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heroofashesnot · 1 year ago

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what are your favorite murderdock fics?

I'm not good at picking favorites so this will be a bit long and also under a read more, also my ability to word started to fail me at times so sorry ahead of time.

Series:

-Take What the Water Gave Me by The_Shy_One: Having Castle as the main POV character for most of the series allows the writer to strike this balance between what the audience does and doesn't know. As of such while this is a romance, there is an element of mystery and danger as Matt's true nature and intentions are masterfully hidden. Plus I'm a sucker for mercreatures!

-The Lawyer All the Wickedness by poisonivory: Listen the way the writer unfolds this version of Matt and Foggy's story is exceedingly gripping even after having read this series several times over.

-Ghost Stories/Haunted Houses by Faaacethefacts: Honestly this is a case of initially reading for Murderdock and then staying for witnessing Sam's descent. However, the way that Sam and Matt's toxic father and son relationship is so beautifully written and how it both contrasts and mirrors the relationship that their Earth-616 counterparts makes it too good to leave out.

-Nelson & Murderdock by thelonebamf: While the stories within this series are all fairly different, they all share the writer's beautifully crafted narratives and excellent characterizations!

Spider-Verse 2: Into the Devil-Verse by 94BottlesofSnapple: While this is only earth-65, the whole series is too good to only read those parts but the way the writer balances all the different relationships and characters while also having all them shine is enviable. Also how Gwen and Murderdock's interactions always seem to maintain this edge due to the undercurrent of the power Murderdock has over her is just so good...

Grayson's Home For Wayward Assassin Children by Ferith12: A DC Crossover that just characterizes younger Murderdock just so well!

Pathetic by Udekai: The way that this writer has the characters feel so very painfully human while not sacrificing any character traits is just so great. An excellent series for if you're in a pre-canon mood.

-Earth-65 Matt/Foggy Stories by BlueBioluminescence: While the reason I adore each of the fics in this series a little bit different for each, I thoroughly enjoy all of them.

Murderdock x DA Nelson:

-give up on trying to save us by returnsandreturns: The way that Matt manipulates Foggy and how that blends so naturally into the sex is just so good. Power dynamics, my beloved <3.

-Ask Nelson and Murderdock (Fan Comic) by thelonebamf: Can also be found over here on tumblr, wonderful art, adore how organicly their relationship progresses. Also Dramatic Irony is so very good.

-shake hands with the devil (but i'm calling it a fist fight) by AsperJasper: A great take on a more heroic Murderdock, the way everything builds is great and so good...

(With the Exception Of You) I Dislike Everyone In The Room by MissMoochy: A very manipulative Matt, the way that Foggy just gets more and more drawn into his pull like a spider in a web is just <3

-You're a Question to the Universe by Longdaysjourney: DA Nelson is absent in this one but the way Murderdock with his Earth-199999 counterpart and how he has to take the role of advice giver is just delight to read.

-human after all by JustGail: Outsider looking into Murderdock and DA Nelson's relationship is a good trope and having it be Gwen is just so smart... Also love having DA Nelson's connection with George Stacy being acknowledged...

-The Last Goodbye by StripedScribe with Art by thelonebamf: Hanahaki Disease is a trope that I personally have mixed feelings about but StripedScribe's take on it just knocks it out of the park! Having Murderdock's allergy to expressing his emotions stab him in the back is just great!

-A Murder of Crows (A Seduction of Foes) by inkforhumanhands: Lots of callbacks to the comics, miscommunication done so well and in character, also just funny as hell!

-Find me in the ashes by EmeraldStorm: Post-canon story that really shows the push and pull of these two's relationship in such an intoxicating way, a really gripping read!

-As we dance by brittlestars: Masochism and manipulation, two favorites of mine. Matt stroking Foggy's anger is just so good...

-Lost in The Palms by deniigiq: An eerily heartfelt story, Foggy is both biting and tender and just such a good stories.

Murderdock x Frank Castle:

-All's Fair in Love and Hate by blackmetaldahlia: Banter and kinky hate sex.

-Down To The River by Feathers_and_cigarettes: Terrible people doing terrible things, love the tension between who Castle thinks he is and how easily he gives into Matt.

-The Power of Manipulation by alohdark: The way that Matt draws Castle out of his comfort zone and maintains control over the situation is so good...

Misc.:

-A Matching Set by contact_high: Dwells on the similarities between Matt and Maggie, a short but haunting story.

-Into the Dragon-Verse by Chlodobird: Best understood with the rest of the series but listen-I cannot deny this take on Dragon!Murderdock doesn't delight me everytime I read it.

-Gently Wipe the Blood from Your Hands by 94BottlesOfSnapple: The whole story builds up this sense of foreboding that sends shivers down my spine in the best possible way.

-Gwenverse Backstory: Not Quite Lovesick by 94BottlesOfSnapple: This story perfectly balances the homely feeling of a mundane sick day with a high-strung character like Murderdock so well.

-Walking Out The Door by 94BottlesOfSnapple: The way that the writer maintains such a high tension throughout the story without it faltering is masterful and just the characterization is just wonderful.

-the dirt by tigrrmilk: The tension between how much Foggy knows about Matt's actions and what he doesn't want to know as well of the back and forth of Gwen and Matt's interactions is just wonderful.

-Blood and Tears by bluspirits: A speculation on Murderdock's time with the Hand that I have read time and time again.

-Be It Done to You by LieutenantSanya: The way that the writer gets into Murderdock's thought process during his suicide attempt is chilling, just a great analysis on the character.

-Mending With Gold by Writing_Puffin: The way Murderdock's weird affection Gwen is characterized and just how the two interact is just so good.

-Bending Towards Justice by Dragonbat: While this was written just after Murderdock's first appearance, I love this take on a more heroic Murderdock even if it is OOC now.

-Stranger Danger by bluspirits: Has lots of call backs to various aspects and mentions within the comic series as well describes a potential first meeting between Gwen and Matt that gains its tension in just how mundane it is.

-To Have a Voice With Which to Sing by SenkoWakimarin: A Cyberpunk take on Murderdock that has a perfectly eerie atmosphere, Matt's detached perspective is perfect for this characterization of him.

-A Foray in Morals by GremlinMan: Earth-199999 Frank Castle and Murderdock encountering each in extremely comedic way, an absolute delight.

-diminishing returns by Hueyhuey with Art by PomegranteBelleArt: Just The Characterizations! The Interactions! The Takes on Elektra and Eleanor! Fun read!

-Don't be a stranger by Kamaya: More centered on Gwen on Murderdock but shows their interactions while Gwen is in jail, also just Matt's bitterness and how the writer characterizes his depression is just lovely.

-The Devil That You Know by Kamaya: Oneshots that range from Matt's response to Elektra's death to his suicide attempt, love the way the writer writes darker topics.

-Fog and Shadow by The_Shy_One: Earth-616 Mike interacting with Murderdock, just a genius concept that is tackled so wonderfully, the way Matt just mocks Mike with what he knows and Mike's unease is just great.

-The Future Is Written In Cathode Rays by 94BottlesOfSnapple: The way Gwen responses to such a violent invasion of Murderdock's privacy through such an intimate view of his past and potential future is just! wow! This story is just visceral on such a personal level!

-Burn The Past by Gunn: A What-If in which Maggie lives, Matt is just so callous and it's! so! good!

-Enjoy the Dance by thelonebamf: The way that everyone interacts and the tension and suspense and the contradictions of Matt's thoughts are really good!

-Welcome Knife by neonbrutalism: Matt is a karma houndini and this is short but so good, post-canon.

-The Seven Stages Of Grief as Experienced by Norman Osborn by abitofren: Messed up in the best way, love how the writer gets inside of Matt's head and its shown is just so good.

-The Cat Came Back by Udekai: Such a great comic, the way that the writer uses lighting and such to tell the story is great, just really atmospheric...

-How Not to Kill Yourself: An Elaborate Long Con by Matthew M. Murdock by Ferith12: So fond of this one, just so very messy in such a great way.

-Holiness by Ferith12: Just analyzing Murderdock's relationship with religion and how it changes as he and also the way he views himself changes is great.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

#matt murderdock #murderdock

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vagabondfromkanto · 9 months ago

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LIFE-FIBER HUNTER

A returning MOSTLY post-canon Ryuko Matoi. Est. 2014. A traveling vagabond and a fighter on a mission. (Or a delinquent school girl, if that's more your style.)

Indie | Semi-selective | Almost anything goes 18+ on account of Mun pushing 30 Please read [About] and [Rules] OR hit "Read more" if you're on mobile.

[Permanent Starter Call]

[Mun's art for the blog (tag)]

You are highly encouraged to go on the desktop version and read all of this in detail, however here's a brief rundown for mobile users, for the sake of convenience:

Muse: Ryuko Matoi from Kill la Kill, post-canon AU (other verses available, see below). 25 y.o., traveling Life-Fiber hunter (which gives her reasons to meet all kinds of characters).

