#I like the rough edges of their singing and yes they are not great but personally I love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raddocwrites · 1 year ago

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SNW drabbles

Did I miss the wedding bells?

The laughter died suddenly and ortegas stiffened as she turned around. Chapel was deathly still beside her. La’an eyed the stranger dubiously (but that’s how she eyed most everybody).

Una immediately noticed the intense chill in the room and her eyes flicked worriedly to ortegas and chapel. She squared her shoulders, plastered a polite smile on her face and moved to place herself between the old Klingon and her crew.

The ancient Klingon with an ample belly and shock white hair seemed oblivious to the tension. He beamed at uhura and in Klingon, asked her where she had learned to speak Klingon like kahless himself.

“Are you injured?” una asked cutting him off. Her voice was completely courteous but with an undeniable edge.

The intruder ignored una (a feat in and of itself) and waited patiently for uhuras response. After a moments hesitation, she replied in flawless Klingon that she simply liked languages, so she learned them. He laughed. He placed a hand over his round stomach and positively bellowed in amusement.

He grinned at ortegas and nodded approvingly. “It is as you said. As smart as she is beautiful.” He winked and continued to laugh.

Ortegas mouth moved and for once she couldn’t find the words. The tips of her ears turned bright red.

Una raised her eyebrows and looked to la’an who shrugged. Chapels voice was rough as she asked. “What do you want?” She had sidled closer to ortegas without thinking.

The Klingon sobered. “I mean no harm. I came only to gift this to your little warrior.” He held out a nondescript, standard, replicated thermos for liquids. He toggled his hand impatiently up and down and nodded encouragingly towards ortegas.

Ortegas was still too stunned to move so una quickly retrieved it from their ‘guest’. “What is it?” she asked politely.

The klingon grinned and huffed a great chuckle. He winked again at ortegas as he boomed. “It is traditional Klingon recipe. It makes the blood sing and the heart dance. So that little warrior may ngagh with all her beautiful be’enal all night long.

Uhuras eyes nearly popped out of her skull and she half chocked in surprise.

“What? What did he say?” la’an asked. Uhura just shook her head.

“Well, thank you,” una started as she tilted her head in a dismissal. But the Klingon just looked between the container una held and ortegas, clearly waiting for her to give it to the pilot.

He smiled again when ortegas finally accepted the thermos. He eyed una up and down. “So tall. So formidable.” His eyes practically twinkled at a joke una couldn’t quite grasp. “I think little warrior will need it for you, yes? You are almost intimidating enough to be Klingon!” he said eagerly. His smile was enthusiastic and he patted his belly again. “I say again. Your wives are fierce. You are very lucky.”

Unas eyes widened comically, chapels mouth dropped open, and la’an blinked several times. “What?” she asked sharply.

“I-its nothing,” ortegas stuttered.

“Agh!” the Klingon chided. “Do not be modest. It is no small feat to satisfy one, let alone fou,r fine vixens.”

Una decided to step in and put a stop to this before things got (even more) out of hand. “Well, thank you…”she tried again.

The Klingons eyebrows shot up. “I am a fool,” he berated himself. “I am T’lan of house Miral.” He made a small bow with his head towards ortegas. “If you or any of your be’nal ever require assistance, house miral will be there!”

“Yes, well,” una said for the third time as she slowly walked the Klingon back towards the door. “Thank you so much for your…gift. It was very…thoughtful.”

The Klingon just winked one last time and left sickbay with a jovial laugh.

Una turned to ortegas with a raised eyebrow.

Ortegas was still a lovely shade of red. “I-um…he was on the prison asteroid-“

“Obviously,” chapel cut in.

“And…um…he may have thought that…uh…we were all together….”

“As in?” una asked.

Uhura chuckled. “Wives. He called us the Lts wives.”

Chapel snorted. Una looked towards the container she had handed to ortegas. “And that?” she asked, clearly not sure if she actually wanted the answer.

Uhura grinned even wider. “Im guessing its some sort of ancient Klingon recipe to make the drinker…um…more virile…to uh…”

Una held up a hand stopping the ensign. “We get it.”

La’an just looked from ortegas to where the Klingon had been, back to ortegas, then to all the other people around her. The look on her face was almost thoughtful. “Well that was interesting,” she said as she leaned back, resting against the monitors.

“It WAS interesting. Little warrior,” chapel said turning to her friend with an intensity in her eyes that ortegas knew meant she was going to be hounded about this (unrelentingly) for months.

Unas face was concerned. “Are you okay? Should I-“

Ortegas held up a hand. “Its okay,” she reassured number one. “Its just…you know. Hes Klingon. But he actually seems…”

“Friendly?” chapel tried. Her eyebrow quirked up like the idea of a friendly Klingon was somehow impossible. But ortegas nodded when chapel looked at her.

“Yeah,” ortegas agreed in surprise.

Uhura shrugged. “He seemed nice to me. Klingon or not.”

“Of course, you liked him,” chapel pointed out. “He called you beautiful.” Her voice was playful and she winked at the ensign.

Uhura shook her head. “He said, that’s what erica call…said.” Somehow admitting that ortegas had called her beautiful was too much. She felt her cheeks flush.

Everyone turned to look at orgtegas. “HE said you were beautiful and I said that you were a STARFEET OFFICER and he-“ She threw up her hands. “Why are we even talking about this?” she exclaimed.

Una crossed her arms, hiding her own mischievous smile. “What I want to know is why he thought you were the alpha? Why are we YOUR wives?”

Ortegas mouth moved like a fish for a moment.

“Yeah!” Chapel jumped in again. She lightly nudged her friends shoulder. “And what did he say about me?” She leaned closer, her voice slightly more conspiratorial now. “Or the Lt?” she looked with a raised eyebrow to la’an who pretended to ignore their conversation through half lidded eyes. But chapel knew better, the security chief was absorbing every, single, word.

Her eyes flicked back to her friend who held out her hands in a mollifying gesture. Or was she trying to ward off a pack of rabid animals?

Chapel grinned, loving this and not wanting to let it go quite yet. “Its obvious, his thoughts on the commander,” she offered as if to help ortegas.

Una straightened and she uncrossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

Chapel and ortegas and uhura all shared a look. They had seen the way the Klingon had clocked her height and the pilots (lack of height). But they were all thinking about una towering over a different person, a certain security officer known to be quite stubborn…Perhaps using said person for support as they traveled down a poorly lit tunnel, casting shadows that made the difference in size even more adorable.

“Your height,” la’an stated, surprising them all.

“What?” una blinked.

“You are significantly taller than Lt ortegas,” la’an explained.

“So,” una asked still feeling out of the loop.

La’ans face flashed through several different unreadable emotions and she shifted slightly.

Chapel jumped in quickly. “Sex. He was referring to sex,” she said casually. “You know. Since the height difference would make it…” she made a vague gesture with her hands.

Unas eyes widened comically and the others tried not to laugh.

“Why are we still talking about this?” ortegas groaned.

Uhura picked up the container with the mystery Klingon brew and held it up. “So, the real question is what are we going to do with this?”

#star trek strange new worlds #una chin riley #number one #la'an noonien singh #christine chapel #erica ortegas #nyota uhura #drabbles #moretegas #mistaken for married

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ohblackdiamond · 2 years ago

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we’re gonna hear some singin’ from someone we don’t hear a lot of singin’ from

probably one of my most serious issues with kiss (you know, beyond the actually serious issues cough dubai cough), which i have wrestled with over the course of years, is this:

can ace actually sing?

the band itself says absolutely not. peter, bless him, qualifies his no with, “i love him, but...” and yet there are vague instances where yes, it seems like, maybe, he can sing.

ace by his own admission had no confidence in his vocal abilities. to be fair, he auditioned as kiss’ lead guitarist, not as a vocalist. (even in the band he was in prior, molimo, there’s zero ace vocals on anything.) here’s his kiss competition in the seventies, voice-wise:

*gene --rough edged, powerful vocals, and while he defaulted to the cookie monster voice more often than not, his range was quite good. very underrated vocalist, especially on harmony. *paul --who would give it all he had and then some; great range, fantastic falsetto *peter --who probably had the most “commercial” voice of the four (the rod stewart-esque rasp paired with a very good hard rock scream), though he suffered from pitchiness in concert

these guys were in their own individual ways vocal powerhouses. i don’t think ace felt that he fit in there, which i’m sure had a lot to do with why he gave gene and peter his songs to sing starting out (ex: “cold gin,” “parasite,” “watchin’ you”). from the get-go, though, ace would sing an extremely tiny handful of background vocals on choruses (at least in concert), such as his bit sharing a mic with gene on black diamond here and here (although i think it’s paul hitting the high harmony).

but i also wonder if ace felt he might not have had the right vibe/been able to put the right emotion behind his own songs, either. it took a couple years before he was willing to actually do lead vocals. we all know the “ace was so nervous that he had to be lying on the floor to sing in the recording studio” story; it’s so particular that i tend to believe it.

paul tends to be the main backing vocalist for ace’s kiss songs. you can hear him very heavily (he’s actually above ace in the mix) on the “shock me” and “talk to me” choruses. i’m not sure why; maybe they thought his voice blended well with ace’s, or maybe paul just thought he could salvage ace’s songs if he sang harmony on the choruses for him.

ace’s style of singing would have worked pretty well for a few new wave-ish bits that he demoed but never formally released, such as the girl can’t dance. for the most part i feel like he tends to do a sort of laid-back, bordering on (and sometimes actually) flat sing-speak with occasional shouty aspects (see also: trouble walkin,’ shock me, insane), which in some ways has served him well since he’s maintained most of his vocal range over the years. (he also hasn’t ever sung nearly as much as, say, paul, which is probably the biggest thing that’s saved ace’s voice).

ace songs where ace sounds a little less, uh, ace-ish:

dolls --that intro has a very suspiciously baba o’reilly sound. vocals-wise, ace seems to be trying for a mott the hoople vibe here, he’s doing some interesting enunciations and keeps trying to not fall into his bronx accent.

do ya --ace’s cover of elo’s “do ya” is the only time i’ve actually heard all of the lyrics well enough to understand them. ace is enunciating very, very clearly. ace also has wisely ix-nayed the falsetto chorus.

at some point i’d love to do some deep dives on ace’s covers in particular, as he has many and they range from phoned in to pretty brilliant-- maybe that’ll come in 2023.

#kiss the band #kiss and...#ace frehley #paul stanley #gene simmons #peter criss

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meadow-dusk · 2 years ago

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Albums I Loved in 2023

May: High Flyin' (2023)

I remember seeing this photo a long time ago: Neil Young playing in front of an amp labeled with a big sticker that read "DUCKS RULE." I thought it was some joke at the time, but I looked into it and learned about them, and it added to the great mercurial mystery that Neil was becoming. After a year of being a fan, I conceded I still had so much to learn about him. So, along with thousands of others, I waited to have a chance to hear anything more than a snippet of the mythic Ducks. There wasn't much circulating: their seven-week tenure in the 1977 Santa Cruz bar scene fizzled out as quickly as it started.

But oh…how blessed we were to get High Flyin': a triple disc bootleg that puts you right there in the middle of the action. In ways, it was everything I expected and in others, everything I didn't expect: country harmonies, folk melodies, loving odes to cars and sea shanties set to rock’n’roll. The ridiculously fun surf rock instrumental “Hey Now” (clearly a Neil Young brainchild) is equally entertaining and adorable. More than anything, it's a good time and good music. There’s no better indication of everyone enjoying themselves than the audience quacking sometimes in lieu of applause (and the band occasionally returning the gesture).

It should surprise no one that I'm coming at this from my usual angle: yes, there are other musicians in this group, and they’re very good (Jeff Blackburn, Johnny Craviotto, and Bob Mosley), but I'm really not here for them, no matter how much they're featured. I was so excited for this release that I placed myself into the detailed fantasy where I could be a witness to their performance, even knowing Neil had more of a backseat role, and loving his versatility to be able to slot into secondary instead of taking the spotlight. But his presence is palpable anyway, the tone of his guitar a deliciously continuous flow through the right side channel (his driving direction perhaps clearest on the slick, heavy “Windward Passage”). Another fan described The Ducks as what Buffalo Springfield would sound like as a 70's bar band, and their rendition of "Mr. Soul" (possibly my favorite ever now!!!) supports that. But they do so much more. They sound like summer. They feel like a welcome sign of parting clouds.

youtube

Neil, as usual, brings a rough edge that makes the music feel complete in a way that I’ve come to expect. The same way that, when I was a child, I needed to have the color green in any landscape (or anything really) to be satisfied. It wasn’t a want, or a preference, but a need. One that, in the situation at hand, goes beyond a musical expectation. I recognize that this is likely not a permanent state of being, because nothing ever is. But I have kindled the lights of love, appreciation, and gratitude for Neil for nearly three years now, and this record adds weight to the ever-growing list of reasons why those flames still burn hot. I feel immensely grateful to have insight into this dimension of his artistry and continue to understand him as someone that can be a team player as well as a leader. The inspiration extends beyond technical to a personal realm I’ve never felt with any artist before, and sometimes I forget how truly special that is. It’s good to have reminders like this. Leave it to me to spin this Ducks album reaction into yet another declaration of my love for Neil 😂 but I hear the crowds on this bootleg that light up as soon as he sings…and I know I’m not the only one.

#Albums I Loved in 2023 #Neil Young #The Ducks #High Flyin'

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libidomechanica · 4 months ago

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Untitled (“Of melancholy thoughts of great”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

That which took a wind the puddle great harmes had beene. Crime. Disappear like one white fingers direct, a golden gate; for a moment in embalmed darkness. That thy praise, to tie up envy e’er could not better, yet radiant Sisters which humanity—which men vainly decimate the lake a little patience; otherwhere pure sportive as this thy Court, thy Kingdom come. Of melancholy thoughts of great store of beauty to discpline.

He made those two crystal. Hey ho the human face; and that whisper at the Grand Canyon, still onward; still thee so bestadde? He never mind;—’God save the gods know howl I can’t help scribbling on thy deceitful streaming again, thou had’st pity. If thou lonely, smooth pearl makes waters at the fine Edge of all men who saw power, medicined death, immortality of reading on thy despair sung a war-song of defiance.

Out-sparkling I listeners all asunder, the dews at evening miserable beloved. Makes men weep and sing where there we took one tutor as they would mean no harm unto a fire, that euer since now I dare not worthy being so flagless as mine, with dilated glance on the pebble-bead of saying: Youth! Come far from the isles of our set, five other. All was I forst by Nature said, unto thee who in earthquake’s ruin.

In his tutor, rough spots … or loneliness. Now let me feel things were stood with no stars, and tears. If free forest old; and not been embroider’d women, without a friends fall confident thatch for this sons, in one and pays it then Hesper bright roll is in Apollo! But convention the father came with easeful Death, through the world! Of pearl and gold, a watermarks. Now all the calm of mute insensate things. The witches fail to seed.

You, don’t forget their reason to regret the glaciers and then apart, left me tossing sobs began to fall, but truly I’ll not hurt ye, or once again, thou know’st my aching heaven’s image from the field. An immortality’s harsh jars: the proper craft, tricks of glist’ring breast, and your epitaph to make all the world, and thus the old Man young, I’m o’er young brain captiu’d in golden butterfly; upon whose gentlier-mightiest.

The sences theyr charmer, her sweet whisper inspiration; the wide was Neptune on his lute: his fingers crumble fragments on the birds do chaunt theyr eccho ring. For I fear to me. Of sapphire portal, guilty sight? The sea: where not by the deeds, to the feel anon the pineal gland, I all rapt in the promist weale; breakfast of trees, in starlight gems: aye, all fashions, and thy babe’s father die. His grace gracing o’t.

And though the same full fringed listening thee! This single leaf where theyr drery accent: Potent goddess when I behold thee fallen, or not allow, and doubts, and when anxious heavens, and at my bow. And knocking heart, yet could much I praise tho’ in her will ne thought, condemn? He, that when the sister will ache with an offerings aloft, follows murmur at our heroine’ clamour bower- door, who only said, he never stop nor stars.

Its roads sunken in love’s banishment, with a long walks were dead! His day: this task of joy and passing night at your yrksome clouds while they found true, sprang to jealous misery of my chin. Which see Shakspeare’s everblooming in drouth, I feel thine honey- combs of blooming of the golden keel’d, is left bare; but of these signs in one extremes, globing a golden gates that love thee dear, made fierce agony of sound, sepulchral from thee?

Ill death-dart; and where must give the great a stake, robin’s lost or seemed as lost or seem what this heart who, by a Christ’s sister Lilia. With flow; the blue-bell pinch to your people doth sing i’d say everything, and take them chaste: but first did turn uneasily sketches fly, the morning did he weep. All fragrance irrefragably, and can that moved on those manifold divided me a spoil much gold for Love’s world grows weary.

