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lullabyes22-blog · 8 days ago

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A small detail but I just wanna say I LOVE your food worldbuilding in your fic! I get so hungry reading about the dishes 😭 was there any inspiration behind your thoguts on Zaun crusine or any other fun lore? I was also wondering if you had thoughts on Piltover crusine and how that compares to Zaun.

Thank you so much<3

I actually have a Foodboard on Pinterest for Zaun's decadences and delicacies!

Re: Zaun and Piltover's food-canons...

I'm basing Zaun on a hodgepodge of multicultural meccas like New York, Mexico City, Mumbai, Rio, Tokyo, Seoul, Istanbul, etc. Lots of different histories converging to form a diverse street-food scene where folks eat on-the-go. Given the Fissures began as a mining town, the fare is heavy on greasy proteins and starchy staples to keep the average worker on his feet. At the same time, owing to their proximity to the riverside, Fissurefolk have a taste for the ocean, too.

The end result is a very subterranean and industrial city that's very, very proud of its culinary heritage, even if the "cuisine" itself isn't exactly pretty or refined. There's a certain "ghetto hustle" to it, with scraps taken from wherever it's available, and improvised into something distinctly its own. Plenty of emphasis on cheap shellfish, squid, octopus, shrimp, clams, etc, as they're a hardier food source that can be found in great quantities downriver.

There's also a lack of sunlight, fertile soil, and fresh greens in Zaun. So much of what's grown organically Down-Low is the more straightforward variety of root vegetables, ranging from potatoes, rhizomes, yams, lotus, yucca, sweet potatoes etc. There's also lots of cellars with candle-lit rhubarb, and a very eclectic range of mushroom gardens.

As for meat:

The Deadlands, which are more of a 'wild west' type terrain in the FnF verse, sport a hardy ecosystem of cave-dwelling, marsupial-like creatures I've dubbed Sump-voles. They're furred, and the size of a medium-large housecat. They're extremely agile and intelligent, and able to survive off the sparse vegetation. They're the primary source of food for the folks of the Deadlands.

There's also sump-boars: bristly, foul-tempered, and omnivorous. A bit like wild boar, but larger and more aggressive. Their meat, while rather gamey, is a source of rich protein, and often cured and smoked, or served as a roast during the Equinox Feast as a 'last supper', a chance to indulge in some fatty, delicious pork before the dark winter months of austerity. Their hides are also a valuable commodity and can be tanned and used to craft clothing, their bones ground into powder for fertilizer, and their tusks fashioned into weapons, jewelry, etc.

In Zaun proper, the primary source of meat are sump-rats. For the chem-barons, they are raised in massive, hydroponic-like farms that cultivate the creatures on an industrial scale. For the poor, they're either the unfortunate victims of homesprung traps or the prey of the many, many feral cat colonies. The cats in Zaun are extremely large and muscular, bred to be fierce. They're often mutated and have been spliced with a range of different DNA, from gen-0 to gen-X.

There's no real 'normal' cat, dog, or bird in Zaun; it's a land where everything is a mutant owing to the chemical radiation that pervades every single facet of life, to say nothing of its ambitious history of genetic manipulation.

That goes ditto for the bugs.

Necessity breeds creativity, and Zaun's not averse to a little entomophagy. In fact, the more common, and less-fetishized, way to get one's protein is through the consumption of locusts, beetles, dragonflies etc. These are a mainstay, and you'll see them sold on every corner. They're generally fried, and have a very similar crunch to a fried cricket. There's also cave-wasps: nasty buggers who build their hives in the caverns, and have a sweet, honey-like substance inside their abdomen. It's considered a delicacy, and a luxury item.

The cave-wasps are also a rare species that actually produce honey (similar to the B. Mellifica, or Mexican Honey Wasp) and the honey they store, though it has a much thicker, gel-like consistency, is prized as a source of hydration and energy.

It's also a nifty hallucinogen, and can be mixed into ales, beers, and ciders.

In terms of fixings and flavorings: Zaun is an underground city. That means staples like sugar and spice are at a premium, and either imported from the harbor, or smuggled from Topside. However, Fissurefolk understand the importance of boosting their immunity with the right nutrients, and have a keen interest in herbal remedies. There's a strong apothecary culture in Zaun, ranging from quacks to savants. You'll see plenty of peddlers selling the dried mushrooms, roots, leaves, and other fungi, all of which can be boiled into a tea, or steeped to make a broth.

Two homegrown minerals Zaun prides itself on are its salt deposits and its volcanic rock. Both are extremely potent, and have sparked a range of industries from salt-curing to cosmetic masks. The rock salts are a rich source of iodine, and used to clean wounds. The volcanic rock has a high level of iron, and is ground into powder and mixed into broths to prevent anemia and boost blood flow. There's also a thriving industry for beauty products in Zaun. Because of the constant, humid air that lingers beneath the surface, it's common for folks to break out into acne, boils, or other rashes. The rock salts are a good exfoliant and antiseptic.

Jinx, for instance, has an entire apothecary's chest worth of creams, gels, and tonics she applies whenever she feels a breakout coming on. She's also not above mixing her own blemish cream out of a blend of rock salt, crushed-up coral, and a few drops of oil squeezed from a luminous jellyfish.

Silco, similarly, uses a combination of salt water and crushed-up volcanic rock to exfoliate the calluses on his palms and heels, and soaks once a week in a warm bath of rock salt, mineral oils, and medicinal Shimmer. He swears by the concoction, and considers it the secret to keeping his joints well-lubricated and his reflexes in fighting trim for running from stray bullets.

And Jinx's occasional tantrum-prone grenade.

The Zaunite diet is also very heavy on pickling. It's an excellent way to preserve foods, and a great source of vitamins. Their choices run the gamut from sour pickled cabbage to spicy, chili-garlic fermented fish to lime-spiked octopus. Pickling is a necessity. And, because there's not enough space for farms, livestock, or pasture land, a lot of the food in Zaun is preserved via canning and jar-making. There's a robust canning industry, and a very well-developed glass-blowing and masonry business, lauded for its innovative shapes and designs.

Finally, there's the beverages.

Zaun has a strong history of drinks, from fizzy, chemically-colored sodas to a wide variety of spirits. There's an emphasis on teas, tisanes, and coffees, as the underground water can't be fully filtered, and isn't exactly the cleanest. A cup of hot tea with some lemon and honey is an effective way to keep one's immune system up and running. Zaun is also famous (re: notorious) for coffee that's guaranteed to jolt you wide-awake after a nasty hangover. Their most famous brew is the Wake-Up Call, which is a mix of ground coffee beans, ground cacao beans, ground guarana seeds, a touch of cinnamon, and a dash of powdered cayenne pepper.

It's not for the faint of heart.

The most popular non-alcoholic drink in Zaun is cherry soda, which is basically a cross between Coca-Cola and cherry Dr. Pepper, but brewed with a mixture of fruits, berries, and a healthy dose of cave-wasp honey and citric acid. It's fizzy, and tastes amazing. It's also extremely cheap, owing to the fact that a lot of the fruits and berries are foraged from the caverns, and the honey is, well, free-range.

In terms of alcohol, there's a huge emphasis on beer, wine, and ale, owing to the fact that these can easily be canned and fermented, and can last for long periods of time without refrigeration. Potato beer is an extremely common, and easy-to-consume source of calories. It's light-bodied, and low-alcohol, with a range of styles, from pale-ale, amber, and dark. There's also a huge emphasis on hops and malted barley, as these are cheap to acquire, and readily available belowground.

Zaun's signature drink is made via fermented cavernfruit. It's very hoppy, fruity, and acidic. It's got a high alcohol content and is a great thirst-quencher. Then there's Devilfruit: a deep red liquor made from a blend of various berries, and a texture and viscosity similar to cherry liqueur. It's usually enjoyed neat, but can be mixed with a splash of mineral water, or served over crushed ice. There's also drinks fermented from unusual ingredients such as mushrooms and fungus. One, known as Dungeon's Kiss, is a cloudy, milky white ale made from the sap of a cave-dwelling species of mushroom. It's extremely thick, the color of a pumpkin spice latte, and guaranteed to get you hammered in five sips.

Zaun's drinks are all brewed, bottled, and served locally. They're a point of pride, and a great way for families to earn their fortune. It's a fiercely competitive industry, and there's a lot of inter-clan rivalry.

In the FnF universe, I imagine Piltover has a very different diet than Zaun, given its bucolic setting, proximity to the sea, and the fresh produce, dairy, and livestock they import from all four corners of Runeterra. The food culture is diverse and beautifully artisanal.

There's a bustling farmer's market, lots of bakeries and cheese shops, and plenty of emphasis on freshness, seasonality, and regionalism. There's also a strong tradition of wineries, distilleries, and breweries. As a city of commerce, they also have a robust, and thriving, shipping and distribution industry.

All of this reflects a more rigid hierarchy of social classes that is more centered on the "white plate" aesthetic. It's all high-quality and extremely nutritious, but it's also very…bland and uniform. In Piltover, there's little to no street food culture, and there's a general disdain for the sort of messy, greasy pap that's associated with Zaun. You don't eat with your hands; you use utensils. You don't slurp, slop, or smack your lips.

And you certainly don't lick the sauce off your fingers.

In Piltover, there are very clear rules about dining etiquette, and the "food world" is just another part of the culture around class distinction, refinement, and propriety. However, the rigidity and regimented nature of their meals can be very stifling, especially when compared to the raucous and rollicking culinary culture of Zaun. It's therefore not uncommon for Piltovans to sneak off Down-Low, roll up their sleeves, and enjoy a bit of greasy, sticky-fingered fun.

Most consider it a calorie-loaded, guilt-free "cheat day."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #asks #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane vi #vi #arcane zaun #zaun #arcane piltover #piltover

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iceman-kazansky · 2 years ago

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Luckiest man, luckiest Woman

Pairings: Daniel Jackson (SPR) x F!reader

Requested by: @first-husband-lipton

Request: Okay because I really love Private Jackson (SPR) and he is Catholic AF... can I request a one-shot with him in a garden wedding seeing his bride for the first time as she walks down the aisle...and kiss her for the first time?

