek ]#[ young lady of jade // odelia samsa | jia mingyu ]#[ scorched dark child // yoshika ]#[ oh darling‚ don't you ever grow up // wendy darling ]#[ people turn on you just like the wind // eurydice ]#[ i am not an angel // jane eyre ]

3 notes · View notes

witchembrace · 3 months

Text

Roland didn't intend to make Hod cry! Shit, how can he fix this? Ahhhhh, he doesn't know! So he's just going to awkwardly wrap his arms around her and pat her head gently. "I'm sorry..." He mutters, face reddening with embarrassment.

@soulsbetrayed — sc.

#embraced by a witch. (ic)#i have nothing but my sorrow. (roland)#soulsbetrayed

2 notes · View notes

flowerfan2 · 3 years

Text

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 5

David/Patrick, M, 15k so far, A03

Summary: An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David. What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined. A story of love and its challenges.

Chapter 5

The next week is tough. Patrick has PT every weekday morning at the hospital in Elmdale, and while they’re getting better at making the transfer from bed to chair to car to chair to car and back home again, it’s still awkward and tiring. Worse, Patrick doesn’t seem to be getting any better, at least not where his ability to support himself on his legs is concerned. He still goes practically limp when David hauls him up, and David doesn’t know how to raise the subject, even though it’s right there in his arms.

By the time they’re into their second week since Patrick came home, David starts spending a few hours a day out of the house. He has a lot of vendor visits to make, since he had postponed everything that was on the calendar after Patrick’s accident. Patrick seems generally annoyed at him, but David can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t want David to leave, or he wishes he wouldn’t come back.

Nothing seems to make Patrick happy. David came home one evening to find him messing around with his guitar, and asked if he would play something for him, but Patrick just snapped at him and refused. When David brought home cheese samples from a new vendor, Patrick complained that if they ate that instead of dinner, they were wasting the groceries he had ordered. If David offers to get him a drink, Patrick accuses David of not trusting him to do it himself; if David doesn’t offer, Patrick pouts.

Late Wednesday afternoon David lets himself into the house quietly. Patrick has gotten in the habit of taking long naps after his morning physical therapy sessions, and David doesn’t want to disturb him. But Patrick is wide awake, glaring at David from the couch the minute he walks in.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Patrick says. “It’s my house too, you know. You could have asked me.”

David takes in a deep breath and tries to remain calm. “Asked you about what?”

“Very funny. I hardly needed you to advertise my problems to the whole town. You know how I feel about keeping stuff private, and you did it anyway.”

“Patrick, seriously, what are you talking about?” David can feel Patrick’s anger like a wave, pushing at his chest and making it hard to breathe.

“Our fucking bathroom.”

David goes into the house’s only full bath, and sure, it’s a bit of a mess. But then he pushes aside the shower curtain and sees a handrail has been added to the back wall, three feet of diagonal reminder that Patrick can’t hold himself up. When he turns back towards the door he sees that there’s another handle next to the toilet. They are definitely eyesores in the midst of their black and white vintage subway tile, but he doesn’t think the aesthetics are what Patrick is upset about.

He goes back to the living room, where Patrick proceeds to yell at him some more. David zones out briefly, unable to come up with any response in the face of Patrick’s verbal assault, until his brain manages to catch on one accusation.

“Patrick, I didn’t do this. I had no idea. I didn’t ask for this either.”

“You told Jocelyn to come over to babysit, and then you had Roland come instead.”

David is shaking his head repeatedly. “No, I didn’t. I mean yes, Jocelyn said she would stop by, but I didn’t tell Roland to come.”

“That’s what Roland said.”

“You’re going to take Roland’s word over mine? You think I’m lying to you?”

“He said he texted you. That’s proof. You can’t deny it.”

David fumbles for his phone and shoves it at Patrick. “My phone’s dead. Has been all afternoon.”

Patrick tries in vain to turn it on, and then wheels himself over to the side table and plugs it in. “You said you would support me, and then you do this,” Patrick says bitterly, watching the phone as it slowly comes to life.

It’s incredibly unfair, and David can’t help but point this out. “Okay, one, I didn’t tell Roland to install anything, and I’d appreciate the courtesy of you actually trusting me here.” His voice is rising, and he can’t stop himself. “And two, what if I had asked him to install some safety handrails? It’s a good idea – you’re totally unstable in there, and getting you in and out of the tub is a disaster waiting to happen. I’m glad Roland thought of it – I wish I had thought of it myself!”

