#Captain-f-merivel

[the-fae-icarus]

[ pinch ] to pinch my muse (from M, modern)

Alair yelped, startled. “What in the world? What was that for?” 

They slowly straightened up from the book they’d been leaning over, wincing as their spine made a soft clicking sound. 

[faithfulhound]

Soulcolor: Orange

Out of all the colors, people with an orange soul color are the most social. They are happiest around people and prefer to be out partying than sitting at home on a Friday night. They are never short of friends and get to know people all over the world. 

Orange soulcolored people are always looking to excite themselves and often do dangerous or thrilling things to feel alive. They are heavily competitive and excel in sports and physical activities. They rarely self reflect, preferring to stay in the here and now instead of dreaming about the future.

Dealing with an orange soul colored person is pretty easy. They don’t hold grudges over simple things and prefer not to judge others. In fact, they’re most likely to ignore stereotypes and befriend anyone that will talk to them, regardless of sexuality, race, gender, or mark.

Due to their nature of never wanting to settle, they never stay committed to something for long, often bouncing from interest to interest. This causes them to constantly be looking for the next thrill, and they often grow bored with their environment quickly. Schedules are not their strong suit. They are also the most likely to give up on something should it not give them a sense of purpose.

You can take the test here

Tagged by: Nobody - I found it somewhere

Tagging: @amanandgoodatit  - @aubainmary - @battlexfodder - @botanyandbrilliance - @captain-f-merivel - @distoretion - @houseofswords - @itsawildx2ride - @knoxcaulfield - @leatherandsoil - @lxvingdeadgxrl - @mr-henry-lascelles - @obscurii - @placebopuppytales - @thebamfblueelf - @themelissapark - @witch-of-annwn - I only tagged people I’m currently RPing with, but if anyone else would like to borrow this, please do!  It’s a lot of fun!  And don’t forget to tag me so I can read about your muse!  :D

[vampir3bait]

Robbie was content with his plans for Halloween. He was sure to feel some FOMO when he saw his friends’ instastories on the night but he was full committed to the cozy night in. He’d even picked up some Halloween themed ciders proactively for the evening. They were positively ghoulish and portrayed a scene of a graveyard reanimated with various zombies in states of walking the earth again. He knew when Halloween actually did roll around in a week they’d absolutely be gone. 

That was until his Peter Pan shoes (or suede woodland fairy shoes as they were described on the website) finally arrived that he ordered months ago. This had been the first year since he was a kid that he actually planned ahead for Halloween. The events of the summer unfortunately created a bit of a lapse in his memory. Trival facts like his Halloween costume and that he had a dentist appointment in November slipped through the cracks. Now that he had the complete costume didn’t make the young man decide to change his mind though he did put on the whole patchwork ensemble while Felix was out. No, a cozy night in would be better than going dressed up like a fool. 

Robbie changed out of it and tucked it in it’s box and went to go pick up take away for when Felix got done working on the ship with the boys. As he waited for their gyros to be done Robbie’s eyes wandered to the stack of neon green mini flyers for a Halloween party and not just any Halloween party but the one he attended every single year since he was legal held at the biggest and gayest night club in town. No cover if in costume! Ghoulish jello shots $2! Costume contest CASH PRICE $500!!! It had all the buzzwords and gimmicks typed out in the Halloween equivalent of comic sans.  Robbie shoved one of the flyers in with their take out just for sentimental sake and left the shop. 

Robbie knocked on the door before letting himself into his home assuming Felix would be there already, he said he would be by now. “Hope you didn’t start cooking already, I picked up dinner,” Robbie called out as he rounded the corner to find his boyfriend. 

@captain-f-merivel

[annastrxng]

Celebrating 900+ Followers!

Thank you all for making this such a rewarding experience. I look forward to making friends and writing with all of you and continuing so many great friendships!

Shout outs to:

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[eyeonthemirror]

@captain-f-merivel

[text] Theoretical question.

[text] Scratch that, this isn't theoretical and it's not a question.

[text] I'm a drunk, dirty old man and I need your perspective.

[text] Vandal, answer your phone. I need you to come slap me around. I can't fucking think straight.