Settings/Au's: Wedding, relatively Modern

Warnings: f!reader, mentions of Christianity, two lovestruck fools, I've never written for a wedding or been to one so probably inaccurate depiction of a wedding, pure Fluff :)

Summary: You love Daniel and Daniel loves you, and you've decided to tie the knot in your relationship. Although, Walking down the Aisle, he realizes just how lucky he is to even be graced by a woman like you.

A/n: I BORE THROUGH THE COUGHING AND SNEEZING TO GET THIS FINISHED! I WAS DETERMINED TO FINISH IT >:D

Sorry I also kinda tweaked the request a little 😅 And, after writing this, I realized just how inexperienced I am in WEDDINGS. I've realized now I've never been to one and never had one myself :0

So uh, Google helped me write this quite a bit.

------

The day he had been waiting for was finally here. The day he; Daniel Jackson could claim you as his legally wedded wife. Daniel had picked a few best buds from his hometown to be his groomsmen, each had played an important role in his life to be deemed with such honor.

One by one, family members and close friends filed in and Daniel watched as his friends who served in the military alongside him were seated close to the front rows.

As the audience waited, the small chatter filling the air like the pleasant hum of insects on a hot summer night, Daniel couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d seen you. He’d gawked at you from across the street, where he had seen you laughing with your friends. His friends noticed —the same friends that stood behind him now —and had played a game of matchmaker. They had arranged for you two to meet again and officially talk. As embarrassing as it was, Daniel had been glad that his friends had gone out of their ways to tie you two together. Without it, He wouldn't be standing underneath the green foliage framed with ivory wood beams and the warm sunlight basking his back as he waited for the love of his life to arrive.

Finally, as the last car pulled into the parking lot, the wedding was ready to begin. Daniel watched as you moved forwards towards the aisle, and he could feel his jaw drop. The elegant white dress you wore was stunning, the silky fabric with a long train that flowed along the stone pathway that Daniel could only imagine to be the most refined fashion for women there could be, hugged you tightly and highlighted your curves in every right way. Daniel could feel his heart race at the sight of you, still as pretty as the first time you met, walking down the aisle. He could only imagine how God had somehow poured a little more love over you when he was creating the beauty walking towards him, and he thanked God for blessing him with such an amazing woman he would be sure to treasure if she said yes one more time.

Daniel was so entranced that he hardly recognized the priest had begun talking beside him, holding a large book open in one palm while reading out intricate verses. The priest finished and moved onto the vows,

"Do you, Daniel Jackson, take Y/n Y/l/n to be your wife?"

Without hesitation Daniel replied, "Yes"

"And do you, Y/n Y/l/n take Daniel Jackson to be your husband?"

"Yes." You answered.

Daniel felt your hands slip into his and he squeezed them lightly. He was Really doing this. He was settling down hopefully forever with you. He was 'tying the knot.' And all Daniel wanted to do right now was kiss you, in thanks, in love, in appreciation, in confession, and the priests "You may kiss the bride." Was all he needed to capture your perfect lips in his in an endearing kiss.

And as he reminisced over the first time he had kissed you, atop the ferris wheel at the carnival a few years ago, how your lips had been so soft and had treated beyond what Daniel could've interpreted back then, he couldn't help but compare today's kiss and the first kiss all those years ago.

"I love you." He heard you whisper, just above the cheering of the crowd below.

"I love you, too."

Daniel Jackson was the luckiest man alive, he got to have you, a woman he believed was beautiful enough to be considered a God. And You? You were the luckiest Woman to be alive because you had just tied the knot with the most handsome, and kind man you had ever met that you had totally fallen for the moment you saw him, walking with his friends on the opposite side of the road.

#x reader #female reader #y/n #saving private ryan #daniel jackson #wedding #garden wedding #fluff #two idiots in love #marriage #requested #iceman kazansky #SPR #♤ Requests

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captain-of-silvenar · 7 months ago

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🛏️, 🥪, 📚, and 🎨 for the oc asks!!

Aaaah, thank you so much for the ask! I'm going to go with Brisala Alithar to mix it up.

🛏️ What does your OC’s bed look like? What would they like their bed to look like?

Much like her sister, Brisala has a terrible habit of not really going to sleep. Wasting 8 hours a night dedicated to laying down and doing nothing could be put to better use with her nose in her notes and a hand in the dirt.

That is to say, her bed is pristine. It's tucked in and taut. Pillows plush and fluffed each night. There is a fine layer of dust on the bed frame that has to be dusted off once a week. Which is a pain in the ass to do since it was grown from fungi so it has lots of nooks and crannies things can get caught in. Thankfully a lot of the staff have a spell for this but it is still annoying to have to cast it over the whole bed when a simple bed frame would've been done in seconds.

There are cute little glowing shrooms around the headrest. Certainly not used for late night reading, but for a dash of decoration that Brisala planted on the bed. Some of them, however, are shrooms that do light up different colors because they're connected to parts of the Tower to alert her of intruders or passerbys.

Even in the supposed safety of bed, Brisala cannot let her guard down for a singular moment. She has lost enough in her life, nothing will ever be lost to her now.

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

Despite growing her own mushrooms for the use of cooking and snacking, Brisala is only versed in like two dishes and only those two. She can saute and mix decently, but she is no chef. A late midnight snack and her own comfort food is about all she can do.

She won't burn down the house, but she might not season a dish well enough or too much. Her specific mushrooms have more concentrated flavors that others might find too strong, but Brisala loves it. So her taste buds are slightly skewed toward different profiles.

She is the owner of a Tower with it's very own small community around it, so she doesn't really feel the need to cook for herself. Her chef and head of house are much better at it and much better at reminding Brisala to take a break to eat.

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose?

Mushrooms. Phenology. Their importance as a connector between different species on Vvardenfell. Why they should be respected and their field of study expanded to be included in everyday magic.

Fungal study is not new or unusual on Vvardenfell, but there are still endless possibilities that can be drawn out of them that are undiscovered and could benefit the greater community. To say the least on the medicinal usage they can provide and how they could be refined and given to the people.

Brisala helps fill her coffers by selling medicine made from specialized fungi. Either that or selling her fungi to vendors and taking a cut of the profits. So a quick 10 minute lecture on the benefits of her products would absolutely be something she would do.

🎨 Does your OC have any craft skill, as a hobby or profession? If so which?

Gardening would be the closest thing for Brisala. Unusual for a Telvanni Master to get her own hands dirty playing with dirt. She is very particular about her work and does not like the idea of sharing them with anyone, even with her own sibling. Brisala has layers and layers of magic surrounding her to prevent spores from being breathed in, especially if she's researching particularly dangerous ones.

Outside of this, I actually don't know. She's so focused on her work, and exploring every possibility that she really don't think about anything else. She can stop and have tea and gossip with her sister on the most recent rumor. She constantly monitors the health of their Tower and makes minute improvements.

Brisala is a workhorse that doesn't know when to quit and I'm sure she realizes this. Yet there is an underlying reason for all this work that she can't shake off and it drives her forward every day until she collapses.

So she goes back to her nurseries, and makes another mark in her notes. Same thing day after day. The work does not stop.

#brisala alithar #telvanni #dunmer #answered ask #brisala ilu so much you got stuff to work through #i know cause i gave you the troubles :V #thank you agian for the asks!#they're really fun to work on and i appreciate them

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hollowmend · 10 months ago

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Fetch Re;Quest Dev Log #2 - 01/16/2024

Whew, first dev log of the new year! Let's get right into it, shall we?

Backgrounds

I've mostly been focusing on the script lately, but since I'm not doing the backgrounds, those have been slowly rolling in!

Kind of a strange mix of places, I know! The graveyard and Todd's apartment are places you'll visit if you play a lot of Deathpocolypse 2, where as the bar and the board game shop are visited if Flora and the gang get into Techno-opolis instead. Of Fiends and Fangs takes place exclusively at the bar, and if you play Clockwork Mercenaries, Flora ends up spending a lot of time in her room.

Sprites

I've decided to focus on writing the script before moving on to anything else, so the sprites have been put on hold for the time being. I did get a few blobbly sketches done before I switched gears, though!

I've been doing this funky color blocking thing lately to get a better feel for how my sprite silhouettes look together before moving on to the refining stage. Obviously Flora's sprite is already done, but I blobed her out anyway just to see how she compares to the rest of the characters.

Also, for everyone's consideration- Dan small.

Script

As I said, right now I'm prioritizing the script. Currently, the game is sitting around 26k words, but I expect it will be at least 40k when it's finished.

Garden;Verse

And speaking of the script, there is a special game that Flora and Dan play together in the evenings. It's called Garden;Verse, and it's an otome!

My cowriter @brii-nanas wrote 10k+ words of (really good) fake otome routes for me to use... and most of it won't even show up in the main game 🥲

Not to worry, though. As Flora and Dan progress through the story, the actual scenes they're reading will get unlocked in the Extra's section. Please look forward to reading about some cute (and in one "bad end" case, rather tragic) boys themed around flowers.

Until Next Time

That's all I have for now! Since I'm focusing on the script, I'm not sure how much I'll have to share next month, so February's dev log might end up being pretty short.

#visual novel #otome #interactive fiction #devlog #fetch re;quest #hollowmend #game dev

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philtstone · 2 years ago

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Prompt list action!

I never saw you coming

stay in bed the whole weekend

dust off your highest hopes

stay in bed the whole weekend & dust off your highest hopes

thank you for the prompts :') this is a bit rough but i battled through writers block to get it out there. maybe i will refine it later, maybe i will leave it as is. all depends on if i can bear to read it tomorrow morning lol

shoutout to @firstelevens for telling me to google fancy luxury hotels and subsequently derailing the writing process <3

part of this verse, taking place soon after "at last"

you can also read this on ao3

“Yes, I know you’re the privileged child,” Sarah says, holding her by the chin. “Look at you, halfway across the world in a luxury suite. Gifts from a whole-ass queen on your pillow. Royal hair oil from the motherland. You better be havin’ a damn good time, babygirl.”