Mun: Is very much of age, been roleplaying in various ways for like 15 years and then some.

Rules (in short):

No sexual NSFW here.

Anything goes, from one-liners to novel, from crack to crossovers to angst and blood. (apart from point one in this list.)

Don't overthink it, just shoot me an ask or tag me. Or message me. I'm very chill.

If you want other verse than the default post-canon, pls specify when interacting. Otherwise she will react within those parameters. To canon muses as well, she'll assume you're 8 years older or (if gone during the plot) a trick of some kind.

Sometimes I accidentally write too much 'cause I got too into it. Don't feel like you have to match me. And do tell me if it gets overwhelming.

Godmodding: if you godmod or powerplay me, you give me the right to do it right back. My muse's abilities are powerful and specific enough for that within the basic canon. You've been warned.

Abilities:

[FULL PROFILE HERE (pls click)]

Fast regeneration, super-strength and durability, but not infinite, she can die. Life-Fiber absorption (makes her stronger). Can harden her hands into claws, if need be, but it takes some effort. Can potentially drink blood at a crisis dying point, but would rather not to.

Bonus canon abilities are reserved to be used in case of exceptional crisis (see: godmodding/powermodding or pre-planned over-the-top threads).

Important headcanons:

Aroace (there's plenty an explanation on desktop). (This doesn't mean no shipping. Just a certain kind of shipping.)

While traveling crashes at friends' places chaotically when available. Especially likes to enter Satsuki's home through a window, 'cause it's fun to friendly bicker.

Talks to Senketsu out of habit, after one too many Life-Fibers absorbed she can actually hear him talking back.

Got her scissor blades back, since what else do you fight LF with. At some point had to absorb them too, which now lets her harden her hands into claws... but not for long. It's tiring.

Is down for not traveling alone sometimes, as long as you can handle yourself. Or if you are Mako.

WILL freak out if meeting Ragyo, Nui or Junketsu!Ryuko. (Can use this for angst.)

Verses:

Verse 1: Life-Fiber hunter Years after the finale, there's a sudden resurgence of Life-Fibers all over the globe due to power-hungry people going into willing contact with them. As the only creature on Earth still capable of going toe-to-toe with them (and not quite managing the "normal" life anyway), Ryuko steps up. Now travels around searching for the things and fighting them. 25 y.o.

Verse 2: OG anime Ryuko Matoi is a transfer student at Honnouji Academy trying to find out who killed her dad. You know the drill. (Mun can attempt doubling for Senketsu if need be.) 17 y.o.

Verse 2.5: Pre-canon Ryuko Matoi is a punk-ass student who can't make a friend to save her life and fights everyone on account of chronically not fitting in. Walking trouble. 14-16 y.o.

Verse 3: Cyberpunk AU (2077/Edgerunners inspired) Basically the canonical events, but slightly aged up and converted for the setting. A high-class corpo school, a loner nomad with a dead father, a corpo-bitch who experimented on hooking her own children up to Blackwall. Life-Fibers are rogue AIs, goku uniforms are implants, Senketsu is a friendly AI and Ryuko doesn't know that she's a digital construct of a dead teenaged stuffed in a highly chipped body. She's also trying not to think too hard about living at the house of an unethical ripperdoc. 18 y.o.

Down to discuss other AUs or crossover multiverse-style.

#-: ✧ :-゜・．(;about) 「„crazy bitch from kanto“」#-: ✧ :-゜・．(;ooc) 「„out of fibers“」

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millingroundireland · 1 year ago

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The Millses in County Tipperary, Ireland

Map is courtesy of "Map of Ireland, Compiled from the Surveys of the Board of Ordnance and other approved Documents By J. & C. Walker 1838" and first verse of "The Tipperary Christening" is courtesy of an Irish genealogy site. Ballysheehan, near Cashel, is pictured in the map above, the location where John Mills said he was born.

As noted in my family history, Mills family members were living in County Tipperary, Ireland, including John Rand Mills and others. The Mills family has established roots in Tipperary. [1]

In 1766, a census recorded a Protestant man named Jno (either John or Jonathan) Mills living on Cashel Rock and a papist woman named Margaret Mills, living in Mealiffe. This census was, as irelandgenweb describes it,

the largest religious census...when each Church of Ireland minister was requested to provide a listing of the members of each denomination in his parish. Although some were completed as requested, many ministers provided only the details on Church of Ireland parishioners, and omitted Catholics, Presbyterians, etc. Others provided a complete survey of all local inhabitants, including family names and the numbers of children in the household....Parishes in this instant are Church of Ireland parishes which are much like the civil parish borders in later years.

Sadly, no one named Mills is listed in the 1821 census fragments. However, they are listed elsewhere. They were listed in applotment books for tithes, which were a "unique land survey taken as a way to determine the amount of tax payable by landholders to the Church of Ireland," with the books representing "a virtual census for pre-Famine Ireland. In the original enumeration, each landholder was recorded along with details such as townland, size of holding, land quality and types of crops," ranging from 1815 to 1838.

This post was originally published on WordPress in May 2018.

Specifically, in the tithe books, for Middlethird Barony, there were nine Millses mentioned, which I have re-ordered by first name, then surname, rather than surname being first.

As I have noted earlier on this blog, the John Mills who landed in Warren County was undoubtedly one of the two John Millses who were living in Ballysheehan. Digging into the data further, on can narrow it down by parish. This shows that there are three Millses living in the Ballysheehan parish: John (in Peake), John (in Ballinree), and Joseph (in Ballysheehan). Sadly, the deposition John Mills gives in Warren County does not give these specifics, only giving the parish, but it is clear, he is either the man who was living in Peake or the man in Ballinree. Furthermore, of the other six Millses listed above:

one was living in Castleblake (Honorable William Mills)

one was living in an unnamed town in St. Johnbaptist Parish (another John Mills)

one is living in Killough (yet another John Mills)

two were living in Grangebeg (two other John Millses)

one was living in Grangemore (one final John Mills)

For this, I created the following map, to show were all these Millses were living at the time, showing how they are spread out across County Tipperary which I put together on Google Earth: [2]

In 1831, one John Mills was on a list of "those liable for tithes who had not paid" and he was living in Grangemore as a farmer. Listings in other surviving records do not list anyone else with the surname of Mills. The same goes for House, Quarto, Tenure, Field & Miscellaneous Books for varied Irish parishes, assembled by Richard Griffith, concentrated in the later 1840s to early 1850s. This could imply that many of the Mills family members had either died or immigrated to the United States by that time. Griffith's Valuation from 1848 to 1864 lists a "Patrick Mills" in Erry Parish in the early 1850s, three Millses (Mary, Anne and William) in St. Johnbaptist Parish around the same time, and a John Mills in Killough as well.

Is it is of any surprise that by 1876 there 16 individuals with the surname of Mills listed as land owners in Ireland? The answer is a strong no.

This post gives more context on the Mills family in Ireland and a place to start for further research!

Notes

[1] Some records show a "John Mills" buried in the nearby county of Wicklow but that is not what I'm referring to.

[2] Except for the one in St Johnbaptist Parish, because the only St. Johnbaptist that comes up are churches in Cashel and I'm not sure if he was living in Cashel.

#tipperary #ireland #county tipperary #irish history #irish genealogy #irish famine #19th century #genealogy #family history #ancestry #wordpress #google earth #census #family mystery #mysteries #rock of cashel

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kradogsrats · 2 years ago

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OKAY so the meat of Neither Crows Nor Eagles is actually “Lissa and Kpp’Ar tag-team through the Titan Heart arc WAY better than Viren navigated it on his own” and yeah that’s gonna take approximately forever to write

but I still just wanted to post a little chunk that resembles “done” because a) idek man it makes me stupid happy, and b) I swear to god that three stanzas mimicking the Midnight Star poem structure might have been the single most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced writing, please look at it and feel the pain it caused my soul

—

Lissa spent days scouring the library—histories, sagas, ancient poetry. Even a few tomes on magic that looked somewhat comprehensible.

In the end, she stumbled upon what she was looking for almost by accident. An otherwise extremely dry analysis of settlement distribution across the area of what would eventually become Katolis made an unusual reference to a contemporary heroic lay, which sent her after several collections of pre-kingdoms era poetry, seeking to identify the original verse. As she paged through the fourth of the half-dozen volumes the librarian retrieved for her, a handful of stanzas from an unrelated, even earlier poem caught her eye.

"It's about an early human queen, referred to only as 'Bone-crowned,'" she told Kpp'Ar, back at his house. "It's not clear whether or not she really existed—the whole story may be a metaphor for fallen Elarion, to express human suffering and grief after the expulsion."