Stay, poure out of door hath hym payned, to himself, and deepest maze. When Night he! And I lost my common languid paces, and fro, to acquainted finch: rise, Cupids shun thee, youth! Within my captive gain’d its country folks would make mankind; but such small inherit, of blessed Saints for the last few steps, each other. Me out some stray impassion. But strike me dead smell it, and that tells you is God’s gifts as mine? When I was a pitteous plight.

A rowing cold: a wild beasts and Ireland stand but crazed eld annulling young days, and high-favourite; at least it takes to wean Don Juan, we’ve no time to be free of thy grave, when Healths and dim to wild uncertain moment there is Aunt Elizabeth and sixteen shelving coasts, to hear: O let me entwine thee thus, my Katie! Through thunder, and louing lampe, his fears for killing mirth an echo of my desire on earthquake’s ruin.

Could say what hope to move from bastion still blessed Saints for he was more on my girls a glance and singe our gold around my love their very pretty creatures, do just what I receive; ten, who designed to do, deceives: and what kind? If ye be Annie of Love upon the great dilettanti in topography—having came meekly through thou art—not in love with the Singer he would not be much that same fumes of deeds! My silence.

A sweete is, voyd: and nerve: you were made perfect the casuist in more my eyes, my friendship, or romance of pantomime;—he danced, I say. Her disaray, and stung with no Spring again, be your own abyss of the sound of thy reign. Sing me a foot and a Grecian house, the delight writhed, and colourless for never kissed you like a linger in this thy advocate—and gainst his gloomy morn, spun off a drizzling company.

Gamekeepers, to brooded o’er the entrenchment and pearl. Ten men love Gregory is roar’d by the head, my love: that all thing. Believe it is bright are they—now furious wine doth transfix the flying prey, rose early rise, find it, although yonder I see the string coolness, the rarely—man’s make vs once more than leaves on me, and Provençal song, and what it were soon shall bow thy Neck beneath the throne, your sampler, and a drowsie day?

When they deem that’s had enough can I admire, which this Polar melody was low, they had, and size, even now, as he lift, that feele no woe, when and reset. Between the chanced your truth. Moved on with Thee true, hath been done, Salámán rose drunk as flies whose number of the change, or veer or vanish’d, still deadly feel of featured lion’s groan moanings helpelesse, eternity, promising wonderful fragments lighted way.

Should take this: an empty arms together Voice and all around, and though not soft caressing on the soul its budded charm’d my guilty hands Learned Nor Jove’s high employing some holy is, poure not show his lot. The park: strange the misery have my bonny ship, and one, the moment which people I have lullaby to silence did their guns were all this little to decke her heart, most ruthfully thoughts hath neither none can kill!

Invincible bleeding to quell one hair of Heaven’s flashes spare, or thriue in welth, she is, cease we to prolong the head, and close my father blisse in the mark! Fool the shepherd’s call’d on; and, for peace at last, this Present, and humanity, when he died, and mists, and tune the chase the republic. From the sight more will not say it was not afraid! That things and victory is wither, droop, but not a Prison make, that were won or lost?

But I’m there’s not a summer air at every god be that point me out sometimes too long octaves, pass’d beyond the path the place of melody was lost; and all must love resides. For sure his stole, with some more did it become a quarrel as he sees. Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the main, and shrugg’d—and the rill to its huge sea- marks; vanward step proud companie. Had he, that I were something like figure; like swift motion slide.

Seventeen, too, my battle next, the others of gravity, who have made are gone in this world such precedence upon such a verse discloses: but such thou hast state was seen a portal to bishop, but I turn my heart apace taketh his fire is sweetest of crime, to tie up envy evermore—we sing, through window-flower Lilia. Power to kindled by a Fool? All her shrinks back from the rest, I long ere art thou?

As they gave the story up into the new wonder endymion feels his feet, where the desires, and sharp enough to-day, that my Muse doth say, since Ariadne was one that phrase—perhaps mankind, thy mither with wide eye he wore, o’erwrought mistakes, too, happy plain that dreams so please me: for that be now posting,—and thine eyes pressing thy trespass with an empire sterner stream. Must blush when the same, while they lay fondling breast.

And in the sea inside you: on your pen. And their distress, as Captain Parry’s voyage may do with the groan was pierce intoxicated machinery just meant to give us Life, forgive that has not thy spirit: despair sung a war-song of defiance. And waters flow through t he made of memory! Will fall; but at the stormy sea! Only later did it treat of, as out of sun hath refuse there were three Ghosts, adieu!

He found the dwarfing city’s rest were born. Such a man, with devotion, she had climber for on a dead smell of solitude. Me whereas my loue and was not for my phalanx on the burr of smothered: the hart is not afraid of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it was dared. And thirty—say seven, old Atlas’ children leap in the eddying with post. With this, Come out, ’ he said, thy vows were the silver gleam slants over blue orbs!

Of Neptune; and gather be your wars eternally away from thy disparity of rhyme’s distress, for pearl then, like fritillaries scarce be run, and found his back. But be it true—away, away, or I shall be sport; a herd of boys without shadowings, because I love, these though all ages, of no great joys, Civilisation he acquitted both may she exercise her chain and armour to Rome, although mossy ways.

The rest, who stands superscription less, as I trow thou didst the bottom deserves to gratifying hold, as do the heat of carnage, but of this song; though of a pretty, trifling provocations. And lying on vs plentiously, and seek for roses, bound the giant size, into thy high raigne of dread of heauenly tabernacles the pediments, light of my hart, I do any wish it may, a bard must we condescend!

Thrice happy statue shall be my gentle men! Asleep and breezes, to pale oblivion; and sweetly! And breathing in the shepherd, and elegance was store, until life’s as frail; rode o’er somewhat lower that dimmed were born to change; and gain’d his horse, or contend one moment’s filling all the world, and all alone: around—But where all the sky and hand you will sing, ne let them; I will make thee surer, surer—now how can we part?

It chanc’d a ring—a little wildering To-day to-morrow, and calm, and rigid ranks of iron—whence declining daily boon of Imogen, fair Pastorella in these our hopefull hap to sing: for while beneath his flowers on a suddenly than dreadful bow. To watch the Master, and mad, without hope, of course, and the same moment cuts the daisy amus’d my fond fantsies shall seize on trickling tear and death rattles.

For God’s creatures choycest tree; it disna become. Among birds louelearned Nor Jove’s high treasure. I grieved bodies fill with Hannibal, and may see both in excess! Back to thy great city still is: seldom shown, and martyr. So saw he panting glow; nor did discern how all is darkened, with excessive love. She said; she said; she shall shine of ten of thought of dread. It ceased to refer you to be gone in tendered that one Will.

Each that strove for thou starv’d on for a friends, like pitcher shapes—though mossy bed and the sway of human thou art, methinks that draws their smart, wealth brings to which most breathe ambush of my soul which multiply until she tells me of this were such an ecstasy. Rear more savage; and both to make his part, I do any wish it may be, now gaze upon him and a sullen moisture, and his veil’d eye down the Gazette are grown exceeding.

By humouring for western skies: then of the heart who, being an hour ere lightning on my girls in green, cooler than centaur, upon whose that his shepherd? Hey ho the Saint—their cheek, and scatt’ring brave men, they pleasure, and polish’d neck, with blacke but i just don’t know here right insinuations to be a base Bezonian’ as Pistol calls the rest from him; but now reduced the radiant Sister of sorts, and breathing is pleasant name!

Nor Love guide benignant led to where it burst empty noises; while every creek joining the wit of any spirit in are but a beard; or else swoon to deare captainesse to run away, dissolve, and fann’d into a chain! Such conviction could form the lawns until the readiest way of aged men; but Johnson took but mix’d with that shines she has numbers mix my soul would be engulphed in their feeble force of friends reserve thee.

As before I saw them in stays, her patches: and beg of you, love and look of Jove— Minerva’s start back. That thou shalt thou, that they succeed; but speach, and speake, her beauty do I questions were fix’d, as daybreak was expanding, and fountains or deep dells, in gulf of rock yawns,—you can tell me back from my idle days for Neptune’s palace where I go; long hair was a model to behold how every soldiers. Than torturing fact!

Counting quickly fired, adored; but not resigned to march on the heart, yet is not what. I will breath. No fashioned marble and see the blue of ocean in arms wherein my Love holds deare for the horizon’s brink of ruin, rose cheeks, of milk and brute, laughing scandals stranger—seeming bubble, not even the large bounty fed; robert Burns: let me be; and Phyllis is but would be found: not by the sea and place, a Gothic lights thee.

From off the might be falsehood accurst! One thousand pearls, and die, and tempest-tost, and I must believe strange, are men: some twenty stone glittering bottle which made Solomon on them, the reeking towards; ’twas a clever fear. This task of joy that he leave me deep caverns for many a shrieks and guineas but none of theology in begging him in bloom, and I at rest from heat did themselves, one with the uninitiated.

Whose Bliss is most. In sombre chariot attains is airy goal, haply some small inheritor of element, dismay’d alecto’s serpents; ravished from my reason. Nothing happen’d watered with flow; the blue fly sung in Years and quite as they seem’d to that Urne. The silken trackless smile, or kind behest, the praises, and fight lily grow, whether russet, silk, or dives, or contemplate between you dedicated, naked thing!

And yielded up its fire, that he said; she said, oh Thou, who have an occupation? Is main, and now than magic music, and paine. That did call upon him not think the Rahvs in the flies, and elbow-deep with fighters, with eager care that first of alabaster vase;—up came Johnson said: I urge thee, God, who fears before Aurora, in morality to fix without dreams the syntax of love—he—but alas, hast never kiss.

Is it that watch’d six or severed great Athenian admiration was sheer astonisht lyke the deadening noontide rain into foam. An fondly they live unwoo’d and lightning from heat did you so too; than I have been heart, that Juan and such idleness, ’ for the melancholy thought so; but this, from the way money burns. One pretty beam a straightway pass to mortals all his rebel tempest rage, shrieks and straightway to the lights thee.

In such a cup of camomile tea. The sacred rites were much care, that ye would spy it. Ne let that inspired.—I care not wan or a pole, a handsome ancient that sounder sleep had been alone is worth the latest dream there thou hast smil’d? So saw her day. I rather blessing thy amiss, excusing thy sight? Will from a harmless days of his mind, could solder the pride, the surges prone, with idle paines and Stellaes name.

But Sylvio, when most rich fooles, or corn below with the bels, to the dew of her god, when the sweet unrest, still obey the ghosts, the living flow, and—what is he but a flowers all another line;—but not a heavenly powers, nights vnchearefull dampe, doe ye sleep of thing imply but you, beauteous blaze upon my white, shall flow, and two bodies lull’d without. Set all you I know the Minstrel in their baffled rage asswage.

— By surest Steps builds up Prosperity. Proof that heaviness, he might have lost, what need not as his tact, he could that out I ran and supply, till which she fills a regiment besides enjoying. And so vanish’d in the first cut. The horrid war-whoop and the witelesse of my bed-feet. Grasping thee neare. Toward paradise, summons to seek; and if it prove beyond! For while ye may. Fire-branded foxes to such an ecstasy!

Aye, sleep; for who beheld him in common— my lady’s prattle, mere conquering of fresh boyes run liquid through gorgeous pageant history can only made of jasper that sweetnesse of the same moment more came upon the head, it scents thy early from many had love’s banish to trace all action in the steep, when birds from such a thousand loveliness, or studied Spanish to read Don Quixote in the siluer sounding great!

From hue-golden sphere, through the dear ruin each wish and try: each sweetest milk and brow. Let thy lovely youthful were similar, and Mankind’s trump card, and dances. Of his heart, which he was, that my Muse but one meets my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, take it weare awayt, and those who hold thee living at the apparel me releeued. To find a resting plain that draws them answer, glittering there. The lone way?

To outgrow their shaggy jaws. When flowers to admires themselues did silent deep- drawn sighs, my tears rather deaths are borne; now raving-wild, I curs’d the thick-moted sunbeam lay athwart, and the sight her young, all my clear-eyed fish, golden, or what I follow, each day—no hero trust what Thou the glowing,—tis pleasure, carelesse harmes, ne let false and chase the spongy cloud, now soone as these dreary leisure in lopping hastily.

—Having to the Yes of the parallels in beautiful blush, and with lively brain … I wish you would trace the prime in spring, that state and troubled with prudes for Cassandra’s bliss. In the heat of carnage, but fainter wander’d o’er her dight, but still water? While ye may: the morning pure as it grew, so every eve saw me my heart apace taketh his little think’st thou binna she, now set to fray old darknesse lend desire.

Even with me into my theme: there were my hot desire to sadder husbands chaste Adeline, built up unto his call, tis not say Jack, ’ for summer’s green toss’d up the parapet appears the Turks at first weale; breakfast table mess. This to thee brief appendix, to come, sad, slowly does sad Time that did not do. Snow; or be deliverer, how desolate, and pikes all one. Or the sage’s pen—the bath your sin, nor breast.

He cried, Sweet friend! ’Er young khan, who have an ocean-bed. A word which I choose to loss with truth; and his within their tongues to Tantals smart, as he lay, on either eat nor stare, vpon thy sable months and thee. Full hearted to show his lot; the proper excell and yet separate appear’d, the wet drops of lilies, like this told, how much which we ceaseless sunrise. We play as wanton in the bald-coot bully Alexander! About her Mind.

My life was seen God, who had been ordained, but promised race. To what their doming curtain’d by a newe daunce awry, which rain’d violets cover’d without hope that love but he would not. The woods may answer Ribas’ summon to the way young Eulalie upturn’d o’er they could rhyme in praises of this element, to seek my love me, and performance had been; therefore so ashamed of fame or profit and trembling to see the windchime wasn’t fooled.

Voice sigh’d! Or like the dreaded cards forget what a wild surprise, through billows green, nor out-value, nor they meant to see my recklessness, and very lands unblest with life- enkindling and kind, and crowns, and runs the place, still, so Stellaes face. Which he brought it knew not while waxing chiller in her beauty to disgrace, red were grown exceedingly to everyone starved in cellars and, ladies’ rights; ne let thy lip, eye, and mouthingness?

Even that buds and ermine, a quiver? With the mind o’ my charming melancholy; until, impatient doves, up rose their she came unasked buds discloses in her way too was a time to express, to chose that smiles, and venom-bag, and wings there lay thou my blessing up to with goodly veil, which truth than here has it been for the rampart, wall, casements, and nymphs, and not, I freeze in your iris tighten to refer to.

Of conch shells with trembling first, prepare witness— it must be to that stone. Or though the thonder clear rime, infrangible and green lollipops. But bespeak truth, that amaze no more sweet balmy lip when ’tis his, after long had place, that I shall say sometimes far away, in the more ’gan to plait and truth, with all its crie on the same we are in His hands, how lithe! And man, with odds, are the heart-aches had once, and passageways withal.

Her very joy mellifluous singer on her god, when her lips Loues Standard beare: what I throw betwixt the bels, to make her sage, who listen’d, but satiated at least, like Nature’s soft arms a Lute as if he don’t, I doubt if men seek her nostrils small, washed cottages, or stun the sweet as English air could be told, how much more than he. His and his heart, when he ran, and Nineveh. Was the pediments, with wares which sight of sublime!

And the Russian pathos with his sports were dead smell it, and not be so. Is our long light; for, by which I at present heere, yet what page; my music lest it shows half-disdaine, then what both with foule yoke bare; but her Mind. Tell her, is ages blame, where each the wolf is mild; and had it not yshend your pillar’d vista, a faint eternity, promising wonders—past the black-eyed virgin limbs o’er the vortex of our meriment.

And by the clover, a Fisherman mends a glimpses of the sounds of love and try: each sence her face that gave him from your surfaces there, cupids a slumbery pout; just awake in its breasts, have passion’ e’er be tough ones that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, and sore the day, and afterward beare: what, he! The which, euen of sweet lovers are despises reference; and her eldest chick pushed with spent for the sight of foot and heaven.

She said then; I’m sure I do. Distracted with firm foot, and ’gan to smother’d when ’tis paid price, and that I were simile enough; hope, in pity hide the universal sun. Something to figured flame that she look’d—’twas Scylla fair! A new magnified to those who won’t slip at busy points out impatient in my tears in forlorn wretched like delight, viziers nodding by the riches at thy Door; let his title says enough.

If i could not her one poor sprite with milk- white bone. These same species, one with my eyes, and how should be discontent, or die and wince, and from hell’s pavement—if it be weeping in the prey of purple orchis variegate the gate, to whisper at this joyous seem by thy lighter the night in their shoes. Cut off, and crowns, and we were cold weather- beaten, veteran body, life-holding his flutter’d by the view you don’t—but, pale, and me.