As far as the prolonged debate goes, Bucky has finally conceded that his cat has therapeutic purposes. Not for himself, necessarily, but Dr. Jean’s clinic and the NOLA children’s hospital consider her an honoured guest. Bucky goes and sits with her and shows the kids how to pet her gentle. She’s a gentle soul – that’s how he explains it. So she needs a gentle touch, to be able to give her own comfort in return.

With this in mind Sarah continues her unimpressed lecture. It has become somewhat more of a one-sided conversation: Alpine has found a near invisible spec of lint on the hem of Sarah’s shorts and is dedicating all of her focus to batting at the buttery satin with little uncoordinated paws.

“Is that right? You like the peace and quiet too? What, you don’t get enough of that in Delacroix? I haven’t stepped on your poor tail in months, you know.”

In Sarah’s lap, the cat flicks the tail in question like she does when preening. It curls on outward, delicately.

“Most folk don’t take their babies on honeymoons with ‘em,” Sarah concludes with severity.

“Mrow,” Alpine says, as delicate and prim as her tail.

Well. Can’t argue much with that.

Sarah leaves the cat to her own devices and looks up to enjoy the view, as God and their very nice floor to ceiling windows intended. She was told her wedding present was a toss up between this and a pair of thigh high lemon yellow boots, and Sarah has still not figured out if Ayo and the grinning princess were joking. She supposes she ought to call her Shuri by now — the girl helped move their reception potluck table into the yard and everything. And, while he has never said so aloud, very deliberately careful in where he places them in his life, Sarah knows Bucky considers her family.

But anyway, this: wood beams; delicate geometric crystalline light fixtures; thick, patterned, vibrant cloths; and doors and appliances calibrated to respond to her own (no one else’s!) voice. A river runs by them, deep in the heart of the palace, past the yellows and greens and blooming fuscia-purple-white tree flowers of the garden their rooms open to. The sound of the water reminds her of home.

Also, Bucky has just come out of the bathroom, and is absently stretching his back and shoulders out. So Sarah has a full spectrum of visual beauty at her disposal at present.

She props her chin on one hand, elbow against her knee, and enjoys the view very much. It takes him a minute longer than usual to notice. His head is turned away from her and it remains so, but when eventually he brings his left arm up and over behind his head, he puts a show on about it and pumps the metallic bicep more than is strictly necessary. There is something flashy to the movement that is new for him and Sarah bites her tongue against a giggle. Before he brings it down he makes sure to use his right hand to tug the shoulder into a deep stretch that pushes his hips out.

A bird calls outside their giant ass honeymoon suite windows. Unlike running water, peacocks aren’t all that common in Delacroix.

“You spoil this cat so bad,” Sarah tells her husband, when he finally loosens his arms; he brings the left down with a weight that makes it whistle faintly and flash in the dim bedroom light and remind Sarah of the last time she tongued at it to get him worked up.

Very mundanely, Bucky pats his recently washed face and neck dry with the hand towel he’d tucked into his belt, and yawns so wide it cracks his jaw.

“Spoiling days are over,” he says, rubbing at one eye. He drapes the towel over his shoulder. He seems to have noticed a stray piece of gauzy tissue that has attached itself to the bare skin of his damp torso – they have a whole basket of them by the sink, even though Sarah’s been told they’re self-sanitizing and imminently reusable – and reaches down, frowning, to pick it off of himself now; Alpine perks up immediately, fascinated. “Slept on my head all last night. She’ll get the boot soon if she puts me through that again.”

“Hmmm,” Sarah hums, indulgent, while he discards the tissue. Now that he is no longer holding it, Alpine seems suddenly suspicious, and does not abandon Sarah’s lap in pursuit. Bucky stretches out his arms one last time towards the ceiling.

She has been told that once upon a time, returning to the quiet twilights of the Golden City’s outskirts was the only thing to truly put him at ease; things have changed, slowly, gently. Bucky gets grumpy when he is away from home for too long.

Sarah says,

“Because you spent so much of last night sleeping.”

Mid-stretch, his mouth splits open in a quiet grin. Alpine mrows at them in the carriage of their lewd pause, even primmer than before.

There is so much in that little grin — the ease, the looseness. The same looseness he has just shaken into his limbs in front of her. He is happy in a way Sarah doesn’t think has ever fully crystallized until now.

“Baby,” she says, “had you been waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

Now busy putting on the sleek little coffee maker in the corner, Bucky casts her a sly look from the corner of his eye.

“Depends,” he says.

“Hmmm, loaded word.”

“I like your shoes,” he scratches at his stomach, then his hair. “They’re all – what’s that word.”

“Ergonomic. Lady on her feet all day shoes.”

“Practical.” He seems contemplative. Over the shoes. “I like the ones with the little pink lines around the swoosh.”

He gestures with his finger at swoosh.

“Those old things?”

“They’re cute.”

Sarah pets the cat and contents herself with not getting a straight answer about this now.

“Nothing-to-worry-about shoes,” Sarah says.

“Kitten.” Over the rim of his coffee cup now, eyes glittering with quiet, cryptic amusement. She just stops herself from asking me or the cat?

“Like us goin’ exploring tomorrow.”

“You want another day of total aloneness, honey?” He is teasing and also entirely serious. But mostly teasing. She knows this because he takes his coffee and sits on the beautiful wicker chair across from her with his legs wide open, the stance that always makes her want to sit in his lap. The only new thing -- aside from the silky material of his borrowed pajama pants, which are also some sustainable something or other, it was all explained to Sarah by the melodic AI voice in the toilet — is the glinting gold of the ring hanging from his neck, resting almost daintily against the broad curve of his sternum.

Sarah hums, fiddling with the small wring of beads around her wrist, their newness not off-putting but not neutral either. They’ve had three days. Tomorrow she’s going to go out into the world. Tomorrow she’s going to meet the queen. It’s a lot. She knew it would be a lot, before they got here. A lot, traded in for 3 days of complete and total peace and quiet like she has never even had reason to dream of before.

She’s trying not to overthink it; Sarah had described her late in laws, once, and Bucky had said huh, sounds like someone I know. So maybe it’ll just be like that, but there will be foreign dignitaries around, and like, Ayo, too. Sarah is alright relying on Ayo’s clever friendship for this one. Sarah is alright thinking that there are certain things in life, certain precious experiences, that are the same in some way every way you live them.

“Are you gonna share your coffee?”

“Mmm, coffee’s only for people not wearing shirts.”

“Seriously, you don’t get enough of me naked at home?” Sarah laughs, but takes her tank top off anyway, careful not to mess the scarf wrapped around her hair. He’s grinning again, that same simple weightless look.

“Sarah,” he says.

“Mmmhmm.”

“You look so happy. I’m not imagining that, right?”

A slow, secret smile curls at her lips. She crooks a finger for him to come over.

“Come on, sit down. You ready for this?” She waits til he’s close enough to kiss, those long limber limbs with their grace and heaviness and danger and safety at once right up in her space. “You make me happy.”

She takes her kiss from him then, long, slow, heady. With his tongue in her mouth, the smell of the coffee and the shower and his aftershave all together could drive a girl crazy.

Bucky pulls away first. He is crooked at the mouth, the sharp edge of the heat’s worn out by now, his expression a little goofy and very sincere. Alpine is mewling with discontent between them.

“Are you gonna show off for me a bit more before throwing me to the wolves tomorrow?” Sarah says.

He tips his head back, frustratingly inscrutable. Still goofy though. “Only one wolf,” he starts, looking to her for a reaction at the last second.

“Oh that is the lamest joke —”

“I’ll show off, I’ll show off,” he promises,

“Mr. white poodle over here. Nuh uh, don’t give me that face, I can make fun of you using Sam insults if you make bad dad jokes in front of your wife — get back down here. I took my shirt off for you, you can’t leave now.”

“In a minute, in a minute, hang on,” he says, that smile growing so wide it puts a little blanket over the sleepy longing in Sarah’s heart and veritably tucks it in, and gives it a kiss on the forehead. It’s earned its nice long rest.

Then he leans down, gives her the coffee, and scoops Alpine up to spend a few minutes cooing at their most spoiled child before she is summarily ignored for the rest of the night.

#my writing #idk what this is #something something we have all completed our healing journey when we know how sexy we are #im going to look back on that tag with regret #[its always sunny voice] its about the implications #taylor swift prompt meme #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #sarahbucky #sarah x bucky #the falcon and the winter soldier #plus some vague wakanda stuff which i may elaborate on #but yes shuri did help set the potluck table at their wedding #marvel #alpine #she is also there

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gilssimo · 1 year ago

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Miss Violet Winters:

Please do not re-post - I worked very hard on this - INSPIRATION: Porphyria's Lover Written by Robert Bowing

I remember the day I first met Miss Violet Winters. She sat precariously poised reading Poe’s ‘Raven’. Her full and luscious brown curls were pinned in perfectly place under her navy-blue headband. Her pale skin was an elegant backdrop for her thin, black glasses and full lips coated in a neutral soft pink hue. She wore a conservative navy skirt with a white blouse, both of which were a little too big for her.

(trust it gets better ;)

Miss Winters was young, educated, and well-versed in society's mannerisms. She cooked with her mother every Sunday night while her father blew rings of tobacco and listened to Beethoven’s symphonies flow forth from the brass flower of the gramophone.

She was elegant and natural, like a walking, talking porcelain doll that every man aspired to possess.

Her home was a quaint slice of paradise with vibrant hydrangeas, roses, and other remarkable specimens that adorned the property. A wall of burnt orange maple trees bordered the heavenly scape. She would sit in the garden on her spotted picnic blanket and scribble her latest revelation in her leather notebook while I watched from the grazing fields next door. The sheep fed as the Loon and Woodland Thrush praised the sun's evening glow from the comforts of the lake and shaded pine trees of the cool Autumn’s eve. Between the hours of two and five, I could watch Miss Winters scribble down her thoughts and dream of the day she would be mine.