[nothing-ventured]

@captain-f-merivel

Thomas drags the table set against the wall off to the side and his easel to the other side of the room, making space in the small area that is his only room aside from the windowless den of his bedroom. He has invested in a mirror, which hangs on the wall opposite the skylight, reflecting some of it into the shadows.

It will only be preparation today, of course, but he wants the light to be good enough for him to make preliminary watercolour sketches as well, if possible. He stops to take the kettle off the fire just as there is a knock on his door. 

He opens it with a cheerful smile. He is not worried about this encounter--the captain is with a young lady, after all. “Good morning, captain, Miss Pratt. Come on in. Can I tempt either of you with a cup of tea?”

[incorrecttasquotes]

Lascelles: “I’m dead...”

Alair: “Time for a cremation!”

Merviel: “Ooh! Can I dissect you?”

Drawlight: “Can we turn you into candy?”

Volkova: “I think maybe you shouldn’t die around these people.” 

[kvolkova-rp]

💬

Strong-willed, sharp-minded, passionate. 

[the-fae-icarus]

@mr-henry-lascelles Saturday sees three riders plod through the sloshy streets of London from Bruton-street, not towards Hyde Park, but the relative wilderness of Hampstead Heath. Mr Lascelles, who owns the beasts, is huddled in a great coat (a recent acquisition) with a hat pulled low over his forehead, though he cannot disguise his profile or his tall narrow frame. There are, in any case, not a lot of people about for a London noon. The weather is enough to keep all but the most desperate indoors. The wind beats wet snow into their faces until they reach the heath and Lascelles makes it stop - now there really is no-one around to see, to comment.

He turns to Dr Macneice, wiping the freezing water from his face. "Where to now? What instructions has your friend given you?"

@the-fae-icarus Alair shakes themself vigorously, sending water droplets everywhere, much like a bird with damp feathers would. "Just beyond the trees," they say, pointing to a cluster of oaks up ahead. "Elin wanted some protection from the wind."

They dig their heels into their horse's side, edging it slightly ahead of the other two to lead. They glance back every so often, to see how far back the other men are, and to check on Felix.  It is another fifteen, freezing cold minutes before they reach the Ivensen campsite. There is a roaring fire built up, that had somehow been unseen from the heath; a wagon with a faded blue covering and peeling gold letters spelling "Ivensen: Repairs, Inventions, and Potions;" and a dun colored work horse tethered to a tree, chomping at the bits of grass peeking up through the snow. Alair climbs down from the saddle and ties their horse's bridle to the same tree, greeting the Ivensens' horse with no small amount of affection. "Hello, boy," they coo, stroking his head. "Did you miss me? Is Maria or Elin here?" 

@captain-f-merivel That Alair should be speaking to the horse as if expecting an answer probably shouldn't be that surprising. Merivel has seen them do the same with Table and the salamanders. For all he knew, the animal was answering.

The Captain dismounts, glad to have solid ground under his feet again. He greatly admires the horse as a beast, but he is a rather an indifferent rider, and it has been some time. He's been striving to keep his posture and to feel the animal's rhythm (out of desire not to torment his steed, but also not wishing to make a fool of himself in front of his friends), and his back is beginning to ache.

He looks at the wagon with undisguised curiosity, Another in his place might have been suspicious - it brings to mind the picture of Gypsies, thieves and charlatans, but Felix feels a natural sympathy for people, who carry their homes with them wherever they go. It is a sort of a... land-ship. And they are Alair's friends.

@mr-henry-lascelles Henry takes the reins of Merivel's horse a well as his own and ties them to the branches of a second tree. No reason to crowd Ivensen's horse. Besides, Alistair is a skittish. It would be a poor introduction if one of his horses bit Ivensen's on the day of their first meeting.

His opinion of this Ivensen is plummeting. Naturally any magician left in England would have to keep a low profile, or Norrell would have suppressed her by now, but he really was not in the habit of associating with ragged vagabonds. He is happy for the weight of the pistol in his inner coat pocket, even if that is unlikely to be much use against magic. He reminds himself he is here on a friendly mission, and for Felix, and suppresses the thump of excited aggression in his chest.