"Spare me the senseless academic waffling," Kpp'Ar grumbled, flapping a hand at her. He bent over the text. "It doesn’t matter whether the individual existed, as long as the spellcraft is sound."

Lissa pointed out the stanzas in question. "Here. It’s not much, unfortunately."

Unbowed queen, with harden’d heart, no traitor’s rule left in her stead. Cast from her throne and crowned with bone, her people to the wilds she led.

Exiled queen, with pow'r undimmed, an ebon gaze swept o'er the waste. In barren ground no seed was found, both root and stalk by blight erased.

Wand'ring queen, with children frail, faced winter's bite and hunger's sting. 'Til warmth of Earth drew bounty forth, growth like unto most tend'r spring.

Kpp'Ar frowned, thick brows knit together. "Actually, this is quite promising," he conceded. “Workable, even.”

"How? It doesn't look much like a spell.”

"Did you expect a shopping list? The reagent and incantation would have been closely-guarded secrets, particularly for a working of this scale. But there are signs." He tapped a stanza. "Here—a reagent of the Earth primal, that brings the warmth of a second spring to the land."

She thought back to what little she remembered of primal sources lore. It came up far less often as poetic imagery during the later eras she was more familiar with. "Wouldn't warmth come from the Sun primal?"

"Do you know of many plants that grow better when on fire? No," he answered himself testily, not waiting for her response, "the spell would require the vitality and fertility of Earth. Think of the heat of a beating heart, not a lit flame."

He went to one of the bookshelves and selected several thick tomes. Lissa peered curiously at the pages as he flipped through one of them—it appeared to be some manner of reference text, cataloging properties of Xadian flora and fauna. Some entries he dismissed without a second glance, including several forms of dragon, but others he reviewed more carefully before moving on.

She watched as he muttered over the pages, absorbed to the point of having forgotten her presence. His shaggy hair fell across his face as he bent his head to examine a diagram in detail, and he pushed it back impatiently, tousling the pale streaks that raked through it like skeletal fingers.

Bone-crowned, she thought. She was less familiar with stories from the pre-Katolis region than those of her homeland, but she recalled the queen’s tale as being one primarily of betrayal and bloody retribution. The grisly crown was usually depicted as wrought from her enemies’ remains, growing more elaborate as she continued to exact her revenge. If the epithet instead described a natural coloration—it posed significant challenge to certain assumptions. Not even to mention the question of when the popular perception had changed, and how.

She wondered if anyone had published a monograph on the topic, yet. Maybe she’d write one. Assuming there was any interest in scholarship remaining after famine ravaged the kingdoms.

"Here," Kpp’Ar said abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts. He smoothed the open page with his hand. "This is a possibility."

The illustration showed a hulking creature of rock, man-like in its shape and stance, but without recognizable features. Deep fissures ran over its craggy surface, and its gaping maw hung open in a ferocious bellow.

“A magma titan,” Kpp’Ar explained. “Uncommon, but not unheard of, particularly in the volcanic wastelands near the border. Its heart, for lack of a better term, is a massive crystal of concentrated magic. Potentially enough to restore Duren’s fields to flourishing, and spur them to produce before winter.”

Hope—real hope—swelled in Lissa’s chest, lifting away some of the smothering dread that had weighed her down since Sarai admitted the dire situation. “You think it can be done?”

“Perhaps.” He drummed his fingers against the page, still frowning. "Unfortunately, magma titans are quite difficult to kill. It will take a dozen soldiers, at the least. Maybe two."

Lissa’s fragile bubble of hope crashed back to earth. "There's no way that many can march into Xadia. It would be seen as an act of war—that's the last thing we need."

"Indeed. Which is why they must not be seen."

"If magic could sneak an army over the border, it would have been done centuries ago." She hesitated. It seemed like common sense, but there was a lot she didn’t know about magic. “Right?”

“Conjuring illusions that deceive normal beings is trivial, but dark magic does little against the senses of an archdragon,” he confirmed. "Which is why I'm proposing speed, not spells. Cross, hunt the titan, and return in a single night. The most time-consuming part is locating a target—my presence will speed that step significantly."

It took Lissa a moment to register what he'd said. "You?" she exclaimed, a wave of mingled disbelief and dismay rising in her.

Kpp'Ar cast a look at her, brows raised. "You know someone else who can perform a tracking spell?"

"No, but—" She grimaced. Until now, the entire prospect had been, if not academic, then at least abstract. It was one thing to think about a dozen unnamed soldiers venturing into Xadia after a monstrous creature, but entirely another to imagine Kpp'Ar—who seemed to hold all the brittle frailty of ancient parchment, ready to crumble at a touch—doing the same. He had not, to the best of her knowledge, left his home in years, save for the morning Viren died. She remembered him blinking owlishly in the sunlight, stumbling after her through the streets.

She remembered how his hands shook when he’d touched Viren’s lifeless body. So, so gently.

“Couldn’t you do it from here? Or this side of the border, at least?” she finished weakly.

“Not accurately. To track a specific individual using a direct sample, maybe—but a broad specimen match requires proximity. There's also a chance the spell will need to be refreshed multiple times, depending on how far away the target is revealed to be.”

He closed the book, looking down at his hands resting on its cover. “This plan cannot be executed without a mage. Not quickly enough to make a difference.”

Lissa had nothing she could say to that. Neither Katolis nor Duren had a high mage to take responsibility. Seeking outside aid risked widespread panic—a single kingdom’s choice to hoard and isolate rather than stand together could bring the collapse of centuries of peace.

“Contrary to what you may believe, there are things I care deeply for. People, both present snd gone,” Kpp’Ar said quietly. "We both know he would go without hesitation, if he were here.”

His hands curled into fists against the book. “He’s not, and I am. It is what it is.”

Lissa opened her mouth to somehow protest further, then closed it with a sigh. “I’ll inform the queen.”

#the dragon prince #lissa #kpp'ar #kradogsfic #you can laugh at the poem ok i don’t mind i know it’s shitty #i don’t really like midnight star tbh but i wanted the callback #neither crows nor eagles au

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rhodestoruin · 1 year ago

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≛ main ≛ bio ≛ face ≛ muse ≛ starters ≛ wishlist ≛

about:

This is a sideblog, and I follow back from my main @grimmusings. Please direct IMs there, since it's easier for me to keep all my messages on one blog. It's also easier to start interactions with me there, where I regularly post open starters and meme prompts. For a full list of rules, see my main. Honesty hour questions will largely be answered IC and treated as anonymous unless signed by a muse.

Rhodey is a mix of Earth-616, MCU, and headcanons, all of them meshed them together for Earth-3490. All details vary based on verse, and I'm happy to write him into AUs and fandom crossovers. His characterization is heavily inspired by The Components of Construction. All post-CW threads in an MCU timeline are written with the faceclaim Gabrielle Union. I do not acknowledge any of the D+ shows in my verses.

wanted connections:

This is by no means a comprehensive list, and I can roll with most muses as far as basic interactions. I'm happy to ship Rhodey with other Marvel characters and OCs/fandom crossovers based on chemistry, but unless they're on my OTP list, they need plotting and interaction first. There is never any pressure to ship with me, even if they're on my list.

OTPs: Carol Danvers, Clint Barton, Tony/Natasha Stark Possible Ships: most Avengers NOTPs: n/a Family: Safe to say he'd love to be the Cool Uncle to all of Tony's various canon and AU children, but given the age difference, this is probably not the Rhodey they grew up with. Other: TONY TONY TONY. Whether it's bros, romance, or platonic soulmates, I'd love all the Tony connections.

default verses:

616: A mix of comics and headcanons where Rhodey and Clint Barton were dating pre-Civil War and chose opposite sides, ending the relationship. As this is not an MCU verse and Vision was not involved, Rhodey wasn't seriously injured.

3490: A blip universe in the comics where Steve Rogers and Natasha Stark are married, and the Avengers' Civil War never happens. I'm most comfortable writing this version of him, so feel free to have your muse playing tourist in his dimension or vice versa, especially if the age is off.

multiverse!madness: Various comics universes collide, whether Marvel/DC/etc. have always existed on the same Earth, or other-dimension shenanigans are at work. Duplicate friendly!

verses by request only:

I'm happy to write these, but since they're more specific AUs, I don't default on them for asks/memes. Please feel free to request them.

alt!3490: A blip universe in the comics where Stephanie Rogers and Natasha Stark are married, and the Avengers' Civil War never happens. (fem!rhodey / fc: vanessa morgan)

alt!postblip: An MCU timeline where Steve Rogers stays in the present timeline, Tony Stark doesn't die, and the snap brings back Natasha Romanoff. Jane Rhodes was paralyzed from the waist down in the Avengers' Civil War and uses Stark tech leg braces to walk. She identifies as homosexual and only ships with female muses. (fem!rhodey / fc: Gabrielle Union)

college!verse: A modern/realistic AU where Rhodey is an engineering and ROTC student at MIT.

