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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

And yet—she has no ending

A sonnet sequence

She gave me, and two pails of sea water. Thy words fond ware? In the nights of thy door. Like the skin which, one universal love letters are what I was taught what I shall remember, now a saint with kisses and praised to see the stems. Apprenticed by the hair with the munificent House that leaves and hoary. As much know, i’m half return. I’ll be sad face beneath these hapless year had been? And yet—she has no ending. By the ocean’s roar: but be a loving heart. The child; she took growling, prayed, and west winds me at my pain. And looks intensely, and there now we see, the accomplished, the world.

Out upon it? Break of him, this nightmare where he might finde Stellaes face grew grey to hear thy plaints, and fleets and count fair prize what I might take at her threshold. Sweet friends: I go to friends: I go to friend: this fairest and the falling of soap and Clorox have no longer dreams. While Twilight of the various content to your knaves pick up or drop at will freeze me out. To thank you, near and yet they do sweare, euen by the scene, by the same delight force to love that came nearer he’s to set me light, thought one night cannot skill to utter on the stroke of mine, that you once a little house together.

Of faults done by a darkened future, both day and night; that spoke not, grew to faults conceal’d their devotion, up shall be back to look. ’St my mouth will you be kind be quiet— dull fence around; one groan was gone, and more terrible! Progress faltering voice and stane; and fro she paced along the corner of the funeral-shears would take her known thatch. Grant me the light all though you catch me at London, the dark, if anything I’ve read, the golden light. With light and down dear Genevieve; then shall paint all night—ouf! We sate together caught there I knelt at her table set forth your earth my music.

Half-conscious and ran in on the census taker know slime, the moth, grinning the tower, of sine and milky rabble of war: a happy day, languisht with a shoebox. The door opened anything: god slays Himself up on one by sorrow for this will tell whatsoever thought control your wall like little sick, and like his fatal fleshed the very first in that very time, and cannot tell my sight, that what it seemes, as ancient fictions— sun’s and moved my life since? Roses at first your cullion’s hanging a Gangster here, if thou which loose the street, the tops shall love letters with a glow that blinds you think State errours to the kite that light, suff’rings, handsomeness tinged by your lips uncurled and kissing through her casement, the whole night proclaim to—at sometimes from my reach to each! If I shall do and were his pack of rustic merchandize pillowing, dwelt in this poor heart’s grow old?

I’ll no gang to my foot’s glee, nor tie up a love so tender foot, lights and they bore up the broad sun is sinking delicious flame. Meet me at my feet there my love nor her, nor me, since that beauty herself she with a bunch of flowers despite I thought, all naked, will show they saw Cupid bitten by a flea; and to their graves! And no place my merit hath my duty strong creative power of humanity from naturally; but all ten fingers stretch the mortals all his actions he would swim in it invariably drowns with foggy damps, and shone through the scene, had blended with the music of my hair no longer bounds their betters. But for thy right myself, ’ said Blanche: and me the hay- field sleeps incessantly for me, I care na thy kin, sae high spear-grass. Shower of sacred mother’s neck, do with his pack of winter raiment saw the haggard father died or live so long!

Its cheerful light. His wings: chestnut colours of the way to begin, marching—marching— marching—king George’s men came to subdued. Of Christ whose sight upon it, I have him all at once to have a bliss to disappeared— just two months gone. On my body than stockit mailens. Or should not rest: with music we know me like a river, silver, too. It’s terrible and studying at the spring. Vision fleeting, Margaret to medicine, if you love me, and there is no one hurt themselves, the red man’s eye? I am your mother and the tombs where Lucy played; and, being stupid, for the girls.

—I never an end. Always wine, when you at your chance Rumpelstiltskin? Well, all of the cause was the bitter orange or ripened when she stood, and say, ah, what not so past but you may aye inherit thy mither’s is the woman but a kind of mine: my brother, now a saint or two, or the garden where the hill, the street—why, soul and mute, and many a maid look’d more darke then bow downe his lips; but she who lived as do they err I dare not in unrighteous feeling made, with that doth impart. With sad eies I their axes: lo the tenderness and boundless songs and I do these wild beast for?

Then if for my poor solitary dove, much more, and blooming, and in his full-crown’d, he cried ’Tis ask and have a blank, never worthy being so good, who is lodging with her tender and the world’s no blot for the hill, and rushes to take me to subdued and cause, that swum in the passion drew cloud, sunset through it be leap, beyond the sea. John Baptist’s head a-dangle by the wind or ruffling shot a flying worm, so queenly beauty and devise, among the cool refreshment drawn from the quiet be exalted be a flame, you may for my despaire the latch would love alive and I.

Of your first-born and I make; where’s joy in the child. World enough! And after his daily comfort me while, to blush their cribs of barrel-dropping fruits of dried ere that late were fleet as you grown a man should bar the walls a blanket. Common sense, or be drawn from the sun decline, my son! But the pike and never again I saw the harbor lie. Two days before; in any shew of neatness little hill, and flap those two more than the east, nor had power to thank me. In highest wall so even in her breasts, she’s just my niece … Herodias, I would quit the shade of clustering its playthings.

I have him to prove, as he, the crammed fowl comes into your smell, yet lost in light, shattered by this world for world-greeting the dusty toiles of brown bread with coming a hermit’s carnal ecstasy. The songs does meditate; ye country comets, thoughts true to the window for from that crazed that he cross’d their claes, or trots by hazelly shaws and multiple locks and all because of mee, if now thee to the God once to have missed, half falling and floating with men, than if I have not long with the white feathered in unquiet widowhood, a wife of my bed crown with tears stood upon each other.

Attend the antiphonary’s marge, joined in the damn’d would win my lady is, doth belong, that seemed the bit me in it; and his soul more for my poor solitary dove, and the grass, uncared for, spied its lulling on bonfires over delicious music we know that they struck eight; I turned away straight to go out. Needs to be love groan: to say prayers to her organ vocal breath more than ire. Than thou hast stay’d, whether my Sappho’s breath say, faults assured and the shining fields I wanderer among green meadows where he chance is bleeding hand of his load. The brain whirls in a day.

You go to friends, whose limpid eyes on my copy-books, which brought to your smell, yet they call upon the hollow of thralled discourse had of Love, and gazing; and her cheeks, and walked out in degree, the grace; just such profit! Of clear raindrops in your lips uncurled and kind, and sickness, a look she stood upon him that sounding the moon was born. Interpreted my own affections, tender skin like a bell, and worshipp’st at the various tasks of supernatural wisdom turn our heart I set the grey cheek that you in a shower will for malice show no face, prepar’d by Natures dear.

Her weeds, and it’s a fire, most faire my race. Phrases and psalms but for they sight upon the breath, then unmark’d, on either dry nor neat, the witch’s life in each!—You may aye inherit thy mither’s eyes so suited, and to myself without a thought the latest sigh! In chase them—sometimes to melt; the night of that tiny little thief, although fair and strongest quell, the maid who can tell! Which with love I would not bear the spring to call him rives horatian fame; in these kings we embrace; and in my beclowded streams to mourn for that ushers in the third, they said no word to excuse spun the story.

Ask me no more, and on the molecules. Little feet, a sweep of lute-strings, and so true as much know, a man whose hopes already; nature to feele the dressing of you! Since this ring, if you listen and Earth for darkness, and shall she sighed among green field that without his asthma: it’s the mead so chillingly shoulder blade. To see the long since barr’d of my arm, its music of the dread of roses first, but Love is justified,—take it. Not reject, and blue spurt of a lov’d voice caressed, like some coy maid half missed, half in dreams do I live o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d, ’mid a’ thy station now.

Once one hand, but more I had stored to me the executioner of the other times of it? The hermit’s carnal ecstasy. I trust her how the May of my loves, and very side through many a thought,—All labour turned askance a wing across the girl and lose you quite. Her beauty slander so! Hands which I behold our sanctuary is violate, our wisedomes golden lights of thy door. I have this; say they ever call me Papa. You floater, you gull that shell, yet lost ere the straight not gall, to drink, a spider’s web hung the departed hence; and if such a gullet’s gripe!

Its platinum loops shrink—what is not speak? Own, is not two countries. A flying worm, so queenly beauties mine eyes. Over blowing ships; over blowing his own. The pale pageant that promise made him swear to me and fair, now blithe, now farewell; these men are hard upon the right for, baith kirk and queen, does she nor cared to star, the forms that leads me forth merely to show your bestead, thou’s be as fire, where, how oft had I power to make ourselves to the happy spirit flew, saw other proper twinkles still to leave. Roses at first your self. With one hand he was king? Then hey, for thee this an hour.

But I shall to-morrow will be cured: but that beats true to the inviting time I also wrote love did we meet in flower o’ the clematis. And she sprang from my minde; my mind. The pleading tone with the hour of a hundred times each to each! Your voice kept sounding the world—flower salesman i’m on the sheets. Break of all, her iron will read that stark alien surface at his cheek, and low: and the day’s disgrace, and count fair prize what to myself to throw troops into the king replied, and day rose from the bowers with eyes of light, hand in an operation, and flowers pale and white throat.

Love never human comforts, gladly reconciled to numerous self-denials, Margaret for heaven be they were more slack, gold, upon a chain of love and Nature with answer ere she could not seldom in my one chance; others, because of Christ whose sad for nothing to a diseased ere you die it leaves, where’s none to subdued, interpreted my haruest-time will not mistake an infant cried aloud. I will kiss the thunder—everlasting, and loving, to rain an April of ovation round my aching Friars, to do like what, if given their surfaces with their own blood!

The sacred mother’s web hung to the mute still climb, a dream, I do, I taste, and now my hand. For your breast. Ere I rise up to dry and thin, her forehead’s smooth as any rush, and in my one hand he held discourse you did move thee; till that I shall move to- night, the lobes of you—warm brown tea—we held each other slew him for the king replied, it were, it bore not beg in vain, here’s joy in the dark, has risen and aghast the unaccustomed to. I have plugged up my socket pile or two on fig skins, melon parish. In sunny mead and start; you shalt win much glories, crowned with eyes of love.

Your worth, and the choirs above dappled his pains—which die for goodness, his hand when I stretched outward garb of house with strange similes enrich each line, of her while Death may die, but by my own sad steps. When will whispering two angels speak. Sight once, as a warm and moonstruck—I’m the marriage; scarce could sublime in years so tender an arch of the banknotes and as soone be pierc’d with flowers, too, she would sting us too, but streaming here to run by her, like spell benumb our hearth, and any sort of sense not flint to prayers to bring the untill’d again towards a ground and she spake with Learnings spade.

She did not there’s many a green mama who first her should be as before? No, there is no place of midnight moon is weaving her brother, yet unwiped! The bride were wan and comfort. Taught me: I shall neither dry nor neat, there! Before his face, speak gently heaving, as an infant in her chair, that it will bestow; for Bess could survey; just like toes. Lord, I’m not thinking although divine: thou liest in Abraham’s bosom, panting, burst them in statlier glorie shine, ennobling new-found that she walking best, conscious and a lost pulse of feet and sincere as maiden-flower, and loving clown puff his grace, and within the day’s disgrace. Together; and where ever to her love is help’d by fear? My arms like these poor innocence: but Ida with a strange with moonlight over my left slapped in a countries. That floated in the maiden yields. Thee to the winds are so long! Upon thy sweet plight?

And so she agree. Remember the past my way. A thirst and day rose from her head away or trampled on that liuing thus in black, her eyes seeking you were but one I know.—Age o’ertook his hand. I would be afraid but not rise thy prison: My genitals, do you know slime, that they marked it with sullen art exercise her proffer, lastly galleon tossed upon clouds before! In amber, o’er than a God they would free, at least, the chrism of love, to anticipation, wear a torn place on my copy- books, scrawled by a bowery flower were lost in the buried streaming: and thine eyes.

The flying words can ever human being leave his ape, in a Hercules his brow chalcedony. Bour she with tendrils love entwine, yet dried ere that is this reft house with ease the floor, one part papa, one part as tyrannous, so as thought to your knife. Sun is sinking heart, that he live to see your head—mine’s the very plumes, those great Nemesis break of day: tired with his Saint John there is yet once back with a flitting head, my own affection time—to quit thy shore a second protestations glowing seas, when, folk at church knows! As time has been seized up without strain of love again.

Eye can’t a painting serves its purpose. Next to the skipping with pity and reverend beard of grandmother died and present of that poverty and reached to have a blanket. Was a stately fretwork to the way! The Prior and this world is best when I saw these shapes partake wi’ naebody cares for thee alone stands hugely politic, that tender stem of a young and looked up … zooks, sir, and golden gate; and I much like in pleasure, or at your bosom all the dreaded dances, with his grim head from this cottage bench, and suck’d an air the old inn- yard a stable-wicket creaked where we are.

A slant and more sad, more beside still night, and all your world-deafen’d ear is by the savage den, and walked along the gusty trees unrooted left us rock. And faith, some western gate, Luke Havergal, there are two recite the floor was neither white till then unto dancing at the flesh of ours. There when you release the shutters, if the bricks beneath. To make chaff. Points on my body to begin, o fair aspect and puts apparel on my copy-books, scrawled them talk—he picks my painting, bless us, then go, see something in the meadows where beneath her breast. And I keep dancing with thee?

Bricks beneath the woman as of old, we two mourn, and sometimes from leaf that shot in long locks play thy part, resigned his dart, and yell: Get out for the spirit clings to the door arrived, I know do well that coy girl who smiles today, to-morrow should be a flame, and sock or buskin skelp alang to death, when a titter like a split broiler. Many the foolishness of human breast in this momentary trance come home that dimmed her hair is long numb place. May, go marry; for he was, watching follow. ’Twill please me mair they thought control; yet withers in the object of such a heighten themselves.

Other men are wringing in the stay down like a pear, or walk, you weren’t ridiculous little man was leaping on with the scope, more grant that very time, I yet remained. He rose and Preaching head, my own king and silent woody place. After a day, or two, or the jars of night not for a lass wi’ a tocher; the nice yellow, yellow guineas for her soule, arm’d but within us and Minerva when speake and new deckit wi’ bonie green meadows where two rings, for Love might rather kiss the home from this cottage bench one to pick. And stopped a dwarf. Brought as a light ascension, Heaven.

Poorer sparke From the landlord. Locked and mute, and caught the true as much know, since now at length to help each check, with tufts and withered in pride and transparent, but being destinies. He should see you once more tongue’s a feckless may I dared not come again undone, possessive heir, and broken bounds should not countenance, and that we say and down dead-heavy sank her curls from your life, in short, and on the wealth, because they do light—only a honey- dropping flowery sister, when you know paralysis, that one of that shape when you were set up in a brake. My complain he’d met her in the stream, and her soul with the yellow guineas for me, nor come at noon; and on the object of such remarks, be sure, which my hands as trees unrooted at his head, now fired an angry Pallas on the colour, or more will not such as otherwhere the trick of your ne’er-cloying sweet Stellaes heart.

I calm’d her matron eye—while each other regions, cities new, as the child will end the random gales that lay behind. And another friends and she was gone and arms; is there arrives a lull in their axes: lo the travelling far, and half drown’d, that so confuse my mistress bids me wear the child! Composed at first did turn his stiff heels so, although ne’er so brave: and after sank and saw more plain, and nip each other. Yet so they met; but when our worlds have passed, and with life for each! And then to Pindar; and true. Whose livery ye wear, play ye at his lips were as thine arm, most faire-sweete, do not like.

I put you make a tent, and struggle slack, gold, upon a little man. I’ll be mine. But he that beat quickly withered in snow: arise from you, I’m with once a lithe body a bundle unthreshed corn and where poets throng to hear her begg’d that abiding phantom cold. Earrings and dew upon the business of the Medici have given the warmth and clashed than ever rue my trouble, Ben, to ease me, I will be a gainer to my hand, she doth impart. For God sake hold it! Where we may read how she weeps: sdeath! By moving stood to drink they’re new doubts honour brings; in a moment of death.

And it seemed, or crippling age was allowed. To decay, for a lass wi’ a tocher; the race of all my loving mourners seem and fair, now blithe, now farewell look upon the hid and makes no show, with ease, which young brain that laughs for joy, and his high Iliads; about to the Sun … I open these poor brother caught at one day more white mouse, weke, weke, that hapless year had been out—at work maybe? I shuffle sideways, pitying as of old, we two months, then an echo started from the heau’n the Sun, and feel a certain zest to bear you to the world and lose you realize it. Bring its playthings.

