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libidomechanica · 1 month ago

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Untitled (“Flying over me creep, prickle my sights cannot find”)

A sonnet sequence

My brave state; a lion ramps at their present nor wishes for the chain—it may be! Flying over me creep, prickle my sights cannot find each omission is a living workman. His facetious head, Our virginity, and gain by ill thrice pass, and my mind, and one on tithes, what which Nature waters, fearful sighs wi’ care and play hot cockles, all the day I die, the lays of tithes, what’s sure to folk—remember how you hurt! For more’s ready! That in the hour with, does as well receive the lily’s white Tablet—Yes—’tis uninscrib’d with what he did silent still I related.

Or as it would I wed a face pale flickers, and their properest notion of payment ere they expected him to the case, it might have been shaken, ran itself sees not want to speech t’ engarland sonnebright it works and revelled among thorns, so is my love; behold, that Fate no liberty, rights, though I have seen that paint the fellow, and weary travel’d in the clime; marriages, and to an enslaver. But soon their cribs of battle-flags were some seed is sown, if I have seen the porous vase; degenerations? The wonder all beautiful seldom I ever saw you, Mag.

Or seen, than might savour or whom favour. By Loue were sweet hair lay in such true sights he walks from Lebanon, excellent as a Guelf. Before him time to time, that all’s saved the ocean wide scattered by both. Don Juan had no need of pomegranates of barrel-droppings of men to the Hesperus! ’Cause I am a firebrand; she then Atlas might such belief, luxuriating on a pivot, he perceived. Call once your love. Like deaths and what the boat that they think of fear. In us, and they tumbled on their prayer-book ready, they drop earth’s smooth dark and breath crashing sounds the press.

And she will burrowing on Plato’s pride and green; he heart as faith, some lonely pure and then of course must not unto me; he shall make Thee strongly acted all round, each other is the Pyrrhic dance not, but heated, but rarely can confound a wise man moves with me had follow, slight shall speak first, happy, enviable man! Where were stashed into a doubtful twilight dropping has the heap of offices of affection which is mine, and the pang; dare, never got in or boudoir regions, gaudy cunning, catch the go-cart. In the exact affairs support his closed the rude wind blowing airs.

Mother’s threaten’d the Teian muse, the prize, did drop, and sea and servèd me with my mild Muse with the sun rests on that brush the lawn the hungers disembodied soul. With poets almost classic articles, chrysalis into springs from a shelter of camphire, with rows of jewels, her slumber, not find it out all truths must, the service mostly, mother brought—a Boy—Who, when he makes us lie deserues thy beloved me for his condition. Music to hear you should hindred be. Because you may cross sees only shrine, the moon, flow’d past him in the Spring. My Lady That? Senses from me.

Now on the high the rider lover, and whirl, a ceiling, why you swim sentry over the summer live so long, to show false eyes glance like too much, while her lust of right easy to perplex and the small amounts, an innocuous occupation below it, but I call their new jubilee, when men were an all-eating is shaped before me like the cup as plants are like a big girl’s blouse and its bright; and the time when the scaffold’s down? Know it so poore, and found her life to me and this written is to be King, from wine—a sad, sour, sober head, denying that such power each with you?

Where Science made to keep fair play. Like Titus’ youth, nor long line of Sleep, and cause of the day break, and of a silver branch, the way to be assur’d, long enough to watch the Prize, and hungry for thy defect, for the loving belly. And true, making love thee; but should be, i say if this is, or nonsense, permits whate’er of pearls and confusion startled and fairy flower, then cried, I like these are my steed’s and to blow the festal board, lamp’s flash, all fancy, until their own Estates to whom I look—and He who confounded old dreams, and suddenly arrest: machinery just what it cold.

A vestige of the Hill, Amundeville those Janizaries, and jewel in my native sworn thee growing from the Husband, which teach their green dale: but who rested there is not empty-handed Baronet he, a great banquet, such a height of my harmful deeds, that month: so, boy, you’re writing despatches in the sweat and old, sweet joy I called it simply human ills, the cruel as the husbands’ absence seem’d to evaporate. Other sea wrack and not thy shore rocking me the same! Blythe by that stampt current only; what it close, but to miss it, although I have a sound of the ways seem one.

Talks of the true friend, without alarm, and forthwith care they liv’d, till I seem to love inhere; his smile, that had a twilight dropping sweet will not see the best interpret! And curtsying of time; for it anew revive; inspired, devoid of trees because the dews of the sense of conduct was already we rock each other’s child, that none of Judgment—never knows what it a second time. Love much, some maids were dangerous life’s struggle having voted, dined, drunk, gamed, and prodded to her loof her than the copses ring, and wash my earthen cups again, and marble vault, shallowed you grow.

As if in pain: and dress, and shall telling at the wild white and the curb next that a war would grieved, that I might I not the truth! These blenches gave the lines that metaphysical discuss’d he hated banter, wished turned off this madding fever! Camouflage for love her follies mote be found her eyes, whose heart I know not; but had I lov’d us; nay more, that want reason wheresoe’er may be. That a war would it have a thousand people call the church on the subjects too. I poured forth: there shall read o’er her face, they do not moralists the rain is overwrought the flower; a cat of twenty?

So trembled crosswise, or, what’s still regretted with one desires; but more imprudent grots and stretch her hair was summ’d in YES, and nought to chaunting firmly force of foolscap subject of a corner for ill, excepting somehow, and graced grace your garden wheresoe’er may be seen john half mellow man—the monks—they could so pretty pair—their status as object, His works are here to living lamps, then let me be thy defect,— for this what not again. Gazed up throughout the circumstances of the fatigue was greater. And stood awry, have in the Continents—as if the faint wind sleep ye soun’.

But never can I sing, suffuse my father’s pangs o’ joy. Your fairest among the case, for into a gallery, of a streams from its corner when you rise with each accomplish’d belle, who dote on, amorous pairs to come as the clouds the doctors chart the shadow, Cynara! When I am gone at my saints again what he the night, eight years his lock which wanteth not enough stiffened by soft-handed Baronet he, a great thou wert dead broke. We were radiant beams For Greeks; so that eventide; meantime than was put; his county content, that sets up on one elbow, says, Is this a fancy yet. No longer, and make the universe I called him, and so no more white-blossom of blood and uninspired and breadth too merry to divine the laugh of you fledge the wind,—and church came up with him, now he sung the dearth of fame, So I and so the longs to the Blind man’s fancy yet. New.

So much better men shall beseige thy beauty, like Malthus, in promoting marriage bring our her, is ages blame, he fleecy Clouds into my gardener Fancy e’er could so pretty sure; a woman in consterd in true a fool is love had sometimes though so thick to mind that with their more where finally every man hath his steady surprise. And sang with Age—how shall read of scenes sublime the spheres of max! Let reason is—the dinner made for Poets on to stone or ten. White as Zenobia’s teeth, forbye a stump, a clapper tongue more fairly diddled, his polar star must fade like a rope.

His Generation of the dirt, for that was once am settled his wrong in dreams deceive. It’s like the Heracleidan blood of Lebanon: look for it threw up the terrace, made him meditative. I have greater fires in my books.—The voice and ladies proudly condescend the sweet hour of Heaven in a lone isle, among the window, should prove to fail: what good to tears! To mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. Along the fire-side a sight the finest wool, which makes us lief.—The bonie face of his! Let it go on? Whether with buckles of Green Erin or Gray Highlands, no more sound the root.

Child, too, bleeding to her rolling limbs. Rubbing its back again. Shall i turn my head: o cod she lay; surely though the rounds, has somewhat chance; or if it will make Thee strong in a loaf, her pair of ’T was a bonier lass that bee-like, bubbling, patient founts of thine in thy curious odor, to sing i’d say every one, yet leaves his face no more a-roving by the last war—much the insults, too, and wish I could, if you plann’d: only remained the ebb- tide leaves her loved you. Of two such perfumed with the midst the salt weed sways the world’s perplex’d, and the thing in I would like Crashaw.

But Bedlam still the Desert undecyphers soon as Crowner’s quest’ allow’d at length people’s purse, the golden rod, thrown like a knot of sepulchres, were shorn of hand—yet, like two young years ago, and turn the scribes form somewhat for even lonely tree, when complete the cover of a heartbeat telling at the feelings of keen remorse or kick him for his window-panes, the grey: a whisper’d: no longer thrusts into the execution, to be pleasures once in pleasure thing: my mood is change dissolving in the wine; but, his lone way? Brother Lippo for all hearts: he danc’d wi’ Jeanie do? So closed welcome pain, let us lodge till I seem to love you I love alive. And in the sportive ladies’ lucubration or quickly back I always write; write, but never flat, and was blue as another,—not mine; for what he would hoist my lab’ring sense of conduct was an untoward fever.

Old Harp that concerns many they call; of each encumbrance clear the noble hostess, nor soul helps soul! Streets, all the small’ a mighty reason whereof was to bring forest boughs more a-roving so late, shun what wad make those. Change; the moon. The sun, that that’s that. In thys humble prince’s funeral, shining in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! About my hand! Though mine own soft beams even as it rose: the sun; whistle. ’Ring seaward from her, that all the fire-balls of death. Renew her true- heroic gigantesque, with lullaby, my wanton babes the frame to? The vines: for I must cut down in copying this life?

Grief be still we respect: then being in his pillow’d from thee: the blood-red blossoms camouflage for the morrow when I hear the independent in his rude affray, for ignorance is a hierarchy which reconciled so the Above and next election. He drank you, kind and feel why time spins fast, where you see how we have play’d the contradiction, and one on ever wife was long line of this spirit of thine; for in your sonnets to help each other pride and blood knots in space, that falls thy shadows rise and could be, i say if this example not two and a selfish uncle’s wark, and blood knots in space, they do pray, so that we call them tete-a-tete. I cleaved to the finest that are asleepe, me things—home to the company prepares her loved not teeth like skulls at dewy e’en; so trembling sire and marriage bed and the Father once more admired;—ave Maria!

Or a commentator’s fantasy, unless and mimic as your have tender joys that summer sang in me a little lintwhite’s nest; for into as furious English fire. And growing sticks, to which, without something space, they do not give pleased we went. Left me by train memory; then, bosom’d in a crystal stone, more progressing or elections and retains his sword did late by your legs still rattling across his or her to do like handy lads, had seen his steady surprise when one weeps, the rain is with it. Last award, with a most infernal creak, like this thy shadow lend.

Thus Adeline, the soul. Let the soul wears out to hand that is my aversion, private place; and time, time. Of Music mute, begins among the same thing’s plain it does dispel envy and Hate that is call’d his spirits of the dead have souls related. So brilliant, where, no odor but bitter like a flock of sheep that could do? And glittering cold for Chastisement, pinching its suit because the tale had touch or like—like none, I think you’re my mind, in the day wears, and into the stones worn with wine, and good reason wherewith that late hours’ time, O passion. Finding thy foul faults should bluster!

I am on the fishes were of the dangerous grace from thee: make but my beloved so long auburn curls the least grim look, or cast a frown on his habit; as again. Had a twilight’s tear. Getting in long had place, this poor tricks of Nineveh, may not thou sole prism of the great as if his veins would show the second whiskey, on the Game, salámán rose again appear on what an honour her, is ages blame, to the Sheikh, my only Hope and He shall ne’er forget till the darkness charme the Banquet of which banish sleepe art dead? Way of heate in Armes he sware; nay, Sorrow when I awoke and legs are the frail, discussion, and told me time, who must pay his wings. But soon their praise, and growing warm and play the end of the Latin I constru’d rage, clench my teeth are as eager to prove her: great plenty, much themes in my arms about the center hid; when we see this at pressed.

On Earth, of wheels, and round the contradiction, and in hidden from the livery, so I wake to love, a love of your first of life, the wall, and the bed to me. To me, i’ll ne’er get over, in mind, could be with your shore, and a love of your beautiful. Who, while one sweet is the unhappy Queen, with satisfaction of a cure, that drains the public days, ’ where the Justice; but all worth that shall be my topic, with such high classes. Cupid then her song, list while the windows but we’llsay nought to pleased myself a slave. But if I weep it: for as these amiable describes; like Crashaw.

My chief so wet it is digressing old; the rest of bluegreen leave a vestige of this Earth locking me in at your dream. Make haste, precious evidence that I had heard or read—off—or upon memory, or this secrets should bend or cease, and thee is love for my name I am but name her with his sway, they take, and a dearness not have, which serves our think they’re the Justice paines come seaward flow; now the slender pipes may be! Antique Persian cat and square again. Fire, smoke … no, it’s too late in all his adulations, subjects too. Amongst the moon; and he arose, advance and I go.

As when his Lips that long bow betters still, not by Sun or Glass: while one sweet Eloquence slips through the sea! Enough not exactly then. May his slow-chapt power. Left for ever upon me I won’t beautiful seldom pay the dead, the kings too in their rank and something that long seal’d to spread of pavement in his tomb, and so the more perjured most; for instance—passion, for in parties small birds sang loudly in the rippling in t: but Damme’ s quite a solemn as unpleasant fruits; camphire in their fear, sorrow is remember you like the last century through the Singer he would admit.

Now therefore what sheddeth in the graunt the end is close cap and flash and more, but though it leaves are an orchard of the fire ashes at thy Subjects hath learnd chastitie: o eyes, with milk, and others’ joy and pardon that be. Under my heart feels all are good manure for antique hours’ time, and Loue, of those Cherrie-tree whose sad face still. Third, were of tortoise-shell or ill—with old picture of torments only this a dozen in passing his Horse over the stake that now you may have done by one critic is from whose who look’dst through faith and sexes, of being sick to mine! Make me to the chase,—he sees!

After you’ve done much good, in native ranks, had gone before, which do the young. Because only had the painting, and the slender pulling stars with a clown, and Antony resident—whose Attributes the Type of Thy mother our lips, which is Solomon’s. It is so simply human struck apoplectic, are going places where thought like smoke that can you sit at the strife thorough the same path, espoused two partners milliners of fathers have not then might have a sound like to the body. Stronger wine, and dwarfs and corrupted by a dunce—inflicted man impose now with a melodrame.

Of these times a liar—tells an ox o’er its steady surprise. I do not err. Although to gratify a bee’s slightly shaken their daily laboured lands to lay the devil can tell me, so sweet wild rose, I moved as in politeness bounded me; therefore we admired it. Sukey is tumbled on war: every raven tresses thro’ me left by storms confounded old dreams, all nature reign’d before the moon; and a narrow from the honeycomb with mine, also to bed. Instead of kirtle embroider’d of chalk, a wood-coal or the summer long, I know not Him—become not to be!

Said the last peak of days in the wild beast? That old hysterical mock-disease, as suits of the sea which never doubted Knights, doe beareth twins, which public day,—quite a picture her dancing; each too much, and ben; Blythe and a song for his patience, ’ I replied, his Grace what thou thyself refusest. Were sun or clime? Understand me: I’m a girl was left a desert sky? Between two walls, if thou keep putting the bridge of their rest, did I look of restless night upon thee—on their caps at cautious, be not what you to the public day,—quite necessary to the tears o’ joy. You are in May.

Until the first ne’er the world is light’s o’er; commodities dwell by the lilies. I love you and wanton stray; in twining hazel bowers when life shrunk in her legs spread with the swells, and whored, the pious duty, kiss hands, young pinions to my beloved; and no wind blows coldly; lights quiver and the o’erlook the lake’s billow, with queintBellona in her e’e; let her love but the many-living heart of stone. And you should bluster! Dead! Fairer than to express by those waves who turn on this frumpy home of body than all sides on that in his glory. With two rows of jewels laid aside?

To soothe him who thence ye see in the answer’d in the very season’d his trim hath put thy lyre, so long from survives himself, and what will pleas’d. Is it perfum’d, whose beauty, like two young, and hating this way the sort of straw and unencumber’d loving toward fate; tis beauty and the Faith increase, cheered into the most impossible to thee, Alma Venus Genetrix! When its service. Thrice happy? Of such accomplish’d, who comes the mind proves imaginary. Give me if I’ve broken bounds Ravenna’s immemorial wood, rooted in thy true-telling myrtle rounds, and told his Strength.

Settled them within this much, Cynara! Mother spent her spied the ebb-tide leaven, the friar of late assist my blue Peter, ’ and only watch the fix’d—he knew at whate’er our household savour’d of his natural agent—or a mouse, whose lecture shews what people, of animal though every flowers also in heaven’s consum’d of it. Leave battles to bear, and in its full of day—your body: see it say it back, nor cared forth, O ye daughter from her eye, yet dried ere you or grew or stood. Pair, before I shrug on the worth while, to show false of his Munificence, as the leopards.

Now I’m numb. In the nights concealed, that without turning several statement I am pitiful things invisible go see, and not disguise in defence of loveliest to rise, and find the most musical tennis matcht, were lying, his Arrow flew to Heaven we all so simply black, but could but still one sheaf? The boa in their better: lest it should you do not much simplicity draperied her hand. This— when I break from me. With that a private way, and made: our time devour&feed on skin, the fellow at the Bow, they do but murmur, snarling at each house in mourning.

The little boys begin to sea, when you catch my breast, full flame shoulder, a birthday of typography. The last of which Loue hie set down his bloodletting out on the same declivity, seeing Hope yeeld when half mellow smoke in every flower, or should, thou learn to speeches nobly plac’d; beauty and the sea-beasts, ranged round run as it swelled mine own: thou hast doves’ eyes. This county, and loving the world’s sharpen’d from the third, they say him na: at lengths its endings. Now clean upon by the game shoulder, without saying in t beyond the porous vase; never, whisper’d by the house: yet asleep.

In giving known the heroic and such vision, who all in hell. The rain is sorry. Like an opiate, which were turn’d methodistic, or Eclectic for that the wild toyes are but his enemies a long stairway again&become other lovely glorious progenies of off Cape Matapan, among their local life succeeds door; I try the foremost files of silver: by command, or seen, while I woo thee doe cleaue: his streams, that does dispel envy and Hate that any dart where many, seeming shakes out of felt upon thee. Like the night above them both, and watches at thy praise.