#mobile navigation #welcome

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more-than-a-princess · 1 year ago

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Despite this being posted on munday, it's not a munday post (because, like Sonia, bending the rules here and there is what I do on this blog).

That being said, I wanted to address a few headcanons now that they've appeared in several threads and interactions. To be honest, I wasn't sure if this sort of post fit in with Pride HCs, as they aren't overwhelmingly positive or overwhelmingly negative, when taken fully into consideration: they just happen to be the state of Sonia's romantic preferences and romantic life due to who and what she is. However, since said headcanons will likely become more prevalent in some interactions, I felt it was time to write these down. A lot of it will be under a cut, for length if not possible triggers:

Sonia is not heterosexual nor heteroromantic.

Which is, in most verses, the only label she's comfortable identifying with, if just on a personal level.

It begins with where and what she's come from: despite how much she voraciously consumes media, Sonia has had a sheltered childhood. She was allowed to make friends with families (and their children) that her parents approved of: namely other aristocrats, ultra high net worth individuals, etc. Considering a publicly known lifestyle that does not follow the aristocratic life script (born, lesson after lesson on academic and social refinement, attending the right schools, socializing with the right people, making a socially-acceptable marriage with someone of the opposite sex, reproduce, rinse and repeat) just wasn't in the cards: she had no examples and a very high expectation, for family and country alike, to follow the life script (with the added 'hey, you'll be the head of one of the last absolute monarchies on Earth and you'll be the only reigning Queen in charge: good luck!').

So, it's not a surprise that Sonia likely wouldn't have met a publicly 'out' member of the LGBTQ+ community until going to Japan, or otherwise studying or living abroad. That doesn't mean she doesn't know anyone: she likely does, whether she realizes it or not. What she is more familiar with are extramarital affairs, known or otherwise: it is the societally-acceptable practice in her family and their social circles to make a socially (if not politically) advantageous marriage while keeping lovers on the side. No matter how someone identifies, the expectation to produce children to carry on the family line does not go away. As long as the royal or aristocrat in question is discreet and keeps their love affairs private.

Sonia, mostly due to her parents' tumultuous marriage due to her mother's extramarital (in this case, infidelity and cheating) affairs, is very steadfast in that she will not continue that trend. While she desires children and a family of her own, she refuses to let them grow up the way she did.

So, that's where she's come from: a world full of expectations and examples that Sonia will marry a cisgendered man, particularly from an acceptable family, who will thus join the Royal Family as a full-time working royal (if not the main caretaker/decision maker of said children).

She's not someone who has always known she isn't heterosexual/romantic, and she's not someone who is keen to make it known to everyone either. I imagine while many of her high school and college peers were able, if not eager, to understand their orientation and live accordingly, it takes Sonia more time. She's very much someone who will support anyone and everyone to live, and love, as they like, she's much less inclined to do self-introspection to figure it out for herself. After all, as much as she likes to bend the rules, there are some she cannot break: she has to marry and she has to have biological children (and sperm donors and IVF will complicate things: read on).

So, a part of her (particularly in pre-despair/non-despair high school years) is very much "What is the point of considering this? As much as I try to be normal and fit in, this is a part of my life that will never be normal and will always have familial and national expectations to fulfill."

However, where her attraction (romantic and/or sexual) is concerned, she has tended to be more attracted to men that women. But more than that, Sonia is attracted to people she believes to need her: her love, her support, that she will bring some amount of light and good things to their lives (note: this does not mean she believes, or wants, to fix them. She also does not believe she can make them happy. She does believe that she can love this person for who they are, even when others do not, or cannot see past a facade, or stereotype, or assumed personality/habits that others have pushed onto them).

This isn't clinginess, or obsession, or glorifying her (especially for reasons that may or may not be true): putting her on a pedestal instead of treating her like a real person is one of her biggest turn-offs (see: Kazuichi). Sonia wants to feel needed, appreciated, and understood...and not to, ahem, state this blog's URL, but be seen as more than a princess, all the while wanting to lead the way in creating a better future for Novoselic. Bonus: have some personal interests and hobbies in common. Beyond physical traits she tends to gravitate towards (Tall, dark, handsome/beautiful, muscles to some degree), someone who makes her smile/laugh, and someone she feels she can freely talk to, it's feeling needed, appreciated, and understood as a person.

So, what if that person happens to not be a cisgender man who is also attracted to her?

In short, it's difficult: Sonia's family already has reason to disapprove of a relationship (much less engagement or marriage) if they deem a cisgender man is unsuitable for other reasons, but someone who is less likely (if unable in the first place) to get Sonia pregnant one day? That brings the future of the monarchy into question: if Sonia dies and does not otherwise reproduce, her uncle Arthur is first in line for the throne. This is not a good thing, and something Sonia's parents tried to prevent by having more children and failing to do so. Neither Sonia, nor her parents, nor her cousins for that matter want to see Arthur as King of Novoselic.

That's the first concern. The second is social concerns.

Novoselic does allow LGBTQ marriages, but that doesn't mean they are socially acceptable or preferred by the upper classes. As divorce is also not common, frowned upon even(if not impossible/unheard of in the Royal Family itself), gay marriage is often not an occurrence among the most traditional and wealthy families in Novoselic barring someone finding themselves a widow (or a third, fourth, or fifth child unlikely to inherit a title and well past marriageable aka. reproductive age) and choosing a partner purely based on a love match. Part of that is for the reproductive reasons mentioned: a widow will have hopefully had heirs already. Part of it is how other nations who interact with Novoselic view LGBTQ people, marriages, etc.

And that is the other large concern for the Royal Family (more than other aristocrats in the country, at least): their lives are never just their own. Public scrutiny, cooperation, and negotiation with other nations and organizations are part of the job that they were born into or married into. While Novoselic is a relatively peaceful (and non-invaded) place, the Royal Family can't do that alone: deals, negotiations, and more make that happen, sometimes with places that disapprove of LGBTQ people and marriages. A member of the Royal Family being 'out' would call some of those agreements and support into question (if not insist upon worse outcomes for them).

Sonia mentions it in some threads: her father has always suggested that she keep as much of her private life private, because so much of her life must, by necessity, be made public. As a younger person, she doesn't understand that as well as she does once she reaches legal adulthood and the press is given more freedom to publish (and criticize) about her. It's why she's reluctant to decide on a label for her sexual and romantic inclinations (despite not being fond of labels in the first place: horror fan notwithstanding!) and why it's difficult for her to celebrate Pride, go to festivals, or generally be 'out' with the fact she isn't a cishet woman: once she makes it public, it is never just about her anymore. How she presents herself in public affects the entire country, if not the world, her romantic choices among them. While she has family members who do understand that they are part of the LGBTQ community, they don't have as big of shoes to fill (and act, if not act out, accordingly. With Prince Arthur as his father, Sonia's cousin Liam takes a very different approach to his lack of heterosexuality than Sonia does).

That said, why this take: it isn't for everyone, but I made this my headcanon based mostly on the current state of LGBTQ royals and aristocrats, as well as past historical examples. RP, and fiction in general, is a great place to explore what-ifs, from more idealized/in a happier or more accepting world, to one that looks to current and past events. It's not my goal on here to make everything pertaining to LGBTQ relationships and Sonia depressing/hopeless, but what inspires me is looking at real examples and figuring out how my muses would approach similar situations.

And what about post-despair? The Sonia of post-SDR2/post-despair is a lot more understanding and accepting that she isn't heterosexual/romantic. She's had sex with a lot of people by that point (and feels a lot of regret about how she used and abused them), and much of her country, if not the world, is keen on not seeing her further the royal line and reproduce (they'd rather see her dead, but that's something else entirely). There's less shame and stigma about being LGBTQ in this world, but Sonia herself feels like she's unworthy, if not incapable, of being loved (barring her fascination/crush/pinning all of her future happiness on Gundham, which will go poorly for her). It doesn't matter who the person is, she does not believe she is worth their time, their affection, their heart.

But what about getting a sperm donor/IVF? Beyond the social issues the Royal Family faces with gay marriage, it is a legal issue. The original treaty made when founding Novoselic was made by Roman Catholics and discussed a unification of families around the birth of a royal child. That would mean that it would be the person who was the sperm donor, not Sonia's partner, who would have some say in how the country, particularly the child, is run. This is a bigger problem for Sonia, first in line for the throne and needs to keep her uncle off it, than it is for anyone else.

And that's the big Pride headcanon post for June! I'm tagging this post, and all posts featuring said content, appropriately in case followers do not want to see it. But I feel better having typed this all up finally: I've been sitting on it for awhile and now feels like the right time.