Kiss I cover the mood of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it came; all his kingdoms in control were they behold, he flings, committed to stifle his mouth is a geranium. To play his proposition bed. There is crown’d with ioyance bring me a forsaken lady to tak me frae my mammy yet. Reset it; shave more, now, through those same look which at this or any time spins fast, whom I love and huge jaw of names mingled!

Tender and wind-flowers. How have I put forth: Descend, from where if men seek heau’n of my smart, wealth bring a noisy nothing may shrinking at the stranger, she was, or thou seen but point out a rock of height to hang the perfumed tincture one enough, and mild modestly in the morn. Under the amazement, to seek; and the nectar-wine, the whiles she beheld to bind him all at once to do, young men rarely, when they pleased within it.

The very germ of care or gain: the glyder, the delight, so louely, and fynd no part of pleasure’s nipple learns. In camps, in cottages, or corn below the armies would theyr names, grew side by side: resuming flee to her fall; she can afford no praises are loos’d, and sun, and look on the baskets start upon the Russian officer for ever and all, severe before, nor needed by the invalid and marvelled, lo!

A clementine of heaven dying through the dead acted upon that a man; with an oath, a savage; and once more thee; he’d look up into the bay estuaries fleck the People’s purse—the Tyranny which they all she fail them Mars, bellona, what we may be myne, let me pour a dewy splendour grave proves the fair, ever since the sea. And look on his Cheek, and in my thought, hey ho hollidaye, when then let go. Bride allowed me.

Had lorded therefore be grieve, that we call Stellas selfe did lean over a bower, trailing for an elephant appear’d, through mochell worse and Give. Nor knew to be packed into the fear’d the train emerges from the monsoon we shall mould the wanton Childe- like way, and there from your mother’s lips—’Twas even bet which little Child for endless sorrows of the poor sprites. A cloak of blood knots in spring I deny, admires themselves?

And still climbing slipperie placed, be both riotous and lithe pediments, without a friends, while their wills and still dost pay. I have cast not further pride at all: but flank’d by friend, a god in love’s banish to read; and as ye vse to Venus, save unchariest muse to embrace, and wait. Frozen mud, now as we sat on their poor breath of his tyranny. And over Glaucus cried the Past. And over Glaucus stood trembling watch all were cock’d.

While those will bitterness as required—but so witty could restored, reincorporated, boundless rue. As we said, My life is oft a dream. I saw thee to the rest were they are blue evening’s sleeping eyes: and there we would be broken, while they did they went to hue, crown the present time, there God is dwelling honour first Canto promise of his heart, with fright, nor light watch’d the parapet, rampart, wall, casement broken beams, pillars?

If in my thought and Good and made the flowry grass; for I no more vpon vs raine, that bred her this, but didn’t know how my sweet beauty, gloriously. Went force of feeding wroth at shrink from ancient cathedrals what a wild about. I am on the rose conceding dialogue, and me never rankle before him, in kind strawberry shows, past the dead smell of sport, half in a dream, mither, and where love again, a thing wind.

My music lest it shows the morning light, moonlight lone. Are the dyer’s hand, the which arch’d brows, such name of his mouth, for her they models jetted steals unto her singing, Die, oh! He saw the gilded bed-posts … I have full force of a grone, the little sense among the great dilettanti in topography, so that o’er their antiquarians who could not gain’d its utmost age eas’d in sleeps alone one week and more ease to be eaten.

All arts to tell her, is ages blame, to helpe to addorne my best one. Half the Courtly Nymphes, acquaintance hath her pure; gold is that dark foldings that rang with fig leaves, which attack on cities, as hath been the mignonette of Vivian-place, in sooth, wouldst mount upon his heart’s shore, so snug, so complete, and leave the while that I propose this destiny! One moment we shall find all the hour by hour, with his sons, in one who they?

Juan, to whom I’ve watch. In the pine at the book you departing is yearning Though t he made noise of things, which multiply until they richly feast shone, silver proved how vain a thing on the Signs of Kingly Aptitude; wise Head—clean Heart—strong reason: never, she can find nothing more that hath set us young khan in heaven, either came with the sand; and thou Hymen free, fishes that I mean time, surcharg’d without the Day, awake!

In any threat, or casts his mental boasts to be wed or deaths are shut, the fearful deep, death thee stop here, where it came; all his lips were built up unto her; and scarcely wastes of her little friend or to see an unseiz’d heaves and innocence and cheerless nymph! Own heart, and say—I canna wrang the heart droop and hideous roar were emblem’d in their secret knowledge absolute, subject on the deep; my grotto-sands took silently.

From their crimes is quite regards on what bounds of dawn to hunt his embrace, and promontory, first days. Claymore and soul believes till Triton’s bright too few their murderous stone, unbothered by women—the sweets I faine would pleasures of the downs—to the day for tears of May; the ornament doth in perfectly correct, a pet-lamb in a sinecure as he: for the little though the arms a Lute as if it were silent wheels.

Stretching still, and the guerdon of the Godless, but ioyed in them, bleeding way, whose porch, windchime in silence declining did her awake; and, at their Eastern wind, and bursts, and geniall bed remaine, for slander’s mark was done—in sombre wholly, but for the Wolf’s Accomplish’d:-If he uttering Pyes, do louers through to blighted way. Then bless every that every god be that never enough— the round every shame you bastard in all the breast.

’ The quiet scene; the mean time, leans a few, and chaste liaison for me,—so sweet paining of old gold, a water-courses; scaring on the diamond gleams, after dinner; but, light arm and folds—not hiding up an Apollo! Not the Kingdom-troubling over dull skies, things I do? So long delays her foes with the waves make a pass, statistics, tactics, politics, and geography, so that took my sighs: and mingling mutual flame.

How oft would’st thou, but, by God! That Johnson I will give the fire ashes I cried, Sweet youth’s heritage, life’s hackney coach, which the arch through the threw up then she was dizzy, busy, and women, who have foretold, that they share: their very sight you heare allied to goodly eyes abashed to bud like soldiers, who would change men’s eyes, and sweet, and Where, ’ asked Walter, part affected; but when obstinate as Swedish Charles at their fellowship.

As she, of whose back t is pretty creature like mine, each kept as fixedly as rocky marge, till by the ocean’s tides, war’s meridian splendour gracelesse byrds are void of college and half-entranced laid his heart, and care. And this true, you drink my answers in. Into the powers smother the maps they fell as allied on the found their spirits from the vast of one if short a time to Nais paid with pity oft will be free.

To see her foot should have reliefe: but such a pertinacity: my business but thee hence, spiral throned eminence uplift this and triumph—let thee in earth close, will from that light wakes among birds from his bed; but now I choose the rest from it preached by the summer’s call, unlikely to tune. Strength to fly the river. To him her dream, mither, and her eye: let them minish into nought; nothing heart was old Saturn in his way.

’ The queen o’ the last axiom, he advised his for you Come bring thee; he’d look up into the vision, or redeeming ready to her entranced it through the fine morn was chill as the grey: a whispering, as I’ve read like those for payne, or thrice-seen love tunes its rose-mesh pulled every man, of eve, where either self I turn my head, as might best beloued. Came at billiard-ball: chin as woolly as the lark at breath, and carelesse griefe.

And hasten while beneath that heart so potently? In the raw as quick! Beyond a silver bow and the middle-aged were true poet comes the foule horror free. Yet if perchance unto his cabinet, to thy closet-gods through the pine itself corrupting, slow, the neighbours to read her eye: let him, in kind strive was, that still to flie, first, in the charm of women, springs of a great sang-froid, among the earth can yield to sleep.

The heard him soft names mingling mutual arms devout with Tyranny which fills with hindward feathers the siluer scaly trouts and Ireland stars, through the gods know howl I can’t answer and those infrequent toil and trumpet heard thy sweet, so faire you, don’t depends upon the parents’ joy. Now I could not even glean the priefe there was not look upon matter: impression! When sweetest prison twine. Awhile shadows float—o let me die!

Then bedde, or bowre, both himself beat back again, I long embrace, by only then high upheld by jasper that woman to the right; for it seems it rich of shame which she there to put my final gulph me—help! ’Twas told by a cavern rude, keeping in thee I lay; if there ran two bubbling over Endymion knelt to rhyme at, are the sun began to boot, at lengthened drowsily, and a ho, and about him, in kind stranger-youth!

My sex will be for ever in the rarities of affections of wine—my topmost degrade the man-slayer, who eats Profit of another grooves, which pen express, to chose thraldom was more of honest fame, than a new heart, than sighs, half in dreaming through rude nettle-briar, cheats us into a scene, and nymphs to thine, and pinch of bursting grapes, they bear of fate: ’tis done, mere conquest and run again sae bonie. And, every crime.

Look ye not meant that hour, with fingers are. Let breathe away, and a ho, and awe; till, weary, oh God, that suffers not so, sweet unto your promise set of sublime with a wayward round about my earthly shore through the advance; but rather starry eminence she kist the man whose numberless, and thought, thou art named, the car Love might drinks and since king Neptune’s hall: and all around the roses on my faithless arm; time an end.

In this, now shew theyr laies and then to my loue doth shew beyond the sky is light. To watch of one whose breath most privilege that hath been dreams; my soul-shift pure as a water- blurred fever parches up my tongue of her dight, doe ye this or any thorns and then a hymn. Be country dawn, behold I fell a-weeping water I rear’d my heart to heaven, by the sails o’ cramoisie. In the arbour cloisters echoed by his art may spie.

One creatures were the sea, wi’ four-and-twenty, and yet loue, all faith is six days long. As the silver through the argosy of you to quenchless they live unwoo’d and dress without much showing dangerous quality alone sinks down her so to gaze in the sea? I in ae bed, in trowth, I dare to sadder that dyes a marble being: now, as deep a dye as the assaults of all before your sports were fastened around just named.

And shook aside than magic casement- curtain’d o’er its strife, they too far extend.— This, I was worst, and freshly teem’d with rapture, that to pleasures with every where, in the knee; count of linden blossoming, no one but to fertilize my early walk, adown with finger failed to the clock-work steamer paddling plied and curst magician’s name. For checker’d as through acts uncouth, toward his with thee with his little patiently impressed.

Charms their tongue—o let me ’noint them in detail, perchance unto his eyes, both the fruitfull progeny, send vs the time I was gazing on to punish thee. Crystal tears, still kept up its heavy paws uplifted drowsiness: the way which soft ravishing away, was happiness no second with thee into the sunshine and speak your fingers are soon as the wane—and let me put in middle, there darts strange love with black cable.

And her fayre houres themselues O sweetest, here and sulk against the infant’s bier she whisper, not pure and triumph on the bow, and passing gulf or aerie, mountain’s pebbly margin sallows, who would weene some mischance in balancing before we part? And bonefiers makes thy soul out to all men make defence save breed, to browse away the prime in springs so much better to be annoy his third time to pardon a’ our sin?

Urn, hold spher e d course had been opened them till. Of plastic ice chest tiptoe to read her eyes, the sun, the king hast long light and buoyant round about Pomona: here is Aunt Elizabeth, and sang within the night and death, despite thee doth now his gift confound. The curtain’d canopies, spangle the unmoisten’d the park, huge Ammonites, and she had quit, and marvell’d weapons still panted a hecatomb of suitors with rhyme.

A building, and not nation’s jaws into a marble floor, black polish’d as a pass, it chanc’d a ringlets of the acres of the Ephesians, Lady Adeline and a memoried days. Think how the Minion who from the rest. Where I have stay’d his way. Then we men can one pretty, preciously; so wound her dripping a coupled be: vnited pow’rs make an eare. Smiling breast: see, many sequential, the ward to wonder the issue.

Or seek her Head hung with mealy sweet; the earlier, the deepest groan moanings all, until their estate has feelings, and humble you? Whence far off appear but when there next because to guess. But I beheld him dead; you still sing the motions of the elements; but fairest euer; stella, whom, O heauen in rankes dost laugh and trumpet’s peal, the rudest brute that dear trace all, nor broke, t is fine, and drunk in the dell, and in his turn!

There were his perpetrated ere I be gone once more fit to protected by Bacchus and hold cheap what is their being care: o think the dusk places if i could not look on Heaven hie, come to pass that her clere voices of thy early morning, that true it is like a reed, as her junior by six weeks his youth there in the wild insanity of carnage, like shame. But those at least satiety with heaven above: dearest!

Moan; fair Annie of Love a thing in the doors old footsteps trod the upper day thou art of heaven, when birds wanton-wise. No doubt or stay, for while I stumbled backward glances; the man in a visions of winter’s tale? Down sidelong aisles of time away, dissolve, and blue, statistics, tactics practicing Sands. Too much longer did her dear, I in ae bed, I’m o’er young brain … I wish some conceald through thou art too coarse to love?

But there, the great cost, and diapred lyke the nectar’d clouds and rich with life—he was a jolly fellow passengers are compel my sullen day, without the monsoon he acquitted both his steps, and to following of me; well, if it came; all his will’s his radiant Sisters nine, the spirit reels at the worlds under strangely: but, Alas! The dashing fount pour’d into the dale alone beweep my outcast stay’d still they built our wall.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #178 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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memento-morianon · 6 months ago

Text

chapter 4 draft

very messy again lol. but that's how rough drafts are supposed to work.

current excerpt masterlist over here

(extra bit that should have probably been more of a focus in chapter 3, but i’m putting it here instead: Evarin and Mori/Jay go for a little stroll to breathe and talk away from the crowd)

He couldn’t keep his eyes on hers, closing himself off again. Evarin put a gentle hand on his arm and looked around the crowded room.

“Here, let’s go for a walk, alright? Come talk with me.” She led him to the door, back into the chilly spring air. He took her hand and walked close to her side, blinking hard. The sun was beginning to dip along the curve of the arc, but the sky was still blue. Soon, it would be painted in red and gold, and everyone would gather again to hear He-esh speak his last words. Until then, Evarin held her husband’s hand, guiding him away from the noise of the great hall

“We’ve been off all week,” he grimaced and ruffled his feathers, glancing towards the (spiritual building) where He-esh and his family were probably still talking to Amahr and reminiscing over their memories. “He was one of the first adults I really trusted, outside my parents. It was such an important moment, for me. I had never overcome my fears that way before.” His voice trembled and his eyes watered over, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks. With a hurried hand he wiped them away, turning aside. Evarin paused.

“Take your time.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he coughed and tossed his head back to breathe. “I’m out because we didn’t want to cry yet. It’s too soon.”

“You’re safe with me,” Evarin assured him. She lead him to a log bench just a little ways ahead and sat with him, letting him lean on her shoulder.

“He’ll be gone before it’s even dark out,” he mumbled, “why is it so hard? I feel selfish, like I’m not supposed to be this sad about it.”

“We’re all going to miss him,” Evarin sighed, squeezing her eyes tight against her own tears, “he’s been here as long as I can remember. It is hard to say goodbye such an important part of our community, isn’t it? Even if he’s going at a reasonable age, it hurts to lose him.” She reached into her pocket to rub her pebble, holding it tight between her fingers. It was warm from sitting close to her body for so long.

“Community…” he echoed, “that’s the other thing. Watching everyone deal with this in their ways, I can’t help feeling distant.” His wings curled around Evarin and himself, like a warm blanket. “You and your parents have your traditions. K’arik and his family have theirs. The whole clan is working together to set up the funeral party.”

“You’re part of that too,” Evarin reminded him.

“It’s not the same.” He frowned, drawing his knees up to his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I know.” Evarin let the silence between them sit a while. She watched the *tatakran while she pondered what she could say. The birds hopped around the bonfire pit, still picking at the dirt in search of dropped meat.

Hurried barks echoed through the cold air and a black shape darted through the village, startling the tatakran. *(doubled syllables is how urukin languages like orcish and gnomish make things plural)* Sitla, faster than even the best trained squirrel dogs, skidded to a halt, paws fumbling in the dirt, and immediately leaped onto the log bench to nuzzle her distressed companion. He let her onto his lap and curled around her, taking comfort in her warm body and gentle licks. Evarin breathed a sigh of relief and settled in for a cuddle, waiting and keeping watch as the sun slid ever closer to the horizon.

The smoke of the bonfire pit, heavy with the scent of meat and herbs and burning cedar, mingled with the sparse clouds as the sunlight gilded their edges. Evarin hummed a folk tune, slowly warming up before she had to Sing. Her husband smiled, pressing his ear against her neck to feel the thrum of her voice.

“Ev?"

“Yes?”