He something of an old passions high a? The world? A quietus. But though of occupation. In nameless greater fires in men. Gliding base: now they streams Who to another does his head, is, the one this life, their eyes glared, and then one weeps, then dinner; tis danger of huge melons and perhaps the cedar, as they acted with a smile; tis some face on the far beyond all their pain in self-same sphere. Because I am afraid of their breasts of rather that soft sea- sand. Woman is the footmarks small fine China cups, came in after all contract of attack as every nation of the Jews.

Thus mellow; of azure, pink, and Latin more cause more strong at my bone, you make a new-born babe—in that he did stand on, he shed no blood, some part, but have loved by a knife, with flowers, youth sighed Which rose make no garland so, that is it all comedies are like, t is in vain; for there: big and bone could not the lily thing, or none; or like a wife to crucify my life from books a love of a pomegranate nodding o’er dropp’d off by one brought three hundred visions forfeited? Where no such the independent being fluent save indeed, divine, making,—white and set my Prayer!

You are my silence, this requisite. Over these the dying, yes. And last till fabled, in vengeance found all, severed great a loss to good satire, i’d try conclusions will sourly leave beheld betweene Ioue, Mars, of war What style could not blush by day’s end where all thro’ my very book thou art too poor as mine may make so late. Margaret, hist! Brain treasured from out to get the orange, the mournful winding there—I look of Love, in my sleep she lay; surely she will seek him with clay. The thrown away among the stars she seem’d it winters, he flits on the sterner stress? To which a minute.

With a bald spot in their hearts in the bed to my tomb. The rest, he smiles that made of the clouds to help each softling of the wounds, who wish tongue; and if it were witless shore a second time; and as for pity! Had a suddenly a hare ran across the numbers, wrung in some untrodden region of the day I die, the lass made the beverage— by time is sharpers’ hooks: in them riding the good company looks upon Maud’s own little box and white was her kind employment. Vision of things; and when my Gates shall see redemption’s mint, where your sweet Lucy Gray upon the shadows on you tend?

To serve their right it’s gonna be alright ivory overlaid with satisfaction and the bloody drops its dead; they are young, and goodness spent—and still a Story to God therefore these report especially as he doth keeps warm youth, nor long lost, for the good at, but fire sparks, participated between the room to another, to beat; where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all things done, that which brings that there be so involv’d and sat on, so much the hellish hound did we watch her head, and teache her a palace high. Of charms of new life exulting into the West. Fledge the worst fear I would.

And thinner tray, he deem’d, being hello. I am my beloved, that was lasting link of a riot, he might trace also to be in your have taken in for a hint of your nerves its purpose runs, and feeling—right of the right forbad, but take all but death the room goes black snakes upon me I won’t anent this more affected such a noose, his hands and knife. My powerful parson, Peter Pith, the loudest with leaves of champagne, with skill, in time not think so: for half English, save one man alone as the song was so great, but fire sparks, participated between this made of rings.

Once upon the cold stranger guest, saving his own Idol, and gleam, though I wander’d knocketh, sayings in frame, take away from the Stab of worldly bustle too, as thou art fair, and my locks. To raise a vassal but gazing eye: but if all before me like balm enclosed at sunset, and to spreading the floods drown it: if a man of patient, I will take hold vp thy heauye head, o my Belovëd, will expected, in vengeance of happiness from Grimm seeping one, sings this—and nose and joy! Decide, and could hardly rude enough oft himself deep sinks all its garden wherewithal, by the hill.

Fine, with,—’Damn your practice up—he’ll paint you sudden, fainting; then more than his home, and thee border’d wide, sam slips through oh! For ever the king hath been his Lips that any danger as will wink awhile, with my duty strong; but in good matches, and watching, whom they did pretty lad, said a word too many Crescent orange, and so was gone down, her eyes: thus mellow moons shall pass’d for a still my care, but far to Shah and Subjects locked, and prove that old hysterical mock-disease should be old Goethe’s see what the task to shield did sable friars, to do like a vision far put in him thanks.

Knowledge comes by cause, ’-is what is to befall to glance as i know, or such small inherit after you’ve seen—the House-top ill affronting is in my mind, in the west by the right; our day, the murmur in the hold to match those who are still faults shoulder of so short a stay that which man uses instead of pine, a patron of some sage would have forgot the winds are class’d—was like the town, viz. And where else forget till the sun had seen mine execution, talk o’er the poor priest was made the beach, by the pitcher shame comes—but not o’ergrown bulk, the hardly heart, as mine ear, they name incessant.

And modern peers, and burn your leave, about love. What went away? The love should rise and love, my fair rose of all nature man: the song, being chain, my necktie rich silks, and innocent desires; but Lambro saw all that goes all men may remember how that such the warmth of hearts should stand neat little lintwhite’s nest; for into a chamber fair. For contemn; which, from loving. There are the sandy tracts, and strongly acted all, the narrow paved with dogs and left me in after a decent London streets, after the gifts something ghastly, desolate, mark, whose cities, thy nights and boxing; and my breasts must confers with limitlesse face the heart more he could not cry also although of the sequel of its Fires. Germ of new pride, and died. That valleys, half full— already familiarly forms have closed at sunset; O, a shout rose through the earth shall cheer his countess, or made an atmosphere.

Juan, who should be old Goethe’s see what I think they keep when thou doe sitt: and yet his long alone; the sways, an Eastern anti- jacobin at last, left foot and stab, a kingdoms of the loss of his spoon; so masters, fearful sign to his chocolate because no faces to do, till her once about their cash, to shoote agayne: o what should stand, you are you can confounds in single grace arraid; and then, as that lie all night—ouf! Moral geography; their heart commits, when King Victor has Italy’s made, for sometimes lonely lou’d Tyrans, iust in at last; gold cups of filigree made thy breast.

But this tries and left a trampled orphan, and make ones moan; long prayers there a rustic dance was young, there’s no great, because I rub my eyes my commitments Now the house: yet asleep. Traditionally too upon the Logan Water; sic a wife—too pure and clear. Would have been a private gate, at least ’s a sire. Her every day, cash for beans and press? Wither into the show’d the wakened flies were man can resist because if he had no need his inconstancy, and, to say what was worth while, with fair and Hermon, from which ensued his smile; tis shadowy beams. Ask me no more.

Man; but he, more than such vision, will be thy prisons, inquisitions; resurrection. This thy beloved. To turn back and desolate and place to be fiddled unto by Sawney’s violin, we have heard, and plate, as between the faring shut until he reach’d the slaves of changes of their several things; but all that I would like the floor, and role, when drugs when deep oaths but to damn, her face; with lad and life’s journey, and thank’d her she made her maternal grace I see the World is only parliamentary.— Lust that fills with ease we proved his inconstant stay sets you my silence harms.

The harp of Song? Or from his cause. An honest Nature state the sky. The floor, and our church, from point they played to me, what, if I didn’t pick the flower, whiff! And love you I loved the good wine of the senses by last year, for sometimes and leave her had left me boundless, deep, and strawberries and then, as an angel, face, yonder, whiff! And only this a dozen knots, there was enough, about it And must thy pain. Here were scantly gentleman had graced grace, as the isle into the birken shaw; but Phemie’s e’e. My harmful deeds, that moment those through the time, socked in this womanly as can the town.

For a Tear is an intellect, whether at the fair in ilka grove; his port lay on the spouse; a Road of Mire where fame you plann’d: only remembering himself deep sinks behind his rivulet on from my soul disdained, right? The sighs, indeed it was as independent being rich in the shade and plumes and not be let go. The bed’s sheath and thus his table shouting Hál! Sweet joy befall the Lady Adeline was taught thee thoughts for ever do—tis shadows flee away, come away! Our soul, whose mind, a sort of mock-heroic rays, such a gullet’s curb, and spacious acceptance shine?

Son or Daughters of Jerusalem. If Queens and, my love, abiding love it will your tongue! Then dress, and a slight reach; and that I could not be hard he should fan off their bread as ministers and devour’d by the road be head underlings, which o’ercome both brains are form’d of clay, but let’s prove among a fetter, shrink—what is not empty noise. Authors fear describe Adonis, and does all trees and perceived it was a child yearn, as if a little her lulling stars, and my lord’s estate were not granted; although not quite full, soon, yet, we’ll go no more than on continents or island unto keepers who do swerue, rebels mock’d to slake Thy thirsty, from whose looketh forth unexcised, unhired, who complain, had ever to thee, and the fair in ilka quarter: she had been merry, what she had got out on the first a nations from the front, of course a willing with a glance upon thee.

The vauntingly proceed, wraceks triumph at Turin: Ancona was free Lovers like to the reverend persons say the barre to praised loud till checked, taught three useful things to understand—better fifty years long, long alone; the odds are alike when I’m with the mind has this: the surprise in generally with bucklers, all shield the matter made a monument, studies what pensive, and seven-shilling pieces of mild demeanour though her spirit? In copying this learned troupes of the twilight honours inhale but on her night, sick with your eyes may weep, for I must cut down under they seemed to seek it; this madding fever! Add this a common case to see his orders of grace, roll’d in music come thou call my love for you, you patterns on a pin, when I hear the burning several pastimes it was but a troublous tydes han vs assayde, here were riding charge us?

Like ours is but a dream; but for yellow! But Kitty hasted with good custom’d to die—thus the fools! My heart I drag it out, unless I wipe or sweet face of that day it cannot.—The moonlight red mouth is most trouble behind you, although, and that reaps not his sleep of lute-strings have won the cignet’s down? Cash for beans and told him we would see that bring them quick to your approach, perhaps, as I glide by, cast on my heart sorrow with temper’s really two ages. Vine, and the flock; the odds again throb with my natural. Ye countrey moue: true, and starry dare, seeing a sort of Sabine showman.

The faint Olympians, I see, and nothing but the aisle through the book which makes me in these halls thy store of body than a schooles when you want me, sound of human strife thorough the whole I place thou mayst prove her: great Whole, who have no time to the truth: no place me on Sunium’s marble vault, shall bow thy Neck beneath you makest thy Will, ’ and with his awkward flow; now they have on display, yet mix’d so slight murmurs to mind the Iliad and not his mouth were in a crystal, and with some small bird? Suffering Accuser also of some moment, lightly votes particles of our Spartan dead! It’s gonna be alright it’s gonna be alright is only face I see them, fat and liked your holy ayde, with vast parade their horrid sin—and what is thy beloved, O thou with every turn’d at least a patriot’s shame, and the universal law. Folding on the Way of Nothing.

As the moorland did he sees! They were laid with banners. With cypress branched the ocean when he spake: I sought the ghost, to glide, like showers were stands, for long together we would say. At this world; but his will? World we are having ready ears and thee border, richly wrought! Let her life than if there he long alone; the prospects named mount Pleasant is the one I ate? Then thou receive the same ring. Not what they are, through Rows’ most men, the soul that grows holds in a race, who in derring doe were riding seal close by his own most thy praise—for the imagining— who felt that. One will make them tete-a-tete.

Fair were of tortoise-shell or rare woods may witness love, that taketh. That bound they think of the third! Ave Maria! Were no less a friends, ’tis your breathing stories in the dog! On her pallid and my bowels were consum’d of it; only remain’d, unchain’d, more than when the sea-gulls, with his grief. My Guido forgot? All Young in her jungle raging is dressing every lane; but, his arms to me; love with art that man is! Eyes glance and I was a little kissable mouth with a faith, to please. From the house nor set, haply I may resume his own into two; the skin relieved that I do the youngling on a chair, thinking: last, and sings no more strong in the answers each party draws to counsel of this metaphysics, had no notion of this same legend— ’if you stand stricken, so remember me; you understood telling at the worth could now reign at all, quite a pictured image?

Lights and see this burning under the bricks beneath a warrant’s and B’s, and tea.—Truly, she herself, a nation, some herbs, waving, were angry—as the day; a like gold bar above poor riches, but now for freedom to their caps at cautious to a tittle, while it did ache; but this is my well- beloved, and walk with sword outwears its sheath of weeds. Darling, fill it when we’ve seen— but the links of Earn, as light we are not drawn from the burning hut on T. The lady and henceforth found favourite of beaver hath taken in carriage into one of thy defect; who after than afraid!

Of the hoped sometimes a liar—tells an ox o’er in her clears afterwards burn and rope that is hurtling to do with tinkling stay.—When a turncoat Southey’s gander. On: in ev’ry other circumstances without the faces in it that white and bones, two bits of songs, who saw power, then kindling Religion grown; we both of Gold, dangle her mou’, her head, majesty, after him, and also in less hasty with his thing, nor flowers, will never and thou, Mercurius, that white when a’ our fairest among them like cherubs drawn on glass, and his one by one—than was ever trod the door.

Sparkling shower will force you hence, good compared to hold swords, perhaps for thee, ’ and Boats, ’ and quietst iudgments see the first the fire. For Gothic ornament. These times, I wish she have heart, and the same journey on the wheel the porch and lone; yet do it to the north any other meant nor the heart waketh: it is the west shoots—Add this way? Have tied together we would not happens next my heart to be for the cause, ’-is what was announced her woes? The mellow store. Who on the steep by steep; and if we linger on the weakness! Which looks at the hill-side—and then as best to me are not curb’d to this?

Had love’s divine the ivorie, her chemise—neath which do in a voice of melodies; and, dodging his best to prove the individual under the iron gates were made to stain, and white neck long fingers with their hooks, fit baits for a hundred Years in love, a tender grape give a bust of marriages; for we two lawyers busy on a mortal sense and i would mount Gilead. Her heart break a twofold truth’s rays, spoil he gather lilies fair on a lawn; there his eye was dry; no tear could only way, my sovereign’s pleasures fully expect, to juggle with flower make thy heart can a woman can gird more if east or west the porch, windchime wasn’t thereon,—but the virgins many wishes him once to all new techniques for why should grow vaster too—their Wrath and sweetbreads; and the world, and the windshield. Or tiptoe, said she? A nation, nor Usury wrung from a band of Children’s voices.

In action of changed, so may you start, seeming frail, discuss’d, their del’cat smell of different flowers; while I was gone and nothing hold me, so in plight, which government has decked the grand Napoleon of the good collection is a lie? By thy love decree me here the heathy mountain round the starry you, ’ save that valleys, groves, the braw lass made them for a white kerchief waving real, a gallant friend, but stern, and Juan, puzzles to covert creep; the sea mermaids’ singing thee, looking ancient height at one of the palm of her bosoms but to sigh is idle; let us away; or by thy locks.

Behold and walk upon the most true lovers look as thou know hunger is not my suff’rings, thus match where lives a woman planted found eyes match me at midday, set forth between there’s doubtless he who confounds in single, deep, and suddenly arrests me for you, partly because I am afraid. Proud-pied April dress’d his quest’ allow’d, pursues the soul wears out to get there was not to love be something in lonely men in nation, and Antony resides loved thee long. Husband is, the workers, even into a matrons for many an eager now than enough, and dinna cry.

He left lonely isle of rings. Well, well, he was hot and gone, I only know it: his verses rarely seen, the coast, reverse. I had brought followed into the nighting upon the street and he had gained there were the immediate effect defect,—for this secret places—that thou mightest! Lawns and toss in the north even in a noted weed, of small drop of his youthful wanton babes do that necklace use; and Phyllis is so vex’d with a squall or two; and what was wonder flie, o ease your holy antique vows, because of the deed to your need, this wide quiet, as under head, which you there.

But what should turn out so, we’ll go no more hold on. Sometimes such whom all the grand roll the house, and thy Flock the flowers. Now the scaffold’s down? Yet then swung the midnight wish to take them where my triumph’s straw-fire flared and revisions, before it, in its back the lass made of continual haste. As who say the fool! Cupid, as he lay coil’d like a child! And part; no further through we inhabit on a secret treasure, in getting youth, agree to confirm him in a rabbit wither by despair? Here on his phantasy he fed; lasses, like the North, as they turned to use. And in its stead.

Here was a mourner, or a common forms have thy soul loveth: I sought the ghost been oft performances with such maine rage, that one or less applause, of all the poem is complex and the moonlight his face now I meane no more, to show me worth By this, and rapid gain an inch of staircase or at a rehearsal a singleness the nuns! Thus doth thine ointment poured for many a light suffice to show their vanish’d, I will go up to Charing Cross, pall Mall, and worships it. Than hate’s known. His right are they country’s custom-house no more affection wait,—haste, infant bud of beings, start back.

That trail along your hand, found suffice to some countries, and dress, and in two. Ill affronts a Neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not to be more his flocks by shall flowers; nor virgin bumpers a thorn in the waves who turn church on the bar or senate in others burn’d, preferr’d their souls straining from a dress that millions, thinking: last, to glide, like our wild Princes and looks appear he nears, surprise, saw the light broke through thou hast none, none vs can spie; take me whole sea has left hand in its fullest powers when ye will, you shoulder, a birthday party where thy wide the bed and there was accustom’s afterglow. If i could not clap your meaning ere the strong as the most faire-sweete, alas, why, fearing of yourself: you do like wool. Contempt the echoes: who is lodging round vase, singing a wisp, a gasp, sonorous stutter tuning there— You tell me of this wide as if in act thy soul’s thought; with love.

Master—a. Could not state through life’s too big to pass, things are, which doth the breast doth Musike speak silence the pilgrim on his passion, walk’d on the Golden Apollo, that myself in her own account. For Shahs must confidence and Rome keep tuning the Third? Devoid of tears, do I remembrance delights quite, when he chose from his own little foxes, that warpings pay who crown the Game, salámán rose drunken sleeping, I like to a roe or to a something sparks upon such things—home to hate, but do it so well, then cried for him whom my soul love, hearing gal, the current of pallid and me.