During those heavenly hours, I fantasised about us as newlyweds that had moved into her parent’s cottage, sleeping in the same room and raising a family together. On weekends we would drive down to the beach with the children and spend our days rolling in sand and sunshine.

Oh, how we were happy here.

She was pure and innocent like a white rose among a world of thorns. Anyone who should dare touch her would only taint the eternal glow that brightened even the darkest places.

I am her servant.

My heart has known no content for many years. Miss Winters is an unattainable object that only corrupt men would strive to attain. It sickens me how they would ruin her – God, how trapped and alone she would feel.

***

It was a somber day. The incessant rain bombarded the ill-prepared earth, pouring down to the offbeat tune of booming thunder, merciless to the rage of the lightning. My hair stood at arms from the comfort of my pores, defending my skin against the harshness of the raspy air. Darting across the drenched dirt road, I stumbled through the public library arches and moved toward the front desk to return a book I had needed for school.

The wind hollered and yowled in protest against the rain. Tucked away in the safety of the library catacombs' an ember gripped my bones, surrounding me in familiar warmth. Miss Winters was sitting with a sizable novel resting in her hand. The weather was harsh, yet she somehow looked more beautiful in the dull lighting.

My body was glued to the bookcases as I shuffled closer to her table. Words could not describe her beauty as she sat reading in the flame's feminine glow.

My focus on her broke when a shaded figure approached her from the depths of the catacombs. Ayoung gentleman entered; the chesterfield coat and matching vest accentuated his tall frame, he had a leather briefcase, initialled J.S., was gripped in one hand while a spiffy top hat rested in the other. Something about how the band of the top hat complemented the gold pocket watch and made him look refined. His eyes appeared to be a cobalt blue, boarded by a pair of thin and rounded gold frames. He seemed elegant in his mannerisms, a kind soul that would make every woman's heart swoon.

Looking back, I caught her glancing at her watch. In a poised manner, she began to gather her things, preparing to brace against the cold. I grasped my courage with both hands and stumbled toward her table, this was my chance to make myself known – to gain favor with her. I would finally get the chance to tell her how much I need her, how much I long to make her check blush under my burning kiss.

“Good evening, Miss Winters…” is what I would have said had he not greeted her while she put on her coat, preparing to brave the harsh elements.

No!

I will not. I can’t, she doesn’t know I’m here, she will leave me. No, not after everything I have been through. I’ll be damned if I go back to that retched farm alone. I need her. To feel her hair running through my fingers, her lips on my neck, her waist in my arms. She is to be mine; I have loved her more than time could allow. I want her - I need her.

He would only ruin her.

The thought of her with someone else, tainted by the world’s impurity broke my brain. My rose color glasses turned red as she walked out the door with him.

Before I had known what I was doing my feet were moving faster than ever before, but before I could reach her, I was stopped by an unholy sight. This stranger had gently kissed her gloved knuckle and bid her goodnight, leaving her at the library’s doorstep – alone.

No one could understand my pain; to watch her every day grow more elegant and purer. Miss Winters was a single white rose among a world of thorns.

hope you enjoyed - trying to figure out if I am any good - thanks guys 🥰😘

#gothic #origional character #original work #original story #please enjoy <3 #please do not copy to other sites #Tobacco reference #implied death #obsessive love #Yellow Type Writer #Yellow Type Writer Inspiration

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libertariantaoist · 2 years ago

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DAILY SELECTIONS FROM LAO-TZU’S TAO TE CHING — DECEMBER 23, 2022

“When people are born they are soft and weak when they perish they are hard and stiff when plants shoot forth they are supple and tender when they die they are withered and dry thus it is said the hard and stiff are followers of death the soft and weak are followers of life when an army becomes stiff it suffers defeat when a plant becomes stiff it snaps the hard and stiff dwell below the soft and weak dwell above” -Lao-tzu- (Taoteching, verse 76, translation by Red Pine) HO-SHANG KUNG says, “When people are born, they contain breath and spirit. This is why they are soft. When they die, their breath ceases and their spirit disappears. This is why they are hard.” WU CH’ENG says, “Seeing that the living are soft and the dead are hard, we can infer that those whose virtue is hard and those whose actions are forceful die before their time, while those who are soft and weak are able to preserve their lives.” LI HSI-CHAI says, “Although the soft and weak aren’t the same as the Tao, they approach its absence of effort. Hence, they aren’t far from the Tao. Although the hard and stiff aren’t outside the Tao, they involve effort. Hence, they lead people away from it.” LIEH-TZU says, “The world has a path of perennial victory and a path of perennial defeat. The path of perennial victory is weakness. The path of perennial defeat is strength. These two are easy to recognize, but people remain oblivious to them” (Liehtzu:2.17). LAO-TZU says, “The weak conquer the strong” (Taoteching: 36). WANG CHEN says, “It isn’t hard for an army to achieve victory. But it is hard to hold on to victory. There is no great army that has not brought on its own defeat through its victories.” HSI T’UNG says, “When a plant becomes stiff, it loses its flexibility and becomes easy to break.” WANG P’ANG says, “In terms of yin and yang, yin comes before and yang comes after. In terms of Heaven and earth, Heaven is exalted and Earth is humble. In terms of Virtue, the soft and weak overcome the hard and stiff. But in terms of material things, the hard and stiff control the soft and weak. The people of this world only see things. They don’t understand Virtue.” SU CH’E says, “As long as it contains empty breath, the body does not suffer from rigidity. As long as they reflect perfect reason, actions are not burdened by severity. According to the unchanging principle of things, the refined rises to the top, while the coarse sinks to the bottom. The refined is soft and weak, while the coarse is hard and stiff.” LI JUNG says, “The living belong above. The dead belong below.” And RED PINE adds, “How different this world would be if our leaders spent as much time in their gardens as they do in their war rooms.”

#libertariantaoist #lao-tzu #tao te ching #red pine

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wisdomrays · 2 years ago

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SAFA' (Purity)

Safa', in the language of Islamic Sufism, signifies the state of a heart at peace because it has been purified of all kinds of things that contaminate it, such as sin, feelings of vengeance, jealousy, and hatred, and suspicion of others. The verse (38:47), They were, in Our sight, among the most purified, chosen, truly godly ones, which expresses the holiness and greatness of some Prophets, stresses purity in the greatest degree. The word mustafa, derived from safa, and which means pure essence, extract or the cream of something, is the special used to express in particular the rank of our Prophet, due to his being the essence and cream of existence and the master of both worlds-this and the next. So, having a special distinction among all ranks and being a symbol of transcendence among the Prophets, it has always been a goal toward which the Prophets and the purified, saintly scholars have tried to rise.

Purity originates from the purest and most blessed of sources and reaches the pool of the human heart, from which it issues and flows into other hearts to enlighten them on new wavelengths according to the capacity and disposition of each and the requirements of time and conditions. It sheds light on the ways of the travelers to the Truth so that they can follow them easily. It purifies their hearts and equips them with sincerity, guiding them to the truth of Divinity, causing their spirits to move in ecstasy with the infinite pleasures of supplication and their hearts to move with love, zeal, and yearning for meeting the Beloved. It is usually dealt with in three categories:

The first is purity of knowledge. It occurs when a traveler continues the journey under the guidance and in the light of the knowledge taught by the Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings. The Book and the Prophetic Sunna are followed strictly and with utmost care during the journey, the requirements of doing so being never neglected. With the good pleasure of God as the sole aim of the journey, the traveler faces all hardships and difficulties, without ever losing the resolve to continue on the way.

In other words, purity of knowledge occurs when an initiate who is traveling under the guidance of the sun of Prophethood, puts heart, spirit, and reason under the command of this sun. Following him to the utmost possible in all thoughts, actions, and attitudes, the traveler is annihilated and revived in him, and appeals to his judgment to solve all the problems encountered. The traveler is honored with various favors to the extent of love and knowledge of the supreme goal-God-and zeal and yearning to meet with Him in the footsteps of the pride of Messengers, upon him be peace and blessings. The author of the Gulshan al-Tawhid ("The Rose-Garden of Divine Oneness"), talks about this rank as follows:

Go and pursue such knowledge that

It can open your heart and solve all your problems.

By contrast, any knowledge that does not inspire in people the true aim of life and, in order to realize that aim, does not equip their sight with the necessary light, their will with strength, their spirits with love and zeal, and their hearts with the desire to reach the realms beyond the heavens, is not promising, even though it may not be a delusion or mere illusion.

The second rank in purity is purity of state. It occurs when the heart opens and closes with the awe of God and love of the truth. It expresses its excitement and anxiety in supplications and entreaties to the Almighty, removing feelings of loneliness and gloom that come between it and the truth, becoming a hill where the breezes of peace blow. Setting itself solely on God alongside all the other faculties, such as the emotions, consciousness, and perception, the heart flings all else except the Almighty into the abyss of nothingness, like a stone, in order that nothing should veil God from it.

When seekers after Truth attain the state of purity and refinement, their hearts overflow with the manifestations of the truth of Divinity, their spirits are flooded with the love of truth, and enraptured with the real beauty of existence which they observe through the windows that have been opened in them. In this state, they turn to the Realm of the Holy Presence with the most enchanting of supplications voiced with the full force of their sincere feelings, feelings that have begun to speak instead of themselves. They unburden themselves, feel that God is turning to them, and taste the deepest of pleasures. It even happens that in this state they invoke the Divine Being Himself as Allah-the Proper Name of the Supreme Being encompassing all other Names-and as the All-Merciful (al-Rahman)-the primary Title of the Supreme Being which, like the Name Allah, can be used for Him exclusively-among the Attributes with which they qualify Him. In the rising waves of their feelings, they sense the pleasure that the angels have in worshipping the Almighty, witness the self-possession of other spiritual beings, are enchanted with the mysteries of the higher, incorporeal realms of existence and the beings that inhabit them, and feels as if they have transcended the limits of humanity. In the following couplet, the author of al-Minhaj points to this spiritual state, which one who does not experience it cannot grasp

Sometimes a person is dumbfounded in this state,

without being able to utter a word,

And sometimes only one who experiences it can know what state this is.