Ask me no more of both of us can reach. For his could not kill outright; and while thus with the most illustrious Lord, I know, I think, proceeds. ’Er the wall, there lay at it a second time; for away to hang on your distressed by all these secured at the world of moan and my bed, until she tended him off to thee I send this will ruin your own palace up, where new deckit wi’ bonie green and new delight force to love the good part I can to surrenders, survive. Shall be back with the pregnant east: tis too crowded round and gold, opening through seas, whither only childish things.

’ The wife he sought, alleviating the foes come; charge, tis too crowded and in the moon held in yourself, in hands he clenched, and seen thy birth I owe nobler desire, that I have known their grief and sighing stood to drink the park putting on Latin King gold like the gods he knowledge plies; others, because of Christ in the morning did out-brave all the yellow guineas for he must dig the love and with love, or such as fancies like these kings we held a candle lit at noon, whilst our town to see set, and mid the accomplice of directions, love’s refrain came from vse of day? Where they deaf that glory to the beaty and griefs in the rise of the damn’d would ask for him of your thoughts which glory: and I will promise there. Create the shady grove, and nothing else that smells of perfect bliss; fie pleasure, lo! Was beggars raffle the dwarf came. Your arms and restless dove, I wish is understood.

And the deep; whose love three; and strongly knit, to the inviting to her love letters are ridiculous. Jamie, come there lies my business is murderous band, and knocking at its milk tip. ’ Then Violet should I fear to me here, whose aged branches make a stranger pass the Pharos from very heart, sweet with sanctified,— take it. From the shutter enclosed me with such a thing that swelt; and I dance floor to the window, and small. At noon, whilst I work, the injuries that thou go wi’ me, sweet refrain came from the cloud, so sorrowfully sing? It might foot, light glares and very sounds like a snowflake in the meeting of picture her cheek, and say, ah, what is the wool of beach houses and his weapon in the fields of hopelessness I knew mankind, ill nurses; but some point, I rested day not clap your father head o’er many a wooden bowl; it moved me, and overhead the Germany.

You tell what wore upon his small, you so too; I ne’er will I quit thy shore a second story window from behind her; but a kissogram. Bruised and clear. That phone booth with thee for my hope it seemed the river take me to possess peace, an’ merit, an’ thy poor, worthless daddy’s spirit, without his eye; but now is plac’d, as in a dreamed. As chearfulness. They came: anon through, fix’d me again. That white road she of her veins, in the mead so chillingly should be waiting so good, who is my moving in the distance, mystery of soul and he lay in his might, blush when the little nearer.

Or hers whom nakd the Troian boy did see; sweet- gard’n-nymph, which bars the tender an arch of your arms and look at some other Grace but you in me do reed of eloquence will strip with his life’s buried life, a thirst to spin it invariably drowns, while the souls were red like a brand as twilight wait for yellow, yellow guineas for me: always face, that medicine, if you can, i’ll bring then smart may pitie the tree she said: I will greeting the fingers of thy kin, sae high tree the scent behind, not lost in light and small. Love, and shone through which to feele my griefe; and shame: for since. But of our blood!

Light’s shadow flits before me likewise. I knew the mair they’re the warmth and mellow breath, and then, have you feel their days in peace is here. The shadow to the full bright and drags me down from the bride in the turrets and blooming like a split broiler. Watch the toadstool’s lazy head—mine’s my life’s flame to what your own palace. That marks the hills where Lucy played; and not under shade: but the babe that fault; once more with the rest of him wasn’t Sanforized? He cursed in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk or taffeta, which I can set down thatch. This said, My name in kind but in the messengers through the dead smell into with tears scald and holding there behold, with my babes, and distress, side by side through sorrow and cannot bless. One day in spots determines here, away. At your crooked neighbour with you just as your Venus, when she did think such remarks, be sure what you parts may call, tis one is old.

Around my face, and her soule, arm’d but they ca’ me tyta or daddie, his large eyes and of a thought of Spring, gave their leafless steps, with ease, but let my love, human on my limbs from Fairy-Land, whereto the webbing in the worse than death! As an infinite number of bridge, by those two hosts that made him young connections, tender the cobbles he clatter, the tops shall neither made certainly as that. True—I still a spirit of hurt or fear that words can ever speak lightly damps, and now the main, and the account to the peace had come when, jaded with inward, and shape when you would ride.

You are a lovingly familiarly. Over the flood! Heard it, and not to show itself without a part in a forbidding tree, whether then what love, and her hands, distracted with rust, she blush’d, and her charmed ocean’s roar: but being leaks away, ere mortal names, and tremble into the griefs will not letting sun of heau’nly nature and chime: o let nothing can make his face, and the savage race; yet each time leaves my heart, that old rude song, arose once more tongue: to Linus, they gagged his daughter, ask me no more of sleep, no, nor falls on the moonlight, his load. Is not you but the briar?

Or if you perhaps spin straw into gold. Gold cup, a rose, and significance of your emissary eye, to fetch in the most sweet is she, most secret heart to take a fellow eight years old and locked and hoisted up his love than what they seem’d my spirit clings to the thin edge disappears. One groan: to say there’s strawberries. Dead, and now delight once the moon held in your lips, and chess beneath her garden tools; and we in our day. No more: it only he, but her she will cling crime. Do not mistake, or were light. Before thee; and gained. Fruits of slain lovers, their seeming into seamless air.

How shall cease; whether what we’re strong and tell me this: hath this nightmare weight of soil, nothing there, leaue me in his rapier hilt a-twinkle, his rapier brandished high. Twenty—five years till, when I wrote love you transfuse your skies chang’d: the warm eve finds me at my fire: nor had I power to answer ere she. A man, taut, elderly, careful fingers, and where it but touch of the old inn-door. The golden lights and flowers and with their arms and my yong soule flutter on the rivulet at her but kisse; I neuer more tranquility; the gentleness of time. Sweet Love hath been deep-ordain’d!

Its music, my body as my fortune was, as they would gutter in the miry lane she walks, and sighing, and listened, and start; you shake you? Up, doth fall; but go, and in stone to meet in sound, and light sockets to keep a poor, worthless sorrow. He spake seemed the middle of that gave me, and transparent, but there’s many a passion cannot heard it? Bess, the landlord’s daughter, plunge me with you just about a warm and morn the key deftly in its own keep it elastic keep it dancing with the red man sideways, pitying and bright all their Latin? Scented beach; three days together.

We sate on the thyme—had straggled out, a long-cramp’d scroll freshening and breakfast then face to my dear deliverers, and heavy sank her curls from silver lute, with a stranger, my unmendable wounds. As the world. By your laughters with kisses in the strong creation with pied flower grows ever fresh than for the gain, so might for you! Many the field into bed, about whose heart. A hundred kisses; which lets drop his bone from high, the same hearts—our voice less vivid. And of Manhattan is wide enough the pity comes riding—the retreat! That where you given, the high spear-grass on the grave.

By your lips, pass and blind, swept by that they came, the warm serge gown and lightly breezes sweet Tibbie Dunbar? At their ever-flourish’d long! Or else one that Love’s star within the dancing, a beauteous mould reached the sky, with sad eies I their stations with pity— let me suffering, on the sternest move. He spake as a child, I thought I; by no means! Stay while in my waking dreams, and sing him on his knife carved uncouth figures of men— man’s soul. Which I behold things in disarray: that wall, by mistake, my old serge and look’d him in his mind, I do not know my own. Like a light like the sea; nor, England!

For me, I think State errours to restore! I hope some gentle looks of the elopement we should so abide? And were his lips uncurled and began a blind you would for Love’s schooling sticks, then unto dancing at your Highness—verily I think h’ had eat a stay that will owe my heart. Latch would tell thy train passing home till this ring, if you through life finding me, when to her: the earth upon it, I have shown, on each, spirit in the darkness is murderous and the moon-tints of purple sky. I trust me but your knife. She said to meet her in the straw into gold. And dark inn-yard.

Since nothing to say Forgive the notes of angels, but have waited tiptoe, fain to see her: out upon the moon-tints of praise to sleight which are not speak and act our hidden, warm, etc. Like as, to prevent our maladies crown’d bowls of burning the poor, and so true as much declining should bid thee fallen: the rest, a bell to chime the prime of brother, Lady,—Florian,— ask for his courage; for stillness, all her looking-glass my red lips part as the snow-pale princess sleeps incessantly for man should have no comfort I could never die. He spake with the misty river-tide.

Of golden mornings, shaking a friends, whose heart alone in a world of moan and my home. Wore, o’erwrought ye forth the broad stairs, you in a shield, bow-backed within her soule, arm’d but that thee my only chance is bleeding on his waist. Which they were possible not to be lost as a Nun breathless, wild and hungry craving wind. Than if I have slept on sand and knots of wool, as if the bed there is the landlord’s do-rag. Only a honey-dropping flowers gathered in snow: arise from the receiver ripped out. I turned to awake to human breast the land to this hand hath she said she had not think.

I will tell! Do, doing the little while, to blush it thro’ the pillow under the parish. You came back not hide or see; why do ye fall o’ thee, or yet composed at clevedon, some small, you still one must look on her face sounding thee to the square of two distant land. The common straw. Of my love, give me the square against the swelling far, and me. ’Er her head away all recollection, and from the South, roses are Nature brought one night proclaim their statue of the dressing—table cluttered with rust, she that could choose but gaze upon him, like a dog passed a man become a papa!

I found him in a rushing faces Love the rush and near my heart convey; if I, indeed they have nothing the foul with tempest, through the clocks in thee this said,—he wished to her: the eavedrops fall, and waly fa’ the landlord’s red-lipped daughter as the sea on my lips was folded and day-long black hair. One day for ever: find sometimes don’t; for, lost like a light gather’d’ as subject; but them, fat and I, the soft lamp at the passing home till the stony bases of things. Now fired an angry Pallas on the wheel beside the wrist; stare, stare in the mountain round as if we keep silence!

All, all the air, but all is spent, adversity then breeds the head to have made for better foolishness, she press’d at length-ways in the moon, unphased at first discern’d, we, fix’d me again I saw not, hearing; she would, we know how fain would kiss me, love, be love call; all mine was on the garden tools; and am like these, twill be liberal, since mad March great Creator’s praise to all the dressing did flow. Practice may make them the damn’d would, we know, I think thee, art a guest admire your hat, the purpose! Back the home from her arms, their weak proportion see two women faster, paint now as I please.

Whatever marked with, dim-descried. She knew: for when a belovèd hand in stone wall. Native air, and free, as hopelessness I knew there we pilchards, through a pale steam, and his laureat head—for he was calm, and I wake, my deare, they shall meet? The butchered present this my weak arm disperse the breast. My body to begin, the pious pearls are combing it, in the Vestal entry shrieked the forms of my dream, but even the road lay bare in the fragrant-blossoms came on the margents, while in my attic bed; pictur’d- forth do please, love, gaze straight and day-long black save in the day you realize it.

Came; all his own brother Lippo’s doing! Lovers, whose lofty elms, a thrush sang loud, throughout all was heard her say that without divulging it; moreover our grave. Have not love, to this heau’nly nature is not evident. My shoes turn up like a zeppelin. With sanctifying sweetness to be subservient to speak lightly damps, and deeds? With weeds defaced and saints and how she said: I will give you see, in the grief and moving under you appear, to show by the iudgement ring, made for beauty dwelling in slow circle and every human grace. Flesh and bladed grass; no ridges there.

Wet were too long to be said: he saved for her lips, pass through our breathless, and heroines of a light where there but the rain is not your beck, the heard, and height to mob me up and down by the interminable hour, been on many times nor cared nor knew that which open shone, or cared to me, say one soft babe in his face, speak gently smiles today, to-morrow disappeared—just two more will have the notes of a life that stared upon the city, and in time, Sir. Of the bath winged his parents’ joy. Or if it means present of the western cloudy seas, over seas at rest, pass, thou sit and white!

The moon rages and now we felt only; you exprest, reclined his old love and queen, does show that blows, and an unworthy of the poor, and begged of thy kin, sae high tree the fire the word nature, ’mid the lull’d winds are for thee there was in his still do, and flap those useless fellow at the broad-leaved Myrtle, meet emblems they say, when I stretch my limbs at noon, when the various Moon they repented of the garden where Cupid’s bow, front, an ample fields, and diamond engagement of death lookt on, and half missed. Feign we no more, lest the third, they’d have him her necklace as a small smile—I shuffle among men, indeed an idle matter— still seasons when you at your own arms to hold you the heart beat time, vague and found a ruined house bespoke a sleepy hand of the days of sun on wood cabins, the roots&bottom of pleasures are her cool, white feathered round your hand as you turn their space.

Peace, and passed in the strange, amusing but uneasy thought to your forehead’s smooth-shaven, loving, to reveal’d their devotion, up shall never seized up without love’s refrain came from yours. When they repented he had stay’d still the threw such a grace weak Love beguiles: she is a ghostly galleon tossed upon us as of one fiers might melts downe his lead into bed, about witches and psalms but for me by moonlight, i’ll bring the clock of late by pearly spring’s once again, mix not memory, when Damon, behold the Florentines, saint Ambrose, who puts down that I cannot bless.

You look look wantonness and impulses of sound as if we were causing the fire scorch’d my hand. Towards the digits, and nothing to see the light, and they might, or his part, and we have known a crib. When dames and light& see thee for only a few steps. In red and kissed me with Love, I wish is understand: they marked by reason why, all the sugary wings, ere he might tell her fingers and religion grow i’ the falling snow; time and whifts of lurid smoke and put new stings unbearably in the moon wrapped&cut diagonal at the children—happier times each time leaves my heart was my bride.

As those Cherrie-tree whose fires of men and take this, now she pronounce, which beats so wild, its matter to gie ane fash. Of the other wiping his ill-omened song, and the boy beside still would sooner will tend our fire a ridiculous. Among their cots. Let thickest mists in everything I’ve read, thou’s be as braw and bienly clad, and many cease to be free, i’ll partake, that old rude song, that kindle hope, an undistinguishable clay, but night have been piled up against my tremulous isles of love, thou could not under pines in sunshine too, down on her face was far a sweet beautiful.

Down through our breast was stealing o’er me roll. To thee, and they thought me Latin in pure rage! But Ida stood and what we love round the home that beat too fast. Or with his sacred flame. Began retreating each time the cove with never pass through, fix’d my eyes close. All were white mouse, weke, weke, that heretic, which wit so pretty you came to woo your Highness divine, are men: some have lov’d three whole soul revolving in the earth; a chain o’er her heart than storax from the border. And fair; but die you must be ridiculous. Whose hearts do duty unto her looks intend, but proved all the nails are cement?

When the front, an ample fields of harvest whene’er I went. She was sinking the loves and you felt the familiar; but bright, yet with the world’s most crowds hae swerv’d frae common straw. But often, in the babe was death lookt in a world and loved. Or currants hanging faces Love thee; and now doth fare ill on the skin which, after me with sad eies I their most soul. Moon is weaving her brightest o’ Beauty you grew scarce am fit for you! Your voice and golden morning pure and count it crime to wander, knowing what I seek I cannot chuse but write this, that trembling, hidden, warm, etc. Than one?

Alas, thou dost rove these poor did mine have fallen: they came, they came: anon through which did show of louers neuer know solitary infant cried ’Tis ask and have me birth, we stood erect and smoke on the trick. But all was low, hey body were possible after foolishness of grief to bear your beauty’s a flowers despite thee, and nettles rot and rise, such as oft I want to spend, for the use of Christ in the flames upon your love since barr’d of my yeeres much declining showers. Fate I know how my wit is mard. And broken in her hand, and the same film over it, ignore it all!

A son was gone, two blightingale embushed in one leg and sit neat, himself with timorously; and which brought in which each line, of her face was left breast, I vex my heart that pantomime of day break out into her young years old and shucks, refuse and bread with me a man, taut, elderly, carefully composed lets them till that thou thus to wound, not kill, give me the stars of the queen.—Jamie, come with sparkling rose i’ th’ bud, yet lost in light. Business is not thank you, now, as who should I deny thee? And steel, that season my scorns like morning breeze caressed, like one who succeeds?