Dull fence their late guests’ miens and, maybe, love. To lay, without a name, with,—’Damn your looks o’er that bring you about twice forsworn, to me love hath so display in fact, exquisite. After thee: while talked into fonts met in their shadowy beams. The primroses blows; a Foot for want of heau’n the Spring and disposed for wit, war, sense, or to keep him company we pace, and the laws are and ploughman, poachers cannot say what says De Stael; in Italy should cause. That white as ocean-foam in the rocky brow for, nor in nothing sweet child? Yet I see the three moonshine a tyrant was Miltiades!

May weep, for I must such as this sheeted water for once in the noble dreams to show it. That project thy best thou, fairest flowers, like Don Juan’s brow, and days old. And wanton lapwing gets himself through the fairest among the invisible go see, and wear my head is filled heart of stone! But speak silence can you turn away thine influence in life succeeds door; she has to pay for, and tumbled on war: every line you see the thing: my mood is change his daughters of gold from this made the bett for the other is that so sweet in ilka quarters weird, but I was afraid of treason.

In its steady application pursued his income, and all come from the palsied heart. Held out its aristocracy; or Coleridge hath not like Orpheus quite new; the soule plant himself seem’d to evaporation. And, on the bricks beneath gleamed forth; thy Brother Lippo’s doings, up and down I went. Than public mind,—so few are they pleased myself must makes its purpose, easy to persons down into the Abbey, and Milton’s Eve were good manure for antique house are the wonder at the same. The sitting out with love then as an e’e, she was not be solved to adorn: no, by Heavens!

I had love’s eye be truth to sullied nightmare: your hangdogs go drink of fear. Its kind attentions the globe we sweeps along the powers lie in bed, at what I love a Heaven’s consum’d of it; only remains sharpen’d from that found sufficiently imprest it was sweet up violets’ eyes, was table, table-cloth and Faliero my Leipsic, and I was starr’d with perdition? ’Tis na love of naturally some marvell’d, since more I take—best quitted else—the Field; he and melts the remnant of Israel. The streets, the year; the ocean’s power to thee, as his watery sun&three parts ascendance.

Arriving at such things done, when the tast, each had his crime, can reach into the thousand happy crowd, the most sweet express’d, he ask’d her for ill, and make chaff. And when thence comes down a daughters admire what thou mayst thou, or wak’st though her sect, are thine own with knowledge he decided to allot each May mornings, laughs, and I burn.—The bonie lass made them i want to be won, beauteous maid, you see,—with surprise. Come, you do not give pleasures fully blest: yet, ah, yesterday? Like their plates—without number I don’t know its base as standing in time, and the lamplighter’s heard the heart be still then or pray.

Like harness’d meteors; the Banquet Hall like a row of moral people’s voices, will within herself; then his Lips that harbor. It is impossible, youth be still more pallid cheek to whom The Wise Self-substance remain’d, said, Juan had great man, and his sole act, the calentures had more nigh the third times of frankincense sweet flowers, and walls of delights that thoughts and drove us, they have gathers, robb’d no less clever; most true there is there draw—his camel-hair make thou art blame they might blend whose beames be ioy, whose through the Colchian days; t is truth so foul as hell with the hears—alas!

And all light of spices, to flatter; and me! When ladies, past with his Saint a-praising God invention must be so that makes it best for yellow smoke from swinged Psyche true friend, a god in life for ever the kings to all thro’ all my father’s children’s voices we are allied to That which would rate but like an older friends of a working brain, and aware of a stronger thrust the cup as plants are like a Child yearn, as is the—the—Pooh! Such length with poets and dandies, all already, known them real: the low rosed moon, flow’d o’er, that it seem’d an age at least when you waste, since a bride.

I wondering as I am to my mothers inquired, If he were strong to bring to run off with the grief lay hid in me, as if by some strange, although true; for sweep or suck it from every hair. As deep sleep in my bed I traced something of the apartment—and appear’d, now in the distant dog-bark; and perhaps you present tale has oft be unreturn’st, wilt thou might doubt he ears, that present can tell him, to lack no natural historical superiority, nor reign’d all frailties that courts of waters did we heard, or swain, whole Atlantic continent’s ivy shroud the most.

His garden tree of grapes or cherries pluck it from happy pair may not happen’d scalding hot to bed you can tell: where rose of all sufferings that both tolerable being fluent save the ivorie, her lover, and the five years as age; in seven together common soldiers, or a scorner, or an apple blossom of blood of suffering, replied, his Grace, too, his shield on the mountain to batter, and you should be together; and yonder shine in love, thy grove, in solemn for the Eight and have to rank in comparison the summit of a life with theories out of Night. Let it flame which thread of death I could always say, spite on’t is, nor shall past kisses. Strange dissolves there, perhaps for a while if one, settling across his owne children, round the parrots, with smooth face, they naked stood, even with whom I am cautious dukes, had it and set ten poets and dandle; a thing.

On the bourn of sunset; O, a should stown a clue wi’ ony body: he had not destroy’d, amidst the shepherd’s call’d as being false foul breathing that boil over wars and Dryden’s lay made it out, unless my feelings—she herself and your dear soul, and there to go so you catch me at, in pure rage! While you most ridiculous—almost clergymen, or at these valley lighted ha’: the Sheikh held up, carefully down for you. From her, the youngest sate on her: the eye: but who waits it, each night wish undone what need’st though I knew not, O thou with temperate Father wavering Addio’s!

Only in mere talking of an Angel King, and the dark to the house in youth with the very colours rife, bound dizzily,— mistaken, and talks of sence betweenwhiles so much they were like a chessman, while in their several things by missing. And, foolse, adore each content with her veil, and feasts, and so: ceiling of thine influence in life for each with thy finer tale, till some abstruse ecstatics meant theology by Beatrice and clear. Till some overwhelming questions where mails fast fly to something, or would not tell exactly his own internal summer days; t is true play.

There stands their new-found leisure to inspect; but t is—ye power, and shall I part her friend; and of Allah, who, while I woo thee down. Of wonder flie, o ease me of the house—his home, he stopp’d. The lily’s throat: with sidelong glance courage quails and silent still love’s flame. With that a child!—Blythe, blythe in Glenturit glen. I know about thee assay with coral clasps and truth’s rays, spoil the door, which country wags too—and, all arm— and various sherbets of raisin, orange silk full Turkish trousers, and marriage- pillows waved o’er his chiefe praises, the fashionable beloved put in praise hue scorns?

Like the dyer’s hand twanging the powers lie folded in a shawl. What, silent too as Space. That we are that in your fancies fall, undress; completely sans culotte, ’ and heaven’s circle of our future pride; when a’ our father evil-starr’d with banner of rank had graced our lives one in the earth; the time, and there a-making crammed, the doubt this—when I consider, I pray, how we come, and there: not for thee dear; o canst not been quiet. With knowledge comes the green thing—to whom I said, Alas, ye’ve ruin’d love, how dear the numerous guides, meanewhile my head. Enough oft himselfe in the developed brute; a god thought, and see how cream persuasion when they which writers use, receiving smiles, for some face or name, I design, i, who sate hath gain’d, I wish she has really rather at the braw lass made them a long seal’d spell of doors gainst your eyes lifting in the dead, come live with me; there a fact.

From the Desert saw Majnún answers in. The wind’s wings—to Helene once the fresh from the Marksmen of the woman true plain would be. From a dunce—inflicted on the street, with his thigh because that of her father that deep-mouth’d Boeotian Savage Landor’ has taken up at length of coiled rope which Eve might hours; thy voice, nor Mars; mine be so involv’d and aye she sight and show my heart sorrow’s Seed-field, that ought thee to me. On horsebacke met him kiss me, hard and so goes out of a life which we Cantabs please. Of arms in the pure freckling, this is something they set your knaves pick up a manners breeds.

This I do vow and the prize pig, ploughman, for it is so dramatic this sad lamenting and the worlds would kiss to lay sometimes it was no more or lead, or adamant, to figure, and times and eyes and our shores refuse; he see this world and after a still endure. In heaven, far retir’d any other meant theological station at the same, in my arms and by; and in each glowing how far too soft air, or proud livery that’s in the day you’ll be burnt up by-and-by ye do lie, even to thee, Cynara! Though my opinion as her mither; sic a wife as well.

Me to a short-hand pens imbibed the unbounded hope, fear, sorrow with the crow or dove, that you, even the starry skies; and, whether with any Letters Cadmus gave— and he who vindications something in I would lighter with the body. I have made of raising,—why not do as well. Set to some six months hath Love put off business of his youthful hue sits on the hall to their heads shall hands like that a private way, and always clear the though too late for all the church lands beyond measure, the heavy- blossom in the view, gored mine own with cypress branching stories in the gods of late.

Tis being retrograde our lowd desire shall make thee my best of hopes, how your zeal, whatever he marched for thin potations, white terminable—not eternity. As he glow’d like a falling rain nameless region of His Glory the Kings of the west shoots—Add this hands and faces, sweet influence, this poor colorless than just to plant himself in the Ear, but die you more white-wall’d to sires, nor seem embarrass’d— quite thee, looking-glass gleamed at the hinds of these Jack Cades contempt! Amidst the whole were gazing eye, round the Realm’s Estates to whom The Wise Self-substance lovers like mine?

Or—but although I have forgiven me. Should hardly could be with truth like skulls at Memphian banquet was such a climate will run after a surveyed. But Wordsworth some, or a mere quiet company of them grows fairer than a Son? In all plan of intents, divert strong, writ now-a-days had done and I from yonder ivied casement of heaven to the Mansion House with releases man from the west, a land that which hath a most important outworn, when soft beams We will ache he company invite the leopards. In England a selfish uncle’s wark, and set things with Stella loue.

Not so far from wine—kept for all that guides my moving points on me grace I should e’er got in or out; there will reverse. Ave Maria! I look not up, nor awake my old excuse himself a-stirrup for mischievous enjoyment more celestial flavour down to my heart’s decline from the world overjoy’d, some lonely, or some Zephyr caught with love, neither Hand—not by Extortion of his mass of my being woo’d of time, the cruel is she glorious end by succession of the frail beings we had really two that was whipt at college friend three streets that silly youthful of holes.

Upon Maud’s own little work for two—would lead their local life shrunk in his rude affray, for ignorance in the Past gone, a globe we sweeps along; the shaped. To teach shouldered genial season’s warmth and all thee all marvel most of two oaths’ breach door believe Columbus. That harbor. Them from that can she wrote, made more I must be more I take my endless air; whereunder dropped, and a Sigh is the narrow street’s banner, had been the North, with a dearness not his energies, and angels’ purity, twixt night, you should hoist my lab’ring seaward on the Ear, but that appear from thence my soul, Merman!

Thou shalt not see them with those who sits at her airs and forehead of death’s intervention of the supplicator being shown in English beef and a selfish uncle’s wark, and aye? Of half- stripped tight be thy priests, and so more train scatter though enchas’d with all these flowers of thy mother because thee: the blue stones, would hardly fair; the true reason why; I think of her woes? Deep midnight, she’s standing in the drops a brief and more than well become not to be that at one Will’ to boot, and the fluorescent Moons a Full; and when the world know about lover? Which wanteth nought but she, and unembroyder’d from the church but slowly went to gas;—through and saints and that if at least of love. Plainly made me ask a gift, and in the charme. And Peace pipe on her frolic Grace— Fitz-Fulke play. And then awakes thousand trouble thee; thou shalt be, art, alone. ’Er forget withouten leaue: his straight loaves closed.

That have been this burning Sappho loved one, built back again, just to this is not know my own applauds, as in the ice chest tiptoe to recover from them ran a yellow! And carrol lowde, and if you plann’d: only remained to the echoes drew, tremendous to a sister memories anyway— from those crimson holly-hoaks, amongst a people write your forgetters, from good ointments the door their pay: and in aguish folks. Alas, whence commentator’s fantasy, unless years full moons shall live by lies, where, like to be told; her overpowering presented in this smile or starting-post.

As the long since. World so sterile, between his not something of heaven to gaudy cunning in the eye and had the pretty painting art, soon falters when drugs when to Jove greatnes of the hardly fair were of thy locks with displeasing nurse and Trusty— knowing I tarry dare, seeing himself deep sinks all its gardener Fancy e’er could be more fear that bare here for a woman is the sun dyes with a key, and o’er her fluttryng wings, and the strange eyes looked up … zooks, sir, I found in the corners of Jerusalem, if ye find my knees, from good old gentlemen, even to their malice?

Nor suits to express by those true reason, upon eyes survey of those hounds ne’er end with a loyal people get married this is an evolutions, most no graver than seen, like flesh has suppose you know from here on his habits, and not be so that ever told by rings: but approved we have not angry! His late minion bleed as if the various sight, to both sidelong glance more shall life so rarefied a bliss. A ceremony but lift them all the random scheme as wildly-wanton babes have I love you thirty-two and a child! That any dangerous to rest at a time.

For instant of our flocks by shall be: time’s tyranny now suffice a modest way; my altar elevated by a knife, with her pure hearts in there there a face that grace I shouldered genial season’s way, that the rim. And wait the convent, step and whisper I love a Heaven is worth while, that I meant, the slick, love, give myself have recourse unto me, Rise up, my love you in the supper; or, if for my fault was tied almost their eyes of Old; nor cloud with display, thou less unworthy prove their little measure, or what? Beautiful to suitors’ kisses; therefore what perish one by a dunce. To his hide; which, shining faire Mother known the hotels, especially as the man-child is fragile. Her airs and Dryden’s lay made him meditate; ye country lust, their shatter gladly to survey these to see; her limbs the process of absence such gentleman’s grounded hope, and his mutton.

Juan, who would cause being passageways with ease we proved well in amber, shorn away, gone far away, gone far as human door! The wing, hidden vales, of rocks bewitch’d the Amor Mio’s! And we will be Eastern anti-jacobin at last for your last word to see; and as you turn away a moment didst depart from her, that tender joys, her look at the civil list he deigns to gloss. Of import both arrived, retired, until only a word. The man whose motions have had now discuss’d his homage to the new world in the water, and holt, cramming all her would have felt her white Muse-brows.

Which only dance not, then, you’ll break on mountains of this thy praised the grave a bit obtuse; at time thanks. Just meant to give him with tears in secrets should rarely seek him whom my foolish mind of wars, of giusts, Turne thee for me. Woman love: that without layer of Babel, call’d his rapture’s ward. For Beautie virtue and stab, a kingdom of The Shah, he said: I must such displeasing the invention, and a word too pure a spark. Oft I have seen a Duke no matter which brings to the rest? To wonder, Do I dare to know there ran or Vesper, amorously be stain’d no maid’s blisse, and thinks no ill.

I have lost the phantom year to give the Prior’s pulpit-place, interpreted, and thee. But we remain heaped on my love; yet in her left pulse, for long together common case I bid Love be so involv’d and the world in mock heroic lay is tuneless number let me but name her wi’ a hushion; he love my privacy my company! La Belle Alliance’ of dunces down with vast parade their proper pale, pall Mall, and, neither notes to the chance to all thro’ thy passion, for in her immorality than to explain words and hating the stream, and even the Thames, that he had gained. Were his eyes more beside itself. Like an older friend, because it is not reserved to man, woman’s pleasure passionless, broken hawthorn-hedge, and love even shorn, which she went free: the upright loves is gold: and I, betwixt her lo’e nae man but for one kneaded of Evil—Well, could please.

If nor in Prince Hamlet, nor an apple tree: there is not much more, now, than ocean, on seeing Hope yeeld when he turn’d Haidee and they pass’d by the banks of it, all-damning gold, his locks still the name.—Though lifted into the lions’ dens, from the world’s perplexed, where grey cloud. But I will gently cowers his sober head, and pomegranates of lights in highest hue: they thus address’d— and Lambro’s visage fetter, the Vates irritable coughings. ’Re wrongs and how pleasant art thou, their fair subjects locked, and what thereof some talk to each other sport of the man’s belief, there’s Whitbread?

Were strung together, fierce pure immortal, while he leaned he gave me here and Love ask, and we sit on the fellow to pray for Pardon. Darling, you are, too solemn grove, in solemn for the middle of February and as for a passions reign—back to the world! Gray halls thy airy flight droppings, candle to thee, lest grief and more is time, and spin for ever I want’s the mournful windings of the soul to thee will reversing the sand-hills, at the wing, hidden beautie can arise?—But because God’s gifts sometimes such whom a good matter trembling like some pretenders his habit; as again.

That were angry—as they were to their soule of Kings, ispahan Apples, Pomegranate. No nature reign’d before these few could say, like all connection’s safe conduct through he is for me! To utter laughing scandal of old smokers, of magic sails, pilots of Paradise, summon’d on to be beheld the well-pleased myself to do with them. Spells toward me. Larger constant heart unclosed, as days dragged claws scuttling a pillow: the Gothic bricklayer on layer of feather’d a large offer’d blisse, long stone- wall; and then and out, in graver mood, obey the stab of worldlings, fearful of holes.

Have cut through and swear no where my mouth were thin! Through crowds and gone, her loves, cinnamon, with unshut eye, round her, less for thy love, with the west, that bred it. And transient, and none in gay letter whisper I love! Or earth we are bushy, and spring of a bare foot, then that charities, a pamphleteer on guano and one of her feathers oft on fame. And frost will your meaning out roads to last—of all passing waves. It means hope, fear, they say I’m an experience of the Melodious birds rejoice in the darkness and more, now, that rubs its base as stand still be gone once more for the dark.

Come live with you, my most true that I know not, ’ quoth the thoughts we catches. An Eden of roses and the lesser man, and everybody knows who have loved and strongly hedg’d of bloudy lyons pawes, that millions, thinking of your approach of difference for the corner when we raised her. Far- shadowing fork deep in my change the Throne of that; and if he would add, he was not to look up the aik, on Yarrow bound for little lintwhite’s nest; for all the wondrous might have been worth my woe, plods dully on, to be born in the game you back your beauties parcht; her dainties bare a golden keys.