@the-fae-icarus It is another few moments before anyone comes out of the wagon, but soon enough a young woman in her thirties, red-haired and visibly pregnant, climbs out. She is carrying what looks to be an entire basket full of herbs, which she promptly sets down by the fire when she spots the three men. "Alair!"she says, rushing over and wrapping them up in a hug. "We weren't expecting you for another hour, with the weather; Elin's out getting firewood. How've you been? Have you been eating well?"

Alair rubs the back of their neck, sheepish.  "Well..."

She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. "You're staying for dinner. No ifs or buts about it."

They laugh, posture finally relaxing for the first time that day. "As you wish. Now I believe I have some people to introduce you to? Maria, meet Mr Lascelles---he's the ice magician I was telling Elin about; and Captain Merivel, who is why we've come down here. Mr Lascelles, Felix---meet Maria Ivensen, brilliant alchemist, former resident of Dublin, and my good friend." 

@captain-f-merivel "Miss...is Ivensen." The Captain nods to her, as politely as he can, but keeps his distance. He watches her with suspicion and curiosity, unsure what to do next. Should he compliment her? Congratulate her? How much small talk would be necessary, until they get to the point?

@mr-henry-lascelles "Good afternoon, madam." Henry touches his hat. Ignoring a lady's delicate condition and her simple gown is no hardship when there is good cause, but he is puzzled by the warmth of her greeting to Dr MacNeice. Perhaps it is not so remarkable among the working classes. She is not, in any case, the ice magician. The Christian name of the woman they are looking for is Elin, he is sure of it. A sister, then? "Alchemy is a complex branch of magic, and something of a natural science as well, I understand; I commend you. A most admirable pursuit."

@the-fae-icarus "I'm glad you think so, sir." Maria gathers up the basket again and tosses handfuls of the herbs into a pot over the fire. "I'm sorry, but these need to get into the pot soon or they'll be useless. I'm sure you all want to get out of the cold; would you like to wait in the wagon? I'll be in in a moment."

Alair nods at the others---it's fine, it's  not an imposition, come along---and leads the way into the Ivensens' wagon. It...is much larger than it appears on the outside. Larger than the last time they were here, but that was to be expected with a child on the way. And cleaner, except for the mounds of gears and bits of wire and scattered tools that usually cluttered Elin's workbench. They shake their head a little and set about finding chairs for everyone.

@captain-f-merivel More magic. Merivel fights the urge to run outside and survey the dimensions of the wagon - the fear of presenting himself as an ignorant fellow prevails and stops him from commenting on the matter. He scrutinizes the various parts, tools, and half-finished devices on Invensen's desk with suspicion and clings close to Alair's side, so much so that he puts himself on their way.

"Let me take it," he says, embarrassed, after Alair's third attempt to get past the man while holding a chair by the backrest. 

@mr-henry-lascelles Were there a tenant nearby, Henry would very much like to address one upon the subject of the wagon's dimensions. He assesses widths and lengths and draws a floorplan in his head; if it weren't so impolite, and their need for these people's help so great, he would take out his notebook and scribble one on paper. He racks his brain for similar magic in his books. Is it in Sutton-Grove? He has no idea. The only person ever to memorize that dreck was Norrell. And so he does not notice Merivel's distress.

@the-fae-icarus "No, no, I can handle it. Thank you, though. " Alair smiles softly at Felix, setting the chair down momentarily and wrapping an arm about him in a hug. They seem to pause a few seconds, searching Merivel's face. "You're nervous," they say---more of a statement than a question.  "Are you alright?"

@captain-f-merivel "Oh, yes, perfectly..." the Captain laughs awkwardly, but he is grateful for the embrace. "I am only to be prodded and picked at."

@mr-henry-lascelles Henry gives the captain a calculating look. Of course he is nervous... It is only natural. Henry is nervous himself. He is out of his element and about to be evaluated. These are more Merivel's people than his, but they are women, so it is entirely possible Merivel has it worse than him. Then again the captain is terrible at hiding his emotions, so he is unlikely to be more distressed than he appears. Henry judges he will survive, and goes back to inspecting their surroundings.