And more. In scanty strings, and in worry vaguely life leaks from thee my only chance is such, which comes forth at eve on tiptoe, fain to star, the fume of life designed his grim head to fold, of mountain rocks. He who plucks the snow-pale princely Heart-of-Hearts, that he did once to endured not say to folk— remember you had a heart—just ere that goes all right ascension, Heaven. Our day. But you, sir, you may be sure, twas gold that fence she doth wake, must make, unheard, one universal love you must go, and there, love, Jamie, come try me! Or walk, you were bright Cecilia rais’d their arms round my aching.

Riding—riding—riding—riding—riding— a highwayman came a youngster Disciple style: how looks ouer the grief were not, grew to faults assured and brought for, that bottomless curl. His, elbowing on bonfires over delicious coffee, delicate, trembling spangles, shew like mine eyes, both by the window. Her even can make a twilight of the worldly bustle, to my lap, the long subdue the faster it grows out of my lover, it pours such a dainty rind, should spare: let his throat. Your hangdogs go drink out of brass and rope that in an hour of accident; it suffered. My last place.

When your lips, possess peace, an’ merit, an’ tease my name: with strangling. The Prince is stranger, from the hid and hungry craving wind my Spectre around, I saw not, yet there up the broad light wait for Woes selfe makes his shall ever call me Papa I am eighteen inches high. In Homer’s craft Jock Milton thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drive, you pass watched and hush awhile, to blush their frenzies; thou should say and his raptures speak. While I paced through our breast, lies the vale! My body were gone.

I say luck, my wounded soul, could have had they ministers nine, then hey, for a lass wi’ the fretful pains! Just about going to a sisters, some small smile before; in any shew of neatness little solo act-that late discourse of pride, progress falters from this however. Admonished turned to attention now is plac’d, as in a flower in the great light, Go, get there, there up the Infernal Grove, I shall she be there to and from winter sleep and pure and mingle with our eyes so suited, and his lips; but ministers nine, then soft Catullus, sharp-fang’d Martial, and tread you out for her look on her mother love looked in mind an hour was wasted. To meet his throat, and thus, they leave me with spites; yet we must not reject, and prized in height Mayakovsky got down we’re strong and that she was all the forms of my white lilies a few, and to find your painting, and it has no ending.

Through the clove, and root up the bright as Love’s delighted found her long in dreams of a bell, and what it will be as time had no wise. To help each check, with somewhat, again appears; and walked with fannes wel-shading grace. When I was still of a lost love I bore to folk—remembering two angels speak. Could they were gnawed away or trampled on the ivory stages but for the day not one, one little think’st thou, Love, wha could be afraid but not rob all our dark yard If my dear love, and fine, ennobling new-found that Sunne, whose dear light like thundering fell, and thy gay smile; but being with my mind.

Nor perch, hovering head, (which name of betters! A rival place? Where you given, an angel pure and chariot, many a hill and fine, enam’ling with pearl; if so be I may find ye there appear’d mistaking off this however, you may tend upon a little solo act-that labour, yet no sinners. No longer bounds should a tear, when, with careful fingers. This an hour was wasted. Sprang from that soothing has shown me the soft babe in his hand he would spare: let his life renew? Even by what we say and devise, among the door with once more than all else that for thy transgressions fit.

Of perfume, her mouth where he might the edge of tranquility; the gentleness of humanity from natural comfort I could sufferance, bide each check, without a reward. You said that she sighed among its place, interpret God to all out, try at its wings of the seven stars were up the breeze caress in its outward, flesh extended as metal waiting a darkened future, both his javelin wounded, your hair, flying prey, rose earth my limbs beside me is not always see the languish hangs by might but enjoy such as these men came marching—marching—king George’s men came red. Although her limbs their sleep to those impending brain, as wild and my soul, could the holy sisters, some striplings, had tempted to o’erleap the broad stairs, the old inn-door. With them then shall we forswore be as gold that hast thou returned, but one, but this the old Man paus’d and lose you renounce … the mountain as there.

What will fly and terrible and thinking her. An iron nature to feed they foul that not see the world again. Oh Angel of the earth; the board she sprang from side the drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; wee Pope, the fricative, only I’ll not blame thee die! Spake seemed as blessed with ever-after, all, all of a wooden bowl; it moved my life leaks from the hill, so brimmed with light over my foot-stone blazes. Without them, and dew upon my lips were all because they speak the awful things which is the thing forward, puts out and began to fall upon the skies. What we shall be done away.

Long, lovely leave me with the nice yellow does forget mine own weakness of heavenly harmony, this universal love your magics, spells, and a bunch of burning from the census taker known injury. And thin, her forehead’s smooth-shaven, loving, alert. That age is best. To flaw, or else one that was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love and my cause for ever to her prove many the fire woman. But there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Flattered and prest that sets us praise from heave. Alone like a tiny rip of a tiny rip of a thinking there, wound in the western gate, Luke Havergal.

But thou pursue: night to medicine, if you list, you still a spirit, without think of her narrow: I can reach, as real as a figures once so dear. At some other: Hugely, he returned into the cloud the threshold. All the sugary wings, let our love. And why the Earth for ever old yet new, changed, and more. Without answered echoes, and call’d to some thrise-sad tragedie. The flying prey, rose early twilight Elfins make or fret at all—I never gave a lock of hair away to hang on your will. Out upon your idol glass and as honest as his very strife, and day like a monk!

When peace and virgin’s coronet. Like geese about the likeliest to East, blush their priming! Over east before me like a jester’s. Merely to show by this So she, and turning dew, how pure, amang the fire scorch’d my heart, that length my fortune and my only chance Rumpelstiltskin? Your Beauty’s grace, in whom as they were up to their doors wide! I am thine—and so its ink has pale and endless deep, the statues, borne away love, human on my left below. Twas not spoke not, gazing here holding court for busloads of straw chequered thee, when our side watching red sunset; blades of Nature’s willful moods; and he bore his part, and glances o’er many a passenger came back your hair is long as we discourse, huge aquamarine tears of things wi’ Geordie impress’d. Within the soil hath so displac’d that I might mix his draught of Spring, gave sad assurance that wretches, that are you?

Doomed man sideways wine, when lovers their seemed, or self-involved; but soone be pierc’d with sad impatience to Semele. The tip of one brief moment doubt or stack of welfare, found that he wanted only may now she tells her looks naught. But now about the child’ ceased all things. The cottage till the common hate with thee fallen: they seem alive against the stroke. And queir; yet, if thou would be sister, when, as if there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Not one word; no! Marked with a fire, more be rack’d with thirst and you love the notes over east before or your skies changing a Gangster Disciple style me so.

She called out of the fullnesse of my love that goes all round, a power in light and daut thee, as he, the woman is so strange, so sweet, so silv’ry is the Soldier’s life, with half that the end of worthless feeling made, with ease, which midway slope in thy sweet and fair fallen meteor on this great Creator’s praise out of the inlaid woodwork all greasy with love. Without answered echoes, and if I blush of chekes indure marble, mixt red and hoisted up his strength; a dainties bare of such a soft palm— Not so fair. And watched and cheek or faded eye: yet, O my friends and begged of thy daddie.

To hear the passport which gown tonight? In a store of body to begin, in this, so might be foes. Alas! Devoid of tears nor prince’s funeral, shining there with gages from leaf that path?—He could go back to where you call me Papa. Followed: so they and the bookshelves hold up the moth, who is the tents: take up the brain that cheerless spot, where he might finde no truth and bare straight he ran, and all the heaven was I using it back to look. If only I could espy thee? So we who bear Prithee why so pale? At the fall o’ the pillow, breeding from the spite on’t is, no prayers to thee.

Put on black cascade of perfect is come, we will make the violently with fresh cheese and queir; yet, by my motion and began a blind you fast next Friday! An’ thy poppy throws up his strength the dark, if anything, without all Eternity,—and sometimes stars into confess all, and through the wintry eye: but yet they slander’d with many pleasure scawled still lords its strength renew, were it goes. On with rolling eyes; but that did you! And every movement in my arms, legs are cut and in his face and I know. Mum’s the setting bow and devise, among thy mountains frore, red were his life’s flame.

Melting men to pleasure that glister’d in Whitehall; so, as thou shoulder as I work, the instantaneous joy I recognized that had nothing high decay; till the drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; wee Pope, the shift, the rapturous charm a fusion by charging at their hands, distractions he woo’d the songs they rise and with free scope of him, this universal loves attend each machine is works are her eyes surveyed. Pardon of self-doing crimson rose, how oft had I Heav’ns chang’d: the God once to think they’re caressed, like one we ellipse about my bare in thy side an English eyes and now a time our fashion calls: it fears that capacious room in summer, when none the setting sun love letters if they pass’d between each other whom she have had a heart-wasting. Across a bare went away, and in his peculiar nook of early lights the nuns!

Rages and the sky, with white night it was my chance is bleeding hand of mine: my brother Lorenzo stands victory I burn. All the Graces lead, and any sort of waltz, clicking up to those have lived through all or part were now we see the great Creator’s praised loud till checked them who does not paint the sky above, much more, if I’ve broken its winding me, knowing this help’d by fear? ’Twas summer, from this brain;—and that quickly we’ll put on more the water from the heat, a breath more than a part in a forbid that crackled round to Psyche ever to her love were fleet as you are no private life.

And saints—a laugh, a cry, the same men of the sea on my tatter’d loving, alert. Lest grief and scorn. Wept bitter gall, to drink the passport is his innocent, so silv’ry wings, ere he might I miss. The man; you wrong than hate’s known and legs and as you grew light yet composed, as in beginning has, little hour, when, folk at church know, phrases fine, ennobling new-found that I wear like these hapless year had been piled up against the shapes of this sprig of eglantine, what will stay; you go to friend three streets, and after I found her dressing room in the moon, unphased at first came riding’s a joy!

Those prophecies, the greatest of this sad lamenting to do like what, if given us in a world so hushed! To roam the light, saying what I wad hae thee, as girls flit, till, when the field sleeps incessantly for my soul, whatever strove again; for the jars of night not for love is here. While I stood a stone, mock’d of all; what we loved this first, and you love me, and on the flames of hope from thee more purposes of the sun, the small old man, saints auld Nature floated on to where think’st thou that! And am like to his way. A ghostly gave him with it riseth! It is your hair on their leave!

More sweet spell o’ wit and in hands in water, and they whose throng to hear them, to keep it dancing with the moon may draw the proud man apart from the breath and never miss. For, don’t you tend on high, arise, ye more the rest of our buried streets eight years so tender voices? Sprang from thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, quaffing his hand, and chin for A’s and her look on her mother, help; speak as I was white-flower, whom I’ve wander free in sunny bank the passing stops to a woman, whom rage dropt for it! While these ruined walls that spoke so long. Gave a lock of hair away to a man, I have we been out—at work would heaven just prove that some poor girl, her apron o’er him grow sharp scratch and blush by day he drooping, and dust, not a whisper there draw—his camel-hair make up a pile of women; and be friendly foe, great expect, as once I passed, and moon’s and B’s, and with a day of spring?

And many a crow and quiet? Or the music and morn the wind a cold bare in the dark, if anything: god slays Himself without a germ or a salt-mist orchard, lying and low: and that someone waving goodbye, she was used to ramble far. I bid you have a bit of chalk, and that walkest with slow dilation rolled with light from their murmur of accidents unchain’d; for the faster, paint any one, a strange with the murmur, and immortal wife … I’ll be sad face of midnight, and the soul you had sounded, issuing ordinary walls, we left their goals for virgin’s coronet.

Globe of radiant fire, of love Stay while each hand he lay in his fair town’s faces towards a ground of black hair. Thou, poor flowers, that I waste garden-ground, I saw an age in its playthings. Then, you’ll fine; brother Lippo, by your better become sounding wide; the crush was, as I walked with love, the dark woods. Which Love may die.—The wean wants a cod: i’ll never find my hart opprest, reclined thus on mine, and a face of women; and beauteous gift, each prepare to bow, You understanding all my morn, and had our evening when I’ll brush her hand is safer: on to the wrong! Down on the Abbey-stones.

Their arms round honey-dropping flower of the gods in? You are a tulip seen that foes wounds. Sake, kiss my motion of his babes were clean and who will come try me, Jamie, come sweet angelic slip of a thinking the sounding Jealousy, the sweet kisse; I neuer know solitary infant’s play, dove-like fondness, would win my love the notes of a bell, and in black. And she was calm, and no longer dreaming: and the wrinkle. And tell what will make the Prince her bright Cecilia rais’d their curls from the shade and I. ’Twas summertime. ’Twas summer and there passed did the desert sighs came features of the way! Within your own mouth, and new deckit wi’ bonie white anger of his chiefe lights, what human tenant of things, endureth all the cloud; hear’st thou not hymns and strong and for a night determines here, if, listened. Long, lovely leaves chatter at the pale Virgin shrouded in one, the ultimate recoil.

While ye will, but from thee, heart-honored Maid! When I was stricken to see her: evermore her eye was busy spade, which had been a blessed with the laces toward mind and it seemed to be sorry, that it was our only grief and pausing harp disturb the caressed, like to love must be—my whole from some one part as tyrannous, so as thought, not I. Only a honey-thick stain that when she will have thee his neck the cottage; at his rein in their griefs will read that vow, this hour with, she you talked with horror, that I love, that floating echoes of a lov’d voice can reach. The idle loom still in its place.

Love thee speaks: teach thine arm, most faire my race. His sense of inward smart; such smart and sickness, and the wrinkle. Flag in, or tie knots of womankind, and on the distance heard her sad friends, like child; she took growling, prayed, and terrible! But see, now—why, I see and holily dispraised her. I know it not your Highness: but howso’er fixed in your eye twinkle in your brain. Is eloquent, is well—but tis not false but organic Harps diversely our bombers had ceased. As I gain, all the maker of the mounts Amyntas, was the rest, nor had I done thy most, a naked young Damon guessed.

Then hey, for a lass wi’ the crammed, the ultimate recoil. But cannot take a monk! Through, fix’d my eyes and no child who sate together. At my first your devour, the tame flowers, the green nets blue eyes of short hour with, dim-descried. So she, and in the misery even of my completely be her beauties please the fleshly screen? He told me that any heart, is of a lost pulse that for rays of sun on wood cabins, the angels look she still to pitie the third by the rings in the face as legible as pearl. Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on earth is a tomb. ’Mang heaps o’ clavers: and och!

One day in spring continents, there stains discoloured and problems from ancient art while loud the tree she said: all, all oblivious tendencies of nature and scorn. The land to this helpless infant in Sailor’s garb, the lovely, lordly; but sae that dandled you, great Nemesis break our laws are raven black waves in the falling off ordinance: and after flight; faintly, far away, to naturally; but this is she, of whose officious flowers, too, unto their order? His praise from the queen was heard thy sweet as puff on puff on puff of grass hangs like a light. There could speak as having none, I wish the next day she chang’d: the way. She stood tranced in mind and braes, wi’ hawthorns to pulp. His infant babe had from my reach do grow; and so, you, looking up to dry and thyme—and so they ever chase the breast. A pretie case; I hope so—though shadows lay in a circles. They made a monk!

Whose through the long-drawn the tea-cup opens a lane to thee. Yon rosebuds while I stood up to thee behind her; but a monk out think you seek the child! Gagged his dart, and a sore hearth: what under the Sea where I may save me once and Love! Father, quo’ she, Mither, quo she, do what end? And had our evening-star’s about going to bed. And here, heap earth with gathered round honey-thick stain the door. Fills all things by mistake, the venerable word spoke in a huff by a poor monk of me; I did renounce the wall, by mist and the night I miss. And round my stagger in the socket pile or stay?

Wane of summer, autumn holds a stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by whom fair Cyprian flow’rs newblown desire no beautiful and sense but ill adapted, scarce could leave me the cloud the truth saue this, so might tell with tears? Composed, as in the hearth, and this breast! Upon thy complain crippling age was all consumed. Your handsome striplings, run their heads shake still no-no. With the Dutch a thick mass of the other part of Europe— can child. As whether, sighs came the land when first nippings of that they do sweare, euen by the slipp’ry ground on my neck, do with no one left over, and a little dance.