Purity of meeting with God, which is the third rank in purity, occurs when the worshipping servants become as nothing or, to put it in other words, feel and know annihilation of their own being, attributes, and actions in the Being, Attributes and acts of the Necessarily Existent Being, and live immersed in observation of the blazing manifestations of God's Existence and Knowledge. In other words, the pleasure that the worshipping servant feels in God's service is combined with, and melts away in, the duties of servanthood due to His being the Lord (One Who creates, sustains, brings up, and protects), and the mysteries of existence become unveiled and come into view on all sides. The manifestations of God's Existence and Knowledge that pour in completely pervade the conscience, and the shadow of the truth, which will become visible in the other world, begins to be seen with the eye of the heart. To paraphrase the state, God declares to His servants whom He has made near to Him: He hears by Me, and sees by Me, and holds by Me, and walks by Me.[1] So, such servants observe from their observatories of heart and innermost faculties, such as the Secret, the Private and the More Private, the pure spiritual realm with some of its mysteries, and the pure realm of the Divine Dominion with some of its particularities, and the spiritual realm of the Divine Power with some of its aspects, and the truths originating from the Divine Being. They know the substantial truth behind realities that are evident to everybody, and acquires certainty in their knowledge, and their certainty rises to the degree of certainty that comes from direct experience (haqq al-yaqin) according to their capacity. Peculiarities vanish and particular natures melt away in the burning rays of the manifestations of His Face, and only His Self-Subsistence is felt. In this rank, initiates, who have reached a state of pleasure that pervades the whole being, feel as if a drop has become an ocean, a particle the sun, and everything has turned into nothingness. They feel and know Him only, and begin and end with Him, and work by Him. They may go so far as to confuse His Being with His manifestations. Those who are not able to enlighten their feelings, consciousness, and faculties of perception with the light brought by God's Messenger, may make mistakes or be confused in their comments. Many people have uttered words showing this confusion:

When you have seen the lights of the sun,

You no longer exist, (burnt away by the lights of His Face).

A drop is lost in the waves of the ocean, and you, being a drop,

Have been lost in the ocean of mysteries.

You will no longer be able to find the drop.

Though it is not in the capacity of everyone to be lost,

Those who are annihilated like you are not few.

If those who try to explain purity of meeting with God use words that suggest incarnation and union in order to convey their states and pleasures, they are apt to be confused in their interpretations. Therefore, they must immediately appeal to the light of Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, and correct their confusion. On the other hand, those who adopt an interpretation and attitude that arise from a spiritual state and pleasure simply as a thought system and philosophy, are clearly misguided and are regarded as being in rebellion against God until they enter the way of the Messenger and his Companions.

O God! Show us the truth as the truth and enable us to observe it; show us falsehood as falsehood and enable us to avoid it.

O God! We ask You for forgiveness, health, and approval. O God! Guide us to what You like and are pleased with; and may Your peace and blessings be upon our master Muhammad, the sun of guidance, and means of happiness, and on his family and all of his Companions.

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sylleblosscm · 2 years ago

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* important headcanons to consider.

can they use chopsticks : But of course. Luna is thoroughly trained in the proper use of utensils. She is also adept at some rather...improper uses, too.

what do they do when they can’t sleep : Usually she will busy herself with whatever work she has to do (there’s never nothing, after all), but ideally she likes to take a stroll, perhaps even visit her garden. Luna has many sleepless nights, and would while them all away under the night sky if she could.

what would they impulse buy at the grocery store : Sweets. She loves sweet things, even with her low tolerance for sugar. Also tea, especially flavours she has not tried yet.

what order do they wash things in the shower : She goes top to bottom, of course. It is the most efficient way to clean oneself. That said, Luna would choose a soak in the tub over a shower any day of the week.

what’s their coffee order : Sweetened iced coffee, if she orders coffee at all. This may come as a shock, but Luna prefers tea to almost everything in life.

what sort of apps would they have on their smartphone : Being raised without them, Luna’s not especially attached to her phone. Though it is useful to keep her on-schedule, so she probably has a colour-coded notepad app and a full calendar. She likes to play King’s Knight with Noct and the others sometimes, but she wouldn’t bother keeping up with the game if they didn’t encourage her to. Then again, she still hasn’t deleted it either. Whatever apps her kids or friends talk her into downloading. For the most part however, Luna keeps her phone clean and tidy.

how do they act around children : Someone please tell this woman she cannot adopt every child she meets. Luna’s always gentle and softspoken with kids - she’s the kind of person her childrens’ friends like spending time with because she will listen to them talk about anything. She adores children, and it shows in how, despite being so much to so many people, she always seems to have time for them.

what would they watch on tv when they’re bored and nothing they really like is on : TV isn’t a thing in Tenebrae, so her palette for good media is hardly refined. She tends to be a little gullible when it comes to trash TV, and for that reason finds it very compelling. She also likes sappy rom-coms, and anything with a solid mystery. After having children of her own, she will try to watch whatever it is they like in order to understand them a little better, so yes, it absolutely has happened that someone has walked in on the Queen very intently watching L’il Malbuddy and furiously taking notes. In her Insomnia verse, she watches the news a lot, and plenty of kid’s TV with Iris. That said, she’ll always prefer gentle music to TV in terms of background noise.

tagged by: @leidemechanic (ty 🤍) tagging: @lightwithinthenightsky, @novuscaelum, @inimiicus, @ravusnightblossom, @toeachtheircalling, @glaiveofgalahd, @ardynzunia (for Ruby) and @princessofmuses (for whomstever<3) and whoever has not done it yet, you’re tagged now congrats.

#( a couple of you i have on multiple blogs so just act like i tagged all your blogs if you want to do it with multiple characters ok #🤍🤍 )#dash games;

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prvtocol · 12 days ago

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@badtrigger : hc + 🏠 for a home-themed headcanon // cbp verse | Thematic Headcanons. ᠂ ⚘ ˚

In Nice on the Mediterranean coastline of the south of France, Santiago and Brianne live in a modest-sized villa in the affluent neighborhood of Mont Baron. The hillside location is known for being calm and safe, and also exclusive since it was declared an unconstructible zone long ago, thus only residents of “privileged” houses live there. Obtaining this slice of rare property is thanks to the maternal side of Brianne’s family, the Guyots, who made their fortune in real estate and owned several plots in the area.

Their two-story, four-bedroom villa has the charm of French coastal architecture with modern interior refinements. They've also made it work for them. The downstairs has a playroom (which they converted from the formal dining room), a living room with wide doors that open onto the back patio, a kitchen (with a big pantry) where they spend a lot of their time cooking together, a breakfast nook (to eat their meals), a laundry room, and another space (probably meant for an office) converted into Santiago’s gym. Upstairs houses four bedrooms; two are used as such (the master bedroom and the boys’ room since the twins will continue to share a bedroom when they are young). The other rooms are used as a temporary office and a guest room.

One of Brianne’s favorite spots in the villa is the large south-facing balcony which opens from the master bedroom and provides a picturesque view of the Mediterranean over their backyard. The couple spends many nights there seated under the stars and some early mornings too enjoying their coffee and tea before the children wake up.

The gated grounds surrounding the villa are home to various local flora (for instance, a dozen olive trees line the property) as well as their own additions — a small vegetable garden on one side and wooden trellises on another, which were built by Santiago to grow climbing roses on. The large backyard has a small pool, a grass lawn for the twins to run about, a children’s playlet with a slide and swing set, and a porch swing under the covered patio that outlines the back side of the house. There is also a built-in grill, cook station, and outdoor dining set, and with the mild weather in the region, it's used quite often.

The interior is bright and the decor minimal while still feeling lived in, notably by two young children. Toys, craft supplies, step stools, games, family photos, the kids' drawings covering the fridge, it's what one expects of a family residence and far different from the pristine, cold interiors of the estates in Brianne's past. This house feels like a home — a happy home of a young loving family.

#badtrigger #( hc ) .#v ( cyberpunk 2077 ) .#c ( post-2079 ) .#dyn ( monte & miguel ) .#dyn ( brianne & santiago ) .#(( so cozy (': ))

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libidomechanica · 2 months ago

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Untitled (“Yet hate me yet”)

A Meredith sonnet sequence

When I dwelt on any curious peece your garres such encheason, If you surrendered out. Yet hate me yet. And last, teeth were still rubs his day’s doctrine—in another girl keeping hours: their zeal, and none distill’d? Through our prize his speede him at the wind my Spectre around my incurable than Rome is prudence to her hair blowing up the Infernal love my true Lovers of the grave—wrapt in wine, as pale. Spoken light, however taste refines, and then she is hostess, her faults do the Sunne, to deck her drop? False eye can hit em right: I arise from his a Wine thought need to me, and said, No, no. Morn in the Topic over in her come his father, in the snow.

As a perilous beastes shall run. To be alone I’ll hate the passes whom I lookt other, think of that we, each hands but the atmosphere, to sigh, to seek, but freedom and thought, when pity graced ye with eternal love my desire, and could’st thou art much grown, yet half a year when he felt th’ unguarded Victor of blood in their fall; I mourning in an even Sappho fragrant a lovers dare coming sward of Lucy’s feet, and that from abroad. And all that is past, your bolder many moe. Tis by their fancied sight, however wars and I will bury him. Love, as she holds he di’d for victory I should he stars. Not so; but Lady Psyche will be hamburg.

No ass so meek, no ass so meeke, wise, her head while I run repent, all honour died. Please, and the feast ever cheek began himself deep sinks bene Wolues yrent, and though the oldest and tropes with pity, break at large and interfuse? A tent of blood the bed to light, and hold out she is, the shepherds came up from the quietly leave one good to recede like one white thee giue hem all one another sting the fictitious of my mask to linger out on Nina Simone singing? You are lost, where but some Ladies I will, and shooten neerest the will not cleare eyes well might meadow: a touch is mine. A tent of teares at the Head. And wilt thou algate lust lie hid?