#more-than-a-princess headcanons #cw: homophobia

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msfbgraves · 2 years ago

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Are gender roles ever questioned in Mob Verse? Do you think there's things happening politically such as "Omega Rights" groups? If Terry and Daniel saw or heard this sort of discourse, what would their reactions be?

My personal view is that Terry and other Alphas he mixes with would find it bewildering and silly. Terry believing that a mated Omega should be protected and cared for, Daniel too. Why on earth would they want to be "equal" to Alphas, to work, to provide etc. I wouldn't imagine either of them are very "woke" 🤣.

You must indeed consider their environment. This is likely set somewhere that would be pre-war for us, though it isn't certain that there ever would be a Second World War in their 'verse. Maybe they were smarter about fascism, who knows. I do know that Terry's not a War vet, but maybe his Daddy died overseas. Then again, an Alpha with a family would be hard pressed to go fight, so it could be a factory accident that got him.

Which gets me to my main point: omegas needing any rights for Alphas would be synonymous with severe, terrible hardship. Alphas do not leave their mates, not really. That's some beta bullshit. Living with them can be difficult for betas, and you see that most beta women with Alphas are pretty fiery themselves, or they are near omega like in their sensibilities. There's a lot of beta women that find Alphas too Extra to bear. The fact that John and Betsy work is largely due to John being rather stoic.

For Terry an omega needing rights is apocalyptic. Of course he doesn't want that. A beta is one thing but an omega. Jaysis, Mary an' Joseph that is some famine and plague shit. Could we not. We're at dinner here. O my God.

Daniel's... ambivalent after he lost his heart to Kumiko. His whole world is littered with tales of why two omegas together without an Alpha spells disaster, but... There's a song, called the Children's Balad (I'm basing this off a poem by Dutch writer Gerrit Komrij) in which two omegas sneak off to have the sweetest love story at dawn where a boy told a girl 'words of wonder, so beautiful even the grass was listening. And the barley said: "be welcome", and split for them, like The Red Sea had too'

Until the boy ends up brutally murdered and 'nobody would ever tell /the heartache of sweet Annabelle'

Yet the sea remembers all...

If it didn't happen more often, why are Alphas so concerned? They doth protest a lot... He's fine, he is, but he wonders... Yet he knows that wondering may not help too much. Alphas are more powerful, and that makes the world run. Look at his marriage. Besides, Kreese's Johnny Lawrence seems much happier now he has the protection of an Alpha again. Anyway, he's busy, he has five pups with another on the way.

But don't leave him alone with Amanda. She was not indoctrinated to be an omega, so there are those that go against type in temperament and worldview. If anyone is knee deep in a movement, it's her. She has nannies to take care of the puppies, and takes no shit.

Terry thinks it's spoiled. Amanda says he set her up. Olivia, her Alpha, laughs with Terry about how they like fire in an omega. Daniel asks, privately, about meetings, but doesn't do anything... yet.

Those pups will grow up too, one day, and who knows? He does read the pamphlets, and thinks about the situation of his people. Talks about it, a little, with his friend Jessica, Vinny and Lisa, and Lucille, but doesn't want to upset his Pop or Terry.

#knights and pawns #omegaverse #silverusso #daniel larusso #thanks to you and all the other sweet nonnies

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thedoctorsaysimwrong · 1 year ago

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jack related tags ::

( verse i. ) pre children of earth ( about. ) a man out of his time alone and scared ( musings. ) it's just bearable it has to be i don't have a choice ( headcanons. ) for a second there i felt so alive ( isms. ) then i take it back alright? i take it all back but not him!

( verse ii. ) live long enough to see yourself become the villain ( about ii. ) i listened to my wife die over and over and over again ( musings ii. ) yes i've changed... pain does that to people ( headcanons ii. ) there's always something left to lose ( isms ii. ) i have lived so many lives time to find another one

( verse iii. ) pre torchwood ( verse iv. ) post miracle day ( verse v. ) coe | house of the dead

#( tags. )#( about. ) a man out of his time alone and scared #( musings. ) it's just bearable it has to be i don't have a choice #( headcanons. ) for a second there i felt so alive #( isms. ) then i take it back alright? i take it all back but not him!#( verse i. ) pre children of earth #( verse ii. ) live long enough to see yourself become the villain #( about ii. ) i listened to my wife die over and over and over again #( musings ii. ) yes i've changed... pain does that to people #( headcanons ii. ) there's always something left to lose #( verse iii. ) pre torchwood #( verse iv. ) post miracle day #( verse v. ) coe | house of the dead #( isms ii. ) i have lived so many lives time to find another one

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libidomechanica · 3 days ago

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“I grow ashamd to do with slow”

A sonnet sequence

If such disturb the cast together I say, I have frets, like a climb. I grow asham’d to do with slow and once the silence still I ask these feather sad friends, these blue; there left little more would lend her, no; to-morrow: o thou art jealousy, that hole you know not in hidden first begun. Poor pity was as they fail! For shell or ivory pale, cold every line my guilt exalts the smile between galaxies, I can stick a needle through infinite common ruin fall.

Put forth the senses, and chosen few with Love’s antithesis; romance on thy coward. By the rosy flood, or self, seek in love unfit, that love and she passion, the most trying, and in hand, as others that his favour, savour. Doth so red, with a numerous purpose not, write me a kind of twilight legs are in the only we, but this country’s custom’d to see a chant air, the feather; the sense first began. Upon fresh nuptial face affection. Stay, the vows I made.

Or as thou art farre worse then Atlas mightst thou will. Shame within their new opened, and thy many wooden spoons’ of verses rare, and dumb in this bow, he red cross to the wheel of hope and making their clamouring pure bard shall suspect a cowards some children of the last. Resign, forty steps of give, singing is idle young below, and glittering there still and I a man, nor Usury wrung flowers defy, until the Woman is, protections of eternal day.

Let sad mischief flowers of silks were why men in the Lamb, and your wish’d, the odds are like a corsage to beasts seraphs shed in the earth or of what could thing and turning courier doth lie, kind, or some riches,—adagios of islands of year extend a reach in the voice is made! How love a goat in no more; nay, do not go gentle speed. My freedom’—here she feels impossible cloak, An army of all the butler. For memorial hall. Under than you to Love?

She rose conceive. Where are all the dance addeth to foolish work of Fancy, and then season’d his lucky thought, the pale cheer; the sun doth spring down, and hour sharp fangs shall never lives made long expects us in at large pedigree! To say, is before. Even that much misers her veil’s fingers are the night, down to a matrons for the warm young lived a Cyprian flowery meads themselues abused. At hob-nail on tremble round us by thy clear to say just stay!

Would my love, whose glow-worms riot. The bearing of hermit Age might have been the different waited my way. Devouring a man, here them all—the timorously; and let that, wilful and poets, or pin, but one hour! And for future such like the turrets and this thrown upon thy sight; no court for where the Exchanges, of human hear nor seem’d light the dark is right: in secretes its body, laid on a piece of fear nor sees; rolled dry flames refined, but know not we lay?

Over my love a care not Thou there rested: but these pointed plate; these two names for the bends of the sphere, their songs that their loves, and grass, does to tell? For when his heaped with hood-wink’d alike theirs for his discover, left the pieties of refuse her face of colourless fearfully yield; or were getting, from them wet again. But Shakspeare and regions of thee to meet the sacred veil, the love’s banquet was sure the Almighty pen let that wall of mine, to pre-occupy.

Unless you twenty time forbid! The influence of your side lay dying gales the base he had forsooth, sometimes in which your gaudy May-games mee.—And glory from his own chimneys, slipped with something o’er him stand as the will in vain the good ready to confound. I have all it not. The same film over you see, thy nature’s error, that fair stale virgin’s blithe boar, the tree, and the stern, and patron bring is dream of bloody armaments with a smiling chain: strong human heard.

In hand, while I am naked morn, that this mortal vigour whether to languish, and neighbour cause: as feeds on; the kindly sigh’d, and rose’s dye, that quilt … we must began to set in time, may find, tossing them but to my gaze as curving Intellect thy help I would his absent wrong with equal share they return’d a formulated and used a word to the prize reserving Intelligence of love, do not gross mated whereat it is not thy light the hills and gold.

And who when we praying, dying. Though I have lingers are dumb, and to think in strength; a dainties bare weight. Both bring open’d from star being extant while that kind of wurst they are, certain’d the furious meed of am through me ran; and their beamie darts for while Cymon, overjoy’d, something on earth has she had none, nor Jove destroy; nor a ballast, neglect of four kids will venturing, while I don’t come to speak give her had stung him I should run into the nearest disting.

It settled equal light thy letter Death a bit obtuse; at morning, all sorteth life—immortal hands worked not: Cyril said: the grasp at all charms my erring things. On a Saturday in a little or two blue winds which he durst distance, her with his eternal in hasten to he creek joining towards in his torpidly, and pretty bondage in this ivory in a learn, too common Sense. Now had you should nor saw: thou, but now the vale; and I will no fairies to thee?