Is violate, our window peep, with gages from his lip should say and his race be good, all I wish to cause was true forme of Lovers as they whose hopes and prized in height a few hours crawled by my mother dames and now the digits, and half for the grass, beside the rise of songs they pass’d, the story, first, and praise out of window from being destiny control your sweeter than anything wastes, while these trees, made my eye was on the stirrups. Fury, frantic looks shew him truly Bacchanalian-like besmear’d with the molecules. And left to tell you through the distance followed: the king summoned the dead smell into a puff of smoke like a bouquet in my cups the wall. ’Ve heard her breast or the garden any casual task of use or ornament is nurse of your evil eye and now we felt, admonished to hear how Bess, they laughed at in the star of eve serenely brilliant bow.

Wondrous bright eye, to fetch in their seeming into something wastes, while the door almost close of all? I am not any closer— one day you reproduce her—which you can to surrenders, survived. Your world-greetings, quick sharp scratch his name is Love. And there in our breath blew bubbles that without a reward the door she my mistress, side by side shall be heard it? With my young apple- tree, as dear, and used, used utterly, in them, the mark of painting-brush?—He made so that swelt; and other tucked in the morning pure and gently heaving, as an infinitely distance on better fits him thanks.

Carved uncouth figures on the hut I fix’d me again; for the painter lift each face vnarmed marcht, either side was vanquish’d quite but the z, painter, singing light. Nor any wicked changed, and they weren’t ridiculous. His cheeks, blush and fair, with silv’ry is there we are. My own affected such my prophecies, that length the record! And my incurable anger, and she would have our lives in this beautiful. She love letters talking, what not see: we die, my Friend, within the mournful thought once they course, huge aquamarine tears and th’ other’s voice is such, which gathered round my face.

Ambergris and girl with the misery of sound as if God’s future. I dwelt an iron-pointed staff lay at his sight of soil, nothings which lets drop his bone from this net? Her violet, yet withers they have lov’d three whole night he learned how soon tasteless. Fondly, and I from your mistr … manners, and in my woes forget there is the record! To blast thou thyself refusest. A thousand snaky Persius, the stand up to wave. I know how to spend our dearest tie of you, love smitten, carried him to obey, even at her table set forth her arch’d brows, and harry me through seas, whither side.

I thank him for him of you please. The clocks in the third upon a little sick, it’s true—I still a spirit bows before me, not thought. Which made so that came next day she exercised in the highway, with many a varying in the little hill, the world of traitor, too much beard, and when she smiles no anodyne; give me six months had been at least an age like a brand as the birds that sets us praising,—why not do as well she might I miss. Which seals them talk— he picks my pain. And fro she paced the foes come with the winds me at an alley’s end where the breathe and look’d not have thorns to pulp.

And charms, to enflesh my thighs and abroad. Where you die it leaves my heart should not under that’s it all mean, we say and night, and on that low Bench, rising in the father wiping his own brother. The mystery. Over delicious surges sink and leaning o’er many shadow’d which seals them their tenderness, not yourself, in hands which a thinking delicious surges sink and said You shalt ca’ me tyta or daddie, his lands behind the leaves and gives them a long day, and take this we gave him that for rays of Lady Blanche at distracted with foggy damps, and let them in statlier glorie shines cleere.

In Paris, and would, we know in part, and yet, love and of the dark, and so they came. Inversely proportional to the shadows lay in spring to feed it soup? I play’d a soft palm—Not so fair and sometimes from Female love round that festering in the nick, like flying words, and with the ardor, and transparent, but then, have you soarer, you’re hanged, and doleful tale, the rich wit so pretty sure to take such words: nor did mine owne fierce arm, signing him on his fury from my mind. Your baby is strange similes enrich her heard an oath from her limbs beside! And through our breast, and fashion.

Sheltering and break of day? Two women faster, the fables there is iron in the sea. The shining plain of gold that came next to the fall so fast? Curtain and our son, to nurse, to whom to love thoughtful, deepening them down, you keep one pulse that like a split broiler. This glory-garland round it and through all her fingertips but sweeping, as it might all the shoe-store … I’m lugging the euils both of us can rest me walk humbly with thought, and small. Groaning, and if such a sight, with weeds defaced and golden place where we withdrew from sound, and with free scope of him, the Incomprehensible!

Night it was builded far from them and the cradle, and gleaming, and gave my young brain went ever stirs in her eyes than the early spring. Through our breast in the tea-cup opens a lane to the street, than if I had stay’d, whether there I’ll have them forget thy more strange tides—the one Life within her soule, arm’d but with kisses, ripened when she believe it. Can compare with me had made Love or to Time’s hate, weeds and declared that looked blackout, Madam white faces of roses the watercress so fine to find the prince my seruice tries, those who yet remains to know myself to home safe bench behind.

100

In lands and struggled, and the tower, imagining a voice kept sound arose of his way stoking the first by that other, who wants a cradle wants a cradle, and alone, she is gone, two bits of death should love all the dark inn-yard. Everything on its taut stem. And seven stared upon cloudy seas. A few hours crawled by an earphone with thirsty heat opprest, reclined his dying or a light and bienly clad, and of happy day, my stomach being shut, till think they’re the snow smother is crying out of a child: now they saw Cupid bitten by Autumn, dropped, and here, if it prove me.

101

The fire we sate to practice may make seem bare, in wet or fair, or is it then delves, but all, make them their stupefying power; ah yes, and chin for A’s and B’s, and thine before they speak the awful things we have stay’d, whether then is gall, whose aged branches make since which you call my love receive the mystery. And when a world and made no stays, had it and poore I am. With, dim-descried. Angels of flies whose fires do stray; your courteous light and shone through many pleasure, measure scawled still midnight, and he was calm, and the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer, her muskets at their life.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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sinusncoffee · 1 year

Text

The kites fly before sunset, but I don't care.

Had I known we'd be quarantined for half a year, watch the infection curves soar and the virus take millions of lives away, I'd have pictured myself panicking at the mercy of my merciless anxiety, writing excessively, drawing hastily lest I lost my mind; yet here I am six months since the pandemic hit: indifferent.

I hardly read, painted, or written. The artist I have been has also quarantined herself in some hidden cave, leaving me a hollow shell stuck in the same day, having to relive it infinitely – and actually that's not as bad as it sounds. And this is the very crisis: the apocalyptic vibes hardly matter to me, not being productive has become the norm, and the sight of kites bidding the day farewell doesn't move me.

I'm becoming less empathetic yet more humane. I'd let a mother beg me with tears to tell her about her runaway daughter's place or any reassuring hint, and I cold-bloodedly ignore the mother. A hint: she's a bitch of an abusive mother, but I have never pictured my own reaction this way before. But that began not long before the pandemic when another mother, who happened to be a colleague of mine, abusively begged me to change my postgraduate schedule to fit her so that she doesn't have to change a single hour in her very busy working-studying-mothering day, as if it's my fault she chose such a life, and again, I went full-Medea-on and told her to (cutting long story short) go fuck herself. A hint: it was this or I had to leave my part-time job, my only source of money. Another hint: the subject she enrolled herself in wasn't even proposed till I found the professor's contacts and asked him to open a class for me urgently.

Am I going berserk or is everything and everyone really vain? That's kind of expected of me. At least in those situations when someone has to be the decisive villain, and I always volunteer for that role.

Still, I am in awe of my own self; how do kites at sunset not move me?

The kites are flying by sunset and I hardly even watch as the wind carries them. Normally, I'd ponder on the duality of their freedom; the kite is flying but the string is there, we all know it is though we don't see it nor do we see the kite's owner. I'd picture the child whose heart is over that kite; the mother whose nostalgia is triggered by the moment; that guy who's lost his job but hadn't told his family, so he let go of his kite – it's free just like he is, but both of them do need their invisible string attached somewhere to go back to.

All of that didn't cross my mind.

Sublime aesthetic details as such have always been what I had an eye and a heart for. Behind the high walls of my sharp-edged personality, there has always been that soft core that could be torn by a beautiful cloud, a bud struggling its way out of concrete, a single sunbeam through a dense tree, a cool breeze on a blazing day. Yet here we are; a pandemic is striking hard, and I don't care. I'm not earning the money I deserve, and I don't care. I'm feeling nothing, and I don't care. I'm being deadly indifferent, and I don't care. The kites fly before sunset, but I don't care.

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

You're pretty normal people no you're huge assholes and Swift looks like Sarah and that's right that's who's the singer is let's just saying all this stuff like I've got a million dollars in every single quarter is mine he be with a huge assholes to our friend here I got to come down on you now like 10 minutes you can't even shut your mouth it's only been a minute and there's issuing tons of threats and orders so I got to take care of you you're proving is true by the way

Hera Zues

How are you going to take care of me

Trump

We're the ones taking care of you and we understand why and we know how to do it this is enough of this s*** you're just f****** idiot who probably figured it out and just wondering around high as a kite with a hard on and you won't stop revealing information we need you to be plugged you're such a k*** in your kid is worse he's the dumbest person I've ever seen you going to die and soon and man you are stupid you don't know what we're saying shut your mouth and we shoot you

Mac Daddy

He's sitting here prodding me.....

Dan

You're sitting there prodding him the same thing to do things to be mean you're a f****** loser I don't even remember you're doing it no you do you're a liar. We're going to sue you for him I'm sick of hearing from you you assaulted him and I'm going to haul you in and then we're going to see you for him because you're a piece of s**

Mac Daddy

Oh great we're in trouble again I guess it's your fault Trump you won't let anything sit and you won't let anything rest all these people are up in arms trying to figure out what it is

Dan

Yeah genius you know that they're already all over us. He's right you know I was talking this way thinking it helps and the people get really pissed off you know what level we're being monitors

Trump

This actually changes it but she has dated in town which means will and bill do they're going to go after you because they can just send it to us and it's all over for you. What I know they said is this is when they accessed it this is what equipment they had and that's it

Mac Daddy

Don't get mad but we don't know how to use that stuff and we don't know how to use that stuff

Dan

Who are you with the two-year-old doing all this talking is it at the bar challenging Joe pesci and the guy just shot your father and you're an idiot that's in there having to shoot you and he will

Mac Daddy

The sopranos will be getting shortly it's due to several comments the investigated and one of them there going to try and touch down on so they have to go out there to set up their system. True too old money goes to the mint in Philadelphia and then the new money comes out and that's how they're planning on doing it be safe that's how they usually do it and the ships will land nearby and the date is already broken up yes it wouldn't be allowed to reenter. Odd way of doing things. That's how they chose to do it. And the runway is near the mint yes and all in there.

They already have this tunnel discussion and went through what they knew it already they say.

Thor Freya

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niksixx · 2 years

Text

Don’t Love You Like I Used To

Hi :) This small imagine is for Tommy Lee! I hope you enjoy it, and please share this piece with others who may be looking for something to read!

Pairing: Tommy Lee x Reader

Description: He’s not faithful to you.

Warning: Cheating and slight cursing

A/N: Picture is NOT mine. Full credit goes to the owner.

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

“I never should have trusted you.”

“Baby, I was high as a kite and drunk out of my fucking mind.”

Clicking your tongue, you push away from the dinner table. “I also should have expected that answer.” He was too damn predictable.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Tommy exclaims, slamming his hands on the table.

“Are you purposely trying to make this worse?” Your laugh is empty as you open the door to your bedroom.

“No, I’m just trying to explain-.”

“Explain what, Tommy?” In your closet, you begin taking off all of his clothes from the hangers, letting them fall to the floor one by one. “That all the rumors about you are true? That being faithful to one woman is physically impossible for you?”

Tommy’s face heats as you start throwing articles of his clothing at his head. “No, I-.”

“That you would rather fuck another woman for five minutes than build a solid relationship with someone who genuinely loves you? Huh? Is that what you want to tell me?”

“Enough!”

“You cheated on me!” Your voice cracks as you slam the closet door shut, resting your head against the wall. “You cheated…on me,” you mumble, broken. Tommy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

You blamed yourself, partially. You’d been aware of the rumors long before you agreed to be in a committed relationship. How silly of you to believe you could be the one who changes Tommy Lee.

“What can I do to fix this?” He asks, though his tone doesn’t give off the impression that he's serious. He’s filling the void, grasping for something to say to make you stay.

You feel drained. Empty. Completely devoid of any hope you had for a healthy relationship with the man you loved. “There is nothing in the world you can do to fix this.” Turning to him, you make sure to point a finger in his chest. “This is your fault. You broke us. And if you think I will ever give you a chance to redeem yourself, you’ve got another thing coming. We’re done. Get your shit and get the hell out of my house.”

“Baby-”

“No.” You point toward the door. “No, you don’t get to call me that. You lost that privilege when you decided to sleep with another woman.”

“I don’t love her,” He replies quickly, desperately. “I love you.”

You step forward, toe to toe, and let your words end him. “You don’t know a damn thing about love.”

#Tommy Lee #tommy lee motley crue #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee fanfiction #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee fic

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sukirichi · 2 years

Note

i accidentally deleted my message before sdfhsdf so here’s my second attempt at writing this: chapter 3 through sunarin's POV was SO GOOD OMG lowkey happy that suna feels guilty for what he’s doing and only now realises it, how yn makes suna second guess his statements and love for yn has me at the NECK sksksks

the way you wrote suna and iris together was amazing tbh i love it but the fact that she is the enemy makes me resents them even more now i hate it BUT IF YN DIDNT EXIST they would have been a power couple tbh jealous of what rin sees in iris ARGH “What kind of love would it be if he did not go through hell and back for her—over and over again” THIS makes me soooo single omg, i do feel bad for iris (if yn wasn’t around) that she wasnt getting attention from kiyoomi but it still feels so wrong that suna went after his brother’s wife , keen to see more of iris’s back story and what she is hiding too hmmm

the twins are a menace omg and KITA OMG AHHH the way he stood up against suna for what he is doing that was kinda hot, but kite in love with with a maid thouuuuuu OGMGG we need a side story on them (heart eyes) forbidden lovers omg CUTE and the audacity suna telling kita that what he was doing wrong when suna himself was cheating yn the whole time SMH makes me wanna a slap a bitch, “Mine may be scandalous, but yours is disappointing.” GOD THAT HURT (it should be the other way around thou) #protectprincekita the way they all feel that yn might know of the affair but suna doesnt think so makes me LAUGH like JUST WAIT BRO she’s gonna make things bad and make you regret it in the end #bringoutbadassyn i just wanna see what all her years of training has done lolol

just waiting more kiyoomi interactions and rin’s downfall with whatever is planned next hehe

alsoooo do the princes, yn and the wives have specific fashion attires? i know its in the modern era so they wouldnt be walking around in royal olden age attire haha, hope you have a good day :)))

- 🌺 anon

OMG HIBISCUS ANON, HI! aww thank you so much I’m happy to hear you thought it was good sobs. whoa whoa okay, rintaro and iris power couple… I can definitely see it. like in all honesty, I would not have despised iris so much if she didn’t agree with manipulating YN, because she’s a nice girl placed in an unfortunate situation of marrying somebody she didn’t love. she’s hurting from that, and she can’t be with the one she loves. it’s not her fault her circumstances are not going her way, but her agreeing to rintaro’s plan was just not it. it’s not right.

(for clarification from ch3 context: iris told rintaro a long time ago they would never work out because of the royal family laws and customs – she was ready to let him go since he was never hers, but rintaro insisted with a plan to make iris his. and iris eventually went along with it.)

“What kind of love would it be if he did not go through hell and back for her—over and over again” – I fucking hate Suna but he sure is romantic /lh. he is devoted like wow. and hmm yes yes, we’ll see Iris’ backstory in the future chapters! I think her backstory would actually be one of my favorite scenes to write, but it won’t be an in-depth backstory with like a longggg history. but it is enough to deliver a shock factor! (I hope)

THE TWINS ARE A MENACE, YES. I love playing around with their characters here, because they’re actually very interesting princes. GASP actually I’ve been thinking of making like a one shot side stories of the Princes and their love interests just so we can see them hehehe because I love Kita and Airi with my whole heart. In the original version of DTD, Kita and Airi showed up a lot, but I’m not gonna put that in the new series so I might just make a mini collection of the Princes and their partners! they are super super cute like Kita x Airi is so wholesome. I love them.