“Are you serious?” Patrick asks, his voice dropping low and, if possible, even more furious. “After everything I’ve told you, you want to bolt a reminder to the wall of how inadequate I am – how can you say that?”

“Oh, that’s rich – you haven’t told me anything, how am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

“You don’t even try. You don’t give a shit about what I’m going through. You’re just a selfish, spoiled brat.”

David feels like Patrick has gut punched him, and all the air flies out of the room. He stumbles back, shoving open the door and winding up against the car, hunched over and panting furiously. When he can breathe again, he gets in and drives away.

He winds up at the Wobbly Elm, which is a terrible place to try to drown his sorrows. He’s hardly anonymous here, and he instantly spots several people from the town. Before he can sneak out, someone sits down next to him at the bar. He leans his head down on the sticky wood, wishing he could sink into it and disappear.

“You don’t look too good, David Rose,” Ronnie says. At least it’s her and not Bob or Twyla or someone that might try to cheer him up.

“I’m not in the mood to talk, Ronnie.” He can hear how rough his own voice is, whether from crying or yelling, he’s not sure.

“Word is your boy’s having a tough time.”

David huffs out a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

David picks up his head and stares at her. “None of your business.”

She shrugs. “Fine. But you two have gone from the town’s sappiest couple to a pair of misery twins, and I don’t give you good odds unless something changes.”

“That’s dark, even for you.”

“No point in sugar-coating it.” Ronnie gets up from the bar and pats David on the shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of affection. “You let me know if you want to talk. You wouldn’t believe the shit Karen and I got up to when we were younger. It’s a miracle the woman still speaks to me.”

“Ronnie,” David says despite himself, as she starts to walk away. “I think I’m losing him.”

She turns around and gives him a long look. “Well, if you’ve noticed, he probably has too. Maybe you better talk with him about it, before things get worse.”

David nurses his glass of wine for a few more minutes. He doesn’t really want to go home, but he realizes that Patrick’s been alone there for almost an hour now, which makes David feel even more awful. He considers calling his dad to see if he could stop by the house and check on him, but that would just make Patrick angrier, and he’s not sure what that would even look like.

On the drive back he makes himself do some yoga breaths, which don’t necessarily calm him down but at least they push back the edge of impending panic that’s he’s been teetering on for the past hour. He’s not even sure what he’s going to say to Patrick.

<i>You’re just a selfish, spoiled brat.</i> There was a time when this might have been a pretty accurate description of David, but it isn’t any longer; it hasn’t been for a long time. And it’s never described the David that Patrick knows.

He and Patrick had their moments before they got married, but overall things have been so good, David was lulled into forgetting how devastating is to have someone you trust betray you. It occurs to him that may have been exactly how Patrick felt when Roland came in to install the handrails – as ridiculous as it seems in hindsight. David still can’t really believe that Patrick would take safety handrails as a betrayal, but it seems to have triggered Patrick in a way David doesn’t understand.

Regardless of the reason, David has never seen Patrick so angry. It was frightening, and hurtful, and David really, really doesn’t like it.

The ironic thing is that the person who is best at making him feel safe is the one who is scaring him.

Back at the house, David scans the kitchen and living room, but Patrick isn’t there. Gingerly, he walks down the hall to their bedroom. The room is dim, and David’s eyes go immediately to Patrick’s wheelchair; his heart skips a beat when he registers that it’s empty. But then he sees a long lump under the covers, and some small part of him relaxes.

Patrick got himself into bed, presumably without help. That’s a huge step. If David didn’t feel so desperately miserable right now, he’d be cheering.

The lump shifts and Patrick lifts his head up. His eyes are red and swollen. “David. You came back.”

“Of course I came back.” David can’t seem to move, though, standing in the doorway with his arms wrapped around his waist. “Um, look, I’m sorry-”

“What? No, David, I’m so sorry. I was horrible to you, I can’t believe I said those things.” Patrick gulps in air, and David sees that he’s crying, maybe has been for a while given how congested his voice sounds. “I was so angry, but it shouldn’t have been at you. What I said wasn’t true. I don’t think that. I don’t know why you put up with me, you’re not selfish at all, I am, I’m awful-”

That’s it, David can’t take it, he rushes across the room and wraps Patrick in his arms. “No, no no no, absolutely not, don’t you dare say that about yourself.” He pulls Patrick close and tucks his head into his neck, stroking his short hair. Patrick is a crying, trembling mess, sweaty and flushed. “You are the least selfish person I know, you are not awful, you’re not.”