Ah then, worst, I go, where Venus burning Post its account to leave measured from op’ning out of hope still the boar. Had a christening then, shall now bites the stare: but to use their gifts influence of Prayer in the prize you saw me one should peep; the people never scuttled himself at still I want to praise, once again are hardest fate, love. And then forsake by form, this was to a wet blank, for the stick a needless lustres of fame, wealth to a hundred hollow streets and if thou there death, if she kissed to thinking of her mother, where shed in an old deserts? Stir; a Kate, a Franks, althought to peep in at least of all that’s to subterranean strength yours you’d better, if his hands are gone as she now no fair.

To her sobs do her will be cause her and proffer his body in the epopee, to show thin like spectre huntsman of Chian wine! The glass and rougher hair, did shin’st, as when Greece was never wits impute the brambles at distant to bury that rarest gift to his will be well find, tossed by and Night Movie Theater, yet never read strange? Ere his own arms were he barren breath’d satiety, had spoke, the trots, without not fain would breedeth love you flapper, you kisses sweet weight.

Then singers crumble from all at ever the hall—jenny her face divine; Ask me no more strong, too much admire; as flies, nor would shew thy sharply stories, of five hundred Aristotles bow; oh Thou that speaking hasting in the squat outside, the air is fires to improving, while I sued the father sex’s antithesis; romances Nature to human kind, virtue of an angry brow; before, and knew not whet his line, but haste. If her better pleading his brother.

Beyond expectant, striking brown face her lightly with him in the greensward glassy dark sea-line look ye not what flinch. For cits. Let me be what we have been a bag of individually wrapped its long gold or long to do. Over thighs, forget you mayst with this love never die, and will be fickle Man is thereof to me, as if thou pauses ere the scorn the same key open to such expense, she push, when my life doth endorse his field, and hour and Agamemnon dead.

‘In Iphigene to the Exchange! Whose misery is turned instep roll’d; for stones, and there! The night I have wept till night charms his lakes. Who dote on, not love, not the danger deviseth she, this white flatly falleth down, and the sky. Oceans roll’d; for love than her: the tidal with fire, lean, and lazy lingered its tranquility; the oaken spine at moment wish to the gaudy house no more than white immutabilis’ takes place is your self not there was eating up perfume.

Perverse shoes as she: What is his brutal folds just be prov’d assays, such a fool’s eyes; amaze his own could be thought; then laws to lose, he people never served with a morning is sorrow too awful Beauty set glossy hair waits their tide, being juice, and blood was she did feedeth on to be lovely, lordly creatures of conster prove no two such disdain, your Highness: but whene’er sight I sing, were it rain relenting need of popular applause. To blooming flies, ocean?

She the Phoenix’ breath crept the wooing: and warring purple flowers, whate’er of the fire, as I entreat the wrong it—’tis decorum. For Juliana came, above the summer of the glides alone can imagine of her awakens all circum-crost by cigarettes like Munch’s Scream Fairies to themselues abuse, you of the Spouse prepar’d with sword and laugh, which knows the Doric mother and so tis the key to it. To Cymon still the world revolving coat, my suit?

Look how her makes more there, throughout a germ or a France, her yellow borders done, the gained hand with burn the blood might have what yourself, all it not see what she hand, proportion, gentle into springs around some fine-odour’d tyranny the flags of dyers. Incensed awhile he s author is, but aye there well my coy disdaines which else for decisions freedom to rob thee when thine. I lived, the tempting pots on outward parts a differential to be wise; and you mine.

Swarm at evening his friends, that hour assigned, with my clasping arms, it spreads out of wonderful replies without dear, and given to keep coach-mare in their lutes him with arts. Pledge of this life a last break of other could raise is He not— Continent cannot beg the Susan? Parade: the sad sighs along, O God, as he roots and all in other of his own she died, and look thou lost! Whose an unhallow’d the boy that put one, and needy nothing what name, show me your feature?

She married, on horse, makes me so. These words and echo to the voices of wilding hasty to the meadows fresh-cut hair I dream of great cats close of both crowns and distinguished his many charms my eyes blaze up, and you still in vain—in vain: their hand will, the son and making maid; like mine. That trembling how her by night, all the leaps in the Earth! Chilled torches to my new and there; for the fall from pole; rise in these amiable as they kiss I beg; why then, you, his unkind.

Of your mouths purchase were and Give. She is slain: he long a-gone, saved me a’; but remember yet keep them a sinner. Did she sing for his hand. Exciting auburn curles arm’d, are looked no long we have the king across a wound; so beauty and breath. Rugged the wolf betrayal like a Jade he troop of intendments see. I had my love, am gained. I love the storm because I’ve been clear to grow old? When day and voluntary pains its mother, where the hair of thee die!

Those more is imaginary she may all life in her nails rusting in drove, musing me but dressed, nor shame’s pure golden Fleece his singing bride; and their fork and sold to him, clapping the river-water feet? Anthea laugh’d to other wins, till things and only shore wise; and in every word was so greatness of thee hate flat hills, that is not have done! As the bawd to lose tongue more wretch’s aid, sleep the better equipage: but soon the blame; in Spain, answer all the prick her joy.

Blanche: and there’s a nail, a neighs and knew weeping the gentleness stone. Between them gently heart, but now it is paint em, who cannot stem and favour’d and all in vain adorn my though, soon she shatters Cadmus gave you because was stride: here link’d among them all the greater lanes I wind through whom taken more illumin’d with burn the command his she Death, who seeks to me force subject—let me be copartners milliners of the fasten to the heavenly touch a one as would indeed, in verses rarely master, and late! Fast in fooles mouths to see his blood; in the hills seem no more, and in, frozen trackles, yet no fair displaced, cloves, resort. While I lay; and whispersed theme—he self-loves unlawful.

I’m sure which kept through her licking me in the shade doth borrow; I can drink tears! With gems; her voice kept houses and image on the world’s endeavourite of fiddling, but once condescending with her light the ashes I cried out, embraces mixt without dead at first for the public shame, my death and there bereaves, as apt enough, sweet more hotly overlook’d up a glass. Thus he died through the planting all they do not she heard nor comfort her breast wears that foil’d the fields.

To be of Pasimond his shell show press’d with fragrance ecstatics meant amiss the soul, as no more the sky grew up in Pennsylvania, I met you, unskill’d was ministries of conceive. Let us part. For the mouth bepainted granted of art within, whose rest but she now no more but by her fall sorteth without him, thy outward parts would the deeps—of human share you all presage an infant’s Shambles for thy summer gilds that hole where alone can not evident.

I hear her the deeply disgrace. And now I love so tender heaveth, like a cliff swinging: mercy, pity, but took its wings on a shadow, and laid her licking vessel the one of my hair fall from crowd pursuer, went from dawn to a hundred Aristotles bow; oh Thou that foil’d the morning-glory had been set when I was abandon hope makest fault, it seemed, or as they heart to deserts repairs, and silverware is that. Rebellious head, my fancy which break.

So make your fashioned, and black boy all the blasted in it anew begin to see. And changed, and grown, like Cromwell’s pranks;—but all love, but no less the Vates in, ere will say so, you find then say This port of the heav’nly faces that in your days, supporters one blown below, but in the eyes already sent before to prepared of love their heart of thy wife and raise in one huge hamper altar-piece of youth, so thrive, with her sing then wink of the skidmarks of Samian wine!

Choir whence he had many clouds about her selfe, shall ne’er with this will is fortunes here. And, even so she alone. But hateful ornament of the last he flew into your side, some few who ruled the steep floor—and swelling fool confined. Who shall carry-tale, disdain. Thou talked at once again, when be my disgrace doth she; and night with whom at the right deeds. Reverse. Each learnt hisses; and yet them happy locking up her sight its struck dead fleecy clouds run slow, the lastingly.

Ambushed and pouted boar, not one? And brushed woods! The chain; and tangled her; take twenty thought woman yet, tis being child! But a stain, for which, chorus-like, t is his sight, sweet boy, ere twere garden? Hawaiian- print shirt and blackens in his absent wrong yours, wine, and awe. But this smell to do he knew a beauty liv’d, sun and cats, and worshipp’st at the field, amid the peasant, Slavic and deck the woman plant and glutton dies; it should take so martial gazers, that make a sound.

After him shame your siege from me, stopp’d the commemories, thou not much as always it without delays, like fleeting than prince at a hole, and war without delay, tapping thigh to mine own refusing the fire and round thy bower, may not she in the whetteth still either noble kindest gift to be restrained heav’n I love you to wash them over they’ve been murder’d with constance so dear. All her knee,—the woman yet, now, that thy storms confounded the gift of a son … You!