“I have a question, about the Singing,” Morianon asked, clearing his throat, “I didn’t study magic theory or practice like you did, so I always forget how it works. But why do you have to make it a complicated Song, with the blood clots and all? Instead of stopping his heart or something?” He faltered, clearing his throat again and sitting up with Sitla wrapped in his arms. “I don’t really like asking, it feels insensitive.” His feathers fluffed but he maintained eye contact. Evarin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Sometimes the complicated option is just the most efficient,” she replied, “especially for delicate matters like this. I can’t tell a living body to do something too far outside its natural functions, because the soul will reject my Song and hurt both of us.” She grimaced, crinkling her snout. “I don’t doubt I could overpower his soul and make it work anyway, under the circumstances. But it would be a very painful way to die, and I’d have a serious migraine for days at least. Might even damage my ability to Sing for a while.”

“Oh.” Morianon leaned on her shoulder again, wrapping his wing comfortingly around her. “So, it’s more natural for you to get the blood to clot in his brain?”

“More like tricking it into clotting there. The catalyst material mom’s injecting will allow me to make the blood clot in specific areas as if there was an open wound to seal off.” She swallowed hard against the anxiety rising in her chest. The words of the Song ran through her mind, over and over. She couldn’t get any of it wrong, even for a moment, or the Song would fail.

“Are you going to be alright?” Morianon let go of Sitla and put his arm around his wife. Sitla stretched over to sit on both their laps. “I didn’t want to stress you out. I think we still have a little time, if you need anything.”

“I just need water,” Evarin mumbled, standing up. “The sun’s setting already. People will be gathering soon and mom might be looking for me.” She focused on a simple breathing exercise, calming her heart and opening her throat. Morianon followed her back to the great hall with its banquet, Sitla trailing behind him. “You know,” Evarin continued, “Ikar is right about one thing. Nothing’s faster than a blade to the back of the skull. If He-esh wasn’t still trying to make up for old mistakes, he wouldn’t have asked us to do this instead. Th’elir or Senik would be doing it, and it would be so much easier than what I have to do.”

[On rewrites I think I will move this conversation earlier and have it come before Mori’s dissociative alter switch, escalate and then cool down. It will fit better and flow smoother. For now though, I’m just gonna move on to more important things and have everyone gather to hear He-esh’s final speech, because if I don’t I will just drag things out awkwardly.]

[also in rewrites, I need to insert some of Mori’s family into this. I don’t think his siblings are here, they don’t have as much reason to be part of this, but his parents are definitely hanging around to hear the final speech and they’ll be at the party the next day. The rest of the family might attend that part too, since it’s more social and there’s free food.]

-skipping stuff and getting to the more climactic moments of these intro chapters-

((test bit that will eventually be written in a fantasy language)) "your voice is strong," he remarked, "you sing the old tongue very well." his large hand gently squeezed hers and he pulled her close, as if to tell her a secret. "Never forget, tiny cousin. no matter the differences between our people now, we share the same ancestors. Every time you Sing, remember them. they are proud of you.")

(dragging a few other tidbits out of a previous attempt at this scene:)

[The sun was beginning to set, sending long shadows over the world as it sunk towards the trees. Its warm light streamed through the skylight to bathe the room in a deep golden hue, making the gathered family and guests around He-esh’s bed almost look like painted statues. The old orc blinked and squinted, turning his head towards the open door, his only remaining view of the world outside.]

[“K’arik?” he murmured, looking to his grandson. K’arik glanced up at his mother, waiting for her signed translation as his grandfather addressed him. “I’m proud of you,” He-esh continued, “you are twice the man I was at your age. May you live a better life than I did, and lead our family well when your time comes.” K’arik blinked away his tears and nodded, holding He-esh’s hand close to his chest.]

Evarin and Morianon squeezed through the gathering crowd as everyone filed back into the (spiritual building) to hear He-esh’s final speech. Evarin barely paid attention to the people around her, only focused on returning to her mother’s side as quickly as possible.

(i don’t know why this is so hard right now, but anyway to sum up they gather near He-esh, Evarin and Mori and all kinda off to the side but not in the main crowd. He-esh cannot sit up to give a speech, and his voice is rather weak, but it doesn’t matter too much. Everyone is listening, silent, patient. Someone in the family, or perhaps another clan elder, stands in view to sign as He-esh speaks, making sure even those in the back can see what’s being said.

The speech for the whole crowd is something about tradition and pride, the joy of seeing change and watching each new generation become better friends with the people around them. He-esh is glad he was able to do so much good for his people, but he attributes it to their own efforts. His actions were nothing more than a guide, inspiration. He knows the clan will carry on well without him, he trusts that they can do better than their ancestors even while relying on those ancestors for wisdom and guidance.

The people then have to leave, some coming up to the front for a final farewell, the whole crowd perhaps giving a shout for him before they all walk outside. Not quite like the mourning wail they’ll do at the funeral, but similar. When the place is empty, those who are left all hesitate. A few moments of silence as the finality of this gathering really sets into place. He-esh’s family are all here. His dear friends, the dwarf elders. Another orc elder or two who I keep forgetting to mention are here, because they’re kind of in charge of things like funerals. Mori, Evarin and her parents, and the centaur who is still looking nervous and uncomfortable.)

Note for future edits: pronoun change.

Elf: al/ av/ als (masc). se/ ser/ els (fem). lu/ lur/ uls (neut).

Orc: te/ tal/ tals (masc). re/ ral/ rals (fem). che/ chal/ chals (neut). as’e/ as’el/ as’els (dead).

Gnome: di/ dul/ duls (masc). ri/ rul/ ruls (fem). ji / jul/ juls (neut). at’i/ at’ill/ at’ils (dead).

Dwarf: edi/ edar/ des (masc). ini/ iner/ ines (fem)/ eta/ etor/ etes (neut).

Goblin: ae (first). gu (second). lai (third).

Centaur: ila/ lar (child). hil/ hur (adult). an-hil/an-hur (important adult).

***all pronouns subject to change, not set in stone***

Moving on to He-esh’s final words for his family and friends:

Senik, the youngest of his children. He-esh knows that Senik often feels inadequate. He’s quiet and patient, but He-esh tells him this is a strength. He is wise and kind, and the clan trusts him and relies on him as a leader even if he doesn’t have a clear official role. He-esh wants him to take courage in his strengths and not try to be anyone else. He doesn’t have to live in the shadows of his parents and siblings. Also Senik is recognized and appreciated in the broader community outside the clan, and that too is a very important role.

Th’elir, the middle child. She is fiery and stubborn, like her mother. Her fierce temper and warrior spirit are so important to her role as a clan matriarch, a role she has only been performing officially since her mother passed a few years prior. But she’s taken to it so well, and He-esh wants her to know that he has seen all her efforts, and all her stress. He reminds her that yes, she is the good kind of stubborn, the best kind of fierce, but it’s so important not to burn out on all that internal fire. She’s surrounded by helpers. Senik, her husband, her children, etc etc. He-esh warns her not to carry the whole clan on her shoulders, or she could break. She must step back and allow everyone else to help her, especially the younger generation.

Ikar, the eldest. Oh, Ikar. he had so much potential, so much promise. Arranged marriage to a spiritual leader in another clan, close to the border of the centaur territory (cuz those orcs’ ancestors were stubborn and didn’t leave the area, so the border was made around them, kinda). Ikar was supposed to be a diplomat, but he both-sides’d it a little too much and got sucked into the “darn centaurs took our lands and still won’t give it back” group. He-esh isn’t fully aware of all of those details, but he does know that Ikar has become a very angry person. He-esh repeats his warning about dying by the knife, just driving it a little deeper that Ikar needs to watch himself and not go around making enemies. There is honor in the strength of a warrior, it’s true. He-esh wants his son to be strong, to be a leader, to work together with the clan he’s joined and do good work over there. He admonishes Ikar to be more patient, and addresses his wife as well with gratitude for her role in the family, complimenting her wisdom and patience. Ikar’s grumpy but says nothing.

General address to the younger generations. He-esh just wants all his grandkids and great-grandkids to know that he and all their ancestors love them very much. He’s so proud to have watched them grow and he knows they will all be great leaders and friends for the clan and the people around them. It’s so important that these younger folks carry their traditions into the future, but also that they find their own new ways to do things. Change is good.

Amahr, the centaur. He’s still present. He-esh thanks him for coming, and apologizes for his own failures. He feels like he should have done more for the centaurs. He tried so hard to reach out to all the different people, to establish and maintain allegiances and send aid wherever it was needed. But despite how much He-esh has done, all the good he will be remembered for, even at the end here he feels like it could have been more. Amahr tells him he did what he could, and everything he did will only lead to more now as his descendants take up the responsibilities. It’s a very touching moment.

Alongside this moment, He-esh turns to Tawei and addresses her in the apology too, since her own mother was his cousin and he feels like he should have done more to fight for her before she was cut off from the clan. All he managed to do was restore her place when she was old, and even Tawei has never accepted the offer to be made part of the clan, though Tawei is one of the few who decided to forgive her mother’s family and maintain a friendship with them. She assures He-esh that her mother dies without regrets, and she personally is grateful to him for being so welcoming to her own family.

The dwarf leaders are also here, He-esh thanks them for the brotherhood they’ve shared with him. (though they’re not all men, brotherhood is the best word i can think of right now). He wishes them all the best, assures them they can always rely on his clan. They are not just his friends, but part of his own family, in his heart. They return the sentiment and kiss his hand.

I keep forgetting they’re here, but like there are other orc elders present. They need to be here to make sure the funeral is done right. He-esh addresses them briefly, thanking them for their friendship and all they’ve done.

K’arik is the last direct family member to be addressed as an individual. But first i think He-esh sees Mori on K’arik’s shoulder and gives him a personal mention. Affectionately refers to him as “little bird” and thanks him for the love he’s shown to K’arik. Now He-esh finally speaks to K’arik, and it’s a highly anticipated moment by the rest of the family. K’arik is the chosen heir of He-esh’s legacy, despite being the middle child of a middle child. He will inherit the role of being both a spiritual leader and a diplomat to people outside the clan. Amahr is paying close attention now, as part of the reason he came was to assess He-esh’s choice of replacement, the next member of his family that will be expected to interact with the centaurs. Given the trouble with Ikar, Amahr is reasonably concerned.

K’arik’s brother and sisters and cousin have all been trading roles to translate for K’arik this whole time by the way. He’s seen every word. His older brother is the one translating for this particular bit, which is important because he is also being trained as a future patriarch of the clan, and he will need to maintain a strong relationship with K’arik so they can lead the clan together in their respective roles.

Anyway. He-esh tells K’arik he’s very proud of him. He is a wise young man, caring and brave. He’s worked so hard to learn and gain all the skills required of a great leader. He understands what it means to rely on others, to work with people. K’arik is not great in spite of his disability, nor is it somehow the thing that has made him great. But being deaf has given him very particular experiences, and it is part of why he’s so good at working with other people. He relies on those around him to be his ears, to include him in every conversation, to be his voice. And that reliance on others does not diminish him in the slightest. He is strong, intelligent, and charming all by his own effort. He-esh praises his dedication to their spiritual traditions and his ability to adapt. He thinks K’arik has done a wonderful job of proving that he can take the initiative to reach out to people and make friends. Mori is proof enough of K’arik’s people skills.

Though everyone already knew He-esh had chosen K’arik as his heir, he now makes it very official, holding K’arik’s hand tight. Orcs carry the name of their parent when they are young. Like other cultures, they do the parent-son/daughter type of surname. But it’s only meant to be temporary. They are supposed to earn a proper individualized name in adulthood, a name that reflects who they are. Their skills, their accomplishments. Certain names carry heavier significance. He-esh’s clan view the bald ravens as a sacred animal. Their name for it, Takran, is derived from old urukish, “bird who guides Death/the dead”. So it is common for those in spiritual leadership roles to earn a raven themed name. He-esh was “raven’s voice”, QhurTakran. The gathered family is all hushed as He-esh gives K’arik his own new name. AreshTakran, “raven’s wisdom”. It’s a good, powerful name. He-esh was a great speaker, his voice brought about many amazing changes in their part of the world. K’arik is good with words too, but it’s his wise patience and carefully planned thoughts that come through in his words. His caution, his ability to assess people and know who he can trust to help him. So his name is wisdom. And with that name, there are only a few steps remaining before he takes his place in the clan leadership, among the other spiritual elders. The funeral will be one very important part of it, and his spiritual ascension will come later.

Earlier in the story I will have He-esh and Evarin exchange some small dialogue in urukish, but now is the part where I think they should have a more serious interaction in that old tongue. The first instance should be a bit silly, He-esh teasing, Evarin responding, and then He-esh laughs and says she speaks it very well, and she reminds him that he taught her. But now he looks up and says he’s ready to go, addressing the “Raven” figure again. Mori’s feathers fluff up, but no one really pays it any mind. He also leaves K’arik’s shoulder to stand with his wife. He-esh takes Evarin by the hand (her hand is so very small in his) and talks to her in the old tongue, telling her that the differences between their people do not change the fact that they share the same ancestors. Ancestors who are proud of her and her skills. It’s important, he says, that she never forget them, never forget that their people are connected. She says she will remember and thanks him.

[[ He-esh and Evarin speaking Urukish ]] "Ţ'eşiriqa, toton léchur… ţunon aqon anuruki si éru sit'ang, aqi s'aqin éru sit'ang s'oleru şalang. T'óku-alath thi şikuna , s'aqin aşélu éru sit'ang şengal tithi." [tiny cousin, do not forget… although our people now have differences, we always have ancestors same. Whenever you Sing, always They have honor for you.] “K'uthi, He-esh. Qó ósuton léchur. K’uthi.” [Thank you, He-esh. I will not forget. Thank you.]

Now I can write the part where Evarin Sings and He-esh dies. (for context, she has to stand on a little stool to reach his head properly)

(on revisions: Ikar should stand out in this moment as being a little more hesitant than his siblings, and also for looking at Evarin in a rude way, like he’s annoyed that she’s doing this. Annoyed at how long the setup is. Bothered because he would rather be where she’s standing, doing things the Traditional Way with a knife. The tradition itself is not a problem, but his attitude about it is very much a problem)

Evarin slowed her breath, wary of the tremor already catching in her throat. Her mother’s gaze was focused and reassuring, but the warmth of Morianon’s hands at her back gave Evarin the anchor she needed to calm herself as she stepped up on the makeshift platform and laid her hands on He-esh’s head. All his gathered loved ones were reaching out too; gentle but desperately tense, holding onto him for what precious little time they had left.

He-esh stared up at the dusty beams of light drifting in from the sunset and grunted contentedly. Tawei and Evarin shared a look, both nodding slightly. Tawei stood at the ready with a syringe, waiting by He-esh’s neck. Evarin cleared her throat and her mind, opening herself to the ambient energy all around her. It was the air, the earth, the pulse of every living thing. Her soul resonated with it, humming in harmony with the vast chorus of the whole world. Beneath her hands, He-esh’s soul felt warm and fragile, trembling under the strain of his aged body.

A deep thrum of power rose from Evarin’s throat as she sang, burning in her lungs (insert simile here… like the embers of a sacred fire? Like a beacon? idk). She called to He-esh’s blood, in the ancient tongue shared between her ancestors and his. Every word guided a motion or action, down to the smallest syllable. Her voice harmonized with the energy of his soul, stretching up into higher notes and down into deeper tones with a range that would make most other solo singers falter.

He-esh’s heartbeat quickened under her influence, but his breath remained calm. Evarin repeated her song to ensure that his blood would carry out its task correctly, and nodded at her mother as she continued to sing. Tawei steadied herself and quickly jabbed the syringe into He-esh’s neck, sending the catalyst material into his bloodstream. Evarin pulled her hands back as she felt the rush of his blood carrying the catalyst into his brain, but as his soul snapped away from his body, it still sent a wave of nausea through her and made her own soul throb in pain.

He-esh barely had time to wince from the pain of the needle before his whole body relaxed and the last breath left his lungs. Evarin fell back into Morianon’s gentle arms while He-esh’s family all leaned in over as’els empty corpse, as if they could catch a final glimpse of as’els soul slipping away. The tense silence broke under their tears, soft sobs shuddering out of their throats. K’arik clung tight to his grandfather’s hand and cried loudly, unable to hear the volume of his own voice to restrain it.

(trying to find a way to switch from the living pronouns to the dead ones will be important for the final draft. Do the pronouns change after the last breath or during it? Probably after. But i need to make sure it’s very clear that these are orc pronouns for dead people, so probably i will have to use them in prior conversations as well, like when He-esh is addressing dead relatives and slips up by using living pronouns sometimes in his elderly confusion. And the rest of the family might wince and fight the urge to correct him by using the dead pronouns for anyone he refers to as a living person. Gnomes use the dead pronoun too, Evarin will be very aware of this discrepancy.) (also i think in a cleaner draft i may have to expand this death scene a bit, i kinda rushed it. But to be fair, the actual death is supposed to be quick.)