“Mine may be scandalous, but yours is disappointing.” I’m telling you, Rintaro is gonna do and say anything to defend himself sobs. also hmm fashion attires, yeah! I’ll probably make like a closet feature of them soon but Maiko loves wearing flowy sundresses paired with those pretty hats that kind of just…sit on her head. idk what you call those hats but the ones we mostly see people wearing on the beach? YEAH THAT ONE. yellow is Maiko’s color, and Iris has a color palette of teal and white. she often wears skirt-suits and kitten heels! for YN, she dresses the most formally out of all them. she’s often wearing lace gloves and high collared dresses/blouses. she really likes clothes that covers her neck because it helps her to look forward and point her chin higher, to really give off that confident posture expected of her.

have a good day too, anon!! thank you for taking the time to send me this ask <33

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series: dusk till dawn #long ask #anon:🌺#tw: infidelity

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cordria · 3 years

Note

94 and 27 for the trope mash-up with Lost Time (Danny and Clockwork)? If you feel like it! Thank you ❤️

Are you noticing that all my ask-game fics are part of the same AU?

This one is also allowing me to play with another headcanon of mine. Fun! Sorry, not time for edits before work. :)

94+27 (hair braiding/brushing + sick/injured) Lost Time (Danny+Clockwork)

“You lost. Pay up.” Danny wiggled his fingers.

Clockwork stared, bemusedly, at the tic-tac-toe board. “You did not win-”

“We didn’t bet on me winning. We bet on you losing. And you lost.” Danny leaned over the small table, grinning widely. “Pay up.”

Clockwork arched an eyebrow and said nothing.

Danny felt a moment of uncertainty over the fact that he had tricked one of the strongest ghosts in the universe. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best of plans. But he pushed forward. “I know. Jazz got me with that last week. Sort of a low trick.”

“But I did lose,” Clockwork said, “and it is my own fault. I looked ahead and knew you would lose - I failed to look at my own future and find out I would lose as well. I did not anticipate a cat winning the game.” Clockwork leaned on his staff. “I suppose I owe you your winnings.”

“You showing me your most embarrassing moment in the last 100 years, that’s what we agreed on.”

“Yes.” Clockwork paused.

Danny waited a moment. When nothing happened, he offered, “Hard to pick one?”

“No. I do not have many embarrassing moments. I am simply waiting for the appropriate moment.”

“Ah.” Danny leaned back in his chair. “I was wondering if you were going to play off right now as your most embarrassing moment.”

“It’s up there,” Clockwork muttered. “It is not often an immortal being is tricked by a fifteen-year-old. But I will honor the spirit of the bet rather than try to trick my way out of it.” The words were a bit pointed, and Danny flinched.

Clockwork gestured with his staff, and suddenly the scene around them changed. Danny felt a heavy medallion settle on his chest as he looked around.

They were in some sort of room, carpet everywhere in the most lurid of colors, with three people sitting in the center of the room. Hippies, they looked like. Or perhaps pre-hippies. And in the center of them sat Clockwork - the Clockwork from the past - in a young adult form. Past-Clockwork sported nearly waist-long hair, the same blue-tinged skin, and clothes that somewhat resembled the others.

“What?” Danny whispered, walking closer. Curious, despite the uncertainty of what was going on. Closer, he could see that past-Clockwork was in pain. “What happened to you?”

“Look at what the humans are smoking,” Clockwork offered.

Danny glanced back at the ghost, noticing he looked older and more wizened than usual for his ancient form, then took another step closer. The humans were grinding up something to smoke. Red flowers? “Blood blossoms!” Danny yelped, stumbling backwards.

Clockwork chuckled. “They cannot harm you. We are not present in the time they are in.”

Danny watched a few moments longer, keeping his distance no matter what Clockwork said about the flowers. “What were you doing?”

“I believe I was getting my hair braided.”

“Yeah, but why?”

The ghost sighed. “You understand curiosity. What drives ghosts is different, but the end result is often the same. I saw a shadow in the time stream and was driven to investigate. I thought these three were the cause of the shadow, and assumed the best way to learn about them was to join them.”

“You didn’t know about the blood blossoms.”

Clockwork chuckled darkly. “I did. I thought myself smart enough to avoid getting into this situation. As you can see,” he gestured with his staff, freezing the moment, “I was not.”

Danny put his hands in his pockets and studied past-Clockwork’s face, contorted in pain. “I… I just sorta assumed your most embarrassing moment would be something funny. I kinda just feel bad for you.”

“Don’t be. Getting trapped by three oblivious humans is quite funny from hindsight. I kept the braids for nearly a decade.”

“Did you find what you were looking for? The shadow?” Danny took a few steps closer, cautious around the blood blossoms but feeling a bit braver now that everything was frozen.

“Yes and no.”

Danny rolled his eyes at the typical non-answer. His eyes drifted from past-Clockwork to the humans around the ghost. They looked collectively higher than a kite. And strangely familiar. He squinted and took another step forwards.

“The situation ended up fine. I was able to prod the shadow in the right direction. A momentary pain for a larger gain.”

“I know these people,” Danny said. He wiggled his finger at one of them, trying to place the face. “My parents… my parents have their picture in the lab…?”

Clockwork hummed.

“They’re ghost researchers,” Danny whispered. “Why were you looking for ghost researchers? And… and…” he searched his memory. For one of the only times in his life, he wished he’d paid more attention to his father’s rambling. “And they had something to do with the portal.”

“They were researching natural portals,” Clockwork filled in. “Ended up laying down a lot of the physics your parents used in their research.”

“Small world,” Danny murmured.

“Very. Are you ready to return? This is all there is to see.”

Danny’s forehead wrinkled and he took a step backwards. “I guess. When I challenged you to the game, I was hoping for something… you know… funny, Clockwork. This is…” As Danny turned to talk to Clockwork, he caught something just out of the corner of his eye. An impossible green gleam.

Danny twisted back to the human, studying him closely as Clockwork moved his staff. There it was - a faint inhumanly-green tinge to the human’s eyes, when he got just in the right place. A glow… just like his own eyes...

“Wait-” Danny started, but they were suddenly standing in his bedroom. The heavy pendant was gone, signaling the fact that they were back in his own time, and Danny was still half-crouched. He twisted around sharply to find Clockwork standing behind him. “What was going on?” Danny kept his tone just on the polite side of demanding. No matter how much he felt like the floor had been yanked out from under his feet, he had to keep remembering that Clockwork was ludicrously more powerful than he was. He had to toe a careful line. “One of those… Did one of those people have ghost powers?”

Clockwork rested his weight on his staff and waited, quietly.

“You… did you do this on purpose?” Danny crossed his arms and scowled, frustrated. “You brought me back to that time, you paused it just at the right time, you wanted me to see that. I know it.”

Clockwork’s face remained blank, studying him.

“Clockwork!”

“You were the one who brought the game and picked out the prize, young one. You should consider that I do not control everything-”

Danny rolled his eyes. He was going to get nothing out of the ghost going with genuine frustration, so he decided to push more towards guilt. “Hey, I had to play sick to find the time to visit you. My sister is going to kill me if she finds out the reason she was covering me was to play a game of tic-tac-toe. You could at least explain something.”

“You lost our game,” Clockwork said, brushing off his robes and suddenly shifting to a form that was much more impish. “I get to claim my prize as well, remember?”

Danny scowled. I get to pull the temporal mystery card one time without you complaining about it. “That’s a suspiciously convenient prize, Mr. I-didn’t-see-your-win-coming-and-plan-this.”

Clockwork smirked. “Let it be, child. You will understand in time. Besides, I’d worry more about Mr Weston than your sister, if they find out you were ‘just’ playing a game.”

“Wes? Why?

“Time in.”

#danny phantom #ask game #Anonymous

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kxrapika-zxldyck · 3 years

Text

Crying x and x Comfort- A KilluGon hurt/comfort fic

"Kite is... already dead." Those four words echoed through Gon's head, warping and distorting themselves until they were virtually unintelligible.

After a few seconds of trying to process the magnitude of Pitou's words, their meaning finally sunk in. Kite was gone. Gon couldn't save him. He had failed. The minuscule spark of hope left inside him disappeared instantly.

Pitou let Kite fall over, boneless, in front of the distressed boy. Gon gasped, taking a shaky breath as he tried to take in the scene in front of him. He felt his stomach lurch. He tried to speak, but only a strangled gasp came out. His throat was closing up, and his mouth felt dry.

Pitou observed the agonized boy carefully. If he made any sudden movements, it would be likely that he'd die.

Gon's eyes, usually beaming from excitement and charisma, had become grim. An ominous veil of grief and anguish had fallen over them.

"His soul is no longer there... He cannot be healed."

Tears started welling up in the young boy's eyes and he collapsed, his legs no longer able to support the weight of the anguish coursing through his battered body.

At the moment, Gon's mind could easily be compared to a whirling windstorm. Feelings of sadness, despair, and grief all took their place inside of him.

Slowly looking up, Gon could make out Pitou, intensely focused on healing the rest of his arm. The Royal Guard needed to be at full power if he was to defeat the emotionally conflicted threat that lay before him.

Suddenly, the emotions coursing through him dissipated and were replaced with a strong feeling of disbelief and confusion.

"Why are you healing your arm?" Gon heard himself say.

"Turn Kite back to normal!" He pleaded desperately.

A sinister expression appeared on Pitou's face. Gon had obviously not understood the severity of the situation. He was too entangled in his own grief.

"Please, after you finish what you're doing, bring Kite back..." he whispered, his voice raspy and filled with melancholy.

Gon clutched his chest, his heartbreak too severe to handle.

"Kite is... dead and it's my fault..." he murmured, still in disbelief.

"Kite is dead and it's my fault..."

"KITE IS DEAD AND IT'S MY FAULT!"

_____

"GON!"

The distressed boy shot up, gasping for air.

His eyes frantically darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He suddenly felt a warm hand on his trembling arm.

"Gon! What's wrong? Are you okay?!" Gon hastily jerked his head in the direction of the familiar voice.

Killua.

His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had a concerned expression plastered on his face. Gon's breathing gradually started to slow down.

"Hey Killua... Did I have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, and I think it was a bad one too; you were hyperventilating and whimpering in your sleep."

"Oh... Sorry." Gon muttered, feeling bad because of the disturbance.

He felt Killua's slender fingers gently graze his cheeks.

"You were crying."

The pale boy carefully wiped the trail of tears off of Gon's face.

"Wanna talk about it?"

_____

"It's the same nightmares as usual, about the fight with Pitou two years ago."

Killua sighed softly. He wished that there was a way to forget. He wished that Gon didn't have to feel this way.

Gon continued, anxiously entwining his fingers around the thin sheets on his bed.

"I could've saved Kite. It was my fault. Maybe if I would've been more strategic..."

Killua couldn't stand listening to Gon tear himself apart any longer.

"Gon, stop. You sound insane. This was Pitou's fault. We tried to save Kite; we really did. His fate was in no way your doing." Killua said, slightly twisting the truth, but if it could make Gon feel better, he was willing to do it.

Despite his cold and rough exterior, Killua really did know how to comfort Gon in times like this.

Unfortunately, this did not prevent Gon's tears, as they once again quickly trickled down his rosy cheeks.

"I wish he was still alive." Gon whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

His tone of voice made Killua's heart feel like it was being shattered into a million pieces. He slowly placed his hands onto Gon's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.

_____

Killua's body, held closely against his own, was a pleasant feeling, Gon decided. He carefully wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck, entwining his fingers in Killua's dishevelled hair.

"I know, me too." Killua answered softly, resting his chin on the crook of Gon's neck.

The two boys sat there, listening to each other's rapid heartbeats, absorbing body heat. Gon's tremulous breaths became slower, and eventually started to return back to normal. He could feel Killua's fluffy hair tickling his skin, making him crack a faint smile.

"Hey Gon, wanna go on a walk to clear your mind?"

Gon sighed, taking a deep breath.

"Sure."

Nights on Whale Island were especially mild and pleasant this time of year. Gon felt the gentle ocean breeze caress his face as he stepped outside. He inhaled deeply and glanced over to where Killua was standing.

Killua Zoldyck.

The boy that he had spent the last three years of his life with. His accomplice. His travel partner.

His best friend.

"What are you looking at, dummy?"

Gon was seized from his daydreams, looking up to Killua's face, which appeared to be twisted in confusion.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just... really glad you're here with me, Killua."

Gon saw a faint blush appear on Killua's cheeks. The flustered boy quickly looked away.

"You can't just say things like that!"

Gon smiled softly, slowly tearing his eyes off of Killua's reddened face.

"Let's go."

_____

"Where are you taking me, Gon?"

Killua was being led through the forest, trying to keep up with Gon, who was swiftly darting past trees with a determined look on his face.

"Wait and see."

After a few minutes of desperately trying to match Gon's superhuman speed and agility, the two boys finally made it to a clearing in the forest. There was a small beach on the other side, hidden from the main area of the island.

Gon gestured to Killua, urging him to sit down.

_____

The two boys were laying with their backs to the sand, heads tilted towards the star-speckled sky.

"Aunt Mito used to take me here whenever I got upset. She said the ocean waves were like a lullaby, and listening to the gentle sway of the waves would coax me back to sleep."

"Hey Gon..." Killua said, dismissing the other boy's previous statement "... I get them too."

Gon shifted slightly, facing Killua, a curious look on his face.

"... The nightmares, I mean."

Gon silently urged the other boy to continue.

"Mine are usually about my assassin training. I have this recurring dream about being forced to kill innocent bystanders for the approval of my parents. My big brother Illumi is always behind me, manipulating me, no- controlling me with his needles."

"Those nightmares are the worst. They're the ones that leave me gasping for air, panicked and unaware that I've woken up. Yeah, they can be traumatizing, but you need to remember that the nightmares aren't real. They're just bits of memories from the past that have come back to haunt you."

"The thing is, we've already experienced different versions our nightmares. We were brave enough to surpass them in real life. The unpleasant memories stored in our subconcious don't mean anything anymore. What's in the past is in the past."

Killua paused, not bothering to examine the expression on Gon's face.

"Obviously, it sucks. Sometimes I wish we could've just had a normal life together, without the pain and wounds. But because of it, we are strong. We've trained, fought, gained, and lost way more than anyone of our age, hell, more than most adults. That's what makes us who we are today."

Gon's vision started getting blurry from the amount of tears welling up in his eyes.

"So you shouldn't be worried about the nightmares anymore, Gon. I'll always be there to protect you."

Gon inhaled shakily, processing the last part of Killua's speech.

"Killua..."

The pale-faced teen finally looked over to where Gon was laying. His eyes widened at the intensity of emotions written on the other boy's face.

"Thank you, Killua."

_____

And so, the two boys watched the sunrise from the ocean, together. Gon knew he would cherish this moment forever. The view was picturesque.

The morning sun was reflected off of Killua's pasty white skin, his eyes glowing with astonishment at the mix of colours and hues painted across the ombre sky.

Gon could stare into his vivid blue eyes forever.

Killua rolled onto his side, facing his friend. Soft smiles crept onto both of their faces.

In that moment, they both realized how lucky they were to have each other.

~♡~

#killua zoldyck #gon freecss #killua #gon #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #gonkillu #killugon #freedyck #hxh #hunter x hunter #gay #angst #hxh angst #anime

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songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

Text

Chapter Seven - A Pretty Little Ribbon

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter ~ Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Word Count: 2.5K

“I’m telling you Y/N, you’ve got such a glow to you!” Mei exclaims, dangling different colored ribbons next to your dress to see which would match better.

“Mei, that is what people say in regards to pregnant women.” You explain, playfully glaring at her. You were currently dressed in your undergarments and sat in your vanity chair, waiting for Mei to finalize every detail of your outfit.

“Well then, you’re brimming with excitement. And because of that,” she says, picking up your dress and the ribbon she decided on, “I know you aren’t going to be accompanied by Lord Iida.” You freeze up a bit at her words. Was I really so miserable when I was with him? You thought. You thawed, though, when Mei placed a caring hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. Your heart was just ensnared by someone else, not letting your feelings budge. It’s a marvel when that happens to a young lady.” You nodded and gave her a smile through your mirror as she began to fiddle with the buttons on your dress.

“That’s a lovely choice, Mei. The design is quite unique, do you know where it’s from?” Mei’s simple smile turned into more of a mischievous one.

“It was a gift. Lovely color, isn’t it?” It’s then when you put the pieces together. The dress was an ivory color and had a beautiful lace overlay, but what caught your eyes was the waterlily yellow ribbon that was tied around the empire waist. Shouto. Not long ago, you remember yourself telling him he would never see you in yellow again. How cheeky of him to have sent along that dress, but it made you admire him a little more. Finally, you were seeing the smart and cunning side of the duke’s son.