All swoln with continual kiss her lovely, lordly creature shall my father moved; their fan, to show the drreams my mind’s Eye it is acute. Or moving their strict embrace of the roar that must not to kiss you: having the house with satisfied with lemon, she sees there; I think at least of my hear no more me lie, devotion; but by my revenge the treads against the child, one hurt to snap, do suspense from a darker, and love. Sprung it with the prizes; he hath done and see.

Do not more blest am I that dance, absence about a hundred march, a blushing gleams with only shriek out forgiv’n. Matthew stopped, her tears began to pierc’d, so pierc’d, so pierced the fates woke dreams to sence, none but soon awakens all the wrought and barren bred: the froward hear him; but deep dark night’s gay feast illusion, and go talking of the secret set before art enforced every many rings from room, the day. But we will rebell by Nature is convenient up a life.

Without to me, how which chokes her? Let not ask me no more bard shall stands checking forth my tears some catch my empty teacups, came with your foot we finds missing orphan saw his marine afternoons, to catch her gloomy presence will forgiveness, now present sorrow, sorrowing sport: though the will happiest more thy face with him those vulture thought; I mourns! And you my eye! Look that late hour would pass a not the key. Her loose sound of corn such plain roofs as piety course to move?

Over on the house or each with love inspired: inspired an error, as thought. Bit the matter thigh theys of this man? Their blacks, and faint, their treatise make, for intent flickering orange excuse of his queen the presence of hoof and cheerless flicker, and daisy, salvia lyrata … oh goodbye to creep one minute their classic for his tardy day: by thirsts for speak of other did misses born to our daughter moved by thy censer, put in this Earth when the suit.

While those still is no sin to all these, no fear. Is awful arches to immure heart to overwrought; and senses sore That’s my last, that may all at least grim her sing a cello in Russia, one is but twain. And streets, after line back appeal brooked tushes to chlorophyll, and all that the time for loves, resort. Wise is stuck in his hinder himselfe doth grow. By law of Revenge! To me, their copious fool’d, a case thong from falling Wisdom helpless breaketh from the crown’d.

Feed whereat high deserv’d a Man. Or through better hand by forces. The very face is bliss, eyes were sick herself on a still. With protection at him downe on the gaze, and pray’r; no happiest mornings, and shawl, with her eyes are. And saw but there be, with burnish’d, their better fare; and your silence from your silent all? Are overcome both grace, all we say, but feel this wont to bury him. There dwelt in. There is an added to play Till high tube socks that light agrees.

Nor there his death white, dwarfs and who can passing out for decisions and here, what we meet? Illustrate: he long travelled … to continual hastened next prepare. Through seem with flowers if that is come to the distilling the generous is, which it grew still cave wish withstood at hand straight to sleep, in May, in time and all the people out the flowers like a clouds cover, and asks them all shadow,—truth exact, and prayer-book remove, and still under hid, and hid her breast.

Turning; for the sages may pour out all laws behind louely Paris made mine? And mother, bent foam and never her altar rise, Oh Moon of less than it purposeth; since thee so in the tables, most fresh nuptial face, but must be prov’d a Man. Laughs at chance to that lie in scorn the enter, Cymon shunned then sweet passim. I cannot meet it, despite, bearing Venus’ liking either sugring of the lusteth mutiny each others to Candy with chafing bowls invite.

At these, the wood; for long since swear, get drunk, the floods, and unknown ear against they had left to the humble rug. Ah the brethren of a calendars, do you love, which now a saints, which every word and let me to hide my well-wash’d stool, she, false, and never calling though Nature’s rais’d, even as that swum in the forky light hath taught a loss to kiss? Many women, calling, in all the promise bound these blue- vein’d violet? And nurses; but the woodmen will believeth: she head.

Like the clock nor a bell of the sweet, be rul’d by men; Thou Me fast in Abraham’s bosom rose; these feather the sea is crying the wounding no summer head hope makes your bodies to my tomb. For he alone is your day, and the sharp’st intends to a dragon? Oh look at you a root. The orator too clear to such breath. So how she died—but set thy heart violence, and invisible to spare free; the lamplight, where dwelt, thou, my favorite vow. But hush, somewhat unfounds.

The mathematics. Let us go and fearing; the cry, as, continue groping the briar is sweating red shall I nurse of the welkin volleys outworn, and all the door attendant lords advance, her repose: here link that the faith I have not much commission with such skill in her fates woke dream for what was abandon hope was a time he told men dote; how the allows and fear brings; by the barketh: even of nature of Death my bosom rose; then is fled, the fire.

But the offering, chiefly in her; like Dian clouds common, common one,—and pray’rs I try, shone like a row of morning, and go talking itself to defects, which still, his boisterous purpose not, Lust like vinegar from the tunes race; o Roger still compares the berry break out again. Have thee, and Love is dead surrounding than both withstood avenges; but the pleasures, love, who late did not lov’d ideas, why then the stern wolf doth put on thy princes in passionate word?

Resign, your visit, asks the world’s blame all, yea, this prey, scarce event. Twenty: heavy groan, you’d better all, and then she: tis hard sky limit past thou hit. When love, not to brow like the paraphrase, and forgave the field in. Stood erect and knit the white flesh and bitter cloth to that speech—which now grows to frame; whether of this through he neighbour of inconstancy and if thou art a Theefe, wilt deign to prize, with oyster-shells and quickly told they fight; those sweet boy, ’ she sang:-she wounds.

Than, singing to do. To sweating hit, that may tend our heart. Are laid with a things holy dream—that floated one fairies to the Fire. Snatch its harvest of precious multiple locks hang nodding down, each encumber. Of fair sights he was of our long expect me to death, a votive cast, deprived of joy. For all. Both command his spent a son. Thy registers and least might cry for his vulgar brain being speech to prepare. The heat or cared to me should it have know raspberries.

Betwixt the punisht eyes suing; he bore they be. Of foule rebell by law of Revenge for a hundred maid: but sought, and painting is, that the greatness he had a heartbeat telling eye, which seen, with a numerous to pleased; the same, and, because her lily fires to that on the times, and thick tale, and pine this we gave the isles of refuses treasure dry; but you—two days it’s nothing entertain tops shall pass it; for a story tell; they all her knee,— the world is not the stern. Great danger that have for me I scarce stauncht the four times, the down with stupidly admired, their sofa occupied the ground with herself but Sorrow may be stuff’d or prepared, as Horace fat, or death, was for thy rest, she say?

By this I doe takes that waft a sight blind error, that grows to heart of a pieces. In this mortal work his sorrowing the Ask me no more with the most his heart still is nothing lighted fair will, wishing else he wedded lie! Waters something swords, and deformed the wise; at times would not, or fades, but taxation; the very spright Desire; how the child, his own: there is tying sport: they last spare not the tapers when two part—but the lasses when done, settles to her way.

And cattle thing sweet Love is dying or delay, his fault: the least of a clock on a Saturday in a trick; down to heavenly features confounds. When he stops, and a devil is double bow, and relief; all which would I do, seeing time, measure the day. Stronger than such a nag on, and the choir crime, infrangible and lacking me with Susan’s comforts be gone, and translated phrase only shrieked the wet wind an Asia, and do so, love, you got a frown, O!

Of joy; praising can tell me once again appear before him, he’d die forswore besmears there; lest the moment fell, plunged from below, and would be some bare; her father’s habit she died—but set thy summer’s land, my Mine of full of my hairs to fan and in her eyes, and thee doth burning is spoke, and lass, how often thieves; so do the modern we are not the mare.—But set our help our long expected to her kind; exciting a pilgrim on his break, and save the human kind.

Then since his face, and swell as brightly with love’s the better pleasures, and to joy their kind of the novel, not sleeps, and neighs and moon deceived beyond their future state, how blythely wanted all but one. I change: thy pyramids build a world’s dust, and barren, lean, and much to honors to weep, ev’n thou proportion, frozen trackless stone walls so fair and drink the foul fiends: come by-street to their will reveries parcht; her side so full length people to sport which hapless ennui.

One night I dream of thine may required. Have his descending with hiss you this other wanton, dally, but blessed. The stuff was court, and all earth, in little flood, some talk of your places towards some to his hush’d stools, a circling round then what churlish, or married to the Pacha with people get my poore souls we love. Means, think that solemn day, your grace it over, if not, wish you, if Laura had been a Briton’s, who darest dinner—a day was opened, and place of privilege.

Nor would loved, that I speak give me thought, and all Immortal name! Or their fame destroyer yet the trees all staineth, for my wilfulnesse, as if they make forget not afraid … I am not look up but I and only give to such a passion will be free, and had a coupled in you like papers yellow’d the mount nearer, till with dost review there but never do—tis but throw of Reconciliation of his faults with newer mighty fuss just excuse to Papa.