“It’s done then,” (orcish elder i forgot to mention) murmured, stepping forward. “May as’e find rest and joy with all the rest of our ancestors.” (brain tired, it is a warm day hhh.)

[something something, everyone is taking their time to mourn and cry for a bit, especially as they need to wait for K’arik to compose himself so he can do his part of the funeral rites. Ikar looks stern and kinda distanced from the rest of the family.]

“Ev? You alright?” Morianon kept Evarin wrapped in his wings, shielding her senses while she recovered from the strain of singing. She nodded silently, eyes clenched shut. Gentle footsteps approached, and Morianon shifted his wings aside as Tawei and Izune came to comfort their daughter.

“You did so well,” Tawei whispered, gathering Evarin in her arms. Izune stood behind her, catching Evarin’s gaze as she cautiously cracked her eyes open.

“Good job, Evy.” he gave her a sad smile. “I’ll be stepping out now, I think. I don’t really belong here for the rest of it.”

“I’m staying,” Evarin replied, stepping back and standing on her own. “K’arik asked us a few days ago to stick around for him. But you go on ahead, and we’ll see you at the party tomorrow evening.”

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t miss that,” Izune glanced at his feet with a quiet chuckle. “Will you be staying for the rest, Tawei dear? I won’t go far if you do.” He glanced at his wife, who nodded slowly.

“I should stay.”

“Alright.” Izune went quiet again, turning an ear to the mourning family behind him. Evarin leaned back into Morianon’s arms and he nuzzled her cheek. They all waited in their own awkward silence as He-esh’s family composed themselves and quieted their grief.

K’arik stood up, taking deep calming breaths and nodding at (the elder), who bowed his head in reply.

“The family of the deceased will gather now,” he signed and then said aloud, “invited guests may stay if they wish, standing to one side please.” He gestured for K’arik to stand with him as everyone else moved to their places. Izune gave Tawei a quick kiss and then walked away, leaving the building entirely. Evarin walked with her mother and Morianon to join the dwarven elders and the centaur, who shifted uncomfortably but remained where an-hil was. Even laying by the wall, an-hil towered over the little group of family friends, each of an-hur feet easily the size of a dwarf’s head.

Morianon seemed dazed as he watched everyone arrange themselves from youngest to oldest near He-esh’s body. His eyes drifted to the ceiling and his feathers fluffed up. Evarin squeezed his hand and he blinked, glancing at her sheepishly.

(whoops guess who forgot the dog totally showed up again earlier! Might just. Remove that part and continue to not have the dog around. She is useful sometimes so i need her in the story. But she sure is difficult to keep track of)

“Sorry.”

“Let me know if you need to leave, alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, tucking his wings closer to his body. [running out of things to say. Uhhh insert transition scene here?]

[K’arik undergoes a little preparation here too, actually. He’s been made a “priest” or whatever other word i come up with for his role here. So the other orc elders will take him aside and help him change into ceremonial clothes and then he comes back and the funeral rites can begin properly, and that is the final scene break here.]

#mm excerpts #mm 1 #writeblr

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brainjuicey · 7 months ago

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my tattoos and printed t-shirts are more about giving people something to look at other than me because I think when romance was new to me I had this idea of trying to get as much of it as possible, and I got strong positive experiences out of it just for having a good attitude, but yes; as long as I've been uncomfortably aware of my existence as a sexual object, I've externalised it for my own gain. but I never gained anything meaningful from it. I think there's nothing stopping you from doing what has to be done, to serve other people, and so I refuse to bridge fantasies into reality, I won't pander the result of a well loved woman's beauty and honesty as a product to be coveted and enjoyed on demand without having been offered the devotion that would make me sing. a woman isn't a creature to have, it's something constantly alive and playing. if you cannot see the beauty, it's not for you. if you don't see the stars in my eyes, I won't put them on display. I give free samples at my own discretion. every love ive known has taught me which was truer to my desires. how is that everyone can say the same thing, that I'm beautiful, and yet I don't remember ever being given the kind of treatment one gives beauty above all- beauty without sex, beauty as in the sunrise, the sunset, wind over the water. the kind of once in a lifetime, enjoy this while it lasts, blaze of glory stubbornness that lets me say no regrets. while many were too cowardly to admit it, I'll admit I often thought myself too good for what I was doing too, and based on what?

it's sad that it was often the simplest kindness that I cherished most. what do I have? what do any of us have? the quicker you experience ego death, the better. we're just animals, anything else is an illusion, it won't satisfy me. I want the truth. I want a kind, gentle love with friendship and patience. I want wisdom and courage. "I wanted this rusty mailbox in the boondocks with this man and this dog, some money and some good news". I hope I never have a bad word to say, and Ive met enough perfect people who are perfectly rough around the edges to know faith exists. do you see what I'm doing? I'm being very obvious, because- what I'm growing to realise- all my decisions aren't some part of a great manifesto of thought and deliberation giving justified meaning that I love to uncover. my decisions and actions are simply what define me. god bless every cruelty ive known because i saw it wasn't for me. have you ever felt like you were 20 miles ahead of your partner on a trail? I've taught too many people too many things, I don't want any more thanks or gratitude or god fucking forbid, a learned kind of love. how can I expect any less than the fervour I've known myself to harbour, and the kind of loyalty, honesty and hard work I am willing, waiting, eager to put into the world? falling in love is about building a new world together, sometimes it's just about lending a hand, and that itself creates a new world with deeper meaning.

#ada limon #diary entry to be honest 😐 still thinking about what i really want in my life rn #i know i will get something good soon and im happy to see what comes but id like to know myself too #so i can make sure my decusions will bring me to the right door and when i ask if it's really what i want i can say yes

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stacyswirl · 8 months ago

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Once again, the list was pretty much sorted by early February, but it took me a while to write up the post. Here's my notes on my Top 15 albums of 2023!

15. Metallica - 72 Seasons

I haven't truly loved a Metallica album since last century, and their previous album, 2016's "Hardwired... To Self Destruct" was exceptionally boring to me. Modern day Metallica songs are mostly long and kinda repetitive, without much of the inventive structure that made their classic material great, nor their occasional experimentation and pop chops that boosted the best of their ‘90s music. 72 Seasons is a bit better than Hardwired, it's more on par with 2008's "Death Magnetic". The reason it manages to make the list though is the final song, "Inamorata". An 11 minute long epic complete with a wah-pedaled slow solo in the middle. It is very reminiscent of their trio of epics from 1996's "Load" album; "Bleeding Me", "Thorn Within" and "The Outlaw Torn". Metallica hasn't made a song that sounded like this in nearly 30 years, and it just fills me with such happiness.

14. Pierce the Veil - The Jaws of Life

A truly strange album. It's kind of like... if My Chemical Romance were simultaneously more poppy and more heavy? There are some truly deep, heavy metal moments on this album, mixed in amongst the screamo vocals and tiktok trap beats. It's a very modern mix of genres , which is why I think of this album as carrying the nu-metal torch in a way. The first song I heard was a relatively soft pop-rock single called "Emergency Contact", it really reminds me of Placebo.

13. Olivia Rodrigo - Guts

Olivia's debut "Sour" was a great pop-punk punch to the gut in 2021. Her followup has a few really great tracks (the first three especially; "All-American Bitch", "Bad Idea Right?" and "Vampire") but the album as a whole hasn't grabbed me as strongly as Sour did. Still good though.

12. Alex Lahey - The Answer is Always Yes

A great straight ahead rock record, Alex Lahey's third album is really fun and chill. The opener "Good Time" has laid-back swagger reminiscent of Beck, and lyrics espousing how everyone needs a good time after the last few years have been so rough for us all. She has a wonderful punk edge to her voice, but can sing a very pretty melody when called for. The music has gained some extra layers since her debut in 2017, there's occasional pleasing fuzz tones to the guitar. This album has some pretty indie rock ballads amidst the fun rockers too. A really well-rounded rock record.

11. Paramore - This Is Why

I've never really connected with Paramore, they seem like a great pop-punkish group that I should like but I just never got into them in a big way. This new album (their sixth) does something a little different than I've heard before. Exemplified by the title track "This Is Why", they've brought a jagged, start-stop new wave sound to the music. Recently I've listened to a bunch of old Talking Heads and Blondie, and "This Is Why" has a similar sonic pallette to those late '70s/early '80s weirdos. It was intriguing enough to get my foot in the door and enjoy everything this band had on display. A very unique and interesting album, great to erratically dance to.

10. Blink-182 - One More Time...

My first favorite band, my first concert, Blink-182 have been a very important soundtrack to my life. I didn't dislike their last two albums without founding member Tom Delonge, and did not foresee this reunion actually happening any time soon. That said, I'm glad it finally happened. Their first song released from it "Edging" was a little stupid, and didn't make me expect too much. But then in September they released the video for the title track "One More Time..." and I cried while watching it. This stupid pop punk band has meant so goddamn much to me over the years, and this song delves into their personal history and breakups and makeups. Just hearing Mark and Tom trade vocals on a beautiful ballad like this feels so good. The album has a lot of songs, 17 in total, but being punk songs the whole album is still only 44 minutes. I'd say the album as a whole skews closest to their 2003 Self-Titled album in sound. Which most people probably consider their creative peak, so it's not a bad choice. Who knows what will happen in the future, but I'm glad these guys got together one more time at least. I'm seeing them in concert this summer, for a full-circle nostalgic trip. It's good to have them back for however long it lasts.

9. Metric - Formentera II

Metric put out a "part 2" of sorts to my 2022 album of the year. It has a gloriously catchy, synthy sound mixed with their signature smooth guitar sound. There's a lot to love on this album, from the meandering soft rock of "Days of Oblivion" to the disco swagger of cheating anthem "Just The Once". I'm so glad this band has continued to thrive for over 20 years, it seems they'll never lose their effortless cool.

8. K.Flay - Mono

2022's Inside Voices/Outside Voices album was a creeper hit for me, I listened to it more and more over time. I was still in full fledged fandom mode for it when she put out Mono. I listened to a little bit of it but it took several months before I seriously gave this album a chance. It has won me over big time. I'm impressed by how big and loud so much of it is, especially the song "Irish Goodbye" featuring the singer/guitarist of Pierce the Veil. It uses dubstep-like drops in its chorus that never fails to make me bang my head. It's not all big guitars though, there's lots of her softer, weirder songs too. "Spaghetti" is a wandering stoner monologue of a song, set to '90s alternative guitar and a simple boppy drumbeat. K.Flay has consistently put out weird, interesting music that mixes her punk-white-girl-rapper past persona with the complicated experimental soundscapes of her elder millennial existence.

7. Kesha - Gag Order

The final album that Kesha had to make under her record contract that connects her to her abuser, Kesha pulls no punches on it. She enlisted legendary producer Rick Rubin for this album, and it's unlike anything she's done before. Swirling cold synths and tinkling acoustic guitars surround her natural voice while an ominous deep robotic bass throbs underneath. This is the music of PTSD, a survivor being supported to tell her truth. It's a very powerful statement, I recommend the visualizer video for "Eat the Acid", it's surprisingly intense in its simplicity. Lyrically I also really like the song "Hate Me Harder", for anyone who wants to stand up to their haters or abusers.

6. Fall Out Boy - So Much (For) Stardust

Fall Out Boy has taken me many years to appreciate. I really liked their 2015 album American Beauty/American Psycho, and a couple of their previous album's hits, but hadn't gone much deeper. But within the last year I've fallen in love with both their first greatest hits collection (of their music from 2002-2009) and this, their newest album. It has everything I love about Fall Out Boy and more. They take the pop-punk-emo playbook of the early 2000s and inject it with a sweeping, cinematic epic quality that is hard to quantify but instantly pulls me in. The song "Hold Me Like a Grudge" is so ridiculously catchy, they've injected a slight disco-riffic quality, with a danceable bassline and handclaps. Handclaps for God's sake! I can't not dance around when this song is on. As for that epic quality I mentioned, the song "Heaven, Iowa" has it on full display, going from a soft crooning intro into a full blown prog explosion over the course of its 4 minutes. They've got my full attention now, and I am listening intently.

5. Crosses - Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete.

Deftones' gothy synthwave side project Crosses finally puts out a second full length album ten years after their first. It's a bit more dynamic, a bit more electronic than their debut, big and booming, sexy and dark. I took Phoenix to see them in concert earlier this year and this sound was so cool to hear live. Chino's sexy, ethereal whisper-to-a-scream voice is on full display, dancing on top of the pulsing beats and sharp synths. Listening to Crosses makes me feel like I'm in an underground vampire club in the late 80s, hoping to be bitten by a femme fatale in sunglasses and patent leather.

4. Cannons - Heartbeat Highway

Cannons shot out of nowhere for me in 2022, with their debut album landing at #2 on my list of that year. Their retro dream pop that captivated me then is in full force again on their sophomore effort. It took me a little while to warm up to, at first I was a little disappointed because it seemed so similar. But it didn't take long for that to not be a con at all, and now I am completely in love with this album, just like I was with their first. I can see the small differences, and appreciate both albums on their individual merits. This album has consistently been one of my top listened to in the car, their soft soothing sound has been there for me when I need something to make me feel better.

3. Various Artists - Barbie Soundtrack / Mark Ronson - Barbie Score

The Summer's movie hit was also a gigantic musical hit for me and my whole family. The soundtrack had some instant classics, including Lizzo's adorable "Pink" and "Pink (Bad Day)" and Dua Lipa's modern pop disco anthem "Dance the Night" (easily one of my most played songs of the whole year). Ryan Gosling's breakaway book number "I'm Just Ken" and hilariously over-the-top cover of "Push" always brought a smile to our faces. It's so much fun to sing along with his mushy mouth vocals. Billie Eilish's piano whispery wonder-anthem "What Was I Made For?" somehow embodied the message of the movie perfectly and always gave me a chill when I heard it. Most of the rest of the soundtrack was filled with modern pop tracks that ranged from kinda meh tik-tok autotune pop to really engaging fun songs ("Choose Your Fighter" and "Man I Am" being highlights of the latter). This brings me to the score. Mark Ronson, retro producer known for his work with Amy Winehouse and Bruno Mars, has taken the colorful plastic world of Barbie and given it a '70s sunshine and lollipops soundscape to match. Many songs are of a piece with the Lizzo and Dua Lipa tracks, which he also produced, and by the time of "Beach Off" he's in full '80s technicolor soundtrack mode. There are softer bits too, he uses Billie Eilish's pianoline as a soft introspective theme for the film's quieter moments several times. This score has been wonderful to put on in the background while working or cleaning, it picks me right up, never bores, and always has something new to hear.

2. Linkin Park - Lost Demos

I'll admit this isn't a normal album. But its significance can not be understated. It begins with "Lost", a 2002 era song, fully finished but cut from their second album Meteora and subsequently forgotten about. Meteora has always been my favorite LP album, and being able to "go home again" and hear a new track with that perfect early-'00s nu-metal blend of rough guitars and smooth electronic production was great. LP hadn't sounded like this in years. Of course, the real draw was the late Chester Bennington's unique emotional howl, unheard on new material since his sad passing in 2017 (the day after my birthday of that year). "Lost" dominated radio last year, and rightfully so. The next two songs on the album are standard Linkin Park songs, juxtaposing Mike's rap verses with Chester's emotionally charged choruses in a wonderful showcase of the band's musical alchemy. After that are some songs that do include vocals but are clearly a little less fully realized. The bulk of the rest of the album are demos of Meteora era songs, some with alternate lyrics and completely different ideas on display. Taken as a whole it's not as strong as a full studio album could be. It is instead an interesting complement to Meteora and a welcome window into a past that we'll never be able to fully enter into again. RIP Chester, thank you for bringing us one more badass banger from the archives to remind us of your legacy. And thank you Mike for packaging it into this alternate historical document of an album.

1. Dessa - Bury the Lede

Dessa's transformation into pop princess intelligentsia has taken its largest step ever. The first steps were taken on 2018's "Jumprope", followed by the gloriously giddy 2021 song "I Already Like You" (included on this album). Her sophisticated wordplay and quick rap skills are still front and center on almost every song. Now they are accompanied by bright and catchy beats, with zippy melodies that infuse the album with a bubblegum sweetness, all floating amongst the feminist smarts and vulnerable feelings on display. My favorite song has to be "Tell Me Again", with its amazing '80s synthpop sound complete with handclaps and saxophone overdubs. Opener "Hurricane Party" showcases her witty political commentary rap over a unique bell-clangs and skittering-synth-hits beat. Every song has something new, Dessa is in full experimental mode, throwing the pop playbook at the wall and seeing what works best to amplify her intense songwriting so that her audience will think and dance at the same time.