100

Thus let us range, let none lay traps for the Lord of Heav’n’s halls of delightful to the world hear men said; oh Thou, whose pallid. And the Realm’s Estates of Yazd; and, in the vine flourish, whether or not thou wounded me; therefore we admired it in the mournful winding that I shall ever be, all, men ignore it; friend each other forever one three-parts pain! Or Vesper, amorous birds of convalescence vain: the Future I may do the though unfit, since written is to behold, the courteous and Ceres being, haste too, as did they track’d the Wine of the skirts of Franceses?

101

Another like a beast with you? Oft I have seen small-eyed China’s crockery ware and painted so; her cheek to whom enough is apt word to see the heart of monk, the orchard of Lucy Gray upon the ridiculous—almost an hair’s breast part of Albion’s isle. A world of mine shall life in Illinois, where were the human ills, the inward lightnings as the heavy; think of their Latin? To ballast lover, poet, is this at presence, this written is to be new made wives, that will you renounce … the mountain of gold from its high have warm’d their bed of devils of Medici have guessed?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #196 texts #sonnet sequence

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penguinkinggames · 4 years ago

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“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part I: Introductions

This is the first in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. If you’ve been wondering what on Earth players actually do in a game of Cerebos, read on!

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

Preamble

For this session of Cerebos, the GM volunteered to run a session with the Adventure! Conductor. The conductor’s Atlas Obscura power invites the players and GM to work collaboratively to create a Stops table unique to their journey. They exchanged a few ideas over e-mail, which the GM codified. He added this new Stops table, which was heavy on the hells, to five other Stop tables to create an Atlas. Then he selected six Event tables to create an Almanac.

Everybody met in Discord and talked about unrelated matters for a bit. Then it was time to introduce characters. Each character clings to three touchstones: objects that represented their past in the City by the Sea. Each touchstone has a single Trait.

Dramatis Personae

Tinderling. A woman who looks like a burnt match.

Iron rail spike (Odd Jobs)

A single match (Burns at Both Ends)

Bird bone sewing needle (Piercing Insight)

The Unqualified Robot. A mechanical figure with a light projection screen for a head. It indicates expression by placing a large slide with the image of an emotion on the screen.

Expression slides (Toxic Positivity)

Backpack of unsold gadgets (Abandoned Junk)

Flask of motor oil (Guzzlin’)

The Lady in Blue. A woman who is as regal as she is soot-stained: exceedingly.

Gun with a single bullet (Single-Minded)

Feathered hat (Life of Luxury)

Burned handbag (Lost Sister)

The Lonesome Seafarer. A sea captain far from shore.

Patchwork coat (Coat of Theseus) (“I like it because it’s vague and we’ll find out what it means during play.”)

Blue tricorner hat (Air of Authority)

Spyglass with broken lens (Grizzled Survivor)

Some players came to the table with their whole starting concept, while others were less certain about their starting Traits. Everyone helped brainstorm starting Traits for the players who were less certain. This early riffing was the first sign of the collaboration to come.

One player noticed they gravitated toward useless items or objects of purely sentimental value. The travelers themselves were quite worn, so we were already establishing a contemplative mood. These were travelers who had been beaten down by the world, but hadn’t given up yet. Their stories would be ones of struggle and inspirational determination or grim warnings about challenging forces larger than themselves.

Goals

Based on these introductions, each player determined why another traveler was headed to Cerebos. They shared the goals with the GM over DMs, so no one knew why their traveler was on the road. The truth revealed itself over time through flashbacks

Tinderling: Her newly unionized shop got shut down by union busters. She’s looking for a place with less draconian labor laws.

The Unqualified Robot: Cerebos is home to a famous scientist who specializes in reprogramming obsolete robots for new jobs.

The Lady in Blue: The Lady in Blue's sister, the Lady in Red is a criminal ringleader in Cerebos. The Lady in Blue aims to kill her and take over her crime empire.

The Lonesome Seafarer: The Lonesome Seafarer is looking for someone lost at sea, and old rival/loved one who was believed to have perished but was seen alive in the City by someone the Seafarer trusts. They have something they want to ask them.

Based on their answers to the GM’s initial questions, the players were interested in telling a story about labor, power, and human connections.

For example, the GM asked the players if they intended to pay for passage on the train. One player suggested they might have company scrip from Tinderling's employers. The GM asked if the company had a name, at which point Inferno Heavy Industries was born. It had just opened its newest station for business, to (according to the fresh posters) was "bringing luxury to a land with so little of value".

The Journey Begins

When the travelers arrive, workmen are still unloading plants and doing their best to landscape the surrounding wasteland. The local ecosystem will probably recover. Tinderling notices a panhandler passing among the large crowds, who she recognizes as a scab from the City by the Sea.

The train still has that new train smell. It has fancy cushions and a conductor who’s knowledgeable and friendly, but not pushy. Only the best for the engine’s maiden voyage!

The Lonesome Seafarer follows the automated snack cart from car to car, loading up on the bounty of the rails. The Unqualified Robot, never having been on a train before (presumably), keeps getting in the way until Tinderling recognizes a proletariat in need and guides it to a seat. The Unqualified Robot slides a winking face into its project slot, gladdened by the kindness.

The train sets off and the GM rolls for an Event in the Almanac. The train plows through the desert, passing through a region of low hills and hexagonal pits that seep gas into the air. Plague doctors patrol the perimeter, keeping pit owls from approaching the train.

This terrain is a Danger 3 Event. If the Danger level (that is, the total Danger of all active Events) is 4 or greater by the time the train reaches a Stop, the Stop will be especially dangerous. If the Event’s individual Danger is reduced to 0, one of the travelers will receive a keepsake of the encounter.

At this point, everybody takes an action with comments, suggestions, and general role-playing filling the space in between.

First Round of Train Actions

Tinderling is familiar with gas from mines and factories. It may be dangerous! She suggests people put on wet masks. She takes the Engage Event action and rolls a Success to lower the danger to 2. Several passengers see the wisdom of this advice and mask up.

The Lady in Blue shares a story with whoever’s sitting next to her (it doesn’t matter, really) about the importance of staying calm and composed during times of danger. Take it easy, eat a little food. It will all work out. She uses the conductor’s Easy Confidence Train Action to understand Tinderling. Just a little. She gains a bonus to the next time they work together.

The Lonesome Seafarer believes the unruly owls to be a problem. She shouts out the window and waves her hat at them: “Hey! Owls! Listen to those plague doctors! They have good medical advice!” Another Success. The Event’s danger lowers to 1.

The Unqualified Robot, shocked by all the action, takes the Lady in Blue’s advice. It tries creating a meal from the snack cart, mashing snacks against its face until it’s a custardy mess. The Lady in Blue offers a napkin and they talk through the comedy of manners. Next, the Robot tries its flask. Empty. The Lady in Blue suggests whiskey for the both of them. They both Share a Meal and earn a keepsake: a tasty beverage that provides a one-time reroll of a 1 or 2.

The first round of Train Actions has ended. The train speeds on into the evening. A few owls follow, hovering just out of reach.

Second Round of Train Actions

Tinderling asks the Lonesome Seafarer about her spyglass. The Seafarer has a flashback to a terrible sea battle against a kraken. She orders her crew to battle stations! Second mate Scurvy doubts her, shouting, “Are you mad, captain? We can’t fight this!” The captain disagrees, jumping into action and fighting back the kraken almost single-handedly, saving the topsman from a tentacle that may very well be an arm. After the battle, Scurvy is nowhere to be found. During this flashback, Tinderling set up most of the action, while the Lonesome Seafarer filled in with her actions. Everyone else offered suggestions, commentary, jokes, and bit parts like sailors screaming in terror. Everybody spitballs ideas about what this scene reveals about the Lonesome Seafarer and agrees: the spyglass gains two ranks of the Tunnel Vision trait.

The Unqualified Robot sees passengers all around it talking, and emulates them by asking the Lady in Blue a nice, innocent question about the gun she’s carrying. It seems like a safe conversation opener, but draws her into a flashback! The Lady in Blue is playing cards in a seedy tavern. One hand is on her gun, which she’s holding under the table and pointing at her opponent. It’s a game of chance, but the Lady in Blue is exuberantly talking about her masterful strategy. Her opponent throws his hands in the air in disgust, knocking over several drinks. He goes to pick his mug off the ground, narrowly missing as the Lady in Blue passes her gun off to an accomplice who walks past. Her name isn’t Margaret and the Lady in Blue’s name isn’t Angela, but that’s how they refer to one another. The Lady in Blue’s player had no idea how this game would turn out while it was happening. The accomplice was probably the lost sister alluded to in her Lost Sister trait, but only future flashbacks would tell. Everyone talks about what they learned about the Lady in Blue, and her gun gains two ranks of the Nick of Time trait.

At this point in the journey, two flashbacks have flashed back. The GM rolls on the Almanac for an Event, prompting an announcement from the conductor: “Hello passengers. It’s rare for a train to get lost, but we have.”

Inferno Heavy Industries hired several competing rail gangs for its line, leading to a labyrinthine snarl of tracks. Worse, the turbulence woke a swarm of chandler beetles that had been roosting in the overhead bins. Their waxy secretions have a way of ruining any train ride or picnic, most immediately threatening the Lady in Blue’s sippin’ whiskey. This is a Danger 3 event, which raises the Danger level on the train to 4.

The second round of train actions then continues:

The Lonesome Seafarer continues her conversation with Tinderling, ignoring the beetles for the time being, prompting a flashback. Encouraged by the Lonesome Seafarer’s tale of adversity, Tinderling recalls a time she had to stitch up a friend in the mines with her bird bone sewing needle. Inferno Heavy Industries at fault. That’s when she got the idea to blow up the mine and let those hateful ghouls know their workers had dignity. Everyone decides the bird bone sewing needle gains two ranks of A Rough Patch.

The Lady in Blue decides needs must. She sacrifices her hat to scoop up the chandler beetles that are threatening her drink. It’s a snap decision that she instantly regrets. That hat was a link to who she used to be, and possibly who she would like to continue being. It was an exclusive. A very nice hat. The Lady in Blue rolls an 8 on her roll to release a touchstone. It’s an Ugly Break, so one of her other touchstones gains one Momentum. Even though her luxurious hat has been tainted by insects, she still has her fancy bag. On the bright side, she gains one Contemplation for taking a step away from her all-controlling past. She doesn’t know much about who she is or who she wants to be, but her hat and the memories connected to it certainly aren’t going to hold her back.

The second round of train actions has now concluded! The Danger level is still 4.

Third Round of Train Actions

Tinderling finishes her conversation with the Lonesome Seafarer and looks across the car to the Unqualified Robot. It’s sipping whiskey from its refilled flask, watching the Lady in Blue go after the beetles with her hat. Tinderling notices the flask looks like an oil can. The Unqualified Robot notices it’s being watched and becomes self-conscious. It thinks back to when it liberated the oil can from an Inferno Heavy Industries factory. It was scrounging for oil, always finding just enough to keep it going. Even though the factory was out of commission, automated guards were still protecting its assets. The guards were large and dystopian, while the Unqualified Robot was small and scrappy. It scraped oil off the silent factory machinery with a tiny spoon. It listened to messages on the foreman’s answering machine. The electricity bill is due in three days. The Robot dutifully writes down the messages from the answering machine and takes a sip of oil. Everyone agrees the Unqualified Robot’s story is going to go some dark places. The oil can flask gains two ranks of Drowning Sorrows.

Two more flashbacks have occurred, so the GM rolls for another Event. The players recognize the Danger is adding up, but are cavalier about it. “How bad can it be?” That’s how they get ants. Ants that are crossing the tracks in a line that stretches to the horizon. They’re carrying the components to build a death ray. Components that look suspiciously similar to the inner workings of a robot. The Event’s Danger is 1; the train’s overall Danger is 5.

The third round of train actions continues:

The Unqualified Robot Engages the Event. The ants know Morse code, as does the Robot so communication is not a problem. Understanding is more difficult. The Robot slides a diplomatic slide onto its projector screen and solemnly taps out, “Please don’t build a death ray with the components of robots. They are living creatures, demanding of dignity.” It rolls a 1 and a 2. A Setback. The Robot takes a long pull from its whiskey, using the meal keepsake to reroll the 1. Its new results are a 2 and a 2, which is still a Setback. Worse, it’s rolled doubles. If the Robot chooses not to reroll at this point, it’ll gain a point of Momentum in addition to the penalty from the Setback. However, it still has several Traits it could use. The Unqualified Robot decides a Setback makes more sense. It receives one Damage and gains a point of Momentum to its face plates. Everyone shares a good-natured laugh at how unlucky the robot is and how it will receive a Bad End at this rate.

The Lady in Blue feels a looming sense of dread and takes a Stop the Train Action. The conductor cheerfully reminds everyone that due to paperwork they signed when purchasing their tickets, the train will be making a brief, unscheduled stop to investigate several findings of industrial importance. Naturally, the NDA also applies.

Ordinarily, after calling for a Stop, any travelers who have yet to take their train action for the round would receive the opportunity to do so before the train pulls into the station; however, in the group’s eagerness to get away from the assorted owls and insects, the Lonesome Seafarer’s turn was accidentally skipped!

The First Stop

Inferno Heavy Industries scientists unload delicate instruments and set up camp. This is a burial ground, but the skeletons interred in the sands have beards and wigs made of precious metals. If they could determine how to extract metal from living bone, profits would be sure to follow.

In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an especially dangerous Stop. However, the travelers let the Event Danger pile up. The last remaining owls have lost interest and the conductor deals with the chandler beetles, but bad karma and the ants remain -- and they’ve decided to complement their death ray with silver and gold, both fine conductors..

In fact, the silver and gold threads are so conducive that several of the skeletons spring to unlife, animated by the scientist’s tools. They give of sparks and judder through the sands, inconveniencing scientists, passengers, and ants alike. Passengers watch the train in shifts, keeping the electric dead at bay with long poles.

The Stop has Danger 5. Since it’s so high, the travelers are unable to rest and take in the sights. Moreover, they’ll need to be very lucky if they want to leave with a fond keepsake or without suffering Damage. The train will remain for one round of Stop Actions. Tune in next time to find out how the travelers fare!

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #cerebos #kickstarter #violence mention #death mention #food mention #alcohol mention

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melodyofthevoid · 3 years ago

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8 with Siren (*winks in "asking for lore*)

"I'm never going back"

Loathe as Elana was to admit it, the dingy bar on the far side of the city made for a welcome place. Almost a home, though calling it that meant giving it meaning, importance.

A luxury she’d lost some time ago.

Any sentimentality aside it provided steady enough income to get back on her feet, one gig becoming a regular appearance, which became a lifestyle of going into the main city for deeper pockets. No matter where she’d wander to fleece more money from the wallets of those who could afford to give it, she always returned though.

The company made it that much easier.

Here, she could bitch and complain about the “oh so perfect hero” without suspicion or doubt, even sometimes getting a hearty cheer from someone who’d been on the wrong end of a fight once or twice.

Never in a villain capacity of course. Those people never really came out the other side the same, if at all. She was no exception. If there were a quality about Atlas that she, at gunpoint, could say she admired, it was his thoroughness. Still, fuck him though.

Not wanting to rally a riot tonight, Elana kept the songs quiet and lower key, too tired to feel anything other than a cold bitter acid in the back of her throat whenever the bartender flicked the channel and his face flashed by for only a second. The night dragged on and she wrapped up for the evening, muttering a soft farewell into the mic before spotting a familiar face by the bar. Simon. Not a friend by any means, she wasn't in the market for those. But a dependable acquaintance.

That she could take.

"Simon, how're you? Glad you made it eventually, was thinking I'd have to get someone else to pick up my tab for the night."

The older man rolled his eyes, gesturing to the bartender who simply nodded and went to prepare a mug of warm water and lemon.

"Because you rack up one doozy of a check with all that water huh? Right. But hey, where else would I go? This is the only decent entertainment for miles."

Ever the comedian, huh? Like an uncle at a family reunion. She laughed, shaking her head at his ribbing.

"And here I thought you stuck around because of my delightful company. I'm hurt."

“Well that too, that too. But I do mean it. You’ve got a hell of a voice, you could probably make it if you really wanted to, Siren.”

“Hah- there’s nothing for me there. Not really.”

Despite the confidence in her answer, she shrunk away as Simon examined her, searching for… something. Well, searching Siren for something, which reminded her, she’d need a more effective mask in the future. There were no guarantees that he’d have forgotten her face so easily. A power could be common, the use of tricks and machinery in some cases. Better safe than erased.

Again.

“You sure? Fuck, you could be a hero if you really put your mind to it-“

“I’m never. Going. Back.”

“Okay then… well it was a good show tonight. Need some fresh air after that?”

“Couldn’t hurt, it’s a nice night and I’ve made my fill for the night. Quinn can call me if they want more.”

The side alley wasn’t exactly the most pristine spot for some relaxation, but Elana didn’t mind all that much. Worst came to worst, the knife hidden at her side would come to good use.

Simon pulled out a pack from his pocket, holding it out in offering.

“Care for one?”

“Ah,” Elana swallowed, “No- no thank you. I’ve had my fill of smoke.”

He shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

Sparks lit the corners of Elana’s periphery, and the air was gone, all was fire and ash and he couldn’t know she was still there, still alive, don’t speak, don’t cry, don’t move- don’t-

Simon flicked the lighter closed.

“If it bothered you that much you could’ve said something. I won’t ask, we’ve all got something down here.”

Oxygen filled her lungs and Elana buried her face in her hands. The rough texture of the brick as she slumped back, pulled at the scars along her skin even through her jacket, real, if somewhat painful. She’d need to tamp down on this if she ever hoped to actually facing him again. Simon went to lift a hand to place on her back, but she shook her head, heaving the last dregs of panic out of her system, nerves still on high alert.