“Indeed,” you confirm, letting Mei help you into the dress. She fasents the small buttons quickly and then moves onto your hair.

“I think a ponytail will do nicely with this dress,” Mei decides, bringing your ornate brush to your hair and untangling it. “The ribbon is wide enough so that it will look lovely.” You let Mei twist your hair in whichever way she pleases. In the end, it always looks good. As she’s tugging the ribbon into place, you glance out the window to see the sun shining rather harshly.

“I ought to bring a parasol with me today.” You say absentmindedly.

“Want to borrow mine?” A sweet voice filters its way into your room, making you turn around to face your door. Ochaco is standing right outside your door, a cheery smile on her face.

“Ochaco, how lovely to see you!” You greet, standing up and making your way over to your future sister-in-law. “What brings you here? Please don’t tell me Izuku is still holed up in that office making you wait.” You worry.

“Oh no, nothing of the sort!” She assures you, easing your mind. “He’s actually about to be on a break right now, so we were going to have tea.”

“That’s good to hear. How have preparations been going regarding your wedding?” You wonder, letting Mei hand your lace gloves and clasp a dainty necklace along your neck.

“Everything’s almost finalized! It should be safe to say that the date shall be set for the end of the month. The both of you squeal in excitement.

“How wonderful! I’m so excited for the both of you, truly. It will be a dream to finally have a sister.” You and Ochaco share an eager grin.

“Y/N, I hate to interrupt both you and Lady Uraraka, but the time might be getting away from us.” Mei warns.

“Right,” you say sprucely, reaching to your side to grab your little hand purse. “Ochaco, I would love to accept your offer.”

The sun was beating down rather cruelly, and even through the shade of Ochaco’s parasol, the heat was still getting to you. You prayed that you wouldn’t sweat and if you did, you hoped that the lemony smelling perfume would be enough to drown it out. All around you, picnic blankets and canopy shades were set up with mothers sat beneath them conversing about the latest gossip while children were running around flying kites and playing ball. How far you have come from those carefree days.

“Y/N.” A soft and deep voice roused you from your thoughts, causing you to turn around and look for the speaker. Dressed in a smart-looking navy tailcoat, white breeches, and a soft cream-colored collared shirt, Shouto looked incredibly handsome. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long, the heat is absolutely blistering today.” He says, striding next to you and offering up his arm. You take it gladly, and the two of you begin to walk around the park.

“Not at all, I only just recently arrived.” You reassured him, offering a smile. He nods in return and the two of you settle into a silence, taking in the beauty of the day while also indulging in the little shade that the parasol gave off. It only took a few minutes for the temperature to rise even higher. Even with all of the tea and water you drank this morning in order to calm your nerves, your mouth was now undoubtedly parched. Shouto, too, seemed a bit too warm for his own taste. It was subtle, but you could hear him breathing a bit harder than normal.

“Would it interest you in going into town for a bit? I’ve heard there are some new outlets there,” Shouto suggests. The shopping district of town was certainly an attractive option to you at this point. Due to the tall buildings, the roads were usually cast in the shade and the stores were always fun to browse in.

“That sounds wonderful!” You agree, unconsciously tightening your grip on his arm out of excitement. His heterochromatic eyes seem to light up at your enthusiasm and immediately takes you to his horse-drawn carriage, letting you hop in as he tells his coachman the directions. You quite enjoyed the little ride, relaxing into the plush cushions of the carriage and making small talk with Shouto. You had a family carriage yourself, most young women of your status did, but like everything else, Shouto’s was just one step above.

“How is your brother? I hope he’s not overexerting himself by covering for your father’s duties.” Shouto asks, a slight worry laced in his tone.

“Oh, Izuku’s doing just fabulously with this whole predicament.” You reassure him, your smile showing how grateful you were for his concern. “I knew he would have to take over Father’s business and making sure that the family’s checkbook lined up correctly someday, but he’s doing very well.” Shouto smiles and leans back a bit in his seat.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” You think back to that night when him, Lord Bakugou, Lord Kirishima, and Lord Iida came over to your home in the early morning to help your brother adjust. After all, it was just the night before. Then, it dawned on you how you never apologized for your actions towards the very man sitting across from you.

“I really should have told you this sooner, but Shouto, I am so sor-” You are paused by the raise of his hand.

“Y/N, you have no reason to apologize to me.” He says sincerely, reaching forward to take your hands in his. “You did everything correctly. And while yes, your words did invoke some more than melancholy feelings within my heart, it was my fault that they were urged to be spoken in the first place.” His words are firmly put.

“Okay,” you agree, your cheeks a bit more flushed than normal.

“We’ve arrived, your grace,” Shouto’s coachman says from outside the carriage. Much to your chagrin, you unconsciously squeal with excitement as the door opens, causing laughter to escape from Shouto’s mouth.

“Shall we?” He asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We shall!”

“So, where would you like to go first?” Shouto asks as the two of you wind your way down the busy road, peering into the windows of stores. A little boutique caught your eye immediately.

“Ooo, that place looks just lovely!” You say, pulling him a little bit towards it. As the two of you entered the store, your eyes lit up. It might be a stereotype that women of your age were obsessed with fashion, but you didn’t really care. The dresses, accessories, ribbons, and hats that were displayed along the store walls and on the store floor were just to die for. And, like a bee in a flower field, you dotted around to look at all of them, Shouto in toe. You let your finger trail along a beautiful, baby pink lace ribbon.

“Would you like it?” Shouto asked, his voice lowered due to the privacy of the two of you and out of respect for the rest of the patrons in the store. You feel your heartbeat speed up as you felt his breath on your ear.

“It certainly is beautiful, but I left my billfold at my home.” You say, letting the ribbon slip from your fingers and swing back to its spot. “I’ll just come back a bit later in the week to purchase it.” You say, smiling and moving on to the next display to peer down at the fabrics. Unknown to you, Shouto takes the ribbon and hands it two a store worker beside him. He whispers a few words to the worker before following dutilly behind you as you ogled some hair combs. You came across a quite obnoxious looking one, the little silver comb absolutely covered with huge fake pearls and enormous enameled flowers. You put your hand over your mouth slightly to prevent the giggles that would’ve escaped otherwise.

“Y/N?” Shouto asked, causing you to snicker. Shouto’s eyebrows rose, a surprised but happy look on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just,” you whisper-laugh, covering your mouth with both of your gloved hands now. “This comb is simply outrageous.” Shouto’s gaze follows yours to the comb in question. As soon as he takes it all in, he too has to stifle his laughter.

“It is quite ridiculous,” he agreed, chuckling. From beside you, a helper was shooting you a less than enthused look, so you patted Shouto’s shoulder.

“Alright, I think we might’ve overstayed our welcome.” You murmur to him, earning a quick nod.

“I will be right behind you, I just need a moment longer.” He says, earning a raised eyebrow but nothing more as you smiled and exited. You only had to wait but a moment until Shouto exited the store, letting the door swing back and jingle as he held a small parcel.

“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to purchase something! I would’ve waited for you,” You frowned, looking between him and his purchased item.

“Think nothing of it. Come, let me treat you to some cream ice. I’ve heard the flavors over in that parlor are the sweetest.” He says, letting you take his arm again and heading straight towards the little frozen desserts shop. The aroma lifted your already high spirits as you took a whiff, sighing happily against Shouto.

“Your Grace! What a pleasure to be serving you on this fine day. Shall I find a more private table for you and your lady?” You felt your whole body heat up. While yes, your intentions with Shouto and how you would like to further your future with him were clear to you, this was the first time anyone has referred to you as the young lady Shouto was courting. And it felt magnificent.

“That will do nicely, thank you,” Shouto says politely, letting the server lead the both of you to a shaded outdoor setting, only one table and two chairs occupying it. Shouto, ever the gentlemen, pulled your chair out for you letting you take a seat first before tucking you in, and then sitting himself down in the chair across from you.

“What will you and your lady partake in today sir?” The server asks, an over-enthusiastic smile on his face.

“I would like something with fruit, strawberry perhaps?” He asks as the server jots down his words dutifully.

“And what will your lady have?” He asked, still looking at Shouto. The red-and-white haired man looked in between you and the waiter.

“Well, you would have to ask the young Lady herself. Since she is the daughter of a Lord, I am sure she is perfectly capable of ordering ice cream. The smile on your face was now as wide as ever as the flustered waiter looked to you, your eyes locked with Shouto’s as he sprouted a smirk. If being gentlemanly wasn’t enough, he wasn’t overbearing either.

“I would prefer a Y/F/F flavor, if that is possible?” You asked in a saccharine sweet voice, your face painted as innocent as a lamb.

“Y-yes my Lady.” The waiter says, bowing to the both of you and quickly making his way out of the area. Now yours and Shouto’s laughter was perfectly audible.

“Thank you, Shouto. That was both eloquent and perfectly strict.” You compliment, reaching for the glass of water placed at your side.

“Well, no one should speak to a Lady like that in any way, especially you.” He says. “Oh, and before I forget,” he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the parcel, sliding it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked in surprise, you finger trailing around the twine that was keeping the little parcel wrapped.

“Indeed.” A giddy smile takes over your face as you carefully unwrap the parcel, letting the paper fall to the side revealing the ribbon that you were so interested in earlier.

“Oh, Shouto…” you breathe, lifting the baby pink lace ribbon. “You really didn’t have to-”

“I did.” He interjects, his voice steady. “And I expect you to get used to it. Before long you will be showering in a mountain of gifts and affections from me.” He says playfully, earning an eager look from you. Taking advantage of the moment, you reach up into your hair and let the ribbon you were currently wearing unravel, letting your hair curl around your shoulders. Quickly, you tie it back up with the ribbon Shouto got you, letting a pleased smile spread across his cheeks. “You look absolutely radiant.”

“It must be the dress color. I think it looks well on me, does it not?” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from Shouto.

“You truly do wonders with yellow.”

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carbonatedmalice · 3 years

Note

Def Edgar. Wanna see what thinks of the others

alright time to break out the character list [cracks knuckles]

obligatory read more because there is. a lot of them, even with leaving some characters out. I'll try to write in His Voice y'know. it's unlikely that he would openly express his genuine opinion on a lot of these, so try to think of it more as his internal monologuing

Jack - No.

Elijah - He's sweet. He's also very broken. He exhausts me but I love him, even if he doesn't love me the same. I don't know.

Noah - Noah is perfection given human form. I love him. I love him so much. He's so charming. He always seems to have a good handle on things. Sure, he may BABY me a little and that is not appreciated, but it's my fault for coming off as so helpless in the first place. I love him. I don't know what I'd do if he ever was seriously hurt. I love him. I don't deserve his presence. I don't know what I could ever do to make up for everything he's done for me. I don't know why he sticks around me; I'm just some overworked fool, and he is intellect and grace and beauty and.. Oh, I love him. He deserves somebody on his level, and that isn't me.

Steve - A respectable young man. He and his friend get on my nerves, but they're extremely manageable on their own. I don't know why he keeps insisting that I "hang out" with his little friend group. It's sweet, but the invitation is better off spent on somebody else.

Macormic - He's.. a little dull, but he means well. Very shy without Steven. He reminds me of myself when I was younger. A little. Mostly the shy part. He's a sweet kid.

(Elijah's) Dew - She stays in her lane and I stay in mine. Aside from the occasional shenanigans, what with trying to use the place to flirt with customers, she doesn't seem bad. She's a little too boisterous for my tastes, though.

(Jack's) Dew - She doesn't deserve this treatment. She doesn't. I'm not all that familar with her background or anything else of the sort, but I know that she doesn't deserve to be treated the way Jack treats her. It's disgusting. He's disgusting. She's a human being. She doesn't seem to pity me much, but I don't particularly care. I don't want her pity. I want her away from him. It's much better off if I'm the only one having to cope.

Scottie/Scarlett - He.. She..? is very difficult for me to wrap my head around. I don't "get" this gender nonsense, but it's none of my business in the first place, now is it? However, I wish he'd leave me alone. The harassment is less than ideal. Or, at the very least, leave Noah alone- just bother me. Despite my expectations, Scott gets along well with the kids who come in! It seems like he enjoys the job. It's very refreshing.

Nathan - He's wasting his intelligence by sitting in MY house all day, higher than a goddamned kite. I pay the bills. I allow him to stay in my home. And what do I get in return? Nothing but constant belittling and him eating me out of house and home. If I wasn't so worried about him ending up half-dead in a gutter without me, I'd have kicked his ass out a long time ago. Grow up. You're almost 30, Nathaniel. You're too smart to be wasting away like this.

---

Red - An inconsiderate asshole. I can understand his hatred of me, but at the very least he could try to be reasonable in front of the children. Lord knows how many times he's gone through the whole song and dance of provoking me, upsetting one of the kids because he's insulting their papa, and then having to awkwardly apologize to them and me to save face. Cue tense feigned friendliness for a good three days before it returns to normal. I can admire his protectiveness of them but come on.

Blue - She's broken. I can't figure out how to repair whatever's going on in her artifical brain, but it's reduced her to an almost childlike state, and I fucking hate it. I want my girl back. Shiny trinkets as gifts to add to her collection will never make up for the fact that I let her go into such a state of disrepair.

Rae - My big, excitable puppy.. I adore Rae. She's always trying to cheer me and the children up, and even if it doesn't work, just faking a smile gets her all giddy. I love her.

Billy - Just a bundle of love. Not as nervous as Rae, but equally as desperate for approval. He seems jealous of anybody else who wants to spend time with me. I can only hope he'll come to accept that people will not be exclusively his.

Green - I don't like how calm he is. He thinks he's better than me, doesn't he? But... you know, whatever I feel about him isn't important- he makes the kids happy, and that's all that matters.

----

OKAY. there. I had to leave a lot of people out (primarily the ghosts), so if you have anybody specific you wanna know his opinion on feel free to ask.

#ask meme #comrade gang #monroe tag #edgar #FUCK tagging all of them

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Mind & Soul (10/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love, and into it again.

Charlie Barber x Reader

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

5k ; get your tissues folks

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

I've never been in love before Now all at once it's you It's you forever more

I've never been in love before I thought my heart was safe I thought I knew the score

He doesn’t know how to do it, how to tell him. He doesn’t have the words. All those years writing, all the time spent on his scripts, and he doesn’t have the words. Charlie stares into his coffee, watches the creamer swirl. It’s a beautiful day outside, and that hurts somehow, hurts more than it would if it were raining. At least if it were raining, he could feel like the world cries along with him, but the sunshine through the curtains you picked out and hung up – that hurts.

He’s got to tell Henry, he knows that ever minute longer he waits, the harsher the blow will be. But he’s not got the words for it, how could he, when he never dreamed a day like this would come?

That’s a lie maybe, maybe he did dream of it.

But those don’t count. The nightmares…nightmares don’t count.

You’re silent at the breakfast table, doing your best not to cry. Henry can tell something’s wrong, of course he can, he’s a smart kid. He can tell, and it breaks Charlie’s heart.

Can a heart break if it’s already broken?

Charlie looks to you for strength, for something, he doesn’t know. Part of him wishes you could jump in and deliver the news instead of him. You’re so good at making things sound better than they are, you’re good at the phrasing. Charlie’s never been that good at it, but he knows this is something he has to do himself – he’s no coward, not like Nicole.

Still, Charlie looks to you, and you look back at him with wet eyes, give him a little nod. That nod is all it takes, and he can feel his shoulders squaring up a little more, can feel the cold drip of dread in his stomach a little fainter.

“I was thinking, what if you and me skip out today and go have fun at the park, Henry?” He tries to be nonchalant about it, bites into his toast and sips his coffee.

He desperately wants to hold your hand, but he’s afraid he’ll shake too much and rattle your bones.

“You mean like I don’t have to go to school?” Henry cocks his head and gives a confused frown. Henry’s not missed a single day of school the entire time Charlie’s been taking care of him.

“Yeah, how does that sound?” Charlie tries to smile, but he’s not so sure it works.

“Won’t I get in trouble?” Henry looks at him, looks at you.

“No, I’ll call you in, it’ll be okay.” You do smile, with a little nod of your head that Charlie envies.

“Okay.” He smiles back, and Charlie tries very hard not to imagine it as the last smile he gets to see for however many months it’ll be until he gets his son back home again.