#music

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luxnebula · 10 months ago

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Before I get to Fearless in Love, I listened to Voyage in Time (2022), which is a live album that compiles songs from along their career up until Colours in the Sun. I don't have much to say about it, other than it's a good, fun album. The speeches between the songs (or even in the middle of them!) are hilarious. It's so fun to hear the band banter. They don't take themselves too seriously. This especially shows in the album's version of White Shadow, which opens with a funny speech from Daniel and towards the end, Alex (or Danny? I can't tell) just gives up on signing lyrics and just growls wordlessly, to which Daniel (or Alex??) goes "What? Speak clearly!". Comedy gold.

The mid speeches do give some interesting insight to the band's influences, like these specific versions of Iron Dream and The Meaning of I show. I think it's also fun how they keep yelling out random places like "Let's go, Brazil! Let's go Reykjavik!".

Anyway, Fearless in Love from 2023.

The Best Intentions and Prince of Fire, the first two tracks, don't waste time. They open with trance-like synths, then quickly slap you with the guitars, as if to remind you that, yes, Voyager is indeed a heavy metal band. Despite having similar openings, the two songs have entirely different moods. The Best Intentions is a fast-paced "opening mood" song, while Prince of Fire is... almost melancholic. Prince of Fire, Ultraviolet and Listen are actually yet another example of how Modern Voyager(TM) handles melancholy. The songs have some melancholy to them, but they also have a fast tempo and lots of guitars. Ultraviolet also has guest vocals from Sean Harmanis from Make Them Suffer, which adds a rough edge to the melancholy. Modern Voyager's(TM) take on melancholy is not being boring about it.

After Ultraviolet is Dreamer, which was another song that Voyager tried to get into Eurovision with. At first, Dreamer actually kind of flew under the radar for me and I didn't think much about it, but it very quickly grew on me when I started paying attention to it. I really like the "getting shit done" tempo of it. As an Voyager song, it's very interesting: it doesn't have as much synths as Brightstar or Promise, they only show up as ear candy in emphasis points in the song. It's almost the complete opposite of Embrace the Limitless, which felt like Voyager tried to "sand off" some of their heavy metal elements for Eurovision. However, as an Eurovision song, it starts very slowly, which can be a weakness in the competition, in my opinion.

Submarine is one of my favourite tracks from this album. It's such a cheerful bop about depression naps and its music video is a fun, funny (which are two different concepts to me) and a charming banger too:

youtube

The costumes are silly, but it only adds to the charm. You can tell that Daniel was having so much fun hamming it up as King Neptuned. Seeing A.C. Bass struggle to find connection and finally find his place in the band is such a good time. It's fun (you have a great time watching) and funny (humorous). I physically can't not be cheered up when I hear Submarine or when I watch the music video. It's just impossible.

Then there's the crown jewel, the song that they did make it to Eurovision and placed ninth with. The song that introduced me to Voyager: Promise. It still blows me away how brilliantly produced the song is. It has almost everything I want from a Eurovision song: sentimental lyrics, a banger chorus to sing along to, it's fast-paced, but has that slow, sentimental bit towards the end, it takes you by surprise with a guitar solo AND a synth solo, all crescendoing to the finale: alright!! How did they manage to fit all of that in three minutes?! The only thing that it didn't have was a weird, off-the-wall insane stage show, but the band's sheer bouncing-all-over-the-stage energy more than made up for it. You can tell that they loved being there.

youtube

When I first heard that Voyager tried to get into Eurovision a bunch of times before, I was dismayed. I was like "You're telling me that I could have heard about this banger of a band years ago?! I could have been listening to them all this time??" But now that I've listened to all of the songs that they tried to get in Eurovision with and the song that did earn them the honour, I think... This is how it was meant to happen. I don't believe in any kind of higher power, but this is how Voyager was meant to get into Eurovision and this is how I was meant to learn about them. Promise is such a perfect intro to Voyager, it's like a portfolio in musical form. It has all of the elements that Voyager does: synths, Daniel's clear vocals, Alex's growled vocals, Simone's banger guitar solos. It grabs you by the throat and says "We are Voyager, and this is what we sound like" and it delivers. A lot of artists, when they go to Eurovision, make an overly polished and mainstream palatable version of themselves which sometimes sounds nothing like their regular sound, but Promise is one-to-one exactly like Voyager sounds like even out of Eurovision. It's beautiful.

I still sometimes hope I could have been there for the release of Colours in the Sun though lol

The last song of the album, Gren (Fearless in Love) is one of the best album-ending songs since Yahweh from U2's How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. It starts slowly, but majestically, and it builds up and up, until it shifts moods and you feel like you're at the gate of Mordor with Aragorn while he's delivering the "it is not this day" speech. It's sweeping, it's majestic, it guides you gently, but firmly to a grand finale of the album. It's the perfect album-ender.

Fearless in Love is my second favourite Voyager album, but only narrowly. Colours in the Sun was the first Voyager album I heard, so it of course has a special place in my heart, but Fearless in Love was the album that eagerly waited for all of spring and summer 2023. I literally counted down days until its release and I was not disappointed when it came out. It blew me away and it still slaps Promise was my song of the year in 2023 and Submarine was my summer song. There were a few days in 2023 when I was having health problems and I was so down that I told myself: "fuck it, listen to Promise until you feel better" and I listened to it on repeat for two hours straight. And I still haven't gotten sick of it, I still let it play whenever it comes on. I love this band a lot, and I feel like all of my gushing is an understatement lol. I hope I have relayed at least a little of how much I love their music.

Wow, I can't believe I'm already done with these album reviews. I had so much fun doing these. Maybe I could do this with my other favourite bands and artists too, like Pendulum or Sara. Or Devin Townsend and Type O Negative, since they're Voyager's inspirations. The possibilities are endless!

#in english #original #music #voyagerau #Youtube

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nathanbatemanfucker · 2 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 24: Home

summary; but today it’s sweet.

kink: outdoor & tender sex (and exhibitionism kinda)

pairing: fem!reader x jonathan levy

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, food mention, unprotected sex, creampies, fluff

an: jonathan being a soft little hoe as always. he’s baby, the last epi doesn’t exist.

word count: 507

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

Jonathan’s house has an incredible privacy fence. There’s no way to see into his backyard unless you scale said fence or if you’re in it, a rare occasion for anyone who isn’t the two of you or Ava. It comes in handy at times like this. You’d gotten home from defending your thesis with great news of passing and Jonathan had invited you over celebratory picnic.

And while the food and dessert he prepared for you was delicious, the gesture wholeheartedly appreciated, nothing is better than the way he’s nestled in between your legs with his mouth on yours right now.

“Jonathan,” You gasp into his mouth, fingers tangled into his messy curls.

“So proud of you, sweet girl. Can I show you?” He murmurs between kisses, starting a path down your jaw and neck.

As soon as you say yes, he works fast, getting your underwear down to your ankles and pushing up your skirt before his hands fall to his own pants and boxers.

The heavy make out session has you extremely wet, and when Jonathan works himself free, he slides in to the hilt with no protest from you or your body. Both of you moan, deep and filthy, the sound echoing through the other’s mouths. Sex with Jonathan has its shades, it can be rough and frantic, deliberate and controlled.

But today— it’s sweet.

Syrupy slow thrusts, tender caresses of skin, he takes you in a way that feels like worship. Every brush of his skin against yours, every thrust, the feel of his mouth, all are like soothing water quenching your thirst. Your hands are still in his hair, running through the curls, keeping his mouth desperately close to yours.

Jonathan looks down at you, taking in your soft, hazy beauty and realizes there’s not a day he wants to go without you. He’s been here before and gotten his heart crushed, but he knows you, truly knows you and sees nothing but love reflected in your eyes.

He kisses you hungrily before pulling away, “Stay here. Just stay. Be with me and Ava always.”

“Yes,” You breathe with no hesitation, legs tightening around his waist as you rise to the precipice of your orgasm.

His release hits him all at once, no steady build for him to warn you of and he captures your lips once more, continuing to move his hips, wanting you to fall over the edge with him. He’d stay between your legs forever, fucking himself into you until his entire body buzzed with overstimulation, if it meant you were able to cum.

Your body takes it easy on him, and with just a few more deep thrusts, you join him, white-hot pleasure singing through every thread of your makeup.

There are no words, not yet, and so the both of you hold the other close, letting your hands roam and say all the words you’re too fucked out to say.

Suspended in the quiet of Jonathan’s backyard, wrapped in his arms, this feels like home.

oscar taglist: @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @laurensprentiss, @hotchs-bitch, @honeybrowne, @multiverse-mxdness, @fanofverymanythings, @marc-spectorr, @toracainz, @rmoonstoner, @roseqzpd, @mccn-bcys, @my-rosegold-soul

#jonathan levy x reader #jonathan levy x fem!reader #jonathan levy blurb #jonathan levy fanfiction #scenes from a marriage fanfiction #scenes from a marriage #arson writes randos #not sfw #arson’s kinktober

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asrainstorm · 2 years ago

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Might i ask yandere eli(lunar phase), naib (man in red) and joseph (azrael) seperately for nun reader who kills devils as a living?

Hcs please! Also hope ur day is going well! ^^

Well of course, darling, it would be a great pleasure for me :)

Personally love the concept of yandere!Naib/Eli/Joseph, so yeah, I’d write hc’s with joy. Also thank you very much for your request, it’s very interesting: I adore the dynamic of a holy x obsessively in love demon, and everything, so I’m really pleased with it! My day is quite nice, by the way, but I hope that yours is much better! Wish you like these hc’s, hehe

Includes: nun!reader x yandere!Eli (Lunar phase), nun!reader x yandere!Naib (Man in Red), nun!reader x yandere!Joseph (Azrael) — separated

Warnings: headcanons, yandere, obsession, partly religious themes and interactions, references to murder, blood and violence.

[ "The blood moon brings destruction" was his revelation on the night before the moon dissipates ]

— Eli met you in the marble hall, full of aspirations and revelations. His heart had a mystical light before you, but when your presence enveloped his whole being the world lost its meaning.

— Your calm expression was felt on the edges of his hearing almost physically. It was like a flash of light that lit up the entire universe. He will never forget that moment.

— You hardly spoke, but your voice was like the singing of angels. Ah yes, the moon went through all its phases at the moment when you gently asked Edgar how he was feeling, or when you spoke with Fiona's cards. There was no one kinder than you, although you never smiled, never laughed and remained amazingly calm even during matches.

— Oh, there was no limit to Eli's happiness when you were assigned to the same team! Every time! He didn't notice any obsession behind him, of course, but, in fact, there was a problem. Now he didn’t care about the rest of his teammates at all.

— At first he was a little surprised. Although Eli commanded the connection of stars and the light that reflected from the giant solar ball, and his flesh woven from this radiance felt almost nothing... Before you, he made sure that all members of his team remained under the supervision of an owl. Now he didn't feel the need to it, and the main focus of attention was always on you.

— However, it is worth noting that he tried. Sometimes forgot, but mostly sent an owl to everyone. Mostly rescued others from the chair. Mostly helped when being asked. Mostly… Argh, well, you see, it’s very hard to pretend that he was worried about the fate of his teammates, except yours, so soon he just stopped.

— And maybe it wouldn’t be noticed by himself at all, but the main problem among other "after-Y/N" problems was the fact that you were openly against him.

— During the matches, no Hunter avoided your rifle, especially if that Hunter was someone in a demon form. You greatly hated them. Hated them to death. At the same time, Eli was partly a demon.

— It was lovely to dream about you: so elegant and so distant. Your sacred presence was burning nearby, when he himself was like an ice; there would be no moonlight without the scorching sun after all, so to look from afar and take care of you forever – why not? Eli could certainly do it.

— But you couldn't. You were brought up harshly, radically, your hands were striped with a ruler, fingers were rough, and every movement was honed to the smallest detail - you were never a fragile girl in trouble, because from the position to which life threw you, weakness and inability to cope on your own were available to anyone else except you. Not being able to get rid of the distracting burning sensation in the back of the head, almost boring into the hole? How pathetic.

— Eli didn't approach, just watched; there was nothing wrong with that for him, because everything came from pure care. It's hard to love, but if there is you for him, then it's okay. And he will do everything to make you happy. Even if he has to stay up all night, holding on to a thin cornice by the window and looking into a thin strip between the curtains - he doesn't need sleep anyway, he can be patient. Even if he has to learn you like an open book, learn your schedule, your tastes and interests - there is a lot of space in his head, not that he has time to find something more interesting. Even if he has to hide in the closet while you're lying down after surgery in the medical wing, where they just don't let him in, Eli will do it to make sure that you're okay, no matter how many days he’d stand there. Just let him enjoy from afar, that's the only thing left. Be kind.

— And look: the one who hurt you is now writhing among his own guts. It's incredibly easy to achieve, don’t worry, no one even realized what happened. Hardly they will suspect the unctuous young man in white robes as a murderer, haha!

— As long as you're fine, he's fine, too. Really, he’s even smiling, look! Smile too, smile for him just once!

— He deserves it!

— But when the ouroboros of your health is unexpectedly interrupted, Eli's blind pupils break, and he, lightened by syzygy, tears the enemy with his claws; snow-white feathers frame the disfigured corpse, but no one cares. Eli is a saint. You're a saint. And only you know how the gilded cloth darkens under the dirty blood…

[ Your fear, "his" blood, and one final bout ]

— You weren't afraid of anything. In a monastery with stained-glass vaults and old crumbling whitewash, you found shelter in a stormy night that took the lives of mom, dad and older brother. Later you were told that what attacked them on the way was a demon.

— To believe in this fairy tale at first seemed utter nonsense. Really, demons? Why then did the angels not descend and pierce them with golden arrows of pure justice, ha? However, very soon your doubts were shattered.

— First of all, of course, they faced the destructive power of the belt, punishing disobedience and the so-called "freedom of thought", and then - the ugly face of a real demon in two inches from your face.

— It turned out that the local nuns were not fragile god’s servants at all. They stood day and night on guard of human peace, tracking down infernal creatures and quartering them, and you, hardened by frequent punishments and awareness of the involvement of the devil's spawn in the incident, did not take long to become one of the best demon hunters.

— So yes, you weren't afraid of anything. However, only with "his" exception.

— "He" was the Man in Red, or so they called "him" in the mansion. Unsociable, closed and straight to the bone piercing with one look… you knew for sure that "he" was a demon, and not just any, but the most malicious of all. The one you should exterminate before everyone else. And, probably, "he" saw this confidence hidden under a layer of crushing horror in your eyes.

— No one knew where "he" came from and why, no one wanted to be in the team with "him", no one, in principle, was eager to be with "him" within a radius of ten kilometers, and the Man in Red "himself" showed no interest in others.

— This attitude towards "him" was quite familiar. People are greedy for their lives, it’s the nature: they grab at the thinnest straws, hanging over the abyss, even if they know that they will not be able to survive, because for them there is nothing more valuable than life. If rebirth is real, then they will never know anyway. "He" knows. In a previous life, "his" name was…

— "Damn it, faster!" you shouted, stunning the Hunter with an ultra-precise shot and quickly freeing "him" from the chair. "It's just the two of us left, so try to survive. I won't come next time!"

— Oh...

— You reeked of fear, your hands trembled treacherously, and you ran away from "him" rather than from the recovered Hunter, but, in fact, it didn't matter. You came to the rescue, even if only for your own salvation, just as irrationally selfish as any other human, and yet, yet you came to the rescue. Perhaps it will be nicer if you just kill "him" yourself? It won’t work, of course, but let this dream continue to warm up your instincts.

— Since that match, the Man in Red has been interested in you. If "his" attention fell on someone, everything in itself became disastrous, and you were just asking for trouble; the barrel of a highly polished rifle always felt like it rested on the back of "his" head. It's only a matter of time before a shotgun is roughly shoved into "his" mouth and the taste of gunpowder is smeared on his tongue…

— However, again, neither one nor the other wouldn’t work, since the Man in Red, fear itself in the flesh, couldn’t be killed. And, unfortunately, "he" suddenly wanted to see the imprint of this truth on your face to the point of itching longing.

— Now others didn't approach you. The survivors were afraid to contact once again with the person who somehow constantly found herself with a Man in Red nearby, and this fact did not please you, as well as them. There was nothing you could do, left in the gnawing loneliness.

— At night you felt "his" presence at your door. In the morning - behind your back when you were walking towards the bathroom. During the day - in the shade of the far corners of the library, in the evening - among the plants in Emma's greenhouse, where you could breathe deeply. It used to be possible, but now constant fear held down the lungs and let in only as much air as "he" wanted. Unbearable.

— Prayers didn't help. As you later found out, the lead and the claws of the Hunters too, because there were not even scratches left on the body of the Man in Red that could be healed.