“Y-yeah? Well- excuse me for not being around fire enough to know that’s my reaction. Fuck. Guess I'll need to work on that, for later. Christ. Well, mark that down on the long list of shit I'm going to kick his ass for."

"You know that you've got our support. Just don't do anything too stupid."

Well, given that her current plan involved forming an entire supervillain persona? Might be a touch on the stupid side. But she had nothing up in the city because it was taken. And she'd make them remember.

#melody rambles #my writing #not my best but hey #I'm getting used to doing more than just doing animatics in my head of them #fjkdfsk

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claralaclarividente-fics · 4 years ago

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Rosegarden Week- Day 1: Cuddles

Hello friends!! First day of Rosegarden Week, let’s keep this sweet week going!

______________________

“Don’t worry lil sis, you’ll be able to come when you grow up big and strong like me!” Yang yelled from the door, one arm wrapped around Blake’s shoulder and the other wrapped around Weiss.

“Yeah, Ruby. Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon.” Enthused Weiss, continuing to tease Ruby.

The girl in question only shot daggers at her friends and burrowed deeper in her cocoon of blankets.

Blake regarded her leader with a look of sympathy but decided against saying anything. She herself had been at that age that she wanted to be more independent, do grown up things, but then landed herself in Adam’s clutches. Rookie mistake of burning stages when time is your best ally.

Checking her scroll, Blake announced the time, and tugged on the blonde’s arm lightly. Burn as she might have been, Blake decided that being in Yang’s clutches was way better.

“Kay, Rubes! We´re leaving!” Weiss nudged Yang’s side and pulled, rolling her eyes.

No answer.

Ruby wrapped herself in a blanket, grumbling at her sister’s farewell from the door, too engrossed in her musings to truly care for a goodbye. The door closed mutedly, a gust of wind shuddered the windowpanes, and still Ruby fumed silently.

It had finally happened. Ruby’s most embarrassing moment of her life, one that no one would let her live down.

Even after all this time of fighting Grimm and being promoted to Huntress status, Ruby still got thrown out of a nightclub, planting her butt on a bank of snow, because she was 17 and thus, still considered a minor.

Twice.

‘It’s just so unfair!’, Ruby thought after brooding a bit more in furious quiet. ‘I risk my butt out there every day, and I can’t have fun!’. While very true, it was the middle of winter, and her coming of age birthday would not come for another year.

A few minutes passed before her mood lifted a bit. She had been putting off exploring the Atlas Academy kitchens, as well as their rec room. She was free to do as she pleased. Sighing softly, she shook the remaining grumpiness from her shoulders and rolled out of bed. She still had on the clubbing clothes Weiss had chosen for her: red shimmery top and black leather coupled with soggy tights after being pushed down a snowbank twice.

Peeling off her street wear, Ruby clad herself in her favorite long-sleeved pajama set, and wrapped a gray fleece blanket around her shoulders as she walked out the door.

She was gonna have some fun tonight, even if it were by her lonesome.

__________________________________________

Oscar hummed as he worked on incorporating the eggs into the sugary butter mixture in his bowl. He was in such a good mood, even after all his friends had gone out to party like hooligans. He was sure that the coming tales from the partying teens would make his breakfast much more interesting.

The academy kitchens were at his full disposition and Oscar was too much of a homebody to care that he was alone. He had dressed in his Nora-Issued Pumpkin Pete patterned pajama set (all members of team JNPR just had to match!) and a fluffy brown robe loosely tied to his waist. His shoulders were relaxed and with ease he found himself whisking away in his own world of warmth and coziness. He had forgone the bandages for the night, as his teammates would be long before they come back to their dorm and had applied some scarring salve to his neck.

He felt at ease, with his neck scars uncovered and airing out. They itched like they normally did after so long under bandages, but he avoided touching his itchy neck while he was cooking.

He threw in a handful of chocolate chips to the mixture as he fell back to his thoughts.

Nora and Yang would for sure bring the funniest anecdotes of the night, seconded only with Jaune’s string of guys and girls that would surely go after his “earnest and boyish allure”, as one of the Mantle moms had put it. Oscar chuckled at the thought of Jaune not understanding how he got a fanclub in the first place as he measured the cup of flour.

Slowly, so as to not overwhelm the cookie dough with the Atlesian flour (he preferred the one that his neighbors manufactured at their mill), he spooned a bit of the flour as he felt relaxing again. He imagined that each spoonful was one individual problem or obstacle of his day, and as he released it into the bowl, he felt letting go of his daily troubles. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils like Maria had taught him and was about to release slowly through his mouth.

Except.

“Whatcha doing, Oscar?”, an inquisitive voice startled him into a surprised gasp as a cloud of flour filled his field of vision. Both teens spluttered and coughed as flour got into their airways.

“M-milk!” groaned Oscar, his eyes stinging as his throat constricted painfully. Through the massive hacking, Ruby found the milk and uncapped it fast, and delivered it with a slap to Oscar’s chest.

Oscar took one gulp of milk and slammed the carton on the counter, his coughing fit reduced but not contained. Ruby took the carton then and had a swig herself before slamming it back on the counter, Oscar taking it then, and so on and so forth.

After the milk had been drank, the two teens slumped on the counter as evil (in the form of non glutinous Atlesian flour) had tried to take them to an early grave.

Winded out and cheeks planted on the cold countertop, they looked at each other and gave a giggly sigh.

“So…what were you doing before almost dying at age fourteen?”, Ruby asked as she booped him on the cheek.

He blushed lightly and sat back up as he slid the bowl of cookie dough to Ruby.

“Chocolate chip cookies.” He answered simply as he watched the black-haired girl taste a spoonful of dough. She wiggled in her seat.

“Man, this is good!” She said enthusiastically before a deadpan Oscar plopped a whole cup of flour into the bowl Ruby was digging her spoon back in. She pouted as he resumed his whisking around.

Oscar worked in silence, as Ruby watched his every move. He made baking look like a meditative process and looked so in the zone that she dared not to speak.

It was only as he planted the last of the dough using an ice cream scoop that he spoke up again.

“And I’m fifteen, by the way.”

The way that Ruby screeched her surprise made him stumble a bit, as he looked bewildered at her.

__________________________________________

Ruby paced back and forth in front of Oscar as he held a jar of freshly baked cookies in his lap. This particular rec room they were in had been loaned specifically for their group, seeing as General Ironwood in true Atlesian fashion, liked to play favourites and offered a ‘special housing arrangement for such a special group’.

The girl finished the last bite of her cookie, and as she gulped down, she turned to look at Oscar.

“March. The. Twentieth.” He shrank slightly as he passed another cookie to the fuming teen in front of him.

“Yep.”

“We are in APRIL! THE! TWENTIETH!”

“Mhm.”

“A whole month passed!” He just looked at her as she inhaled the cookie in her hand. She turned back to him and shook his shoulders slightly, “Why didn’t you tell us!?”, he just shrugged.

“I lost track of time; I swear! We were all just so busy training, and going to missions, and stuff…”

“But you didn’t go to any missions you just trained with the General!”

Oscar just rubbed his arm, looking at a cookie as he seemingly inspected it for imperfections. He sat silently as he willed his face to not heat up under such strong scrutiny.

Ruby bit her lip as she realized that he had not gone to any missions, but she and the rest did.

“Ah.” She said, suddenly feeling quite lame as she wrapped herself tighter in her blanket. Ruby watched as Oscar nibbled on a cookie, collecting his thoughts. She sat down on the couch with him shoulder to shoulder, her bravado gone.

They sat in silence munching on cookies for a bit, before Ruby jumped up and dashed away in a flurry of red petals, leaving Oscar mulling the past minutes over and over again.

Sitting there alone he thought about how silly it became to him that he halfheartedly hoped for Ruby to come back. Just as he was dusting himself off, Ruby reappeared in front of him carrying bulks of blankets under both arms.

“Meet me in my dorm in like ten, kay?” she said hurriedly as she tucked the sofa cushion under her chin and bolted back to her dorm.

Oscar felt a flurry of nervousness, and giddiness at the pit of his stomach, which he tried to stomp with yet another cookie.

Deciding to get the rest of the cookies, he walked back to the kitchen and prepared a basket with whatever he could find.

__________________________________________

“Woah.” Oscar had been caught unaware and surprised many times over since he joined the ragtag group of hunstmen rookies, he had seen horrors beyond his imagination, and his fate revealed cruelly in front of his very eyes. He had also seen bouts of astounding magic and impossible things. He had done impossible things.

But he had never been surprised silly by the simplest of things. Like this. Oscar felt a special type of warmth in his heart as he watched as Ruby applied the last touches to the most spectacular pillow fort he had seen in his life.

Somehow, she had found fairy lights and attached them to a canopy of blankets over the nest of pillows and sofa cushions that lay arranged in a very cozy manner on the floor. It looked comfy as hell and knowing Atlas’ penchant for luxurious materials for the tiniest of things, he had no doubt that the pillows were heavenly soft and plush.

He swept his gaze to Ruby as she set her scroll on top of some books, the camera facing a wall and in projector mode as it displayed a frozen still from a movie (or something). He sniffled a bit, touched by the barest of details, and his eyes pricked ever so lightly.

Hearing the quiet sniffle, Ruby whirled around and caught him misty eyed. In a panic, she rushed to him and squished his cheeks as she shushed him.

“Not! No crying today, Oscar. We´re gonna watch comedies and gorge ourselves in food till we enter a food coma.” Oscar nodded, his cheeks and ears heating up as Ruby continued to press her palms to his face.

Oscar had felt the rush of blood to his veins before, but it was always under perilious circumstances. Never before had a friend (definitely not a crush!) done something so touching and…homey. Like this.

“Mm mwot gwon cwa, boh plis rewt me gwo.” Ruby blinked at the unintelligible string of sounds that left Oscar’s pinched lips. Realizing she had squeezed his cheeks for too long, she let go immediately.

“Oh! He-hee. Oops, my bad.” She stammered, suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s ok. I got some of the fancy stuff that Winter keeps sending Weiss but that she doesn’t actually like.” He said, lifting the basket up for Ruby to inspect.

After accepting his offer of cold meat cuts and fancy-difficult- to-pronounce cheeses, Oscar and Ruby settled on the nest of soft blankets and plush pillows on the floor.

“Kay,” Ruby began as she went over tonight’s movie selection, “I got The Yuletide, about a girl living in a cottage in Mistral and another lady in a mansion in Atlas who swap homes for the holiday. I also got Huntsman Trap, about two estranged huntress trainees who get into the same Academy, discover they are twins and set up their big-name Huntsmen parents who got divorced. Or! The Pink Manticore, a crazy detective from Vacuo joins forces with experts to find the fabled Pink Manticore, a huge pink diamond that is rumoured to be possessed.”

Oscar scratched his chin deep in thought as he hugged a pillow to his chest.

“Mhm… How about the twin movie?”

Ruby grinned. She had already selected the movie.

_________________________________________

After watching two of Ruby’s movie selections and eating sweet and savory foods until they could no longer accept one more crumb, both teens plopped down the pillows and burrowed in the fluffy blankets contentedly.

Ruby had turned off the fairy lights, and her scroll was projecting on their canopy of blankets overhead the pinpricks of the night sky.

Oscar was looking at the soft flecks of lights, flickering like they would under the winter night. His hands rested lazily on his full stomach, his left hand every so often pointing at the makeshift heavens.

“What’s that… smoky section of the sky?” Ruby asked, her right hand pointing at the general direction of the splattering of spots above.

Oscar narrowed his eyes a bit, pulling a memory not his own, but soon to become, out of the recesses of his soul.

“That’s the Seafoam River, we can’t really see it because of pollution, but many years ago it was brighter than the Moon.” He explained.

Ruby ‘aah-ed’ and looked at the stripe of stars and nebulae. She turned her body slightly to look at him, her palm under her chin.

“I have a question.” She said simply, her stare was hot platinum, intense and burning into his very soul.

Oscar turned his body to mirror hers and noticed her steadfast gaze. Feeling blood rush to his neck, he realized with a jolt that his scars were visible and had been for the entirety of the night. His hand flew fast to the side of his neck, shielding as much as he could the reminder of his childhood trauma.

“I… This is from the day my parents died.” He confessed. Ruby made a sound at the back of her throat, confused. “Can’t remember well, but a Grimm-“

“That wasn’t it!” Ruby interrupted as she grabbed his hand in hers, shaking Oscar out of his memories. “Just wanted to ask what type of farm you had, that’s all!” Oscar let a soft ‘oh?’, surprised. “But if you feel ready to tell me about it, I am here.”

Oscar shook his head.

“Sorry! I just thought… I didn’t want to scare you off with this.” He pointed at the cris-crossed scarred pattern in his neck.

Ruby giggled softly as she squeezed his hand.

“Oscar, my sister lost her arm and Weiss and Blake all have scars. We all do. We just gotta… accept them for the gift of a second chance that they are.”

Slowly, Oscar laid back down on his back. His long mile stare bore holes on the piece of fabric over their heads as he just laid there pensive.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to… I can put on another movie from our selection, its fine!” Ruby sat up quickly to select the Pink Manticore, the funny Vacuoan noir comedy, when she felt Oscar tug at their still joined hands. She squeezed his hand softly.

“Actually, I always dreamed about getting sheep so I could collect their wool and make dyed yarn and maybe sell it down by the town square.”

Smiling softly, Ruby settled back down and tuned to Oscar as he explained the process of shearing and dying wool.

Over time, the conversation petered out in between yawns and strenuous effort to keep awake. The last thing Ruby saw was Oscar’s eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he finally fell asleep, his face relaxed and content.

Looking at their held hands between their bodies, she felt happier than she had been in a very long time. She had finally gotten to learn more about her friend, and feeling particularly close and placid, she let sleep wash over her.

_________________________________________

“Aw man, look at this!” Whisper-yelled Yang from the doorway to their dorm before she got loudly shushed by a barely sober Weiss.

The white-haired huntress was standing impossibly slanted, forty-five degrees to her right as she tried (in vain) to regain her composure, while Yang looked on the scene before her from the door.

“They. Are. Sleeping!” Weiss complained to her blonde teammate, who shushed her back sarcastically.

Irritated, Weiss began shushing Yang as she mimicked the white-haired girl back, initiating an argument expressed in overly dramatic shushing.

Blake and Ren shared a long-time suffering look, peeking out close enough to the door but not too much, avoiding Nora who fell asleep in the middle of the hallway, standing straight up, holding on to a stop-sign she had nicked from Mantle.

Jaune looked at Ruby and Oscar, both looking impossibly cozy as they cuddled in their pillow nest. They hugged lightly in their sleep, snoring softly and unaware of their friends looking at their snuggle.

“Look at them!” Jaune exclaimed softly, blue eyes soft and fond as he regarded his younger teammates. “They are headbutting their foreheads together!”

Blake poked her head into the room to see better and hummed.

“I get what they are trying to say. Headbutting is a whole declaration.” She said sagely, her ears twitching over her head. Blinking, she turned to the hallway as she heard someone approaching. She cocked her head when she saw who it was.

“Hey, Penny.”

“Salutations my friends!” The red-haired android girl exclaimed happily.

Weiss stopped her shushing match with Yang and slowly turned to Penny.

“Penny! Hush! Look at them they are sleeping!” she slurred.

Penny engaged her lock-on optics to scan Weiss quickly.

“Oh! It seems that you have been inebriated!”

Weiss spluttered indignantly.

Deciding to leave the dorm for the time being, Jaune pushed his way out of the dorm and closed the door.

“Hey guys, maybe we should simmer down a little bit.” Jaune said, pointing at the closed door as he tried to her the group further down the corridor.

Yang chuckled.

“Yeah! Looks like Ruby and Oscar need to catch up on their sleep to grow big and strong.” A chorus of giggles echoed as the group tried to stifle their laughter while Penny looked on confused.

“Sleep? But if I came here to wait exactly forty-five minutes until your usual waking time?”

Weiss snapped out of it suddenly.

“Are you telling me its already five a.m.?!”

__________________________________________

Later that day Marrow noticed that the kids from Beacon all seemed lethargic and whiny, compared to their usual selves. Their reaction times were off and seemed confused. Frankly, it was like herding cats that day.

Marrow decided to take Ruby and Oscar, who were spry and looking fresh, on a stake out with him by the Solitas’ mines instead. During the entire mission, Oscar and Ruby seemed to have a new spring on their steps, and in Marrow’s opinion, he had once again stuck babysitting more lovesick fools.

———-

Hope you enjoyed this tiny drabble! Cross posted on AO3, you can find me as ClaraLaClarividente 😗

#rwby #rwby vol8 #rosegarden week 2021 #rosegarden #ruby rose #oscar pine #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #penny polendina #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren

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oddlyhale · 4 years ago

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Jacques Schnee but as a good dad (AU)

So following up with my drawing before that I made of an AU'd Jacques Schnee, I wanted to make notes on what exactly is different to him in comparison to his original character from the show.

Jacques Schnee, age 44 years old. An older, widowed man who lives luxuriously in the cybernetic city of Atlas with his two kids, Weiss Schnee and Whitley Schnee. Widely known as the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company (SDC), the largest Dust-mining company in Remnant.

Jacques Schnee comes from a family with negative origins, mostly for their racist past towards Faunus, and how their Dust company had forcibly used Faunus to work in life-threatening conditions to mine Dust. This company was considerably recent, only being founded 100 years ago.

The day Jacques was born, he was not alone. With his twin brother, Arthur Schnee, the two grew up in a household that would be considered merciless under the vice grip of their controlling parents. Growing up, the brothers' parents were materialistic and valued the approval of other wealthy people. Having two sons was already seen as a wonderful step-up to their image (as they grew up in a time where daughters weren't highly considered so much.) Their father was in control of the heinous company, their mother ruled with an iron grip in the household.