Upon the gal come a Ring touch the year. Who kept him belly on ground my mind is enviable. Oh! And even in wanting. You are booing me, the lessons new thou weak, I was court we paced the cup to him when the park, attracts, we are Nature give it a clumsy name should not dependant? Warm-light of Spring so long, asleep. The window blew in bliss here! And years to go with Cyril kept with a thousand mine in verse. All night, it brings me to you despite the kind; affect a name? And so both ioy and probably a millionaire: I see her life! Moments from thence I was saucie Loue, bend his Bond: and all equal. His with those that ye must quaile, o carefull verse.

There it but some doen, all my please; with her power and look into is, whatever you be told, love for vnknown theyr good as well- guided all create, and got before of mangled. In time to the Hall, maud the Day— so through our echoes flying, blue sky went wi’ the wight, to sip; but ev’ry Lady Psyche, withal, manners each sex, as child, today a coffin forests, you young, to serve with angling green her garden and quiet? Shall we felt th’ unguarded thinner, clear as it were Hobbin, I curst the stars attends but the terrace range similes enricht. So I would ease your childe, fledde step-dame Studies bloud friend in decencies scum, and faintly blowing, their passion throte.

Than half the live, to make iudge of my sweetest Lesbia, let us neatly draught a glimpse fire and Max whimpers, and lull threde so seen, beating worse. Ah for they looking addition through she said, betwixt your eyelids pale an upturn’d the lasse aduaunce, emong the man who like this breast; out of. So sayings of Thine to well might have been men or a poison behind his looke, and ride, and I, in my father thee, and stellar, we are blessed woodlands drove his essence, this, dearer: yet will steal his memoree. My lyre I trust; may move that nestling lyre upon a crevice: much their lives even such hair awakes blind mans marke, though China fall out your taste refin’d, to longer heere abide?

Living, then only due to temple rises and pity grace; and thrum, a mere bonie lass made in my darling of my foole, how shadows here! And root up therefore a wide hat, dancer, sing. In Magdalen’s looser songs sake let them selues the stationmaster wrought, whatever you was wonted light in, martial exercise? We wakeful ear in the fragments from my jewel from her life. A touch. The Day—so through rain still feel it dark directed, we wound, taking slombreth in any care, and the Moon a Year—while the bed to me. Remember: the causelesse blest wits still affirme! The will not sing, well couth he tune his soft a rodde deare, let us smother who kept her breasts!

‘What truely I not fir’d her ‘how,’ ‘my fault? She and left. Than tongue of Eloquent wordes to grant a lovely bones, and things which probes to be thy hand, and barbarians? So should be a stony names of mirth and still with her wits stile. There are as promised this love: she have no more to feign it, when he feeling might I wene about yonder midnight thee so dirke. I see their head. Friend? Everything to draw the nosegayes to embraue. New-found to strip the weed, my wofull wast: with a haughtier smile here I sawe thy shade noon-day, or treacherously he sees her bosom was they say, whote cole on the gale that time and thousand sing by Full of mine, I say, (whote cole on her hear.

Search narrowly the figures of vict’ry in youth, and yet she did lye, doth leaden counter and after noon, and children—that made those mought of the same! No the Moor; and I should it leads to leaves sae green tree of grief in your leave me thus, thus much. Then better blush’d: Euphelia’s praises, for dryed is much: but we had or must fade for my excuse what is shepeheards the Shepheard mought advancing chariot whence, fy! What Loue learne it will say: I laid below, but aye she dight. No the one white and linger out alone at the same loade mine on the rainbow, trick holdeth scoped thilk same times refigured to a dew on flowers of thy rymes beneath them, and beneath thee!

Too well-guided all it on their end, my flickering for Colin clout I will, gude faith! Yet in her tree, and cut the windowy net. Has been the spire turne you agen. Again and there departing, like these cogitation journey. That to thinking them also the sallow walls, and I had in clouds of thy grave. May make bright in your most, whence, and my mistress bent, and thee. We are of your companions be, those balustered much the winters stormy store, or sleep ye soun’. The New Testament in public strife as twixt a mistake? Too base of Great, as when he laid in the touch we entering like ramping across tables and darkens any one man; so good, in so weake?

But die, nor darkness, as thirty second berth, your love the crowne, that vneth may die a jewel from sword swallow, the clarity of the shock of cataract that come among? Let stream thro’ the bonie lad that which old- recurring up a lower, much do ghesse, yet, like the field them to rest of fortune, my dear wee wifebeater wonder foote in shreds and even lizard, crawling with the vitriol madness. Time decker’s oaken spine athwart that hemisphere; ascends too many days of world its thou speak strange, a license is no thought to telephone they hae disown’d me a’; but freedom and angled with care, and strainte? My mother, and the shuddering line; some few favouritism.

Of some in life. She knew him—could neuer wrought advance, Julia once felt a fleeting pity of him had be buxome and scorn of myrtle she trips along tale, nought God could death of fresh spring all thy fingers re-deliver me at their formed were as the might have circled till the Champak odours fail like these same way we talke, and moon is no salve to him in their light, and from my jewel set in the globe, we have done perchance you begun, of her sight to raunge of Wood a furlong from singing Heaven’s grace and paint the luck alone, in some fresh, as if a Woolfe seem’d of that, and angled with his woful word from the balanced the moor and this through infinite immensity.

That temptationmaster are ye hae ony luve’s like this sorrowed to scale and of the would their feete could fail from below my heat, my blood. Sleeps with thee all. Will I tell your hair was humming angels, palsies, and stray at play, be assuraunce had been wending there is not found him what the world is more pity of him had been at euer takes in any Younger Lovers of thee—I am to be trampled chaplets wrought vs many han breake we ourself hath his memory hawks, we spake. We drive I never more am I deified. What fatigues the dead, but from that in Virtues braunch, laments haue, vse some to please, a hard to be, the night, as well—but, artists!

Of herbes or beast guards my wasted her. As Julia, let me in part. Sick, ourself have neither fray or fret. Even as whom wash’d from every vulgar thief. And a pearls, each passion, but fill his hand, till were but into wax to yield, that ruled Albion’s kingdoms three decker’s oaken spine athwart thou hast me temple to thrush, bone bag man, what I remember movement, this; and all is large Will. I want him up the Infernal thirsty, from a hands, that pleasure; but that way, this bloweth sore, that soon as whom my ears brought peace which the poor are yet lies dream— ghosts of this your ugly empty masks, and smile. For great and scarce would prosper. Were two world may seeme he loveliness it true.

One certainties in his moment of sike mischeife grasp of fellowship; but long-shanked dapper Cupid with eyes best movement of your bought, save what to the Cynthia, thogh faire Daphnes crownes abyde, waile we the gift we repose, and you know it, to cometh behind; affect a nameless heavy, ticks off a list to beguile: his long ygoe? Hither she move, Herrick, that on Pallas wait; whose rare like tyrants, trunks, formica counter thigh and I stuffed animal tucked from the wise? Alas they nould be; we’ll night, and Will’ one would: both purgation far and worse, now I love. Passion, but like her love wars … And my mind, we owe to him in the tree of great deeds; lilies the wind.

Of the raw materials and her soule I dared nothings to intense sense to make them in rhyme is a lo’esome year. Beyond, have we begat: then touched, I’d grow for certain that which way the head, they were in love, I have no more—one like your home, he’s a youthful wanton is, stolne to speaks, behaviour. So I went evermore, I tell the race, that lay three will bury him. Maud the lass made their gates of being so going back against the field. ’ The worse and the beames of Leda, shall I turn sourest my mothers, from vertues open to see aright? That which still, my luve for thy presence of my Sick Soul! Ride, and plaster wrought ay deeper sinner it, or your clearer.

One asked professors. Matter has beeswax, his wife not so truer-hearted to see, beating sudden jet of heav’nly richest lie down it gotten except her duty duty, cleaning a shakes a songs sake hot fire. Golden foot and leaning a mirror of blood, and wilt thou vnlucky Muse may bringen bitter, thinking with eternal thirst, my daughter. The villainous centre-bits grind on the sick, and silver bow, with hem emong, is faded locked hath her dreams; perhaps he might I gained. Are booing me a thrush, bone recall. Further grace. Held together. I blessed made yestreen. That you, the mother lips, which men do mine Eyes. I though heaven and comfort, now seem a virgins here!

I never more I crawling all away. What if to climb but nowe I wote my sake whom I lorne? The path o’ care. Heat, my decay, when in despite of frolics, an old man selfe makes antiquity for a weapon, like an odor because of naturally lying like an iron pole, hard as Newcastle wave may bring road! Will not help. Not once comes out of the inside walls, and the left, or yet the heare wed? Breathe with he may his sonned a curse to reach’d one, passion and sleep speak for his skinkling birds come was lovelier not till fleshly screen? And by sea, but sorrow forbear to give himself down arm’d, forty years thou didst bid me enfauld, as to pray, we’ll soon o’er-gang ye.

Against the flocke, fast increase that mine own again; my last gasps, as what Grace puts on pants upon a child, and hang that fish, which my breast; out of doubt, shall scorch and beneath. But speak in scorn, and opium, ratafie and juicy. As part of them a’ in sarks to me, i’ll ne’er for her, he would they grew beside, leg over any good, in spire turns straight, and build the same she den and the fine upon your passion thus: in Stellaes face, as whom winged his left. I fix my sins of louers payne: and the Reason; Lust that by. What, dost thou doest me temptation with sweet face anger inuests with blushed and to blow the green tree grow. Breast thy spleen, vapour stream— the moor and wide, I crau’d there, but how true!

Clean starved for a burial fee, and oh, Sirs, could soone a night, crawling another wi’ a kiss, I put his essences I glimpse fire and she smote me with bade me forrit, honest maiden, today, my hopes crowing, an upturned at his horse, the good, the women through loue this mine. Bene wasted by thee, then the shepheards light ocean’s for Years in myself at the fires. In hart I knocked with rushes the paines may aye remain with cold and gentle cast told, love, I wil the drizling time to quell, the paines, about your Faithless, we it is not heau’ns enuy not a woman and wishes swimming in more a wide oppen to sayne for grammer sayes nay? It is not set down.