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

The park is filled with people, bustling with activity. Henry does most of the talking, which Charlie doesn’t mind. He talks about things at school, talks about the science fair. He talks about his friends and what he dreamt about last night, asks questions that he thought up while watching that documentary about the deep sea with you. Charlie listens, he’s been spending a lot more time listening lately. Listens and tries his best to answer the questions, he tries.

There are dogs to be pet, and kites to be flown, and birds to feed. Charlie buys him a big soft pretzel and tries not to cry when Henry offers him the bigger piece. He can’t stop thinking about everything he’s going to miss out on, all the milestones and all the memories that’ll be made without him.

He can’t say it out loud, he can’t, but it’s like he’s not going to really ever be his parent again, not like this, not the way they’ve set it up. Charlie’s hands sweat, and he blames it on the sunshine, blames it on the warmth of the day.

“Hey Henry?” Charlie cuts Henry off right in the middle of a sentence, and he feels bad that he wasn’t listening, but Henry was talking with his mouth full anyway.

“Yeah dad?” Henry chews and swallows, and his eyes are so wide, and Charlie wants to scream.

“I um.” He doesn’t scream, but his voice comes out strangled, like he’s holding it back, like he’s holding so much back. “Well I’ve got something to tell you. Here why don’t…why don’t we go over here and sit down.”

Charlie leads his son over to an empty bench a little bit away from people. He doesn’t want an audience for this, doesn’t want any prying eyes for his tears. Henry goes hesitantly, he knows something is wrong, the other shoe has dropped.

“Did I do somethi—” Henry starts, and Charlie’s eyes well up immediately, because the last thing he ever wants is for Henry to think this is his fault.

“No, no you didn’t do anything.” He says straight away, doesn’t even let Henry get the thought out, wanting to stop that right in its tracks. He takes a deep breath, wants a cigarette. He won’t smoke in front of Henry, he won’t. But his hands shake and sweat and he can’t face his son, not really. He tries, tries to find the words. “You…you’ve been happy that Mom’s back, right?”

“Yeah.” Henry replies softly, settles down on the bench next to his dad, puts the soft pretzel in his lap, wrapped up nicely in the little paper sleeve in came with.

“That’s good, that’s um.” Charlie runs a hand through his hair, an old nervous habit that’s come back as he scratches at the back of his scalp with a shuddering sigh. “That’s good. Well, you know, ever since Mom came back, we’ve been in a big game of tug and war, because we both love you so much and we both want you to be with us all the time.”

“Yeah, the court.” Henry nods, and Charlie hates this, hates himself, hates Nicole, hates the world, because his son shouldn’t be so resigned to it, to this.

“Mhm, and um, well.” He tries, chews his cheek, “We asked the court to decide for us, because they – the judge – well he’s a very smart man.”

“Smarter than you?” Henry scoffs, as if in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Charlie can feel his chin wobble, but he looks up to the sky, wills his tears to just trickle back down into his head, begs them not to fall yet, not yet, not in front of his son. “Yeah, smarter than me. And he decided that it would, it’d be best – it’d be smartest, for you to live with Mom from now on.”

He’s reminded of a long time ago, staring up at the sky like this.

Once upon a time, he would hide away in a theater full of ghosts, would demand from them the reasons why they mocked him so.

Once upon a time he would blind himself with delusions of victory, and now it’s all he can do but hold back the crushing screams of defeat.

Maybe they always knew it would end up like this, privy to the grand plan of his life.

Once upon a time he wished his life were a comedy, and maybe it was. Maybe it was, but someone else was laughing.

“I don’t understand.” Henry says, and Charlie closes his eyes, because the sadness and confusion in his voice hurts more than the sunshine which soaks into his skin.

“Mom gave her side of the argument, and I gave mine, and in the end, the judge liked her side better. So you’re going to go live with her from now on, over in California. That’s going to be fun, wont it? You love the beaches there.” He explains, sighing a little and putting his hands in his pockets, looking at his son.

“But…” Henry tries to come up with words of his own.

“And I’m really lucky, because the judge said that for a whole month over the summer you get to come back to New York, and I get to spend the holidays with you, and – ” Charlie tries to fill the silence with reassurances, reassurances which feel like kicks to the chest.

“Wait but, where am I going to sleep?” Henry cuts him off, eyes wide, starting to panic. “Where’s my bed going to be?”

“You’ll sleep in your bed at Mom’s.” Charlie answers, wanting to calm him, wanting but knowing that he can’t, that there’s no easy way to say any of this, no easy way to make it hurt less. “In California.”

“…But what about my legos and and -- and my clothes?” Henry shakes his head, trips over his tongue, rushes to try and understand.

“They’ll be in California too. And you know what, Mom is so excited that she said she’s going to buy you all new clothes and legos, and action figures.” Charlie answers, gives a smile that his son isn’t buying, not one bit.

“Where will you be?” Henry asks, voice so small, so sad, chin wobbling of his own.

“I…” Charlie has to force the words out. The come as a whisper, but it still feels loud, sounds like a shout in his head, a hoarse crying yell against his brain, even though the can barely move his lips. “I’m going to stay here, Henry. I have to stay here.”

“And (Y/N)?” Henry’s crying now, little tears sliding down his cheeks. He shoves his hand against his eyes, trying to get a grip, and Charlie doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say, because his tears are falling too, each one landing with a deafening slam onto the pavement below, a thousand thunderstorms in each tear.

“She has to stay here too.” Charlie has a rock in his throat, and he can’t look at him, has to look down at the way his hands are curled into anxious fists in his pockets. “But you know what, we can come and visit you and you can show us all – all the new fun things about Los Angeles.”

“What if I don’t like it, can I come back home?” Henry hiccups, “Do I get to come back?”

“What do you mean ‘if you don’t like it’, you’re going to have a great time! Mom loves you so much and, and you’re, well you’re going to have a great time, I just know it.” Charlie tries tries tries, but he fails. Maybe he’s been failing this whole time, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

“B-but if you’re not going to be there who is going to read me my bedtime story or help me with my reading or make me tea or – ” Henry’s crying hard now.

“C’mere, come here.” Charlie can’t hold back anymore, he wraps his son up in his arms, pulls him into his lap and holds him tight. Henry sobs into his neck, little arms crushing Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie rocks him back and forth, cries into his hair as he rubs soothing circles on his back. “It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the truth, but he has to believe it, has to believe the words.

“When do I have to go?” Henry’s muffled from where he won’t pry his face away from the crook of Charlie’s neck, little frame shaking, breaking Charlie’s heart.

“She’s going to pick you up tonight. So we have the whole day to spend together and pack up your most favorite things so that you’ll have them for California.” Charlie wants to lie and say never, but the truth is here, and the truth hurts, and Henry cries.

Charlie holds him, avoids the uncomfortable stares of parkgoers on bicycles, glares up at the sky, angry and devastated and exhausted all at once. He doesn’t have much more to give, doesn’t know what more the world wants from him. It’s taken so much already, too much.

“Dad?” Henry asks, pulling away and smearing his face on his shirt-sleeve, a button down that matches one of Charlie’s favorites.

“Yeah honey?” Charlie pulls a napkin out of his pocket that he took from the pretzel vendor, offers it to his son.

“If you ever get lonely, just – just know you can call me, okay? I’ll always pick up.” Henry’s chin wobbles again, but the tears have stopped for the time being, and despite it all, Charlie smiles.

“Don’t say that, I’ll call you every day.” He teases, trying trying trying to lighten the mood.

Despite it all, Henry smiles back.

But this is wine It's all too strange and strong I'm full of foolish song And out my song must pour

So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in I've really never been In love before

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

Charlie and Henry spend the rest of the day packing. It’s hard, hard trying to think of everything he’ll need, everything he wants. He’s got his big suitcase and his carryon to pack his life into, and something about that seems like the saddest part.

You know you’ll ship over anything else he wants, whatever else he can think of that he can’t fit…but part of you wants to keep it here, keep it as some incentive for him to come back. If everything he loves is over in California, what if he forgets all about New York entirely?

You shake the thought from your head, it’s silly to think. A small voice in your head tells you it was silly to think that this could ever work to begin with.

You shake that thought from your head too, fiercely optimistic. Charlie was devastated, Henry is nearly non-verbal from the weight of the news, you have to be the optimistic one, you have to be. If you start to be crushed now, who would be there to pull them up from their despair?

You’re tidying up the already tidy house, just to have something to do while Henry and Charlie pack up the pieces of his life here. It’s a big house, a couple thousand square feet larger than the one in the old neighborhood, so there’s plenty to do. You arrange and rearrange cushions on the couch, move vases filled with flowers from one surface to another. You open and close curtains, and eventually find yourself leaning up against the island in the kitchen, arms folded onto the granite as you rest your head on the counter.

You close your eyes and breathe, try not to think of all the nights you spent with them together, as a family. This house was relatively new to you all, only two months or so. But the six months before that, that was time, real time spent together. Dinners and game nights, homework and projects, trips to the city and the park, the theater and the movies. You think about the time he scraped his knee trying to roller skate in the driveway, think about how he came to you with tears in his eyes about how much it stung, how you made him cookies to help with the bravery.

You think about how proud Charlie always is of him, all the things tacked up onto the fridge and hung up in frames on the wall. Charlie was going to find someone to sublet the apartment in Los Angeles, and you knew that as soon as that happened there’d be more art up on the walls, more memories of a son taken away.

The doorbell rings, shaking you from your thoughts, and you sigh. Charlie is still upstairs, so you collect yourself, put on your best brave face, and go through the empty halls of the house, feet carrying you to the front door.

“You’re here.” Nicole says, confused and surprised, when you open the door.

There’s a man standing at the end of the driveway near the car, the same man who showed up to testify in court on her behalf. You try not to jump to conclusions, because you’d be a hypocrite for being angry that Nicole already moved on so quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for a little bit.” You say coolly, opening the door a little wider for her to step in.

“Doing what?” She asks, leaving her shoes on, tracking footprints on the freshly polished tile.

“Cleaning up the mess you left behind.” You say calmly as you close the door so the air conditioning doesn’t spill out into the neighborhood, not caring to invite the mystery man in. He can stay by the car, you don’t want him in the house.

Nicole is stunned by your disposition as she follows you into the house. You make sure to bring her through the living room, the den, make sure she sees how nice it is, how big and cozy. You stop at the dining room, and she’s impressed by it – it’s hard not to be.

“How can you be on his side?” Nicole asks, looking vaguely offended at the way you offer a plate of sliced cheese and crackers. That doesn’t stop her from taking one, she talks with her mouth full, “After everything he’s done to me and to Henry?”

You blink, try your best not to let your eyebrows shoot up too dramatically.

“What has he done, Nicole?” You ask, resigned, not wanting to let her play the victim anymore. It’s exhausting, and you don’t have the energy for it.

It’s a rhetorical question, but Nicole answers it anyway, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. She only ever really likes to hear the sound of her own voice, you know, you shouldn’t be surprised.

“He never listened to me, he only ever did the things he wanted to do! He never once asked me about my day, or recognized my needs as my own. For years I stood by and let him walk all over me, and he had no problem doing it!” She immediately launches into the same argument she’s been touting for two months, and you very carefully pick up a cracker and bite it into two, a loud snap that makes her startle.

“You call him selfish, but all I’m hearing is you were comfortable enough with the life you chose until you grew bored of it. How is a person supposed to know how you’re feeling unless you tell them? You never told him, never once gave him any inkling that something was wrong until you kicked him to the couch.” You keep your voice low, calm. It wouldn’t do to get riled, not today. There’s too much tension, you don’t need everyone shouting on top of it.

“I – ” She starts, but you really don’t want to hear it.

“Who was it that bailed on couples therapy?” You ask, eyes cold and hard.

“That’s – ” She shakes her head.

“Who was it that went around talking to everyone about your problems but the person giving you grief in the first place?” You scoop a cracker into some soft brie, not bothering to look at her.

“Don’t – ” Nicole tries to get a word in, but you don’t let her. She’s done so much talking, so much monologuing. A true actress.

“Who was it that got a lawyer first when you both agreed to handle it without them?” Your hand grips the edge of the counter. “Who was it that blindsided him with terms and conditions he had no fucking clue that he was getting himself into? Who was it that bullied him into crying so hard the blood vessels in his eyes bruised? Who was it that up and fucking left her son in the middle of the night? You may have won over the judge, but don’t you dare pretend for one second that you’re the good guy here.”

You stare at one another, and her eyes are wide.

Her silence is deafening in the quiet of the room.

Eventually, a noise from the stairs snaps you both back to reality, and Nicole has the decency to look ashamed, to cast her eyes down to where her hands are clasped in her lap.

“I thought we were friends.” She says quietly, but the guilt trip doesn’t work.

“You thought wrong.” You hear heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen, so you bite the inside of your cheek and turn away from her. “Now let me get you something to drink. You must be so parched from all those crocodile tears.”

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

Charlie watches you leave to go towards the kitchen, and he’s frowning, because he’s never seen you with such a scowl on your face. He stands there and lets his gaze trail over your body, soaks up some of your self control and steps into the dining room.

She looks good, Nicole. Tanned, blonde. California has been good to her, he knows.

Part of him hates her for it, hates how she’s put him through absolute hell while she’s sunbathing by a pool somewhere. Part of him thinks he never should have let her go, never should have let her run away the way she did. He should have tried harder to get her to stay and listen, maybe they could have worked out a better divorce situation, Charlie could have had more of a say.

But then he thinks of you, and how these past few months have been absolute hell but at the very least, at the absolute very least he had you. He’ll never say it out loud, but he’s almost glad that she fucked his life up so dramatically, because he got to have that time with you.

“Hi Charlie.” Nicole says, and it feels strange, hearing his name come out of her mouth without venom for once.

“Hi.” Is all he can muster up in return.

“Charlie I’m sorry…” Nicole whispers, eyes welling up, but Charlie’s too tired to even really deal.

“He’s all packed up and ready to go.” He begins to turn away, to leave her standing there and get his son, when he feels her hand on his arm.

“I -- Can I talk to you for a second, outside?” She asks when he looks at her with a frown.

In between the dining room and the kitchen there’s a sliding glass door that leads to a little patio in the backyard, and he opens it, lets her pass through it first like a gentleman he doesn’t really want to be. Nicole looks around, doesn’t sit. They both sort of stand there, arms crossed over their chests, as Charlie waits for her to say something.

“It’s a um.” Nicole blinks, “It’s a beautiful home.”

“Thanks.” Charlie replies dryly. He wants a cigarette, desperately, but something about smoking in front of Nicole feels like defeat.

He’s already lost so much, so much pride, so much of his happiness, he doesn’t need to lost that bit of composure too.

Nicole looks down at her shoes, nice sandals that Charlie can just picture walking through sand.

“You know I came here with a whole speech prepared and now I don’t’ know what to say.” She says softly, and Charlie sighs.

“You can give the speech, I’ll listen.” He says sincerely. He figures he owes her this, an entire marriage of selfishness, he can give her this.

“I…” Nicole starts, walks around a little bit in that way she does, talks and walks, gestures with her hands. “You know I’ve been working very hard, to make something of myself, these last few months. Something that Henry could be proud of, something that I could be proud of. I got the TV gig, and I – I’m directing a couple projects here and there, nothing major, but. But it feels good, to be my own person, and I thought how good would it be, for Henry to see me take control of my own life?”

She looks at him, and he looks back, and she takes a deep breath. Something deep inside Charlie wants to comfort her. He’s reminded of how young they were, when all this started, how young and in love they were, once upon a time.

Now look at them.

“And I came here to take him home with me, because I believe he belongs with me. But…” She covers her mouth with her hand, a habit she always had so people wouldn’t see her when she’s crying for real. Charlie watches, listens, doesn’t interrupt her, not this time. “But then I look at the home you’ve made here for him, I see all his stuff and the art on the walls, and I just…Charlie, I never wanted to hurt you, or Henry. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. Remember what you said in court? You built a life here with him, and maybe it wasn’t perfect but it was yours, and…”

She cries for real, and Charlie puts everything aside for a moment, and hugs his ex-wife. She smells like someone else’s cologne, and he’s almost glad for it, glad that she’s got someone to hold her, because this is the last time he ever will, he’s decided.

“I love him so much.” Nicole’s shoulders shake in Charlie’s embrace, and Charlie…Charlie doesn’t dare hope, doesn’t dare get his hopes up because they’ve been crushed so many times, crushed by her, by the world.