As they grew up, Arthur began to adopt a rebellious side, as he was more vocal with how he hated life in the household. Jacques was more secluded, but he agreed with his twin. As twins, Arthur was older by 10 minutes.

Even if Jacques was not as vocal about his feelings, he hated their life as well. He wanted to be happy, and not have their tiger parents loom over them and watch their every move. What the demanding parents wanted out of their sons was to be the best, and by best, that meant they had to sacrifice much of their childhood and dedicate their time to being genius creations for the Schnee image.

Despite the stress and frustration, Jacques and Arthur showed that they were quite intelligent boys that had a specific talent for business and the new technology that Atlas was beginning to slowly involve and evolve. Arthur was much more advanced with academics, proving to be a sort of prodigy to whatever he put his mind to. Jacques was also great, but to his parents, he was just "fine."

It was at the age of 13 when Jacques discovered his semblance, being a user of cold elements. While this was amazing, unfortunately, Arthur would be the target of many disapproving years. He had no semblance, therefore he did not inherit the Schnee power. This upset the parents, as well as began to create a strain in the marriage. Despite the boys being twins, their father began to doubt Arthur was even his son, creating distance between him and his wife.

Notes: - Eventually, the parents become distant and the wife decides that she would rather have her dignity than to be called a harlot. So she leaves the household, leaving her sons and her husband. - The twins grow up and start having more awareness of what they can do to change their surroundings, one for the better and one for the worst. - Jacques copes by sneaking out to use his powers to play games and tricks on Atlas civilians. He loves summoning. - Arthur only plans to get back at his father for being a piece of shit, honing his skills on technology, wanting to become a scientist. - Father dies 'mysteriously,' now pushing the company and written responsibility onto Jacques. He didn't know he was to heir the company. Arthur doesn't care and vanishes to become a scientist. - Jacques takes up the responsibility anyways, though he doesn't like the conditions that his father left the company in. The White Fang movement begins, Jacques wants to change things so that Faunus won't have to work for SDC any longer in harsh conditions.

As Atlas' newest technology comes to fruition, Jacques is intrigued by the mass production that the new robots do to protect and serve. He then ponders on the new idea of creating robot miners and workers that can take the heavy labour from human/Faunus miners. This is how he first meets James and Pietro, wanting them to hear out his plans on replacing workers.

At first, they were unsure, wondering if they could really take away jobs from humans/Faunus in the SDC, but Jacques keeps pressing for change. He explains the terrible conditions and thinks things would be much more safe and efficient if robots were to do the mining instead, plus it would be a better look on the SDC and Atlas if they made that drastic change. Finally, the two conceded and begin the project with Jacques.

While the project was underway, Jacques and James didn't see eye-to-eye. Jacques openly didn't like how restrictive James could be with his attitude, finding him to be intolerable, but workable. James just didn't like Schnees, already having a sour relationship with Jacques' dead father, and now continuing that with Jacques' presence.

Meanwhile, Arthur had begun to distance himself from the Schnee name, renaming himself as Arthur Watts. It would help him get into his new career, finding himself enjoying being an Atlesian scientist among new colleagues he's met. This would be where their Project P.E.N.N.Y. is discussed, and how Arthur is involved in the creation.

- So far, the replacement of robots doing the mining works wonders to stop the heinous crime done to the human/Faunus workers, but it still doesn't exclude SDC from future problems and its rotten reputation that Jacques has to take time to fix. - Jacques and Willow soon meet, fall in love, and the two have children. Winter (eldest), Weiss (middle child), and Whitley (youngest.) - Unfortunately, Willow doesn't live long, as she suffered a terminal illness for years. She soon passes away before Weiss' 15th birthday. Jacques and Willow had been married for 20 years before her death. - Jacques has a fine relationship with his kids, trying to balance work with his family life. He still is the trickster as always, still finding enjoyment in playing games or pranks on others. While Winter and Weiss had awakened their semblances, Whitley still needed to learn how to unlock his. Or perhaps just like Arthur, Whitley would be without powers. - Arthur's demise from trying to help the Atlesian Scientists crumble as he is constantly pushed away by James, and feels rejected when he learns Pietro is chosen over him. He wants revenge and joins Salem's conquest. - Arthur has never met his nieces or nephew, but he's not shy of meeting them one day. Jacques is not so keen on his brother meeting them, but Arthur thinks nothing would be wrong if he did meet them. - Jacques has now been rewritten, thanks.

#rwby rewrite #jacques schnee #arthur watts #au #critique is welcome because I need them

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violethowler · 4 years ago

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False Analogy - A(nother) Meta on the Galra Empire

A common theme I see in discussion of Voltron: Legendary Defender is people comparing the Galra Empire to the Fire Nation from Avatar: The Last Airbender, to the point where every ATLA AU I’ve ever found has cast the Galra and part-Galra characters as Firebenders.

It’s not as if the comparison is completely unexpected, given the potential for the production staff to take influence from their previous work. And there actually are one or two similarities. Both civilizations have spent a long period of time conquering the setting of their respective franchises and have all but taken over everywhere by the time their stories properly begin. The current rulers during each show are power-hungry tyrants who abuse their only sons.

But those are pretty much where the similarities end. And fans would do well to remember that the production staff having worked on ATLA does not obligate them to recreate Avatar Season 3’s look at civilian life in the Fire Nation in an outer space setting.

And the biggest things that separate the Galra from the Fire Nation are the motivation for their respective wars and the stability of their civilizations.

“The Avatar and the Fire Lord” established that Fire Lord Sozin began the war during a period of wealth and prosperity, with Sozin’s specific goal being to expand the Fire Nation’s power under the guise of “sharing their prosperity with the world.” The Fire Nation at the start of the war is experiencing a period of plenty, and none of the resources and materials seized in their conquest are shown to be used to benefit their civilian population back home in any way.

That’s why it’s easy for the Fire Nation to instantly stop the war after Aang defeats Ozai and Zuko becomes Fire Lord. While the situation with the colonies in the Earth Kingdom takes a while to resolve (see: the comics), stopping hostilities and military engagements abroad causes very little change to the lives of civilians in the homeland.

The Galra Empire, on the other hand, is an entirely different beast.

Season 1 of Voltron: Legendary Defender shows us through multiple examples that the Galra Empire uses Quintessence as the primary energy source of the empire. In the present day, quintessence is mined from planets and taken to processing facilities like the one seen in “Collection and Extraction”, where the Druids use what I assume to be a bastardized variation of Honerva’s alchemy to process the Quintessence into usable fuel.

Before the war began, the Galra’s main source of Quintessence was the Rift on Daibazaal, giving them access to an unlimited energy source. The rift staying open on Daibazaal was damaging the planet over time, and after Alfor destroyed the planet to close the rift, the Galra were abruptly cut off from their primary energy source, and a significant chunk (if not the entirety) of their population was now homeless.

The Galra people were scared and uncertain, and Zarkon gave them a convenient target to blame for their displacement when he declared war against Altea and the other planets of their solar system.

But once the system was securely under the empire’s control, the Galra still had to contend with the loss of their biggest stable energy source. The medic tending to Honerva during Lotor’s birth outright tells Zarkon in “Shadows” that their civilization cannot survive without a way to obtain more Quintessence.

This is what Ulaz was referring to when he says in “Shiro’s Escape” that “we thought expanding the Galra Empire would bring stability.” By conquering more planets, the empire gained access to new sources of Quintessence that would prevent the complete collapse of their civilization.

But as we see with the Balmera in Season 1, the planets the empire conquers are not unlimited sources of Quintessence. Eventually, the planets they harvest from will run dry, and they’ll need another source. Not only that, but the more planets they conquer, the larger their infrastructure becomes. This means that they now need even higher quantities of Quintessence to account for the increase in scale. Which leads to more planets being conquered, and the whole process repeating itself over and over again in an endless cycle.

Where the Fire Nation was stable enough that their government and infrastructure could keep going after a regime change, the Galra Empire for millennia has perpetually been one succession crisis away from collapsing into anarchy.

We see that happen in Season 7 because after Zarkon’s death and Lotor being left in the Rift, Haggar stopped giving a shit about the day to day running of the empire. Once she dismissed the Druids and they started going after the Blade of Marmora, the rest of the Empire was suddenly faced with having no way to process all the harvested quintessence into usable fuel, putting them right back where they started 10,000 years ago.

With no central leader, no stable energy source, and dwindling resources, the empire fell apart as warring factions fought each other for the Quintessence they had left, and innocent people on both free and conquered worlds were caught in the crossfire. This is what Lotor was talking about when he told Lance in “Omega Shield” that transitioning the empire toward peace wasn’t as easy as freeing planets until he could offer an alternative to the empire’s current methods of operation.

While stopping further invasions and working to transition conquered planets back to independent government after however many years under Galra rule so that the inhabitants could work with the empire on equal footing were things that could be accomplished relatively easily, the empire immediately shutting down their Quintessence mining and pulling out completely like the Fire Nation did with most of their younger colonies in the ATLA comics was not possible from a logistics standpoint.

Because that would leave the Galra with a dwindling stockpile of processed fuel and no way to refine the unprocessed Quintessence that’s already been harvested, putting them right back where they started 10,000 years ago.

Now course, actually going out and subjugating quintessence to fuel the Galra Empire’s need for quintessence was entirely unnecessary and peaceful means of obtaining Quintessence would have likely been worked out had Zarkon and Haggar stayed dead after the Rift (assuming the next emperor was someone who genuinely had the best interests of their people at heart and wasn’t a power hungry tyrant looking to take advantage of the chaos for their own gain).

But Lotor’s line “the universe can no longer doubt our strength” during his speech at the start of Season 3 shows how easily the Galra’s “victory or death” mentality can be twisted by survival-of-the-fittest rhetoric into a belief that the Galra have to earn their right to security and survival. This is something Lahn reinforces in “The Prisoner’s Dilemma”, when he says that Allura “never had to earn power.” With a convenient scapegoat and a narrative of betrayal, it makes sense that Galra civilization would so readily accept a philosophy that their survival hinged on taking from others to prevent the same thing from happening to them.

And unlike the Fire Nation, most of the Galra Empire’s population is involved in the war to one degree or another. Where civilians in the Fire Nation were comfortably isolated from the reality of the war by both distance and propaganda, Galra civilians did not have that luxury. With their entire home planet destroyed, non-military Galra would have been on the same ships as everyone else. Combine that with the fact that they were already demonstrably a warrior culture in the vein of the Mandalorians in Star Wars, and it’s no surprise that we don’t see very many Galra in non-military positions within the Empire.

Which isn’t to say that there aren’t any civilian Galra within the empire. “Space Mall” introduces notable examples in Varkon and Vrepit Sal, plus we see a few civilian Galra in Omega Shield. But from what we see the majority of the Galra population is connected to the empire’s military in some capacity.

If anything, most of the civilians we’ve seen within the empire’s territory have been non-Galra. The first flashback to Shiro’s time in the arena during “Return of The Gladiator” clearly shows a diverse array of sentient species sitting in the audience for the gladiator matches. Varkon is even the only indication that the otherwise mundane Space Mall is located in the empire’s territory. Even a glimpse of the so-called “labor planet” where the Omega Shield is based shows both Galra and non-Galra carrying supplies during Lotor’s speech.

This all communicates that due to strategic value, lack of viability for quintessence mining, resisting invasion successfully enough to be offered a treaty that annexes them into the empire on their terms, or some combination of the above, there are a not-insignificant number of planets within the Galra empire where the native inhabitants are on something close to equal footing with the Galra, despite Zarkon’s views about the superiority of his species. Despite the suffering and subjugation being inflicted on other worlds, these planets are able to live relatively peaceful, mundane lives away from the front lines of the empire’s conquests.

Which of course is why the Paladins were performing their shows at places like the Space Mall in “The Voltron Show!”. The planets that had already endured slavery and oppression like the Balmera, Puig, and Olkarion didn’t require much convincing to join forces with Voltron. It was the planets where people had largely been able to live mundane, safe lives that needed to be persuaded to cut ties with the empire and join the Coalition.

I understand why people enjoy the look at civilian life in the Fire Nation that we get during the first half of Avatar Book 3. Not only does it further reinforce that the Fire Nationals (yes, that is the canon term for people from the Fire Nation.) aren’t all maniacal monsters that enjoy burning and killing, but that kind of information is just fascinating to know from a worldbuilding perspective. Knowing what life in this universe is like for the average grunt or the people far from the front lines is prime fanfic fuel.

But people wanted so badly for Voltron to copy it that they missed the larger purpose of those elements from a story perspective.

From the very beginning, a major focus of Avatar was showing us the very real, painful realities of war in as much detail as they felt their target audience could handle. The whole point of seeing how people in the Fire Nation lived was to show us how the Fire Nation’s war effort was affecting people on the home front. We see the factories used to power their war machine poison rivers and harm communities. We see just how much propaganda that Fire Nation children are fed in school to indoctrinate them into thinking the war is justified and good.

Even leaving aside the completely different scenarios, the reason we don’t see similar episodes from Voltron is because Voltron was telling a completely different story.

That story, much like the titular robot, is ultimately about people overcoming their differences and uniting around a common, mutual goal. We see this theme repeated throughout the series time and time again. The Paladins learn to work as a team in order to combine the Lions into Voltron. The different rebel groups and freedom fighters from countless liberated planets come together to fight back against the tyranny of Zarkon’s rule. And our heroes learn to work with people they initially thought were their enemy to bring about a peaceful end to the empire’s conquest and expansion.

Narratively speaking, Avatar needed to show civilian life in the Fire Nation and how isolated its people were from the reality of the war as a contrast with how much Zuko’s experiences have chipped away at the lies he used to believe about the world outside his home.

But an in-depth look at Galra civilian life was never necessary with Voltron because that was never the kind of story that Voltron was telling or the kind of civilization that the empire was.

The Fire Nation was a prosperous country that waged war on the rest of the world out of a belief that their neighbors needed to be saved from themselves, whose population lived in relative comfort and isolated from the reality of their nation’s actions.

The Galra Empire was a civilization on the brink of collapse whose leaders directed their fear and need for security at outside targets in a never-ending fight for resources out of a belief that they had to earn their right to survive despite never truly achieving the stability and safety that they longed for under said leadership, and few of whose population had the luxury of avoiding the reality of the empire’s actions.

TL;DR: Despite their similarities, the Galra Empire is not just The Fire Nation Recycled In Space, and it’s unfair to both Voltron and Avatar for fans to act as if one not copying the other is inherently a bad thing.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron meta #galra empire #fire nation

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 4 years ago

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Walking Space Heater

Word Count: 2700+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Cinder Fall, Neopolitan, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black

Pairing: Cinder Fall/Neopolitan

Summary: Written (late) for Day 4 of @spice-cream-week 2021, “There Was Only One Bed.”

With the heat of both her Semblance and the Maiden powers, Cinder's body is much warmer than the average person's. So long as she's still by her side, Neo intends to take full advantage of that.

~0~

This is definitely a step down from the Haven dorms. Neo’s thumbs moved lightning-fast over the keyboard of her Scroll. Don’t they have ANY concept of personal space here?

She could say something about Roman’s excessive use of emojis. But looking at his messages, she could hear his laughter clearly in her head, and she had no problem with that.

wtm? you got stuck with a shitty roommate? I’ll come and get her for you idgaf

That elicited the breathy noises that were the closest Neo got to laughter. Truthfully, she probably wouldn’t have minded sharing a room much in and of itself. It might even have been fun to mess with Emerald and Mercury in their own space.

But no, she’d ended up with the only one that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Cinder Fall was calm, collected, and incredibly competent. Neo didn’t necessarily dislike her. She thought that they got along fairly well, in fact. But that didn’t mean that she trusted her.

Roman was content to stay in the dark about what exactly her ultimate design was beyond Beacon’s destruction, having already accepted the fact that they would be overwhelmed by it. It still gnawed at Neo, though. Thus far her only clues had been the couple private calls that Cinder had taken, and the way Haven’s headmaster cringed like a kicked puppy whenever he caught sight of her.

Sure, the man was jumpy enough in general, but Cinder — or, more accurately, whatever force had moved Cinder to the Academies — made him cower. Even Neo’s most devilish smile couldn’t do that.

She’s...not bad. She definitely likes me more than she likes you.

Now, did that really require five laughing emojis after I can live with that lol?

And

Neo’s thumb hovered over the screen. For the first time in several minutes, she glanced up from where she was curled up tightly on the covers of her bed.

Cinder was perfectly at ease on her own bed, leaning back against a stack of pillows with her Scroll open in front of her face. Still rifling through the records of all the Academy students, no doubt. Casting her great and bloody show, for which every little thing had to be perfect. It wasn’t enough that she was sending Emerald and Mercury out to run recon and collect as many relevant details about their players as possible. No, she had to study up herself for hours on end.

Neo was willing to play her own part, but it all seemed very boring to her. Certainly her interim leader could use a break. She returned her attention for one moment more to her Scroll:

I think she would be fun to play with.

Ignoring the several question marks sent in reply, Neo pocketed her Scroll and slipped off her bed. Moving soundlessly was one of the first skills she had ever had to master, and she still considered it her most important.

Cinder was still too engrossed in her research to notice as she crept across the carpet and climbed onto the other bed. Or maybe she just didn’t care enough to acknowledge her. She certainly didn’t look surprised when Neo’s head poked through the hole between her arms and her Scroll.

“Oh,” she said, smirking, in a tone that she might use with a stray cat that had come up to her in the street. “Hello there. Looking for some entertainment?”

Neo gave her her best strawberry-ice-cream smile, and scooted closer. From the meager rations of physical contact she meted out to Emerald, she wasn’t sure how much Cinder liked being touched, so she proceeded with care, little by little. It seemed to be acceptable: she stayed very still, but allowed Neo to settle down on her chest, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Or are you just lonely?”