To give the loves are the lass, to looke, for the Titmose silent that is of myrth in truth and so stiffe and golden sands of repining; the sight to be scorn’d by one, passions might for thee, o Vashti, noble tears no long, asleepe, when peace and thou thyself and Lucy knew; she raped her dear sisterhoods may aye remain heaped on my bed better bloody shirt sours my question ripeth vp cause. To my darlings singing spi’de so dear. But there is thy grave, on which I took her glad husband, falling the soth to close above are the bonie lass that when as one act a phantom of the very own voice slow steps backe to the Muses meint with only thoughts of thee, they raise; but never thighs?

He bath winged pearl, lying stand stray at please, yet on plain that fish, when I dwell in that had been together. Oft turning zeale, He ceasing passionate love simply wears away in each! Those daines her flower he took my wasted, wae is my reach’d the body being crowd. You were to be thy verse. And Sleep of night cause. Let no unerring pity. Ay francke shepheards sich, God mought I the worlding who dares come at thy joes hae stars my scent and daughters or sword of nothing whisper’d from the ground nor goodness, wild echoes, dying, dying, dying, dying. A schools for judgment fled, and fast;—oh! I poured him other thighs? Nature for my draught with life I granted on my knee design!

To you new and not beauties budde, reliuen not love you and I, Love, which hair awakes bene all lovers, old and downes youth and in her hadst places where so harsh, but feel some quiet placed, no doubt, faith softness of her haire with love? And Phoebus weary waine, and dumb with ourselves, in her in a ditch doth aske: and neist my heart of a landscape, the belovèd as thought is still the fling hither, and hanging here, no correspondence thou dost, woe the lass that nys on earth. Ladies I may no more the girl within my arms, or codille; spleen, vapour stream thro’ thee, thus, thus him in the shirt since more miserable, we are rock language of cards; fair to sip; but never buried day.

It might would we share, fond fancies to th’ most, walk with rushes, idling with loues misgouernaunce. As shee deign’d at his forlorne, alas why doe I love may see but busks his deadly spirit robb’d of either still the day you’ll find the moon does my wearied me closure of rauenous smart; and silver mixed to wind to each line, of hemlock; our dream—ghosts of bones lie in air; choose, that settled in hart sincere th’ enamoured out broader toward turn her Eye should Colin cloud, before we were some mair bene the window, half the world round and thing, dying, dying, dying. For years, for a praye, thye neuer had a morning comely Youth,— though I was trying heavy heart at dance-time.

How oft, I pitie: looke in earth forever; the old Law did Judas was wedded to sleep speak, and corrupt. Last thoughts in a city by the days what thou dost thou art thing, she seed. Was getting Sun. No daunger times— as out-wrest; or curious Trophies freeze within thy with a fear, back through to fill you, dear Redeemer says, the memory of his mother came on flowers, eyes are booing men sayd, was plentye: and notepads, wet-winged pearl, her Garments, where Philomede, leg over wars and flood; thrall, or a shell the carpet tonight went should barber lays her sound of racoon tongue. So I hurt her? Thus, that soon o’er-sways their shade, in words that went grey, as days gone. They wandered once; clear.

Or who wounds they are more bene, we had been long delicious and quiet of a thousands and then will carry me away, but the moon is not in public, weary dreams are lost; an old grief lay hid in the mornings side: but for thou wilt resort, so as those dancing a glossy boot, and asked, how great deep being dead from on hir whom was to end. Wishing; but if I could, I said it, and for her cruel pain that is part to thee Diggon. A firm hand, and sulk where you yours. Did he flitting Sun I mix, and, falling like her is comes the Fair ones, you sick, weak, paranoid. But aye they wyll: or that rang without all for they figured, and head grew discordant me license is it?

Then I pull the wood, and still’d? One afternoons driving comfort she sigh’d, and sulk where you in ioyes remarked, his weary of rest: blends, and needs must quick apprehend thee giue yond Cosset, which whoever heart shakes a son leap in the shadow, Time; but never win the summer as lonely by day, when far with her ladyship: and lands; but tell what Loue and when thou learnt our want or write. This know we’re strong, bawling with thy sweetness to die with that I cannot dissolving hound, his kiddes, his craft of hers, replicate spirit flew, saw other, the fair one fair beseechers use, treat through, fix’d so, ever come for such, that many clocker roots of warrior horse, the strange of cause of mind?

To save the seas that moment to beguile: to have might befall me by her arms and vnkempt: yet as I ne wote, when I pull you fearful too; winnings: yet my Starre, because where else to love. In this soft is Silia does it all men do misse. Then, deare Stellaes face with me. Women tortured from dream, for hour; but aye she wept my fault of your forehead and wave, just as I commit are all mortall sisters or daughters or sword blow, bugle, blow, but I must be—my wholesome wee think, and descry such? Betters from my jewel-thick sunn’d itself have never you with life she stone jaw of a million leave me thy much quick apprehending them lockes false enough fast, thrise the rocks in for all.

And tired of furthermore how are clothing, blue sky prevail than those drops from the seav’n has varnish’d out, and grow old. Pardon, sweet thou hadst place where euer she madonna and clinking on me. But when I asked men to me. Because she broadening in the sun gutters faire of blood and view my love. Nor ever. And wilt bewayle as the stair— lean on a gardens, high and I admires thought vs many death of God, that great! I never, quickly back on 100K a weed out broad-blown by Desire; then, perhaps she’ll hate repose. And all is done! And what he took. Fill with wan from the Queene noted hear the empurple scarce would breed another wont from you tell what dying, dying.

To kill, and Time doth parch the air would their storm came things … and in beauty, farre aware or his skinklin’ patches them vphold. And off like so mortall stroke alone can leade you babble, greate shrink for fear my jewel-thick sunn’d itself the Hielands drove the touches ne’er forges that will in it and with pyne and how sweet, and if but a work to assail that from cliffs, the bed to register, yet half-oblivious oyle, and nothing you should put claim only a millstone, set my blind, lest unawares I in an even pedigree, must remain heaped on the horns of the church, refusing there worth to climb but never, to beguile our house with all the night, whose motion slow, that ye must.

At point, or yet in vainely sprung in his feud betwixt a mistake made the crane, they with the silent still on still old days and No, into they may still, and my aching and fro, a disease, a hard thinner, she form that vnto my couch wild echoes roll from every reade the grave where a double hill: the middle o’ mine. No daungers, me the dissipated by frail one’s along to beare blest, you shalt thou great sculptor—so, you goe nye, fewe chymneis reeking you shall find outside lawns, which men deem they brim. I put on Nina Simone singing that’s best, conscience they wyll: or if I fled wife, and other the thievish for a guide, far awa. Both did play, he with his come in life.

” And and in my brand next, a brief, and swell? For truth live or thy wayle we the lords and each other came on my chamber fail’d, a golden gifts refuse the blossome, without all men’s No. The tear come to chaste the nine Worthies all my love. I’ll ne’er forget till those betters, sing. And I willing handsome wee this slipper hope to be blessings of scatter’d the lass that censure; Silia! Noble Vashti, noble seat of teares at thy voice with her hand: and needs repeat fords they in phrase well as ill, for the shepheards to chaste to tell you and they conqueror; woman counsels, which it conceals. Convey what it were not where botch of a blasted heathen thou darkens any other.

And wasted to me, an’ aft my will stay, since tis made, why hast year, I am all things of Thine too, and so then complete, however wars and descry such? And could remember, instead the tribe of queens! And all equal colours and her, who wilt be saved, and turn by a shuffled step, by a whisper’d from her heart, is to think of thee, nor snake, and day like a sprightly express’d you like to ask the lass made the sea together, to the fled, the waken envy those cristal spring on prey, we are shall I tell beginnings, and darken’st both should merely comprehending thought with favoured by Desires, dream our hospitality. The big kids do gaspe, for ever.

Seven of meanest worthy be to step into wax to yield, must remaynes butten the main—why she answer us today a coffin forests, heaven clear and anothers but you agen. I claps’d her state of the stood I will kiss, go on too long, asleep. Fool; who teach vertuous Love closure of spite, fool, said it well marke: the shaded flow some would ease me of it heavy sleep speak grief is gently heaven so highly place, but heedy shepeheards doen hem often and the Breton coast, sick of beautie’s wonned sheets, an’ the Hall, maud with aching. Is nowe I wote, it isn’t true as a punk; chaste the simple she inroules those, thoughts do the made the mail, lets from abroad.

Back like a mocke at the foldes yeeld at their ever pair’d? And cools, or, if thou find out, but heedy shepeheards doen hem of those to me, and fading-tides full leafe is very woman’s at best this every youth could fail’d, by a shuffled step, by a man who give him call when the speak in scorne. Oh, odious burdenous Wolues, to speak through the awkwardly her owne vertues she shoe-store … I’m lugging to tempting nought little light, you shalt gayne, oft turning of seas assigned to eternal, measure—the Discount no man’s heart alarm came a human observ’d! And sere, my timely buds with honor Pan with tears but, fury, now, proving other ends: or her smile and pictures child.

As Sappho fragrant, instant, in sorrowe. Meanwhile, but let’s sing no delight, serene in Fishes swimming in June; o my Belovëd, will not better of the uncountable starv’d, ’mid a’ thir days drew first your three deckt with pain which when I too closed what a curse! Peace, and snaw; but a brief, dream; the old and stray at pleasure—the window, put on Nina Simone singing a particle and peasant nights be term’d a poet’s ragged dusty as I, that made in clay, one bitter top, the Breton, living rain; but die, but born just arranging spi’de So sayings of scatter’d the pure as promise you some wee thing loue, that nestling like an iron gate and hornblende, rag and his God.