@the-fae-icarus "You won't be. Not if I have anything to say about it." Alair brushes their hand against Felix's cheek. "An hour and a half, two hours at most. Do you think you can get through that?" Lowering their voice so that Lascelles can't hear, they continue: "I believe you said you know a women with a parrot? If you're feeling up to it after this, we could pay her a visit."

There is a creak from the direction of the entrance, and Maria comes slowly up the steps, empty basket in hand. She is speaking to someone behind her, too muffled to make out what the words are. Alair draws away to a polite distance just as she sweeps into the room, Elin trailing after her. "Right then," Maria says cheerfully. "Mr. Lascelles, Captain Merivel---my wife, Elin Ivensen. Elin---Mr. Lascelles, Captain Merivel. Now, I have a dinner to be making, I'm afraid, so I'll have to leave you to it." And with that she steps into what presumably is the wagon  kitchen.

Elin  is tall---a bit above six feet, if Alair recalls correctly---and somewhat stocky, somewhere in her forties, with loose dark blond hair and eyes the same washed out grey of her gown. She regards the three men in her home calmly, even  kindly. "Hello," she says in a brittle-sounding baritone. "Hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long."

@captain-f-merivel Merivel had began to ask who would be that woman Alair is speaking of, but is interrupted by the Ivensens. He tries, he really really tries not to stare.

"N-not at all," he stammers. "We only just arrived..."

@mr-henry-lascelles Henry does not do much better. He turns to the couple with a pleasant social smile, which freezes into place. He stares, quite openly, for approximately 40 seconds. It is that long that it takes him to process the words 'my wife' coming from a woman, and the sight of the person she so referred to. This is no bearded lady or rough-hewn washer-woman. Then all the clashing reference points click into position, he blinks, relaxes, and bows slightly. "How do you do, madam."

@the-fae-icarus Elin nods a polite acknowledgement to Lascelles, then turns to Alair and says something quick and quiet to them under her breath. Whatever she was saying,  she says it with a slight frown on her face, and Alair grows increasingly sheepish as she goes on. They offer what sounds like an apology, and Elin is instantly mollified.

"Again, my apologies," she says at a normal volume. "May I ask which one of you is Captain Merivel?"

@captain-f-merivel "That would be me, madam. How do you do," Felix adds the last part somewhat hastily, remembering he hadn't greeted Elin properly. He stands at attention stiffly, like a midshipman about to be scolded and seeks Alair's eyes for approval. Or for any reaction at all. The last thing he had wanted was to embarrass them in front of their friends, but it seems he had managed to do just that. 

@mr-henry-lascelles Henry feels somewhat superfluous to the scene, almost invisible. He stands with his hands behind his back and his head inclined downwards and remains silent, like a schoolboy waiting to be called up. 

@the-fae-icarus Alair smiles encouragingly over their friend's shoulder. It's fine, go on. You're doing well.

Elin, meanwhile, holds out her hand for Merivel to shake. "I am well, thank you," she says. "I've heard some good things about you, Captain." There is an undercurrent in her words, something that seems to say: I hope everything I heard is true. "Well, no use beating around the bush anymore. My workshop is this way; you can bring someone with you if that'll make you feel more comfortable."

@captain-f-merivel "I believe I can manage on my own, thank you." Felix follows without looking back. Being seen is what he fears more - not by Alair, with them he is feeling quite comfortable, but Henry... Henry is another matter.

@mr-henry-lascelles Henry watches him go, hoping until the last minute that Felix might look back. He had looked at MacNeice for encouragement... He feels an ugly twist of jealousy in his chest, but quickly steers his thoughts away from the line of thought--from the worry, as well. This is no time for displays of emotion, as tense as the situation may be. They are guests.

He looks around to Maria Ivensen. His hands are behind his back, careful not to touch anything. What compliments can one give to a home that is a wagon? "What a picturesque spot you have chosen to stop in, madam."

@the-fae-icarus Ivensen leads Merivel a little further down the hall and pulls aside the curtain to their workshop. It is not a very large room, but nor is it cramped. Blueprints in various stages of drafting are tacked up on the walls, and there is a desk covered in clock gears, tools, and random bits of metal, tucked into a corner. The rest of the floor is taken up by a sea of boxes ad the paths between them.