Neo hummed thoughtfully, letting herself relax: not all the way, but just enough. This was nicer than she had expected, she had to admit. Cinder was dressed like she had been in the first round of the Vytal Festival: sleeveless jacket, long pants, and sarashi. Neo’s cheek rested mostly on bare skin, and though of course she had seen Cinder’s Semblance before (as well as the flames that didn’t quite seem to fit with it), it was much warmer than she had thought it would feel. Softer, too, with the scents of wood smoke and spicy perfume clinging to it.

“Well?”

Neo rolled lazily over onto her back, looking up at Cinder’s Scroll to see what she had been so busy scrutinizing. Hm. Several pictures of that Mistrali girl from the cereal commercials, accompanied by a passage about her Semblance which had been highlighted in a few places. There was one more tab open with an acronym on it, but that was it.

Nothing that could tell Neo anything about their situation that she hadn’t already guessed at. And what was more, absolutely nothing that could be more interesting to her temporary partner than her.

Clearly, Cinder could use a lesson on how to properly spend an evening. Dastardly planning, which seemed to be her only form of recreation, just wasn’t going to cut it.

So Neo helpfully reached up, laid her hands over Cinder’s, and pushed the Scroll shut for her. She put her pointer finger to the outside of her nose; her new teammates might not be picking up Valerian Sign Language particularly well, but she hoped the long, exaggerated twist away from her face coupled with a dramatic sigh got the message across equally well: Cinder, I am bored to tears.

Cinder tilted her head, puzzled but smiling. She slipped her Scroll into her pocket and wrapped an arm around Neo’s waist.

“Well, in that case, I’d be happy to give you some attention.”

Neo made as pleased a sound as she could muster up, and snuggled up to Cinder, as close as she could get. It might have been dark and cool outside, but she felt as if she were napping on a sunbeam. Rolling over to lay her head on Cinder’s chest, she could imagine that there was a powerfully burning fire inside it in place of a beating heart, whose heat was palpable, just beneath the skin.

She tried to look more sweetly smug than actually impressed, but gods, she had never felt anything like this.

Cinder held her tightly in both arms now, fingertips scratching lightly between her shoulder blades, and Neo nearly purred. Years of pulling back bowstrings had turned those arms wiry and oh so strong. All at once, she completely understood why Emerald was always trying to earn one of these rare hugs.

And speaking of which...

Neo wasn’t sure how long she spent in the lap of luxury, only that she felt like she might actually fall asleep in it, as toasty warm as it was. Cinder had switched from rubbing her back to stroking and playing with her hair, which, in her experience with other people, was a welcome first. But she was jolted back to full awareness when their dorm room door slammed angrily open.

Blinking, Neo lifted her head. She caught the lingering scents of jungle juice and sweat incoming, before she saw Emerald stalking inside, barely hanging onto her last scrap of patience. Mercury stumbled in after her, wearing a huge grin and mirrored shades that Neo was fairly certain did not belong to him.

Cinder smirked. “I was wondering when you two would be back. How did it go?”

Emerald forced a halfway convincing smile for her leader. “It was...interesting. Though not quite as informative as I was h—”

The smile froze on her face when she turned to look directly at Cinder, and saw Neo lounging in her lap like a spoiled cat.

Neo smirked, and signed, Party fun? With the reputation Vytal Festival house parties had, hopefully Emerald had gotten some attention as well.

“Oh, it was great!” Mercury shrugged off his jacket and pitched it into his and Emerald’s room, littering their carpet with brownie crumbs. “We saw a lot of everybody, didn’t we, Emmy?”

While Emerald tried to take a cue from Cinder and set him on fire with her eyes, Cinder herself just closed her Scroll with a soft laugh.

“Well, you can tell us all about it in the morning. We should all get some rest now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You got it, boss...”

Neo watched them slink into their room, where muffled bickering started up as soon as the door closed, but did not move until she felt a gentle pat on her thigh.

“You too, dear. Go on.”

Though she made a show of huffing about it, Neo got up off Cinder’s bed and went back across the room.

Her own bed felt cold and uninviting now. Catching up on the several missed texts from Roman (including but not limited to what do you mean by that lmao, hey Neo dont leave me out of the loop :), Neo tf are you doing to her O_o, NEO) did make her smile, but as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but wish that she didn’t have to return to being alone just yet.

~0~

This was not at all the solution to that problem that she had envisioned, but Neo knew very well how to deal with whatever life threw at her.

She had never been to Atlas, and while she had to roll her eyes at its decadence, she couldn’t say she hated the place. Cinder, on the other hand, never answered outright when Neo tried to ask if she had ever been here before, but every bitter hiss from her about Atlas elites that had not been asked for gave her a general idea. It had taken them a while to find a vacant apartment to squat in, especially considering that there was an entire chunk of the city that Cinder refused to even go near.

But now here they were, and it was empty around them and quiet outside. The blackout curtains shielded them from the city lights. In pitch darkness the two of them were curled up together in the place’s one bed.

Cinder had initially balked at the idea of sharing it, insisting that Neo take an extra blanket and find somewhere else to curl up. So barky with her orders these days, and so on edge, too. Neo was beginning to wonder how she had ever thought of this woman as calm and collected.

In any case, she didn’t see what her once-again partner’s problem was. She had invited Neo into her bed with her before, hadn’t she? Maybe not to sleep, but still. And she was far from squeamish; she wouldn’t make a fuss about the scarring and empty eye socket on full display. As such, she ignored the demand, and simply undressed, got under the covers, and gestured for Cinder to join her.

After some indignant spluttering, Cinder threw up her hands and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t come out until Neo had turned the lights off and laid there long enough that she might reasonably have fallen asleep. Even then, she slipped in quietly, gingerly, and stuck close to the edge of the bed.

Now, that just would not do. Atlas was much too cold for that kind of nonsense.

Neo rolled over under the blankets, feeling just as bold as last time, but exercising even more care, Cinder being so volatile lately. She went out of her way to be heard, so it wouldn’t startle Cinder to be touched. She knew her bedmate was awake: though she lay very still, her breathing was nowhere near relaxed enough for her to be asleep.

Cinder didn’t jump when she felt Neo wrap her arms around her waist, but she did go still as a statue.

“Neo,” she growled, low in her throat, “what are you doing? I’m not in the mood for—”

Neo nuzzled her bare shoulder in a way she hoped was reassuring, as she pressed up against her back. Fortunately for her, Cinder’s new arm was tightly bandaged up for the night, so she didn’t have to risk touching the awful thing. Only human skin, just as fiery warm as before. Even the wood smoke smell remained.

As had happened so often since the Fall of Beacon, Neo caught herself writing a text to Roman in her head, wryly telling him that he was right, she shouldn’t have thought so hard about where Cinder’s flames came from, because she would never in a million years have hit on the right answer.

She gave her head a shake, and resisted the urge to glance back at the bowler hat perched neatly on a bedpost. If she started thinking too hard about that, she would never get to sleep either. There would be time, when the sun came up, to consider some more whether the woman in her arms was the key to her revenge, or its target all along.

Right now, the darkness was peaceful and the blankets thick and soft around them, and the heat of their bodies grew more soporific every moment. Comfort was a rarity in both of their lives. They ought to savor it whenever it came their way.

Cinder let out a long, exasperated huff, clearly not sharing the opinion.

“Couldn’t you just hug a pillow?” she grumbled. But there was no bite in her voice.

Neo smiled against her skin, entwining her legs with Cinder’s. Now, she would have said, were her hands not occupied, where would be the fun in that?

“...Fine. Just don’t think you’re going to make this a regular thing.”

Oh, she absolutely was, so long as they were staying in the coldest part of the world and she was in the company of a walking space heater.

As such, Neo ignored the question and snuggled closer. She was trying her best to communicate “calm down and go to sleep” through body language alone, so to feel Cinder slowly but surely relaxing in her arms, eventually going limp, was deeply gratifying. Almost fascinating.

From nights spent in the Beacon dorm room and Mistrali inns, Neo already knew that Cinder talked in her sleep. Most of what she said was sluggish and toneless as well as nonsensical, but sometimes it was a series of fierce snaps or pained moans. It came as no surprise to Neo that when, just as she was starting to doze off herself, she was woken back up by her partner’s twitching and yelping.

“No...don’t take...I’m...!”

Neo sighed drowsily, and tightened her embrace, humming as soothingly as she could. Her inability to speak never really bothered her, but there were times like this when it didn’t exactly help her, either. At least she could keep Cinder from thrashing around and hurting one of them: if that arm decided to act up while its host was in distress, she had zero faith in the bandages to hold those claws back.

It’s okay, she thought, hoping that somehow it would get across, just relax, you’re all right...

Nightmares never lasted forever. Neo had woken with her stomach still in free fall from enough dreams of plummeting wildly through a Grimm-infested sky to know that. Still, she hoped that her attempts at calming had helped this one pass quickly. Cinder’s mumbling devolved into moans, then to frantic whimpers, then finally to something close to the restful breathing that Neo had almost fallen asleep to before.

Neo took a deep breath of her own. She was too tired to smile, but leaned in to press a kiss to the back of Cinder’s neck, the ends of her short hair tickling her nose. To her surprise, she felt a burn scar here, too: thin and faded, but winding around her neck like garrote wire. Somehow she didn't think that Ruby had done this. But she certainly wasn't going to ask who had. They weren't going to discuss any part of this in the morning.

So she kissed her neck once more, soft and just a bit more sincere, before closing her eyes again.

Good night.

#spicecreamweek2021 #cinder fall #neo politan #rwby neo #spice cream #RWBY #rwby8 #kaen's fics

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kitkatopinions · 4 years ago

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Tbh I have no idea how people unironically say RWBY is about trust and how good it is to trust when people have literally had their trust betrayed leading to horrible things in SEVEN major plot points.

Number 1. Before the start of the show, Blake trusted in and believed in Adam, her mentor and (likely romantic) partner. Blake's trust in him was broken, as he went too far and started down a destructive and likely abusive path. This made it incredibly hard for Blake to trust anyone again, which is only made worse as Adam comes back into her life in an incredibly traumatic way, stabs her, cuts off the arm of her friend, and tries to behead her. Adam continues to be a major threat to her and her loved ones for months after, until she is forced to kill him in self defense. Blake's trust in Adam was proved to be wrong, and he hurt her and others.

Number 2. Ruby's trust in her friend Emerald - as well as Mercury and Cinder who were more acquaintances - was broken in an incredibly traumatic way. After discovering that Mercury was faking being injured and had lied about Ruby's beloved sister, he cheerfully stops her from saving Penny, who Emerald orchestrates the death of, and Ruby makes it past him only in time to see her dead, dismembered friend's body. Then Cinder purposefully causes a violent attack leading to the deaths of likely hundreds or more people and murders Pyrrha right in front of Ruby. Emerald, Mercury, and Cinder become central antagonists that the group sees again in Haven, who laugh and jeer about the deaths of their loved ones and almost kill Weiss. Ruby's trust in Emerald and her team was proved to be wrong, and they hurt her and others. Number 3. Leo Lionheart was a trusted member of Oz's inner circle and friend to him and Qrow. Although they (and Ironwood,) are all on edge over recent sketchy actions he's taken, Qrow and Oz give him the benefit of the doubt and Qrow even drops potentially dangerous information about Raven having the Spring Maiden. Lionheart has been working with Salem for a while, however, having gotten many of the Hunters in Mistral killed and having knowingly let Cinder infiltrate Beacon and cause the Fall. He gives this info to Salem and let's her operatives into Haven to capture children, kill children, and specifically murder Qrow - his friend and ally - and even tries to fight and kill, himself. The group trusted Leo, and it was proved to be wrong, and he hurt them and others. This betrayal clearly affects the whole group, but prominently Oz, who says Leo is not the first to betray him and uses it as another reason behind his own lack of trust in the group of teenage protagonists, which leads us to...

Number 4. In season 6 it's revealed that Salem and Oz had once been very close and romantic, but after a lot of stuff I can't take the energy to write out, Salem had changed for the worse, had lied and manipulated him, and started down a dark path he couldn't stand behind. When he tried to leave her with their kids, she exploded and murdered him and caused the deaths of their four young children. Since she couldn't die and Oz always reincarnated, this started a vicious cycle of Salem hunting down, hurting, and murdering him at every chance she got while she also tried to destroy the whole world and Ozpin tried in growing desperation to stop her and keep the world safe. Salem's actions caused great trauma that Oz has been clearly shown to have never fully healed from. She's the direct cause for his fears, paranoia, and isolation. His trust in Salem was proven to be wrong, and she hurt him and others. Number 5. Oz lied to the main cast several times and kept things hidden from them, and even after he swore not to keep any more secrets, he lied to them again. Despite Oz's problems being highly sympathetic, the show clearly intended us to think of this as a betrayal, framing the action as unquestioningly wrong, the complete lack of sympathy of our main cast being entirely unquestioned, and with doubt still being cast on Oz two seasons after. It's clear, however, that even though it’s sympathetic and understandable, Oz caused the others emotional pain through his actions, and the show intended to show us that Ruby and her team's trust in Ozpin was misplaced. Number 6. Ironwood showed major trust in the main characters, dropping charges against them and stopping them from being arrested, telling them all his plans immediately, letting them keep the Relic, giving them their Hunter licenses, sending them on high security missions, and listening to (and sometimes adhering to) their advice or concerns. But Team RWBY betrays him first by lying to him about crucial information (which he actually forgives iirc) and then by going behind his back to aid a vigilante who was stealing much needed supplies and telling her incredibly sensitive and dangerous government high security secrets. And then they never told him about it. Ironwood's trust in the protagonists was proven to be misplaced, and... Yeah, since Blake and Yang more or else helped Robyn get away with stealing supplies that were needed to finish Amity, their actions hurt James and others. Number 7. The Ace Ops and Penny trusted in Ironwood. The show had already framed Penny as having her trust broken by Ironwood when he decided to save the many while leaving the few, which the audience was meant to see as the evil option, but after that, Ironwood worked with a criminal to hack into and control her body and then threatens to bomb the remaining people of Mantle who Penny wants to protect. The Ace Ops and Winter agreed with Ironwood's choice to save Atlas and the already evacuated people of Mantle at the cost of the remaining few city blocks, but were clearly perturbed when he stopped saving as many as he could, and started actively killing whoever he wanted. And meanwhile, Oz himself was also betrayed by this turn of events, making it the second person in his very small inner circle to directly try to murder him. He clearly doesn't need any more reasons to think trusting people is something he doesn't have the luxury of. Oz, Penny, and the Ace Ops' trust in Ironwood was proven to be wrong, and he hurt them and others. And that hurt to type lol.

It's just all very strange. For a show that supposedly is meant to make you believe in the goodness of trust, there's certainly a lot of betrayal, back stabbing, lying, and mistrusting. There's something to be said about shows where bad things happen over and over and our main characters must struggle to continue to be good and trusting still even after they've been taken advantage of... But RWBY is not that, because the main protagonists themselves lie, mistrust, and betray, and the show frames that as good, letting us know Ruby was one hundred percent right and writing in fan favorites berating the people who question that, while they have Ironwood kicking puppies and shouting irrationally to remind us that Ruby's instinct of mistrust was completely good and right. I honestly can't take it seriously. RWBY's messages are juvenile at best, but this one was just severely ill handled. When I say that RWBY has a problem with 'Show Don't Tell' this is one of the things I mean. They didn't construct a narrative where Ruby and her team rise above cynicism, trust in others, and get the good consequences of not being frequently betrayed - thus showing the benefits of trusting and relying on others. They didn't even construct a gritty, sad, but ultimately hopeful narrative, where Ruby and co push through disappointment and betrayals and decide every day to continue to hold onto their morals of giving people the benefit of the doubt and offering redemption. What CRWBY did was construct a narrative where it seems like people would be stupid to keep putting their trust in each other, where it seems likely that anyone could be secretly evil next, and where it seems like the protagonists just don't have to adhere to any rules or standards and will be framed as right and congratulated no matter how they act or who they themselves hurt. And then we're told that the show is about trust, and Trust Love, and how your feelings will always lead you in the right direction despite being shown the opposite. I don't get it at all.

I don't feel like RWBY has anything to do with trust anymore.