“I screamed at you,” Patrick sobs. “I scared you.”

David doesn’t quite know what to say to this, because it’s more or less true. “You didn’t mean to.” He knows that’s true, too, as soon as he says it.

“I never wanted to be that person. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry, oh my god, David, I’m so sorry.”

David holds Patrick as he cries, heart-wrenching sobs that shake his whole body. He loses track of time, petting Patrick’s head and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” David murmurs. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.” When Patrick finally starts to calm down, David reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a handful of tissues.

“Thank you,” Patrick says, blowing his nose noisily and wiping his face. He’s an ugly crier. David kind of loves that about him.

“So, um, how’d you get out of your chair?”

Patrick sniffs hard, then reaches up with both hands and grabs on to the top of the headboard to demonstrate. “I kind of swung myself over.”

David nods. “Good job.”

Patrick shakes his head. “Nothing about this day is good.”

David can tell Patrick just wants to burrow back under the covers and go to sleep, and he’s so close to letting him off the hook. But sticking their heads in the sand is what has gotten them here, to a place where even taciturn Ronnie Lee is judging them for their failure to communicate.

“We, um, we should really talk.”

Patrick pushes himself up to a sitting position, putting a little distance between himself and David. “I know.”

“I’m worried about you,” David says carefully, watching Patrick out of the corner of his eye. It’s hard to look at him directly and say this. “And, um, I’m worried about us.”

If possible, Patrick’s face goes even whiter, the pink splotches on his skin from crying standing out in stark relief.

“David, what… what are you saying?”

“Patrick, I love you, I love you so much. But we’re both struggling and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Patrick is shaking, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before sound comes out. “But – but you want to fix it, right?”

“I absolutely do,” David says, biting his lip. “There’s nothing more important to me. But you have to want it too. Even if you’re in a bad place, even if you’re feeling lost, you can’t keep shutting me out. Patrick… I miss you.”

“The old me.”

“You. You’re still you.”

“Hardly.”

“That’s not true, of course you are.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You treat me differently. Like I’m going to break. You won’t even touch me.”

David takes this in, trying to understand. “Do you mean sex?” he asks, puzzled.

“Yes, I mean sex,” Patrick says, quiet and sad. “We used to fool around every day, sometimes twice. Now all I get are vaguely reassuring hugs and pats on the shoulder.”

David is stunned, and somewhat offended – hugging Patrick is the best feeling in the world. “You told me you weren’t comfortable doing anything more,” David says slowly. “You were very clear. I was respecting your wishes. I was listening to you.”

“David, I was in the hospital – I said I didn’t want to fool around <i>in the hospital!</i>”

David takes in the appalled look on Patrick’s face, and suddenly he’s laughing like a crazy person, and Patrick is too. When they can breathe again, David takes Patrick’s face in his hands and kisses him hard, Patrick responding just as fiercely, until Patrick has to pull away and gasp for air.

“Still can’t really breathe through my nose,” Patrick coughs, and David bursts into laughter again, handing him another tissue.

*****

The next morning David wakes up with Patrick curled around him, warm against his back. For a minute he doesn’t remember Patrick’s accident, it’s just a normal morning in bed with his very favorite person.

“David?”

“Hmm?”

“We have to get up soon.”

Reality seeps in, this new world where David no longer has the luxury of demanding to be left alone until ten a.m., where Patrick is more dependent upon him than anyone has ever been before.

“Okay.” He starts to move towards the edge of the bed, but Patrick tightens the arm around his chest, and he stops, realizing that this is the first time in a long time that Patrick has held him like this. “Um, everything okay?”

“I love when you hold me,” Patrick says, barely audible. “You do it all the time, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to want to touch me. You make me feel safe. I should never have said….” He takes a deep breath. “I’d… I’d be so sad if you stopped hugging me. Don’t stop, okay?”

David rolls over and takes Patrick into his arms, pulling him tight against his chest, and wrapping a leg over his thigh. “I won’t. I love it too.” David’s heart is so full, he feels like it might overflow. “I love you.”

“Thank you for making this happen for us,” Patrick whispers, and David hums in response, their catch phrase making him smile as it always does.

“Always.”

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer

10 notes · View notes