"You can take the desk chair, if you like," Elin says. "I am going to get the apparatus out, and then we'll see how it fits and what adjustments I need to make." *** Maria smiles, gentle and more than a little amused. "Thank you, sir. I take it you're not used to caravans?"

@captain-f-merivel "Thank you, I, um, I'd rather stand for now, if it's all the same to you." Felix joins his hands behind his back and straightens his posture, trying to assume an indifferent air. He has the suspicion that his attempt would not fool anyone and it's just as well that Ivensen is not looking in his direction.

"I was wondering," he inquires in a louder voice than it is strictly necessary, "if the maintenance would be too much of a hassle? Would I be able to do it myself?"

@mr-henry-lascelles "Indeed, no, madam. I do not believe I have ever been in one befroe. I could not help but notice that yours has an interesting spatial quality. Your wife's work, I assume?"

He stands at the doorway to a fully functioning kitchen, inside a caravan that from the outside looked hard-pressed to accommodate so much as a four poster bed. It discomfits him less than the entirely uncommon act of speaking politely to a strange traveller woman in her workspace.

He feels a pang of longing for his Miss Volkova. She would laugh heartily at his discomfort, he is sure.

[the-fae-icarus]

✏️

Dear Mr. Staten: 

Congratulations. Sir Falkun will no longer be in attendance at the Knockbridges’ ball this weekend. Enclosed is an invoice for services rendered and proof of the deed. Feel free to have the vial tested; I guarantee it is his. You may also note that the price has been lowered---this is due to the fact that very shortly I will no longer be providing this particular service for society at large. 

Have a very pleasant day, 

Sincerely, 

The Quiet Assassin  

[vampir3bait]

For @captain-f-merivel to sum up our current thread up until this point. 

[the-fae-icarus]

The dragon uncoils itself a little, iridescent blue scales gleaming in the sunlight, until one reptilian eye can meet with Merivel’s. The growling stops, then transforms into words. “At least this one has manners. Your taste is improving, my child.”

“Daid,” Alair says, mortified and at a loss to say anything else that would prevent the conversation from continuing.

“What? You know I never say anything that isn’t the truth.” The dragon turns its head toward Merivel again. “You may call me Kee. I trust it’s clear that I will eat you if you break my child’s heart, yes?”

“I don’t know, that sounds like a ‘fuck off’ kind of growl.”

Alair blinked. “Well, yes. But Daid always sounds like vaguely pissed off. That’s just him.”

[vampir3bait]

This was by far the weirdest hookup Robbie was about to meet up with. Usually Robbie wouldn’t even bat an eye at a man who wasn’t drooling at all 115 pounds of him. This man, however, didn’t seem to even really want to have sex with him. Or maybe he was trying to play disinterested to get Robbie worked up. Either way, whatever it was they were doing it was working and here Robbie was sitting at the bar in an establishment he’d rarely step foot in. The drinks were typically on the heavy side and the patrons around him definitely were rougher around the edges. Their shirts weren’t covered in a succulent pattern after all. 

Robbie sat at the bar with his whiskey ginger and waited patiently for... fuck, Robbie hadn’t even bothered to learn the man’s name. Was it Dom? Dominic? You could never be sure on that app if it actually had anything to do with one’s name or some screen identity. Robbie continued to nurse his drink as he looked around the room either for his date or a man he could send “fuck me” eyes towards all night to get a brawl going. 

So far his attempts on both fronts were unfruitful. 

@captain-f-merivel

[the-fae-icarus]

💞

What’s your OTP for your Muse?

I don’t really have one, to be honest. But there have only two ships I’ve actually RPed and not just talked about with partners.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

No rape or dub-con. That is pretty much where I draw the line. Everything else is up for discussion.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

I think it goes unsaid that everyone involved needs to be of age? Otherwise, put it this way: Alair is over two thousand years old. There is going to be a ginormous age gap with most of Alair’s partners, no matter what.

Are you selective when shipping?