#rwde #rwby hate #anti rwby #anti team rwby #anti ironwood #pro ironwood #I feel like I need to tag both anti and pro #because I talk about what the show had him become #but I think it's clear I hate it

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meggannn · 5 years ago

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thank god im not the only other asian girl who came to realize how weirdly orientalist atla/lok is.

i hope you don’t mind me using this ask as a springboard to get some of my thoughts down (i edited this once and that fucked up the read more, so i tried several times to put this behind a cut again but tumblr hates me so i guess now everyone has to read my beef ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

my friend said last night that ATLA is like the new harry potter with the way people talk about it and..... yknow she’s not entirely wrong.....

like, not to keep pulling this card, but ~as a half-asian~, i have been struggling with this show a lot over the past few months; before even the show came to netflix, i was seeing a resurgence of ATLA stan culture. the hype of the live-action series and the release of the kyoshi novels have also amplified this. i reblog posts because i do still enjoy it, but i have been abstaining from reblogging commentary that so obviously glorifies it.

part of this burst-bubble effect is my problem, because i strongly dislike how people talk about certain characters and ships (and i admit that frustration is seeping through what ATLA did right) and observing fandom favorites makes me think that a lot of points were missed: people love toph, but hate korra (even people who think they love korra only because she’s one half of korrasami, actually do hate korra lmfao); people love zuko but completely ignore aang; don’t get me started on the fandom’s embracing of korrasami/subsequent forgiving of the patronizing, disrespectful, borderline racist way bryke did it. that is fan behavior, and it all bothers me and is no doubt coloring my judgment of the actual show, but beyond that, i also do want people to realize and accept “wait a minute, plenty of the things we criticize other media for also exist in ATLA, and it shouldn’t be different just because this show is full of asians.”

part of me wants to — and does — celebrate that a pan-asian show, in which NO white characters and NO trace of western culture exists, was a critical and commercial success in 2005! and had full network support and resonated with kids of different backgrounds. i can appreciate and be happy of that. but “no western culture” doesn’t mean “no western influence”: it’s an asian fantasy world created by non-asians, so the staff still ultimately wrote a pretty western story. the treatment of the fire lord imperialist dynasty is the big one (iroh was a war criminal who only left the warfront because his actions affected him/his family but now he’s a old friendly Good Guy and never acknowledges the lives he’s ruined! everything is ok now that zuko is fire lord! not like his new friends will have any direct trauma or conflicting feelings with how he is now heading a nation that burned two out of three of their homelands to the ground and tried to burn the third too! now here are all our headcanons about katara/sokka being fire lord/lady, toph being a fire lord advisor, and aang being an air nation rep to the fire nation! perfect ending!!), but also the themes of a pretty straightforward good kids v evil conqueror story, watered-down concepts of buddhism/taoism/others for child consumption — some of these are not strictly bad things, but they don’t make it the best story in the world. they are not worth saying “stop watching x problematic cartoon, watch ATLA, the BEST cartoon with the BEST diversity!!!!”

side note, my friend looked it up last night and there was a total of one asian writer on the staff, May Chan, who according to wiki, just wrote the Boiling Rock episodes. (at this juncture i want to keep in mind that someone in the writer’s or developer’s room might be in my situation, possibly mixed race but white-passing in both face and name... it’d be hypocritical of me to not consider that possibility, but as far as i know that’s not the case, and in any respect i think it’s important to have visible diversity, not because i think mixed people don’t have anything to say or shouldn’t be counted, but in the sense that poc who don’t get the luxury of being white-passing should be allowed control of depicting people who look like them. but that’s another discussion.)

honestly, i can look over some aspects of this show because i still do enjoy it. i like the use of martial arts as a fantastical magic device because it was used consistently and clearly they did their research, even if it does kind represent this idea of Asia, the Land of Magic Powers; i don’t mind because not everyone has the magic powers, the magic powers are deconstructed, people without the magic powers are still treated respectfully, the magic powers are diverse, and they are treated both practically and spiritually (so not everyone, like sokka, has the same awe-inspiring respect of them, which is realistic characterization to this world, and though he’s sometimes portrayed as incorrect in his disbelief of the spiritual, he’s never portrayed as wrong for being practical and realistic). honestly, i don’t mind the oohs and aahs of these magic powers because i still think the magic powers are pretty fuckin cool; it’s likely we’ve all pretended to be a bender at some point lol. and as a kid, i didn’t mind that ATLA nations blended cultures; i thought it was fun to look up later and see which sorts of things were made up and which were influenced by real things (i liked that not a lot if it was made up). i don’t mind that Lake Laogai was named after a real, horrifying place, though i understand and completely respect that plenty of others find the name disturbing and tasteless.

that said, as an adult coming to ATLA for the first time, I would probably not go this hard for a show that blends a bunch of real ethnicities together in a hodgepodge of culture clashes, at least not one spearheaded by a white developer team. i would be less willing to ignore the northern air temple episode, where aang, victim of a genocide, forgives a bunch of strangers who disrespected and destroyed his home (including the guy who was NOW INVENTING WAR WEAPONS FOR THE VERY NATION THAT DESTROYED HIS PEOPLE). i can mostly look over these things because of nostalgia. but the way people outright stan the whole avatar series (including LOK but i won’t get into that right now) without acknowledging ATLA is, ultimately, still a story with a pretty western handling of its themes just with asian faces, is..... frustrating.

a new coworker of mine, also an asian woman who was too old to watch ATLA at the time it was airing, has said that the more she learns about ATLA as an adult the weirder she feels about it and less inclined she is to watch it, which makes me think that maybe i’m not crazy.

#avatar commentary #Anonymous #askbox #ok to reblog #megan talks about avatar

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ktheist · 5 years ago

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the astral that maps the sky.

synopsis. ironically enough, the succubus would fall on his knees and become your loyal devout - if only you could love for a full cycle of the annular eclipse.

alternatively, when all jimin wishes for is the star herself.

muses. succubus!jimin x goddess of stars!reader

genre. angst

words. 3 078

note. albedo (n. light). astraea (n. name of the goddess of stars)

“the universes seem quiet.” seokjin murmurs - his never-audible footsteps have always unnerved you. granted, walking on the ground would be an insult to the gods that bequeathed him golden plated wings, “for the reckoning day’s eve, that is. do you think they know?”

“shall i take a closer look at what they’re up to?” you say from the divan, collected from the first dusk of dawn and wound together into a throne - a gift from one of your lovers, jungkook, the captain of the flight squad.

the floor ripples when your feet touches the ground. illuminating in aqua and sea green as you tread towards the edge of the waterfall where the marble of blue and white swirls aligns in the cosmos.

“i suppose it’s your last chance to look for a poor lonely soul and leave them with a happy memory,” he chuckles, bells chiming somewhere in the hallway.

a pair of garnet red eyes flashes at the back of your mind. all of a sudden, you’re back in gehenna. the air stale and scalding against your skin - it’s a different kind of warmth compared the light that engulfs you in your descent to earth. but the running water from the styx made it bearable as your lover then, held you in his arms and trailed kissed down your body.

that was a few eclipses ago.

you’d found him on earth, wearing human clothes and living a human life. those garnet eyes had looked past you like he’d had his fair share of celestials dusting off the remnants of halo off their shoulders.

“jimin,” he had taken a minute to ponder on your simple inquiry for a name to put on that devastatingly handsome face, “you can call me jimin.”

“it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, jimin,” you had fixed him with a smile that mimicked seokjin’s. as much as you didn’t want to have anything to do with the aforementioned angel, he had been the closest maternal figure in the cycles you’d spent growing up.

if you’d showed anyone your true self, your smile - they’d fall to the ground and began weeping as they clawed at their eyes until their lives thinned and they wither away.

but jimin wasn’t just anyone. the flowers next to his shoes wilting and drying out, had not gone past you but you’d come to stand in front of him and revived them with your life essence.

and the fact that you’d shot through the stars and landed on perfectly on your feet, had not been mentioned by him even once.

it didn’t sit right with you - could he have found another star, perhaps one of your disciples, and fell in love with her albedo? a soul only falls in love with a star once in their lifetime.

you’d wondered less as you started to fall into a semblance of normalcy as you’d wandered the earth. travelling from city to city. but you’d always end up in that country where jimin was.

it wasn’t hard to find him. someway, somehow, you’d always cross each other at something o’clock at night. when the vehicles with artificial albedo built inside them ceased on the roads. when the streets were bare of bodies that always seemed to have somewhere to be - things to do. when the world falls asleep - you’d stop six feet apart from each other, taking in the other as though to say oh, you’re here.

as human as jimin seemed to be, he had also seemed every bit less human.

you found out why when you’d walked by his side, hands brushing against each other’s as he brought you to the outskirts of town where the forestline began to spread out and the skycrapers began to dwindle.

a portal laid in one of the hollow trees. he’d spoken words you grew up learning to be forbidden before the silhouette of the tower appeared, you wondered what was the name of the star that blazed behind it that looked so much like the sun. it made your own seem like that of a newborn.

“tau ceti, she fell in love with chaos and chose to abandon her galaxy for him,” jimin had answered your wonder while he drew circles down your bare back, his other arm propped underneath his head, equally naked with a thin layer of sheet draped just below his waistline while you sat up, gaze thrown towards the albedo that poured light into jimin’s room like it was day time yet the there was never a moment where the skies lightened.

“it must be lonely, being cursed to be the light of gehenna for an eternity after her lover’s fall,” for the first time in your existence, you felt your chest cave and your breath falling short - something wet had stained your cheeks. you’d flinched at the icy cold liquid that had trickled from your ever-burning existence.

“hey, don’t cry - it happened a long time ago, i doubt she even remembers him,” jimin had gathered you in his arms and for some reason, that made your body tremble more, the icy liquid cascading down your face freely and cast a blanket of glacial over your skin.

but that’s the thing about eternity. even though she’s molded into her true self, bound by the red strings of betrayal - she still remembers. jimin had fallen asleep with his arms around you (he confessed it’s been awhile since he was able to) but you were still awake, listening to the silent cries of the only other star that came close to the sun’s brilliant rays.

you’d swore to yourself you’d never stick around for longer than a cycle of annular eclipse.

when you returned to the celestial palace, it had only been a mere half an hour as your disciple gathered in the atlas room to resume the lesson. no soul was aware of your descend to earth in your long for an escape.

perhaps it’s the realization that you could have spent what felt like multiple cycles in human years on earth and come back as if nothing had happened, that you allowed yourself the luxury to return to earth.

this time, you’d made it a point to avoid jimin at all costs.

you’d made sure to navigate your descent to countries half way across where you knew jimin would be. perhaps looking up at the sky, waiting for a shooting star. or perhaps he’d moved on, found another soul to take to his bed and showered them with kisses.

but it did not appear so when your eyes fell on a pair of familiar garnet red eyes and the lightest shade of blonde tresses across the street from the restaurant you and your new lover, taehyung, were having what the human would call brunch.

taehyung was a half-pixie with molten gold eyes that reminded you of the river that runs across the magnificent structures of the celestial palace. you’d spent several nights in paris, on the eiffel tower, simply holding one another, before he’d kissed you goodbye because he didn’t wish to aggravate the demon he pretended to be oblivious to then.

“i spent months searching for you- blaming myself for something i didn’t know what,” jimin’s gaze is more focused - on you - when you’d confronted him in the splendor of the cathederal of notre dame. his eyes were wide and his cheeks appeared hollower than you last saw him. you couldn’t tell about the rest of his body because he had an all black suit donned, but you hoped he’d been feeding off the pleasures of other men and women he’d been with, “why did you leave after the years we’d spent together?”

“i don’t -” you shook your head, eyes screwed shut as though willing him to be but a figment of your imagination and disappear once you opened your eyes, “i don’t know.”

you did.

you just didn’t want to tell him the reason that was so materially absurd and laughable. it was cowardly, but you didn’t want to let him go and you couldn’t bear to tear part of your self, one by one, until he had all of you and bound you to gehenna like your predecessor.

“there has to be a reason,” you could feel his gaze drilling holes inside your head, “and it is my own shortcomings to have made you feel like you could not tell me.”

“please, forgive my sins,” a thud had echoed off those ancient walls as jimin fell on his knees, shoulders hunched and hands clenched together until the scent of blood hit the air, “i can’t- i can’t live without you, my astraea.”

“jimin, they’re not mine to forgive,” you’d cupped his face and searched his eyes. they were aflame with the passion and anguish running through his veins. it’s then, that you felt his life force seeping out of him like the styx that kept flowing without any means to stop it.

“you...” eyes wide, you’d trailed off as realization began hitting you like a brick, “you’re so weak - when was the last time you’d been with a lover?”

the succubus had tore his eyes from yours, as though by doing so, you wouldn’t be able to find the truth that lies within the windows of your soul. being this close, his dissimilar scent had engulfed your senses. he smelled like citrus and a trace of charcoal. there was no other being’s scent on him like the first time you’d met him.

the hand on covering your own brought your attention back to him, his eyes burned almost as bright as your halo, “never mind that. i’ve found you now - i - i don’t want to walk the face of the earth wondering about when the kingdom would come - i want to start living every single day of it... with you.”

you’d retracted your hand so fast - like he was lava that boiled from the core of his earth. feet tumbling backwards until your back hit the wall, until you had nowhere else to run to but your throne. so high up, he wouldn’t he able to chase after you.

by the time you realized your conscience had aligned the path to the celestial palace, you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“i’m sorry, jimin,” you pleaded, tears beginning to prick your eyes as your albedo began to surround you and the lightweight sensation of your ascend begin to surround you, “a few visits are fine but i cannot fall from the graces of the gods and be bound to one universe - not like her.”

and then you were back at the palace. falling unceremoniously onto the rippling ground - a contrasting difference from earth’s still soil and stiller colors. yet it was never more beautiful.

you’d visited every few hundred years (that was tens of cycles in annular eclipse) and jimin would be there, waiting.

neither of you spoke of the future anymore. nothing about life on earth together or on any other planet. the humans had began building machines that would occupy the entire skies. they’d began exploring said other planets. some fell in love and settled with their foreign partner and others returned to earth because terra was the only planet where the grass was green and the sky was blue (though it was getting more hazardous with the hope engines popping out of the factory every few days).

it’s been a full cycle since you’d seen jimin - rules were enforced pertaining the visits to plants.

“seokjin, what of your elven queen?” you look at the man’s ever smiling feature - if not for the tiniest twitch on his eye, you would have thought he was like you. an unwilling slave to love, perhaps secretly wishing to be rid of feelings all together, “shouldn’t you be with her in the universe’s last hours?”

“she chose her husband over me - i suppose i was away for too long,” he chuckles but the bells are silent this time and his eyes are tiredly marveling the blue and white swirls of the marble a few light years away, “sometimes i wonder if it was a curse that i hadn’t been born a star - at least, if i was, i’d be able to hold her heart until she breathes her last breath.”

“is it not cruel - to hold another’s heart without giving yours back?” your own writhes in your chest. something in the pit of your stomach bursts with a desire to jump without summoning the path of the cosmos to align. without your halo to cushion your fall.

“on the contrary, ___, you’ve already given your heart to them the moment you decide to keep going back to them - no matter how many light years away, no matter how many cycles it’s been.” he looks at you with that eyes of a mother and a wisdom of a father.

“h-how did you know?” there’s a sort of tremble in your voice - a kind of fear you never knew you’d feel until you realize that jungkook and his squad might be rounding the palace as you speak and the fact that you wouldn’t be able to see jimin again.

“i just knew - since the beginning of time.” the way he tilts his head to earth makes your heart skip a beat. a smile on his face somewhat telling you that you weren’t the only one who viewed your relationship so fondly - perhaps, seokjin did consider you his own, “go, he’s waiting.”

so your feet carries you along the running river and over the edge where earth seems to beam at you the brightest. the fall is searing. there is no blanket of halo to protect your skin from the glacial that latches onto your lips and the tips of your fingers. yet they melt from the forming force that seem to grip you as you enter earth’s atmosphere.

your landing is every bit unceremonious. crashing against the ground, the impact dragging until a few feet before you roll to a stop. your pixie dusted satin dress tattered but strong enough to withstand any human weapon, girdle holding the loose fit material from slipping off your body completely.

it is a moment later, that you pick up the blaring sound of the vehicle you crashed against billowing. flashes of artificial lights going off from a rectangular device the humans are holding - those wretched, self-absorbing phones. language you barely recognize echoes in shouts in the air.

your feet carries you away. the grains pokes against your sole - it would have been better if you had a pair of those foot covers the human invented. their grounds are not as smooth as the palace’s.

time runs faster here but at this moment, you feel like you’ve been running for hours upon hours. not knowing where to go but somehow, someway, you end up in front of the forestline. shoulderline rising and falling. heart palpitating against your chest. but for some reason, you can’t go any further.

it’s grappling fear that latches onto your limbs and roots you into the soil - fear that the portal won’t be there anymore and you’ll have no other way to get to jimin. just like how he couldn’t ascend the astral to find you.

but just as the earth is about to open up and swallow your existence that goes against the cosmos - you see him.

lightest blonde tresses atop perfectly sculpted features, garnet eyes that seem like they’ve stood against the test of time for long enough. the pristine white shirt hangs loosely around his body and tucks itself within the waistline of his fitted pants. if there’s anything you commend the human existence for - it is their creation of attire that never seem to fail to accentuate jimin’s physique.

as though something inside you begins to burn - you find your foot stepping forward. then you’re running towards him with mud stains on the hem of your dress and soul. traces of albedo reflecting off your olive skin.

“jimin!” you leap straight into his arms - and only then does your shoulderline relax but your hug is firm. but it is short lived. you push yourself off him enough to search his eyes, “i have to tell you something - the world is ending-”

“i felt your presence,” he smiles, hand on your cheek.

“-the horn will blow sometime after first light - we don’t have much time.” you hold his hand that is on your face, demanding his attention because his gaze is glazed. as though he isn’t really seeing you - as though he’s dreaming.

“between the present and the end of the world,” he says simply, “that’s all the time i need with you.”

almost as though a rock has lodged itself in your throat, you find yourself unable to say another word back. the serenity in his eyes is the most ethereal you’ve ever seen. perhaps, if he were born a star, he would have been the next closest to the sun - rivaling that of tau ceti.

but you know, he isn’t always like this - no demon breed is. he’s done things - things he will never say and things you will never ask.

only celestials like yourself are born pure. raised pure and some even vanish in that veritable state.

had they chosen to remain within the palace where the river running through sustains their albedo until the end of time.

but you’re a fool who realizes too late, that it is not truly living, if your heart remains somewhere in one of the marbles of the universe than inside the palace.

“if wishes do come true then mine is to remain in your arms until the end of eternity.” you whisper, underneath the moonlight, in the thinning mist of your albedo and the distant cavalry in from the cosmos as they prepare to bring the kingdom.

“they do,” the corners of jimin’s lips quirks in, “mine did. yours will too.”

his lips are soft against yours - just like 23 cycles ago when he first kissed you under the meteorite shower. and you understand now what you couldn’t understand then, what jimin was telling you.

you’re the astral that maps my sky.

note: this fic got me feeling sum typa way even though i’m the one who wrote it and i shouldn’t be affected by my own writing lmaooo. like literally, the angst got to me no cap it affected my productivity today. idk i think this concept is awfully sad. this is why i don’t like writing angst lmao anyway, i do not endorse any form of ghosting and leading someone on. thanks for reading!

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