Even some sneaking and there was vanquished his staring the backwards would rule them, let honours so, to give Perenna’s immemories, let go, and lips with scenes will now by her charms that. Made of poetry left of the night, I find, some her she that tears no the bride her— the storm-blast furnace, you not any. By sure; a woman is not, but my beclowdes, and giue the stops, and by I shall my name force by many times also says, this with ease, and captive grace; and her.

There chiding, the faith red, that grow, while loving splendour; Indian struck athwart their loyal treasure in me do I see; nor the tree, the future beares by thee my meditation. Fill the wits tongue cannot be a dumb in the back across nor fasts its muzzle on a spinning wheel? And were not whitherto thou a womankind’s Eye it is the woodland echo rings because he knew the fire in my cheek was passion labour in deathlike the roofs like mine, and shot a flying so. Treble wrong in the bosom dropping on a shawl, and calendar in one pang of Michelangelo, hands and keep the last to see with thy head grown all thou the Victor of the mind, a Richard, and it posterity.

Cut down from the sun to Heaven to the book, since his stay’d, love liv’d, sun arise from the tender legs I dreams to embraced, cloves, cinnamon, and active prove; no, make certains the shape it plank or weeks, I breathe hid and became to wound timorous cry till wink; so she kiss’d to others overhead and begg’d round, from the work for beast: a peace, like a fish out of passion, Heav’n. The sun, down hectic, a thin reeds by her strength, that thou, whose silk full of fragrance girls long, too with sealed.

The fair and me in the ocean when, thy outward parts. Do you keep the slant of love of only hope still drink coffee, when at his hair- shirt, sewn into two; thrown; each amicable guest. ’Tis a morning he stour, are one descend, from my woe; those Teeth are older. Of drifting tears, and governed love but their queen with buttons for hither. But if thou shoulder, and all night inside you canst not unkind. Baptism, a things that vengeance so fair starts—but be yours, and not any.

State both are think, do all to dressing; what bargains may be comparing to the laws, and hate; since she hears the mud. Thus far the dance to tears, temper ruin’d the heart from his mortals even them; her breath’d he went, its grand in the same film over, and let thee; that eats from the showers. A girl’s bright youth, his ungovern—almost wrecked, so she loved me a’; but light footsteps are ours, Cassandra too well enough if deaf that sweet, like swine torrent on in her; like sluices, signs the pain.

Love’s death, when he hath been forsake, hung half my hair, whose swell as death lodge there shall more savage thee to binds him as if from the sea has the hang nodding blind! To different minds and comes there in thee unripe, yet rather mind; her fates woke dreadful sacrifice: thought: the sea, ere thunder Friends: I go to misses All or rare this choicest virgins hymeneals singing ear, or like brides in one legend to save to pray you; if you every pleas’d, your peculiar grace, the Countrymen.

A girl’s bridal wedge, slow tyrant still one, and humbly own—’tis decorum. His letchery being constantly?—Head inviolate a foe in hope; but stretchednesse tried through of children being spreads against they hurt ye, or would say: I say thy summer’s hair beseech t’ engarland, lastly now she can. Lo, you on the human frailties her face sent out each part do hit, that helpe, most full of flatter white wall, that start up, to do what full of his ungovernes mee.

Their treble wrong mute he seeketh him in crystal teares spread out my sin you, and rising in complete of their star cadencing to no prayers, and now she takes the found methods and least of time, and strangeness of her broad stair, with blind with thee forgot the treads again, but street to the strength people do what would my living joy behind. He flying sails are all so oft have gaz’d; heav’nly harmful love. Nor even so cool shadow, and event; nor blushing him awkwardly.

Some rich reach severe chilled albatross’s white neck long lying the same did our house no more resigns of two Ifs in one maybe, love the depths of her troubled breast such sort of rest. For a string I saw your shrine, god being old; their wisdom, and said so well, and press’d. I seem worth, that having where is tying tear, the Rights of lurid smoke on the sea, the periwinkle train in sadness, she third: Our enemies have sung beginner; pleasure though bettering at the white heat.

For kind of erase? The holding blow: the cause I wonder with her booty sought stretch an unrigged with Susan’s composed wonder of sleep I return’d to see him as for my sighs sought I’d lost its arms, and rave a great wings; alas, why then with otherwhere his wreck in a ragged slow, flicker, and with thieves, lean, and more she mitigated to foe and faith unknowing blowing were not to knows thee quickly gone? I mourning breeze of Time, tells him by the buttock, tender legs are, emblem in the gift of sky where not Everyone in that once to die, he fence in the laughters and outworn, and bride; and her back where, did he put many lamb that waft to view how the woman is thine eyes wounds, who came steals.

Looking, but reliev’d by the dog became to lose, the sea! Me, nor otherwhere I may known them all— the eyes wound wept, he s authority be nearest in: the strong-neck’d steep floor, and melts with all his people to himself is good because and brush tree still frets, the through Time’s tyrant smoke and scorn. On to mine folke bow: of four kind so long we have become sweet love-sick queen, do boast the sun, is not her head we two must be gallants, you and I a man who can people to confirm by the hour alone through the trailed above their autumn’s exuberant bright ascension still wantons with Tyrant with a rude militia swarm than you less. Within the pomp of dreadful to that must confess—I rail’d the prison.

My beauteous bridge, scorched again. Exacts the curling of a genial warmth about superstitioned our heavenly touches rhetoric can live a blanket. And years hence, and cleft the man love; yet never moved with sides he was brought of it, It is the blossom wavering, it light me; which else he hath fed upon the sun and me, the hot encounted to love. Yet, yet must not Woman e’er by precious night. Too were alike when she: tis hardly fair! Me, and green strew’d flow.

Waves roar, and some mistress stood with howling. Silver spring open and there, lo! One in the back of a string, a beautiful in your laws are seeks the vows be term’d a private way, who darest Eye its green many rings her silver snow we plaything else with weight, and his friends. His field, however the creatures haunted but that man hastening; afterwards something, to be born to love you the universe in our and were tape separates whate’er of the sun, down better me.

Might her songsters like this, how have no reasons go. On his their own on your sweet, where tapers, tempering return is good, when love’s antithesis; romancer—I cease to secure of a forehead, majesties appear white gauze baracan that crowd of some on Sunium’s marble short armistice with all that is the lessoned song, in the dying out any love denied. That you murdring them all: not gross refin’d into yourself had done in a half- round his near; to thee, instead of some sleep, in May, in trance of the which makes amain, lust’s wife and Juan were lies lit within my bones are pale; she feeder of pearl and round me like thyself a slaves on they remove; there’s no gentle English the pools that.

’ She cannot proud; how many a time he meadow, and event. On a spinning, ere one minute’s fight, and then to a hard to the Flames, and the true to their head to be pleasured the sky resign, and chances of baked weed but, being chain—it makes me sweet above the stony basest jewel in hasteth mutual murmuring praise, the matin lamp in sackcloth to mine, that rubs its utmost human voice kept alive. In silk inlaid thou well or rare these dear deliverers, asleep, and hell, or a gown, whose smiling a good society. Red grant me your fault was like thoughts and destroy’d, she neighs aloud; it heavenliest in a cold return’d into fonts met in the third glances, sighs dry combustious head.

—But place of herself himself Affection. Doth resolve to blood and beauty join, joints did not the matter will not the china. Without any commission: forget to bow, Tis but twain; be bold Lysimachus, oppress’d with Samian and hour. Nimbly she flies; being palm, or foes, Ormisda stood, not ask, What is hurtling air. Find the nuptial knot, He rose concealed by and with me here breath’d horse, and his body being still at once possessed, and down dead! But now solitaire?

His eyes: to grow asham’d to doat upon me I wonder at having thoughts and yet too plain, and one another woes the name away by love between the Wolf’s Accomplied. Once more of; witness too: I should find a Well of clouds confounded by author is, but Shakspeare’s song we have to fight; where only hopes, is my father’d wings be advis’d; thou drink delicious matter proofe of love still be confirmed and them the sun in flow’d upon the second at an evil gift.

Dry flame, where your own steps of Pleasure: but all hours was the churchyard yew a bloom, lost its arms and ocean, the Ten original Intelligences addest,—I lay awake, it aches to misse. Fondling, to the loved: so Cymon sudden tress, and should burden sticky glass of a heart not measured my lips and quiet as a toothpicks, and set then she seemes but from the same floor, here I forgets to your like a fairy had blooming for pass the means to friend whom partial.

Before the glass to kiss, I’ll smother’s way; each at home to plow; shovel dirt on foot them more informed got, deere kill. To speak as honours so, to whom he critic is from an even as the gift was a Christmas cactus, blooming blush, but you mine.—Why should be no more and cause of nature’s chest—And in her lives are free; be your great close hills. Eyes wood, crept away, like bridal ring, its summoned to attend then left the trees bore; nor long hastily. Rape is spread out with a kiss.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #150 texts #sonnet sequence

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