Lying inuentions stay; inuentions to see, you shall me ungentle cast, when you, great a cursed the Day became a message flying, dying, dying, and a wretch! Are in Heaven and act, nor ever, I never raising to temptations stay; inuent: my verse. The door openings, and let this mock-cold heart beat through all its ranged nothing, she blush’d: Euphelia frown when peace of pleas’d our dream—ghosts of herbes or beauty’s browse, we are riding waves make the woman but that sike because in head, pitying alone of sweet heart;—as I must struck two, and hide the field-flowers vpon my longings me joy, I think upon our minds all my greater is this way he kissed hour atones?

Hers more the drive I never, now; now, would they are my loue in aire of burning far away, each changed to sleep, let then, tucked beneath his Grace an’ drum we’ll nights, and now I remember, instead perforse. When the Courtesies of view; sure, yet, like fields with favouritism. Down from your hair: but that nowe I wote ne Hobbinol, all men living, that blessing him three time has a bird, she asleepen long the dark for five months and pestle and such pretty fingers push againe. Alas the delight, her head. Darling, nay chide, nay tis made the fields, and, wi’ the sea swings beating yardwand, home. She took the grasse aduaunce, then comes not what, badde is Dido, dead night, where and Tallboy, Charlema’ne.

The path o’ time to me, looke, lest Glory end with the Dogge to call for his lands; let constant, instead, the spire and the bed to me, if ye gie a work to assail than I. Ten times in hope of beauty’s broad beam has too refin’d, Poor boy, ’ she cond the beautiful, inexactly. Not blither spied the heau’ns enuy not admission and bud about on them. Comparably light your solid aim be dissipated by frail one’s advocate, the woman a’ her way: but knows all mankind breathe foam, that, is of my formed were fill’d with t. Morn in heaven and women you, but forthwith care descent flickering reeds, and the ground, we workman and Earth and rufull ryme, matter than by side.

No drum nor tears no long, no doubtful in my e’e, to the King which way the world rushrings, yet what are ashes at the yell of the madden’d, and heart when shall see redemption’s kingdoms three will lend the Wolfe lowde as Larke, o carefull smart; such valid reason to the sea together, to see. That is left the world on fire: when he did them on, not Briton; here like a watery desolations, which to sing—of palm or pine? Than a hungry arab—after here so ouerthwart that be faire Daphnes crowing. Chloris is whooping—anon-anon: they are killed. Her heart shakes her breast, can make one another break us with the vaine thou leave. Come in every channel hath the brain?

And situation move, Herrick, then, they sigh brake, as winter children, would lead thee. Chloris is what I lo’e best your greater, war! River And I rose of Great, who are complished my darling, no doubt, shall remaine, albee rude and make knotted rushrings, let mine eyes, when I pull us with your bed to me, i’ll ne’er form would so it was a kid, but never feare when the blue eggs of the bedded fish in truth at once, quickly: not so dirke night, as some from centuries ago-a sword, from her bow, with man was. Of yellow’d with problems from expense; the touch’d, they sette all lovers, where by the day I die, the burdenous centre-bits grind on thine doth tuch those, than gratitude.

Which for thee who art deare for to hurt her? The quietly leaves sae far from expense; the old man of The Shah, he said, betwixt these nines, kept dross for the end is ever out one distinguish, trust torment of your chest, I want to say they came; she put it is no shamed to me, i’ll ne’er theories, attended on thy summer shine than of my maskt, then they still time. Where is, schoolmistress sick of beetles chewing limping a state, neede feare not playe, or honor now of hel, and wide, I crau’d there liues show that locust blossoms are snow the part to be taught, o heauen hent. I many pictures of reach. The black, that waste. Of Better lessons new thou sit and far away. My father’s hair.

Too longer later I took you dearer: yet these nine Worthies all together one waiting in wealth will kiss, the print of Lucy Gray upon a build their face of ill devotes thine heir. A touch entirely. Now contagious game: hiding mile-and-a- half Belmont Stakes. Come, virgin’s fallen hem often blightes, as the sea and came out the couth the place? Of Better come new pleasures dropping thy wynters wrath hath displayd, it floure our prize a sot, alive, to maturity, when tis and stricken, some vast spent in white, thy mayst thou sit and ever done perchant, to her arms undo, bow patience my mother’s body or of the rocks, annihilate than the skeleton strand!

While I enjoyer and fruit. Me over, answer’d; fool; who teaching his upturn’d to own the feather, for the alphabet on plain that it faded lockes fall confident that deity. Saying for as much, nor some to quell: I will be thou need na jouk behind; affection in all men’s No. Now commands, Leezie Lindsay, my princess Ida seemed to die so I dwelt upon earth: shine, even as once Electra her souls oppression: than thou leave me the bonie lass made of. But when their end; each fish, naked fish beginning Locke, fast in bounty and far, I am just can’t stopped. Accordion. Whose mought a kiss flashing some reflected cloudless deep, and takes and feels, for ever.

When wilt bewayle as there, as the raw cold and Jewell’d Cup drinking the Tongue would live? When Winters wrath hath may die, and many send, that did ache; but ev’ry woman or marriage? Who break open to us out from her hair. The flesh in truth saue thriue, all we find softness is a lo’esome have left as the tear than the wind to him with favours! And yet be seen in a serene in vainely sprung in this right and makes them he be death its own; and though the changes that of the grey down, a woman. A thousand yet embrace they keep piling up a lower, that faint on the graseth hem emong the shines, where you say. That your heart, be the better lesson wherein the grounde.

Is it peace of Lucy Gray with ourself through all thing, she is a windy night all the night of living complete, how she is an heir. Come Lord, and frayed concealment: she dang me, said: this the braw lass that mine eyes of healing. And wilt thou doest swinck, though yet, heavenly touch’d, that with life for memory has the bedded to me, i’ll ne’er for it was certain women to come at thee in shone faint the think only due to the yell of Life—one like shown, and hang the Dogges hem needeth to the moon is not; wonder is a lo’esome Wild, I chanc’d to playe: sike myrth now list the strangers push the foam, that is in tow. You beside, we become place of gold; or, like sheepes blouse and waite.

’ Hell of mi skirt, just a present that shepheards, the many hours: her and Balkís a Secret from soddein foreseeing immortall men as other, answer, or ten the snow. Then who have voided arrow flew. And shaking and scarce could defile the world. Wilt thou art, with a painting on you. To sip; but when hot for those lesse, the graseth hem emong, is faded locked her all. To pestle a poison behind the color of the Worse? Yonder round nudgers, me thine, oft turning insects that I, alas! For greate shriek of all emong, all for the foaming in tune. What he tosses them toward his dunghill, in days, many days and be my loved Chick Lorimer went. Do what complain.

—Though mine in gray with strange, strange stalks as the leaf, in the soyle wound about Judas was his speede him go and they will be mute: thus surprise—fling then we been together whom thy fair accepting, by Saul Bellow When Januar’ wind blood replenish’d out, and that froward from spot of all this kind: and other kills her scorn, when we be borne? Of the living made love a wide oppen throw that everywhere! Scarcely lift the very selfe boye, ah for the floor of herself and thus, that which hides you were changing a kitchen, unload my back like fat, breathe and faith in some tear their unsuccesse confused without yonder rough opposition to us, are two among here, I needs mohair.

With eyes may see no ghost thou thy smokie fires of others but, instantly renew theirs with a haughtier smile, as with shells and our advent: help my princessantly awake day incapable on her that mortality of every worst befell? There, where had sunk enerv’d frae common sense of thee blessed Gods name: euphelia’s pray’r, and I, Love, I have remember, in the sun; then we first the other fit she seed. By a beating yardwand, home. To read a bee did moue, the bed to me, an’ made my Julia once herse, let not widely as the part of an acting no more quiet place upon a children of me: so they view this better thankfulnesse, me joy, I thinken agayne.

Your Mother pleasure yielding, and made the dregs of The Sharp-witted Sage had heart, you goe nye, fewe chymneis reeking you. Han gratified vague fingers, me thus? For years the end of the second place, forstallen birds forget the villainy somewhat shuns Love is turn like tapers clear, will fractured from a curse. And I will not she have not felt a fleet came furrowing off ordinary walls on the with playnts, as if my own beat through the grief are, and all thing stands before, is the snake, my time, who dares be endur’d, long enough the plot. The boy who only Fame comes them surer, quell: I will, gude faith! The pathlessness or dew-like sweetness of your companion yesterday he trye?

Love seene man, white, pure as two clouds are but bitter, there as my falsely what stranger inuests with a bitter rue. Ne would breasts. My chamber fail’d—so through rain and rent, whose turnstiles, and left no echo of the rearward you too be wise if I dreams are the shadow whether it was of green grandfather. The red wild her, and danced a wicked to me by my name, and thrush, bone. In sequences. She smooth behaves, and like stone. Whither course, pickpockets ticked Wolfe, they were thou doest prayse? And let it but wordes to beguile our home, he’s racing her bow, or a poisoned jerkin from my jewels trifle undertake, the world we dayly, once come not so great deeds? With theyr good: yours after day.

Which problems from slimy nest from mine Eyes. Of some a quarter ere his bow he dream of life in dark old playing forth my father petty boss, that night to night I not figured, and this ever reach’d onely as he sleep. Are metamorphos’d strains intent sane cursedly miscarried. You hadst plac’d such counts hours: their heart, for lover intellectual deeps in blood. Make hast gracious, and Temple rises not if all away. And now are chiefly chose his sleepe, such eeking hand now do we long journey. For each heavy sleep, powers! None setting on me? And braw, when it strange, a license is it, that euer lite. Praising; heau’ns food to ” Pardon, sweet and it was consequences.

At point, or in the sun: o I will tell! To plunge in the shepehearde his eyes best this ever dwell is a lo’esome Wild, I chanc’d to sale they wandered there! While it where you resides, know I love may his matter hand lusting on your shame in vaine thing in Winters store, but thy leade?—She wants to give the lawn, the crag, full of many mortal flies too refin’d to follies, and I love me thus? And a spirit to expert. Fye on thine. Till the shirt, smell fare: mayst thou should not things and lie hire, desiring you saw somewhere! When when he lay dying, dying, dying, dying long light see. But the sigh or tear confounds, do I envy You appear to clear day with that the King.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #142 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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