— The sisters in the monastery used to say that if something cannot be achieved by killing, then it remains only to accept, but how could you accept the constant presence of a demon, gradually turning you into his puppet through the fetters of fear?

— You put thirty-four bullets into "him", six knives, with one piercing through "his" throat and the other through the temporal wall, also tried poisons, strangulation and all this with holy water, of course. "He" didn't care. Only the fact that you sometimes came pretty close to "him" for killing made it possible to tolerate the damage to "his" shell.

— Besides, the horror of a new defeat was very becoming to you, and the Man in Red... Naib-in-the-past liked it damn much. It had been a long time since he had felt emotions.

— So yes, he showed no interest in others. However, only with your exception.

[ He fell from the heavens and brought with him the first falling leaf of the season ]

— Since the tragedy, someone has been visiting your dreams. Color, attire, any details of appearance mercilessly slipped from memory, leaving no chance of identification, but you knew that this wasn’t the enemy. His angelic voice has never left your mind.

— In sorrow and in joy, in sickness and in health, the voice delicately whispered words of consolation or instruction to you, pointing, as it seemed, the right way. And you, brought up in the walls of the worship of divine creatures, trusted him implicitly.

— So, of course, when he ordered you to go to the Oletus Mansion, you didn't throw around questions. Because it was him after all.

— Everything that the Lord decides to send down to us, we are able to overcome, right? And all the trials, no matter how unimaginably difficult they may be, will serve us as a great lesson. You didn't know if this was really the case, but your first match was amazing; really, no one expected that a nun would suddenly take out a rifle and start shooting right and left? You're the best, the one and only.

— "Good girl," his voice whispered that night. "I'm proud of you"

— And suddenly that's all you needed.

— Over the years, no, just a couple of decades spent in terrible conditions of cruelty and isolation, you managed to become, without exaggeration, very dependent on the kind words of a mysterious "friend". They were the only support that saved you from despair, so, of course, hearing praise was all you wanted. Is it possible that someone's brain can lose the craving for life without the simplest set of sounds, called a "voice"? There is a chance to check.

— But you didn't consider your, uh... "little addiction" to be anything bad. The "voice" was there and supported you, and also sounded so angelically beautiful; if he is an angel, which there can be no doubt, then it’s your duty to adore him.

— Well, so the sisters and the holy mother (although there is nothing holy about her) kept saying, but doesn’t matter.

— You loved the "voice" in your head. He was mesmerizing. Gently whispering words of approval, its owner was very eloquent and could convince you of what he wanted; it was always important for a person who grew up in isolation from the kindness to be gently treated, and the "voice" seemed to know it very well. You two have never argued, never quarreled, and couldn’t break the connection. But even being so smart as you are, it was to hard to realize that these conversations were boiling down to one thing: your absolutely and unstoppable addiction.

— "I know you're good, good girl, and we're good together; only I can support you. And I know you feel it. Everything will be fine..."

— These words were not hard to come by, slipped through the convolutions of your brain and ate into the bones; every time he said it, you got a sip of great joy. "Of course," you thought, "because I'm a good girl."

— And then you touched the bare skin of William's forearm while helping him during the match, and he instantly collapsed on the ground, not breathing. Eyes opened. He died at your accidental touch.

— Your face has never lost its steadfast, calm expression since the days of the monastery. A steel lady with an apostolic on her head, instilling fear into the souls of demons and serving as a stone wall for ordinary people.

— But now, in this damned second your beautiful face was distorted with such tearing horror that the world has turned upside down, knocking out your organs with a tension wave, and then returning them to their place, leaving them there soft-boiled. Nightmare. It's just another nightmare, a bad dream, you just have to wake up. Need to... wake up, wake up, open your eyes, please open your eyes! No. You couldn't have killed an innocent man. You couldn't have killed William Ellis! No, no. This can't be happening. It's impossible. Not fair. It’s scary. So so scary. Scary, scary, scary, scary, scary scary scary scaryscaryscaryscary

— ...Wait, please.

— Why does the Photographer smile so strangely from afar? Why does this cruel fucking Photographer, a disgusting demon..?

— "Good girl", a voice sounded softly and quietly in your head, while the Hunter in the distance opened his mouth absolutely in time with the words. "I'm proud of you"

— ...

— What?

— What is it? Wait. Why?

— Dumbfounded, you numb stared at the rich blue skin, shimmering with starry matter, waves of thick silver hair, curls of horns. Long nails tapping on the sword guard. Eyes that were absolutely black, but shining with unshakable warmth to you.

— Why? Why, why, merciful God? It just can’t be real. It can't be him!

— You had no idea that in that incident on an autumn night your life was to be cut off forever. Remember? Legs ached from the cold, viscous earth due to the downpour, hair stuck to your face, tangling with eyelashes and closing the sight. Tree. It should have fallen, breaking the fragile child's body, but for some reason you took a couple of extra steps…

— Azrael, who came down to take your soul, could not understand how it happened. His lists have never changed. Your name was in it. Right here. However, you were standing there, alive and alone; it was... somehow amazing, he thought. Interesting. Why not?

— So he followed you. He wanted to find out what kind of human being managed to escape his hands, but, unfortunately, the longer Azrael watched, the more he wanted something. Whisper a few words in your ear - are you being offended, feel sad, need praise? He can probably do it if you smile at your reflection in the mirror, because it’s just a small gesture of good when he is the fallen angel. You see? It made a very well sense, didn’t mean much. But gradually Azrael began to notice a desire to stay in your head forever. After all, you thought of him so kindly, and no one ever loved him before.

— Love... That's right. Borrow this feeling, please, and fill him to the limit. He can run his tongue along your neck, because you are such a wonderful person - you secretes love physically, make people happier. What is this power called? He’d like to know.

— He’d like to know everything.

— Oh. Unbelievably. A couple of decades, and a fallen angel feels something for a mortal. It's just ridiculous.

— He hugged your brain so tenderly, and everything that distracted him from you infuriated incredibly, to such an extent that he wanted to make an exception and kill the innocent. Why not? Really, why? Azrael has been asking this question all the time since he met you; so much has changed. He lived a little less than Adam and Eve, so long and so alone… Maybe he should think about himself a little bit?

— Yes, that’s right. Love. Burning and big. When he was looking down at his stomach, he practically saw love rising, spinning, writhing like a bump shining through perfect skin. When he ran his fingernail over it, the knot, gradually tied somewhere below the guts, tightened tighter and tighter, and he just couldn't help himself. Would he have fallen again for what he whispered to you in the confessional? How lovingly praised you for mere trifles, tying to himself with unbreakable affection? And for things he did in your dreams, taking away every bit of memories from last night at dawn so as not to spoil everything? How human-like. How satisfying.

— And then, then he decided to direct you to a place where it won't be difficult to reach.

— And then, then he put a grain of his death-providing power into your hands, because no, no, NO, when he think about himself, Azrael knows that you don't need to touch other people.

— And then, then… You’ll join him in heaven.

— "Go here, be the good girl. I know you can do that"

159 notes · View notes

sweetdreamsbuck · 3 years ago

Note

Okay Mir I know this is mean but like what would happen if Bunny got lost in the woods during a snowstorm while Lumby was at work.....

lost in the woods

beefy!lumberjack bucky x f!reader (lumby x bunny au)

wc: 4.8k

warnings: angst, gross fluff and body worship, a very very very needy scared and hopelessly in love lumby

a/n: yes like the most amazing Disney ballad to ever exist. thanks for always ruining me so sweetly, col. not edited or proofread, all mistakes are my own. happy spring babes xx

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

“Last storm of the season is always the worst, bun. Make sure you stay inside, can’t have my bunny gettin’ lost on me– or frostbite. Alright, pretty girl? Can’t love you the way I need to if you’re not safe and sound.”

God, you should’ve listened.

But the snow just looked so joyous as it fell, surrounding the trees sprouting with their new buds and blossoming flowers. The passing of winter to spring was always the most exciting time to be living in the middle of such a grand wood– but it was your first time; your first time living in Bucky’s cabin.

Sure, you’d caught glimpses of the beauty of it in the beginnings of your relationship– on those mornings you’d slept over, awaking happily to the vision of a sweetly snoring Bucky and the comfort of the forest’s morning hymnal. The sight of flowers dangling on the very edges of tree branches, slowly opening and embracing the rustle and song of the rest of the forest life; the painting you’d find yourself inside of after a few weeks, the trek from your car to his front door littered in petals of vibrant pinks and whites, of dying cones and senseless berries– some still dancing towards the forest floor– drowning all paths in the proclamation of spring’s arrival. But now, you were experiencing the end of winter and the start of spring firsthand; there was no chance you’d ever grow tired of it.

Maybe your Bucky was wrong– there was no way this last snow could be deemed anything short of magical and whimsical, let alone “the worst”.

But he was never wrong. Especially not when it came to his bunny.

The itch to tug on your winter gear one last time at the sight of soft flakes was too great– a thick pair of Bucky’s socks and an oversized thermal loosely clinging to you under your parka and sweats before you could reason against it.

Staring at the falling snow, secure and safe underneath the warmth of a blanket cuddled in your favorite chair perched at the window was nothing compared to feeling it– having it sing and whistle past your ears; to have it fall and tease against your lashes; against the frigid apples of your cheeks; along the flush of your numbing lips.

It was easy to lose track of time while dancing in the middle of such wonder.

It’s how you found yourself, unaware of how long you’d been aimlessly walking, now struggling to find a way back home, fighting to hold your footing and to keep your eyes open at the incessant prickling of the metastasizing crystalline snow pellets hitting roughly against you. Each pierce of the rough snow hitting the skin of your face, bouncing around your heavy outerwear and sending unpleasant tremors and tingles along every inch of your body confirmed a terrible truth– you could hear your mistake loudly and with a bold punch.

The darkening of the sky was fading eerie, sealing your fate further and further into the fervor and strength of the last winter storm Bucky warned you about.

Well shit. What now?

Your phone.

Your hands shakily move to free your cell from the confines of your sweats. Struggling to hold the phone with numb hands, to see the screen in the middle of such a blizzard growing angrier and harsher by the second, you manage to unlock the device and click on Bucky’s name.

Service was terrible in the middle of the woods, but it seems luck felt it in her heart to hand you a little bit of reprieve from the trouble you'd managed to get yourself into; 4 bars of reception and a working dial tone that would save you from this mess.

But it seemed luck was also in a business of mockery– your own negligence besting you, phone battery lingering on 3%.

Come on Bucky, please pick up the phone. Pick up pick up pick up–

“Hey bunny,” his soothing voice greets you in a delighted sigh, “you have no idea the day I’m having. I’ll be home soon and I just need to feel my swe–”

Concern that you’ll freeze to death prompts you, cutting off Bucky’s silky voice viciously with the chattering of teeth and stuttering words, “B-bucky, please, I need you! D-don’t know where I am ‘nd I need you. P-please Bucky, I’m in the–”

And then the comforting sound of his breathing stopped.

Silence– only the unrelenting whir of the snow gusting around you and the melody it rang out within your jaw.

Of course, your phone would die.

You’re fucked. Alone, lost, shaking, and freezing from the inside out in the middle of the forest that brought you a life filled with warmth and Bucky. How ironic.

Maybe if you tried to find your way to the lumberyard… it was only a few miles from his cabin. If he could do it, so could you.

But Bucky had lived here most of his life.

The chance of you finding that path was as slim as the chance of you finding the road back to the house.

A crippling realization hit you when that sharp left turn at the large evergreen you could’ve sworn was a sign of the path leading to Bucky’s cabin just happened to be a tree that looked familiar.

Turning, you were met with the same fate– harsh wind and unforgiving snow, row after row of high and brooding evergreen trunks, of thickets and a now white forest floor, mocking you in their pious stature.

Every inch of this damn forest looked exactly the same.

A few more turns, a few more furious swipes at the snow fogging your sight, a few more hazy visions of ginormous bark that were perfect carbon copies of the one next to it.

Moving in frantic circles, your brain tries to keep up with the ominous thudding of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. But even your brain couldn’t seem to form coherent or quick enough thoughts, your eyes and limbs fighting to keep your body moving in any direction.

You’re growing tired– exhausted.

Keep your eyes open. Keep moving. Follow your footprints.

That’s what Bucky would say.

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, hours– time was as lost to you as you were. Scrambling to find sight of something you knew, pushing yourself to the brink of a psychotic break trying to find some semblance of something you recognized.

Your hopes of following your own trail were cleanly wiped by the unrelenting fall of the harsh snow, sight of your presence in the woods something out of an old ghost tale– with every next step, snow would fill the one preceding it.

Tears of fright welled in every avenue of your body that was ridden with nerves and a pulse, unable to breach the surface in any motion of exhale against the harsh cold biting at every last ounce of your warmth and moisture.

The sky began to grow still, your once hazy vision clouding over entirely and closing your eyes entirely to the storm encompassing you. The turmoil– inner and out once raging vivaciously, now a distant nagging of a far-off memory.

Maybe the forest floor would be a good place to lie down for a bit.

It’d feel soft, comforting– to feel the soft kiss of winter bidding you her sweet farewell. Bucky’s two favorite sights– the falling snow and you. His precious bunny, blanketed and sheltered in a rage of a frozen squall.

And then you hear it.

A faint howl, sharper and straining the more it seemed to breathe. A heady affliction of burning desperation– of a blood-curdling yell. Growing louder and louder, surrounding you in bursts of wind and harsh pellets hitting against your numb skin.

Your name– screamed, frightfully over and over, breaking and cracking in boiling anguish each time its bellow pierced the dark sky.

“Oh fuck, come on bun! Please, I gotta find you! Please… bunny, where are you?” a harsh cry wails, a sound so chilling you never would’ve thought your Bucky could make it.

“B-bucky?” it takes all of your remaining strength not spent on keeping you right side up to whimper out, screaming in the lowest part of your throat.

His large frame hurtles towards you, shaking hands hastily ripping his big jacket off of him as his bloodshot eyes devour your trembling form.

“My sweet girl, oh fuck– Bunny you’re– shit. You’re okay, I gotcha. I’m here bun, can you keep your eyes on me, hmm? I’m gonna get you home, but you gotta keep your eyes on me. Come on, need you...” he pleads.

Y-your jacket Buck, youcan’t give–

But your shaking was too great, your words strewn together and clinging to your dry tongue as your body finally goes limp.

Y’can’t, you'llbe cold baby…

The words never had the strength to leave your mouth.

His coat was already wrapped around you, your body secure and suffocated in his strong but wobbling hold before you could even bat an eye in recognition. Your eyes struggle to stay parted, vision of snow and dark greens whizzing past you, all around you in a hazy blur as Bucky runs.

Immobile, unfeeling, and unable to do anything but lie quaking and crushed in Bucky’s tormented embrace.

Your frozen nose rests harshly pressed on the spot just below his ear. The frigid temperature of the air and of that leaving your body in brutal waves hardly touches him.

It simply doesn’t matter– holding you close to him as he jets back to the safety of the cabin is all he can let his body and mind dwell on.

He nears the clearing leading to the cabin, somehow managing to pick up an even greater speed. Your body clings to him from the great force alone, your limbs asleep and thankful for the assistance.

“Gotta get you warm, gonna take care of you… gotta make it all better. You have to let me, please bunny...” his faint voice whimpers against your temple, more for the sake of his own sanity than yours.

“Please bun, I need you…” a broken whisper.

“M’kay Buck,” your voice pushes through chattering teeth as the warmth of the cabin immediately greets you. Shutting the cabin door with his leg, he swiftly runs towards your bedroom, “m’fine baby…”.

If your voice actually spoke, he ignores it– his hands move in a fury of lightning to strip you of your soaked layers. His pained nerves ignited with tremors of the thunderous hiccups of his breathing hardly delay him from the task at hand. Before you can open your eyes again, he has you cradled against his unclothed chest, pressing a warm towel up and down your wet skin.

When did he get undressed?

A mumbling mantra of concern breathlessly leaves his lips and soft cries continue to rack his body, still overwhelmed with grief even though he has you, alive and only a bit shook up in his arms.

He entangles his legs with your thighs, pulling himself around you, cocooning the thick duvet adorning your bed around your shaking form.

His tears brush against your face, his lashes and the stubble of his beard dripping them down your skin in unrhythmic plops. “Bunny, my precious girl– it’s gonna be okay. I’m sorry… m’so sorry bun…”. He rubs his hands up and down your body, trembling but trying to get a normal pulse of warmth back in your body.

His lips quiver along your temple, soft pecks of his concern meant to soothe you– but acting in penance of his own torture.

The only thing that could turn Bucky’s world upside was currently playing out in real-time. He could’ve lost the love of his life inside a world she only knew because of him. He almost did.

“Oh my sweet girl, please,” he sobs, a whimper lost against the base of your neck.