I suppose? I guess there should be chemistry between Alair and the other characters first, otherwise it’s just out of left field. Crack ships are encouraged, though.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

I’ve only recently started dipping my toe into NSFW stuff, mostly through headcanon memes. I’d probably start tagging once clothes actually started coming off and adding “nsfw ish” to anything steamy before that, like @mr-henry-lascelles does.

Who are other Muses you ship your Muse with?

Well, there’s @captain-f-merivel of course, and @mr-m-a-thomas. Alair has a type and it seems to be emotionally messed-up brunet guys. There’s also @mr-henry-lascelles in that one pianist au where Alair doesn’t either hate the man on sight or think his head would be amusing to mess with.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

I’d prefer that, yes. Sometimes spur of the moment happens and that’s fine too as long as we discuss it after.

How often do you like to ship?

I have no idea. About the same as the average person?

Are you multiship?

I believe I’ve done multiship already, yeah.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

Ship more-or-less.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

I’m unsure what my current fandom is, tbh. Maybe Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. In which case it would be Newt/Credence.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Just ask, really. Worst that happens is that I say no.

[the-fae-icarus]

what are your muse’s aesthetics?

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST!

Feel free to add to the list!

Tagged by: @mr-henry-lascelles

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white.teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. high noon.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. nails, canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. lanky.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns.axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls.kitchenware. tarot cards.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. moors.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. dragon, pony, alligator

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. soup. cheese.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. gambling. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running. parkour. observing.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat.crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money.power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. dreaming. daydreaming.

Tagging: @captain-f-merivel and anyone who wants to do this

[the-fae-icarus]

Wasn’t tagged by anyone, just thought this was cool. 

Tagging: @mr-henry-lascelles @mr-m-a-thomas @captain-f-merivel

famous first lines of poetry pt. 1: BOLD the ones that apply to your muse.

REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

I SAW THE BEST MINDS OF MY GENERATION DESTROYED BY MADNESS, STARVING HYSTERICAL NAKED // Tyger Tyger, burning bright // I HAVE DONE IT AGAIN. // DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT. // The sea is calm to-night. // Let us go then, you and I, // April is the cruelest month, // Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // THERE IS A PLACE WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS // I CARRY YOUR HEART WITH ME (I CARRY IT IN MY HEART) // Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // Whose woods these are I think I know // Let us twain walk aside from the rest; // ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY, WHILE I PONDERED, WEAK AND WEARY, // I taught myself to live simply and wisely // It so happens I am sick of being a man // I wandered lonely as a cloud // Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // O my Luve is like a red, red rose // O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; // Out of the night that covers me, // IT WAS MANY AND MANY A YEAR AGO, // YOU MAY WRITE ME DOWN IN HISTORY // DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP //SOME SAY THE WORLD WILL END IN FIRE / Some say in ice. // Hope is the thing with feathers // The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // No man is an island, // REMEMBER ME WHEN I AM GONE AWAY, // I met a traveler from an antique land // ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves // This is thy hour O Soul, // WHEN WE WEAR THE MASK THAT GRINS AND LIES, // DEATH BE NOT PROUD, // And death shall have no dominion. // Laugh, and the world laughs with you; // The art of losing isn’t hard to master;// To see a World in a Grain of Sand // IS THERE ANYBODY THERE? SAID THE TRAVELLER // NOBODY HEARD HIM, THE DEAD MAN, // That crazed girl improving her music. // Come to me in the silence of the night; // Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // WHEN YOU ARE OLD AND GREY AND FULL OF SLEEP, // In Flanders’ fields the poppies blow // I thought of you and how you love this beauty // Life, believe, is not a dream // IT MAY BE MISERY NOT TO SING AT ALL, // If tarry space no limit knows // Come live with me and be my love, // HAD WE BUT WORLD ENOUGH AND TIME, // MY HEART ACHES, AND A DROWSY NUMBNESS PAINS MY SENSE // Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art- // Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. // HEAVEN IS WHAT I CANNOT REACH! // My dear, my dear, I know // In visions of the dark night // Shall I compare thee to a summers day? // BREAK, BREAK, BREAK // She walks in beauty, // I HAD A DREAM, WHICH WAS NOT AT ALL A DREAM. // He clasps the ring with crooked hands.