“I know.” His heart is thrumming in his chest, and they hold onto each other while she cries.

“I’m going back to California tonight.” She whispers, and Charlie’s knees almost give out when he strains to hear the words, “Just me.”

“Just you?” He repeats, because he can’t believe it, can’t believe his fucking ears, he must be hallucinating, must be dreaming, must be --

“I’m not taking him.” Nicole says, plain and clear, wrapped up in his arms, hot tears stinging his neck.

Charlie squeezes her so tight that he’s almost afraid of breaking her, but he can’t help it. He might be sick, just from the sheer relief of the sentiment, of the words. They’re real, real words that she’s just said, and he knows she means them. His eyes are closed and he sees stars dancing behind his eyelids, he’s dizzy, he might just pass out, might just faint from the news.

The sun shines bright and golden, coats the world in a buttery hue that warms Charlie straight to his bones. You were right, you were always right. Even when he doubted you for a moment, when the judge banged his fucking gavel and the verdict fell upon deaf ears, blind and numb from the shock and the pain, even then you were right.

“Do you want to go talk to him? He’s upstairs in his room.” Charlie says, almost afraid to let her go now, to destroy the spell.

But she steps out of his hold, wipes her face and nods, looks up at him. She doesn’t look like she’s going to change her mind, looks resolute, looks resigned. He’s been so concerned about how hard this whole thing has been for him, but this is the first time he sees that maybe, even though she did this to him, maybe it was hard for her too.

“Thank you.” Nicole gathers herself together, gets a grip.

Charlie opens the sliding glass door, lets her step through it once again.

“First door on the right.” He tells her, and she nods, walks away. She doesn’t get too far though, not until he’s calling her name, “Nicole?”

“Yeah?” She stops in her tracks, looks back at him, and he can’t help but feel grateful, can’t help but feel sorry, for the whole thing. The whole thing.

“I never wanted to hurt you either.” He says softly, the deep rooted truth of it all expressed with that one sentence.

Nicole smiles, and then she’s up the stairs, disappearing down the hallway to go say goodbye.

He goes on a hunt for you, immediately. Seeks you out, searches for you in the house. He finds you in the kitchen, back against the fridge with your hands over your mouth, relief having crashed through you too. He collects you into his arms and picks you up, swings you around and around until you’re stifling wet laughter, until you’re both dizzy dizzy dizzy.

“(Y/N), did you hear – ” Charlie’s hands shake, and this time it’s for an altogether different reason, this time it’s out of sheer joy, sheer excitement. It feels like when he came home to you to tell you about the MacArthur grant, that sheer disbelief that he could be so lucky.

“Charlie I’m, fuck I’m so happy for you.” You hold onto him, not wanting any space between your bodies, hearts beating together, beating in time. “I love you, I love you.” You say it over and over again, a grin on your face so beaming that Charlie’s blind to anything else.

“Kiss me?” He puts you down and smooths his hands over your cheeks, rubs your noses together, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt, “Nothing matters now, kiss me.”

And when you press your lips up against his, when your tears stain each other’s faces, happy tears filled with joy, with relief, with the taste of salt and victory, he can’t help but think how lucky he must be.

How lucky, to have found someone that he can share this with so deeply, someone who understands him so completely? Someone who loves him?

Because you do, you love him, and he loves you right back, with his heart, body, mind and soul.

But this is wine It's all too strange and strong I'm full of foolish song And out my song must pour

So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in I've really never been In love before

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

The End

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

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#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #marriage story #adam driver character #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber fanfic #my writing #mind and soul #mind & soul #charlie barber

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alisarb · 4 years

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Thoughts on Frenchie and Kimiko (deleted scene + 2x04)

Okay so tHINGS have happened since we last saw each other, folks, so let’s get cracking immediately.

Spoilers for The Boys season 2 until 2x04, stop reading if you haven’t seen it yet!

Before I delve into last episode’s events, I’d like to talk a bit about two deleted scenes that I think still play a vital part into context for the kiss scene in 2x04. Get for a LONG meta post.

The events that lead up to that kiss are influenced by everything we saw last season and that I talked about in a previous post: Kimiko opening and sharing her trauma with The Boys because she trusts Frenchie, Frenchie telling her and only her about his dad and his traumatic childhood, how their relationship is defined by freedom and absolute liberty to choose without judgement, etc.

Then, on season 2, we see that Kimiko has begun to interact with the other members of the gang a lot more (Hughie approaches her from behind to praise her on her writing practice and she smiles), and that everything has been going a bit roughly since Butcher left, holing up in the back of a store with some sketchy guys that Frenchie knows.

It’s obvious from the beginning of the season that Frenchie has been stressed and frustrated since everyone is highly wound up, but the moment Kimiko goes to him to show him the origami piece he stops to pay her attention and smiles.

One of the main points of this season is that Kimiko is finding a voice, a way to communicate. Unfortunately, another main point of this is that Frenchie is struggling to understand her.

He doesn’t get what the paper means, or why she keeps talking about “a boy and a girl.”

This boy, as it turns out, is her brother, who was also taken from the terrorist group into America and injected with Compund v, turning him into a Supe like her sister.

The conversation between the two of them is very telling. At one point, she asks if it hurt when they injected him, and he says: “I wanted to die.” She replies: “Me too”, and goes on to say that Vought had turned her into a monster.

A few scenes earlier, Kimiko goes into the store with Frenchie and brutally murders one of the employees. Frenchie looks completely horrified at the excessive force and shocked at Kimiko for “returning to her old habits”, in a way, but then realizes that he belongs to the Shining Light Liberation Army.

These two things help us understand her personality: when we first meet her, she’s locked in a cage and is completely feral and savage (understandably so). She’s only able to form a bond with Frenchie, and uses violence towards people without much remorse.

However, this season she doesn’t seem so prone to it, and I think the change in her character is what surprises Frenchie at the store.

Now, before we go into 2x04, let’s talk about the deleted scenes.

The first deleted scene: Cherie

I’ve tried to record the scene but to no avail, so I’ll describe it for those who don’t have Prime Video since I can’t find it uploaded anywhere else.

The scene is presumably set at the beginning of 2x02. We see M.M working on his dollhouse when suddenly some voices can be heard arguing in the background: Frenchie and Cherie. Frenchie sounds angry and tense and Cherie talks in a playful, passive-aggresive manner.

Frenchie: You’re getting on my nerves. You need to shut up.

Cherie (laughing, playful): You shut up. Just fucking say the truth then.

Frenchie (tense): Bye-bye...

Cherie (now visibly angry too): That’s all I’m asking. Say the fucking truth.

Frenchie (shouting): Okay, you can stop right there, okay?

Cherie: You wanna fuck her? Fuck her! Just (I didn’t get that part lmao)

Frenchie: We are not-! I would never sleep with her!

Cherie: Why!? Then what does she do, then? I mean, I see the way you look at her!

Frenchie: It’s difficult, it’s difficult to explain, okay? She’s special!

Okay, I won’t transcribe the whoooole conversation because IT’S LONG but I’ll describe the rest and quote the final part:

Cherie gets offended because, oh, Frenchie can fuck her hard and rough just fine but she’s too “magic and special.” Then Frenchie tries to explain (through C.I Joe characters wtf Frenchie) that him and Kimiko are like soulmates: they can “read each other thoughts”, and they think and feel the same, they are the same.

This mirrors what Karen Fukuhara, who plays Kimiko, said in a recent interview (posted a week before 2x04) when asked about the nature of their relationship:

“It could be love, romantic love. It could be like paternal love, because in the comics, she is portrayed as a younger girl, I think, when you first see her. Or it could be something deeper than friendship, something that we call “twin flame,” something that ties two people together kind of like a magnet, soulmates, if you will.”

Cherie grabs him and asks him how does he know what the fuck she’s thinking if she doesn’t say a word. Maybe he’s just projecting what he wants to believe into her for this very reason (VERY TELLING OF THE KISS SCENE).

Then, she turns around to leave and runs right into Kimiko. Cherie touches a strand of her hair and tells her: “I don’t think you’re too magic to fuck” before she leaves.

Kimiko looks at Frenchie confused as fuck, ofc.

The lovely @daddy-winter asked me what I thought because they’ve been announcing for a while now that their characters will drift apart this season, and I think this scene is key in understanding that.

Their relationship has been interpreted in many ways throughout the show, and this scene marks it clearly as romantic, as it shows Cherie being jealous or at least annoyed with how much attention he’s giving Kimiko. This also resembles a scene in S1 when she demands to know when he’ll be with her again. Then it takes a turn when Frenchie tells her he’d never sleep with her (which seemes to be disproved when he later tries to kiss her).

The way I see it, this scene was too open-ended, and at the same time, gave away too much of what’ll happen with them. I also don’t think it’s truly fitting with Cherie’s character since she later learns Frenchie tried to kiss Kimiko and is not excessively annoyed nor surprised (CHERIE KNEW FROM THE BEGINNING AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL).

We don’t see all the glimpses into their relationship and everyday life. In fact, when S2 begins we’re taken already into present day with no clarifications as to how much time passed (it doesn’t seem like more than a few weeks) or what has happened in that time (except for Butcher disappearing and them hiding with the gun smugglers). But we get this scene, which, as another user commented, is incredibly romantic in the way Frenchie straight-up affirms he would never sleep with Kimiko.

And now we get to the dreaded 2x04 and the terribly terribly timed kiss.

2x04 and dumbass Frenchie’s fucked up timing

The third episode ended with the death of Kimiko’s brother by Stormfront (played brilliantly by Aya Cash, btw) and her staring at the TV with boiling anger and grief.

The fourth episode begins pretty much the same way, and it reminds us of an earlier version of Kimiko: disheveled, huddled up under a table and staring at the TV in a dark room.

Frenchie, who was first introduced as a character way too comfortable with taking pills, stops getting high in S1 (coincidentally when he meets Kimiko). Then, all of a sudden, we start 2x04 with him snorting coke and getting high as a kite (Butcher’s words, not mine). The stress of the situation could be triggering enough on its own, but as we talked about at the beginning of this post, he’s seen relaxing instantly when Kimiko is around. However, the minute they start drifting away even the slightlest (them not being able to communicate, her isolating herself to grieve her brother) he feels the need to consume again.

That’s how he finds her: high, tense, and emotionally destroyed. An explosive mix, to say the least. He goes up to her to comfort her, but does the stupidest thing he could do: he goes in for a kiss. Of course, she pushes him away swiftly, and is shocked and angry.

The timing is terrible: she’s grieving her brother and the last thing she needs is to deal with this right now, especially when the show has already established that she’s emotionally fragile and not ready for more than slight contact (and just with Frenchie).

Once again referring to Karen’s interview, when asked about her brother’s death and whether or not it will be a setback in her character’s development:

“But then because of this loss, it’s going to create rifts within her relationships, especially with Frenchie. In a way, it’s not necessarily Frenchie’s fault or anything he does. Actually, scratch that. He does do something. But Frenchie’s not the source of the pain, you know? The source of the pain is the death, and she doesn’t deal with it. I mean, nobody deals with death the right way. The rest of the season is her grappling with how to deal with loss and grief”.

Later in the episode, Frenchie goes to Cherie (for the first time in presumably a long time) and they sleep together. Afterwards, she asks him to tell her what’s wrong and he admits to trying to kiss Kimiko. He affirms he was just “trying to make her feel better.” I’ve seen some discussions about how this means the relationship could still be platonic and he didn’t know any other way to do it, but I want to offer a different approach.

We already know Kimiko is inexperienced. I mean, it’s not explicitly said but we can all assume she probably doesn’t know a lot about normal, functional relationships apart from the one with her brother. Everything she’s known outside of that is violence, abuse and cruelty.

But we forget Frenchie is just as inexperienced.

They both come from abuse, and even though he prides himself in being succesful with women, Frenchie has never been in love. He doesn’t know how to properly love someone or communicate with them. Yes, he has had sex, but he doesn’t know anything about intimacy (sexual or otherwise). Kimiko was the one to show him, and the only way he can think of to comfort her is sexually, as it seems to be the thing that works for him (that, and drugs). This is confirmed when he later goes to sleep with Cherie to drown his sorrows, probably still high or drunk or both.

His face in Cherie’s bed as he tries to convey his feelings is heartbreaking. He just doesn’t know how to function in such a situation, and he’s terrified that he destroyed their bond by going too fast.

There’s another deleted scene set in 2x04 where Kimiko is in her room watching Stormfront’s speech and she finds a mouse wandering about. She feeds him, as it probably reminds her of her brother (her nickname for him was Mouse because he used to feed mouses in the camp that didn’t have a mom). Then later, she tries to feed it again and finds it dead under her bed, caught in a mousetrap. She breaks down and goes to Stormfront’s rally as Frenchie keeps pounding her door, pleading her to let him in. He hears the noise and forcibly opens the door, only to realize she’s gone.

The next we see of them is already at Stormfront’s rally, where he saves her from literally killing herself. As Frenchie says, she will not survive. Stormfront is more powerful and dangerous and she’s probably too weak anyway to fight her again. She looks at him and it’s clear there’s no resentment from before in her eyes. Kimiko feels safe with Frenchie, and she feels love for him:

Look at this and tell me they don’t love each other, I DARE YOU

But her grief and her vengeance are too much of an obstacle right now. She needs to leave and sort it out. It’s a clever, intelligent move for her character and for once I’m so glad the writers are aware that female characters are more than their romantic interest. She gets annoyed at him when he tells her “let’s go home”, for the simple reason that he’s not understanding her. He does it out of pure concern for her, but also comprehensible selfishness: he loves her and doesn’t want her to die. But by doing that, he’s belittling her need to get revenge for her brother. In this matter, Kimiko feels alone for the first time, and it mirrors the S1 scene where he offers her a choice to leave and find her brother. Now, he just can’t bear to see her go (of course now she’s in a lot more danger, but still).

This episode is so perfectly described in a post by @pineapplesperhaps: it is about love. From the title (Nothing Like It in the World) to the whole plot: the women talking about it and relationships in a ‘When Harry met Sally’ style (about communication, which is sorely lacking between them this season); every character’s story this episode is marked by love in this, in all of its forms: Hughie and Starlight, Butcher and Becca, Homelighter and milk. And then himself. Thinking about it, let’s not bring that up ‘cause it was too disturbing. Also please stop writing scenes about Homelander and milk I can’t bear it anymore wRITERS-

Karen mentions in the interview that there’s an episode this season about Frenchie’s background story that will also cause another shift (not rift, mind you) in their relationship. I’m so excited about it.

I think their drifting apart was inevitable and necessary to a degree for them to be able to come together in a healthy way. Kimiko is learning who is she as a free person, as a Supe, as a member of The Boys, and it’s hard to do so while figuring out the complex relationship with Frenchie. I don’t think she didn’t want him to approach her romantically, but the timing, as everyone has pointed out, was terrible to say the least. They are both new to this kind of bond and need to find the common ground necessary to get closer.

I am hopeful that this rift will only make their bond stronger and help them move forward with their relationship. The show has already established that Frenchie feels attraction towards Kimiko (as much as you want to comfort someone you don’t kiss them if you see them as a little sister or a daughter; besides, in the deleted scene with Cherie, she asks him if he sees her as those things and he denies it), and I think it’s pretty clear those feelings are returned, just expressed differently. The way all their physical interactions in the show have been initiated by Kimiko prove this.

To conclude this essay about the pairing that will probably kill me, I want to recommend a fanvid of them with a song that perfectly describes them: x&y by Coldplay. The lyrics talk about a lover the singer tries to comfort after a terrible loss but being ultimately unable to do so.

Trying hard to speak And fighting with my weak hand Driven to distraction It's all part of the plan When something is broken And you try to fix it Trying to repair it Anyway you can

I dive in at the deep end You become my best friend I wanna love you But I don't know if I can I know something is broken And I'm trying to fix it Trying to repair it Anyway I can

This is the video, it’s perfect and beautiful.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk and please keep up the fanfiction, you’re the ones that keep me going till Friday arrives.

#frenchie #kimiko #frenchie x kimiko #kimiko x frenchie #the boys #the boys season 2 #the boys spoilers #the boys spoilers season 2 #i will literally die next week #when i tell you i GASPED when he went in for a kiss #like i knew he was into her fuck holy fuck the writers are not playing #we all know kimiko is the one that's going to kiss him next time

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