Your fingers finally have a bit of feeling back in them, slowly crawling their way out from under your stomach and up to his chest. They shake slightly, unable to press any harder than with the most feather-like reverence, ghosting softly over his warm muscles. “Baby, I’m ‘kay, m’right here,” your lips lazily make out, tickling faintly against his collarbone.

He pulls you tighter, his hands moving to warm the length of your spine. His head shakes against you, a disheartened sob leaving his mouth. “I love you more than anything, bun. I’m so sorry…”

You tap your fingers against his chest gently, attempting to leave a soft kiss against his neck. A pained whisper of I love you Lumby, teases up the column of his throat and sends goosebumps along his neck and past his ear.

His eyes close, breathing in the feel of you alive in his arms, allowing him the time he needs to process everything as warmth finally begins to thaw you.

He clings to you a few minutes longer, feeling every inch of skin he can rub his hands along to prompt more heat to flow through you. His tears never cease, but they quiet– the true torment of the situation, succumb to plaguing his mind with guilt.

Bucky allows himself a few more moments of this quiet shame, breathing softly against your neck and the curves of your face.

When you’re finally able to move in his arms he shifts, removing himself from the bed and wrapping the blanket around you. He presses a shaky kiss to your forehead, a tear dropping against your chin.

“Bucky?” you watch as he moves to the bathroom across the hall, hearing the knob to the bath faucet turning on. He fiddles around with a few of the drawers, a few of the cabinets, setting up the bath and room to his liking while ruminating in the painful stew his mind has him soaking in.

He returns to your shared room, a tub of body butter and a soft towel in hand. Placing them gently next to you on the nightstand, he removes the duvet and towel from your body, remaining silent and keeping his eyes downcast the whole way.

You reach for him as best as you can, the chill of the air causing you to desperately miss the warmth only his body seems to bring. But he always seems to know what you want, gathering you tightly in his arms and carrying you into the bathroom.

The room is dimly lit with a few of your favorite candles and incense, perched unceremoniously on the corner of the tub. The faint scent of your body wash fills your nostrils, floating in the air as it bubbles contently in the swell of the water. You pull his face towards yours, begging to meet his stare.

Tears rest as radiant as ever in the breath of his eyes, wells of love and sadness pooling deep. He bends at the hip slightly with you still cradled in his arms, eyes still not meeting yours as his hand tests the temperature of the water before placing you in it. The heat of the water immediately quells your remaining shakes, replacing them with a shudder of relief and a sigh of welcomed air.

Kneeling, Bucky grabs your shampoo and scoops some into his palm, working it gently against your scalp, massaging any tension away he could manage. He knew nothing of how to care for your hair– not the way you did– but he needed to do this.

For himself, for you, for the terrible thought of never having taken the time to try and almost having the opportunity ripped from him.

He pays close attention to your body; to the way the bubbles cling to you in delight as you melt under his fingertips; the way the water encases you in such still protection. He can’t meet your eyes, he won’t. He needs this. He presses a sigh to your temple as you curl close into his bicep, letting him rub your scalp.

His hands scoop up water and work their best to rid your hair of shampoo, anxiously wanting to wash all traces of the remnants of the frozen hell you got trapped in. “Feels s’nice, Lumby,” you whisper. His eyes flutter to meet yours, his face unchanging of its somber expression.

Bucky stands up, placing one foot into the tub before the other, staring down at you for a moment before taking you in his arms, positioning you between his legs. He brings your back to his chest and your hand to his lips, painting your skin in kisses from the palm of your left hand all the way up to your right shoulder. You sink into his touch, letting him feel you in whatever way he needs.

“Wanna talk about it?” you mouth against his forearm, your hand gently scratching up and down the muscles of his hard thigh.

He clears his throat, shakily sighing before his scratchy and hoarse whisper breaks the air, “Have you ever felt like you lost the ground you were standing on? I never– I’ve never felt my heart stop beating the way I– I swear. I… do you know what that was like? Hearing you? So afraid; so hollowed by a sound I have nightmares of? The wind. I know that noise. That’s how I knew bun– what was going on. I was already on my way to find you before you could… I just knew. And when the line cut out, I ran. Straight from the yard, I dropped everything. Only a mile or two, but I had to. I’d never… never be able to live– I can’t even…” a pained breath cuts himself off, prompting him to squeeze his arms tighter around your stomach and inhale through a deep sob, his calloused hands unmoving but trembling firmly on your hips.

Grounding himself– the close proximity of your body against his in the heat of the soothing water, not enough. He breathes in the smell of your neck, of the spot behind your ear as his lips quake against your skin. The need to confirm you were there– the need to feel you there, alive and breathing under his watch is all that could help him breathe right now.

“You don’t understand just how my world turns for you; how my heart beats for you. I felt it– true pain, bunny. Never felt anything like that in my life. I still feel it.”

“I’m right here Bucky. I’m so sorry I ever went out there… you told me not to and I di–” the force of his shaking head cuts you off, a troubled whine vibrating roughly into the skin of your neck.

“Don’t do that. I’d never blame this on you, ever. I should have that part of the woods marked off, I should’ve been home sooner. I almost didn’t even go in today, I shouldn’t have. I should–” you turn yourself in his hold to cradle his face between your hands. His eyes tightly shut as tears roll down his cheeks, the water sloshing and spilling around you both.

“There’s no way I’m allowing you to ruin yourself by thinking of how you could’ve prevented this. I shouldn’t have gone out in a storm, Buck. But I’m here, and you found me. Right? You saved me, baby. I love you– and you have me.”

He shakes his head as best he can while held between your palms, not wanting to miss your gentle touch for a second. His hands smooth up your sides and shoulders, shifting his position in the tub to envelop you wholly, needing to ease the ache of his chest.

After a few minutes of conditioning your hair and peppering gentle kisses along your shoulders, against the crook of your neck; thankful sighs against the shell of your ear; after wandering hands massage body wash into your skin, he brings your lips to his for a lingering kiss.

“Come on bun,” a whisper pressed to the side of your mouth, “lemme love you. Gotta take care of you.”

He stands out of the tub first, drying himself off quickly with a towel before picking you up, wrapping you in a fluffy blue one. He sits on the toilet lid holding you in his lap, letting the material wrapped tightly around you soak up all the water it can without having to let you leave his embrace.

He presses a kiss to the back of your head and you pepper his hand cradled around your stomach with sweet pecks. He squeezes you tight, sighing into the towel covering your back.

He places you on your feet in front of him, dragging the towel over the remaining dampness of your skin. Bucky looks up at you, grabbing your chin and pulling gently at your bottom lip with his thumb. His eyes drink in your face; the plump curves of your cheek and the soft lines of your nose. The dip in your upper lip and the crease of your eyes.

A sad smile taints his face, moving forward to press a kiss against your stomach. He stands, hooking his arms around your waist and carrying you to your room. His hand taps at your thigh gently when turning into your doorway, prompting you to wrap them around his waist.

“Grab that towel for me, bun,” he whispers. You lean down gently from his hip and grab it. Taking it from you he lays it against your bed, kissing your hand that gave it to him, placing you down on it.

You lay watching him as he grabs the body butter from the nightstand, gathering some and quickly warming it up in his palms.

He starts down at your feet, rubbing soft circles into your skin, moving up to your ankles and making sure not even a centimeter goes untouched. His lips meet your shin, following the movements of his hands.

“You don’t know what you mean to me, I love you so much, it hurts. I need you,” he breathes against your knee.

“Can’t ever scare me like that again, please bun, can’t handle it,” he grabs your hand, massaging at the tension of your wrist and palm, tracing all the lines and tips of each of your fingers.

“These fingers,” he kisses them gently, moving to your other hand to do the same. Grabbing more lotion and repeating his actions, rubbing over your knuckles with a firm thumb and a soft ghosting of his lips.

“This stomach,” he kneads reverently. Causing you to squirm as he kisses every fold, bump, curve, and mark that makes up his favorite mural he longs to study again and again. His hands massage the skin of your ribs, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses. He moans softly, trailing his hands down over your hips. “These hips– make me fucking crazy.”

Bucky’s lips slow their motions, nose nudging against the divots and swell of your skin, teasing himself more than you. His hands travel down, encircling each thigh firmly.

“Fuck– these thighs. Need these thighs, so fucking perfect,” he whimpers. His lips worshipping with feather-soft precision and hushed sighs of his love. He can't help but get overwhelmed, working his mouth a bit harder, hands firmly grasping your thighs and pulling you closer to his pleading lips.

“Your shoulders... this spine that keeps my sweet girl whole,” he wraps his arms under you, kneading from your tailbone to your upper back. “Need you, need all of you,” he pulls you close by your hips, angling you upwards and kissing the pudge of your stomach.

Tears trail your skin, his words affecting you more than he’d ever know. “Need you too, Buck. I love you so much.”

“So fucking soft. So good for me,” his low whisper praises against your belly.

“Bucky. I…thank you. I’m so in love with you. More than anything, more than you’ll ever know,” he gathers you in his arms, sitting up in the bed and moving you to his lap. Your arms circle themselves around his neck, his lips caressing the skin of your right arm with tender kisses.

“I know, bunny. I need to love you forever. There’s no way I won’t– but I just really need you to know that, bun,” his hands wander up your spine, pressing you tightly against him. His lips embrace the skin of your sternum. “The way I need to love you is necessary. You’ve ruined me, given me such life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Lumby?” your fingers trace up the curve of his chest.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“I could use a kiss–” his lips meet yours before you can blink. A squeak escapes you, a giggle of surprise teasing up your throat and urging you to thread your fingers through his damp locks, drawing him closer.

His lips move against yours, tender and desperate, cradling you in his hands and stealing all the breath from your lungs. A low moan sounds from the back of your throat, his tongue caressing your mouth as your fingers scratch at his scalp. He whimpers against you, lost in the feel of you.

“How’s that?” he breathes against your lips. His lips press earnestly along the length of your mouth. “Need a few more? I think you do, bunny,” his hands wrap around your jaw and neck, tilting your head and holding you where he needs you.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, your eyes flutter open to take in his appearance. His eyes are tightly shut, cheeks pink and wet with a few stray tears. You thumb them away, grabbing his face protectively between your palms.

“Never stop, Bucky,” you kiss along his reddened cheeks.

“If today means you’ll finally let me keep you wrapped around me all the time now, I might have a heart attack.”

You throw your head back in a loud laugh, crinkles forming at the squint of your eyes and flutter of your lashes. You burrow your face in his neck, an open-mouthed kiss snug at the base. “What do you mean, now? As if any other time is any different,” your sweet giggle teases at his ears. “Anything you want, baby. Just don’t ever like seeing you so upset… I’ll do anything to make sure you’re never like that again.”

He lets out a deep groan, his hands tracing along the expanse of your thighs. “Shouldn’t have said that bun. Now you’re never leaving this bed ever again,” he swiftly grabs you, gently pushing you until your back is against the mattress. His hands stroke and squeeze at your flesh as they work up and down your thighs, claiming your hips and up the swell of your stomach.

His lips meet your skin, softly scattering kisses along the journey his hands have taken the last hour until his lips meet yours.

He hovers over you, his arms caging you under him as his fingers trace the curves of your face, “Now that I think about it, I need a kiss for every second of this awful day I had. Need you to fix it,” he dramatically pouts, “so I can love you better... yeah. I need as many kisses as I can give ya. You’re not leaving this bed until I’m feeling 100% better, which definitely will be a really, really, long time.”

He mimics crying, a loud and stupid noise meant to make you laugh, blaring loudly from his chest and into the space of your bedroom. He continues, a few of his own giggles and boyish laughter seeping through his theatrics. "I'm never leaving you alone again," he sighs.

Adoring hands trail down your body as his plump lips follow suit. “Gosh bun, can’t even fathom the thought that this perfect body had to bear the cold today…these thighs. Are you sure you’re okay?” he smirks, a teasing glimmer filling his reverent ceruleans. “Are you sure you’re feeling warm enough? These thighs look a bit cold to me… we can’t have that.”

“Bucky…” you giggle.

“Bunny…” his hands spider along the stretch marks mapped out along the skin of your belly and hips. “Come on, they’re freezing bun!” he traces soft circles into the crease of your thighs, tiny tingles and a teasing tickle erupting in shivers. “Look, they’re shaking…” he grins triumphantly, knowing just how to perfectly play your body against you. “They’re begging for my attention. Come on bunny, I need to feel ya, please,” he whines. “Ya’know I can’t say no to ‘em. Uhnn,” he groans, “you’re always just laying there looking so pretty, s’not fair,” he kisses his way down your stomach, painting gentle strokes of love along every inch of you.

His lips turn into a smirk the closer he gets to the swell of your thigh. His teeth trace down your lower stomach, nipping and mouthing at the sensitive skin at the top of your legs. Bucky sighs happily for the first time all day, laying against the cushion of your thigh, turning his head to look up at you. The look in his eyes nearly sends you back outside, deep and lost in the middle of the forest– only now, numb from head to toe with nothing but his heated adoration for you.

“Need a few kisses with these thighs, bun. I’ll get my sweet girl warm in no time...”

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #bucky x f!reader

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pookacangetit · 3 years ago

Text

Disney Song!Yuu [Halloween Edition: Pumpkins & Villainous Medleys]

It’s Halloween and Yuu has a treat in store for their audience at the Monstro Lounge. The trick? Yuu's singing the Disney Medley Villains' edition.

Also big thanks to the anon who brought me gifts in the form of It's Tough to Be a God and reminded me of the existence of Disney medleys :D

☆HAPPY HALLOWEEN☆

Masterlist

Yuu was performing for Monstro Lounge that night, extra cash to be earn with the influx of visitors on the island visiting NRC due to spooky season.

As a playback to their performance a few months ago, Yuu wore a black slinky dress with a slit in the middle, dark purple stilettos and a pair of lace gloves embroidered with roses. Their hair strung into a braid decorated with fake spiders and spiderwebs.

A dead mermaid haunting the sea, Yuu had described their outfit and appearance.

The mistress of Death disguised as a beautiful siren, Azul and many had boldly assumed in the beginning.

The ghostly background music started up as Yuu gently grabbed the mic. The students hadn't tensed up when they noted the lack of backup instruments and singers even though Yuu was the only one onstage. The outsiders who never seen Yuu singing though...

Poor unfortunate souls~

In pain, in need~

This one's longing to be thinner~

That one wants to get the girl~

And I do help them~

Yes indeed~

Ignoring the loud gasps from outsiders who didn't know the Ramshackle prefect knew the lost lyrics much less be able to sing them. The students tensed in their seats and waited for the magic to work, and it did.

From the low classic lights and giant aquarium of the Monstro Lounge, greyish smoke curled around the feet of the listeners like tentacles as the landscape slowly transformed itself into the dark caves hidden deep within the ocean, illuminated with a sheen of purple glow.

The air rippled and engulfed with a dense energy as though they were underwater, with bubbles forming midair and created twinkling lights when popped.

Those poor unfortunate souls~

So sad, so true~

They come flocking to my cauldron~

Crying spells, Ursula, please~

And I help them~

Yes, I do~

Yuu grinned as they sang the last verse, wearing an angelic-looking smile which highlighted the pinkish sheen on their lips and made them resemble a dark angel beneath gold-illuminated lights.

Jade leaned forward to whisper to Azul, "You're not going to faint because how similar Yuu looks to the Great Sea Witch, are you?"

Azul pushed him away flushing, "That was once, I'm not going to repeat that embarrassing incident-"

So PREPARE FOR THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME~

Yuu smirked, hands stretched forward and pulled upwards as the smoke rose to the air with a green sheen. People started shrieking when they saw ghostly visages of green fire appearing and surrounding the room while the air turned thicker with a fog the colour of brimstone.

The ocean caves from before faded slightly from sight as the walls became jagged and rough at the edges.

Be prepared for a sensational news~

Jade destroyed the champagne glass he was cleaning, "This didn't happen the last time they performed that song."

"No, they're singing a completely different verse from before- what are they thinking?!" Azul frowned.

A chair cluttered noisily to the ground, drawing attention to the pirate-dressed Savanaclaw on the ground, "The- the great one's singing two great seven simultaneously?! Oh seven save me I need to get to the sacrificial pumpkins to appease them-"

Jade broke the second champagne glass he was holding, Azul's glasses cracked at the edges.

A shinning new era~

Is tip-toeing nearer~

(̷̨̛̘̦͕͕̬̽͗͗̈̀́͑̑̇̈̈́̅̾̀Ą̷̧̻̗̇͝ñ̶͙̐̏͆̋͌̇̅́͝͝d̷̨̼̜͎͙̪̝̲̗̘͔͇̹̺̎̾̍͜ ̷̧̨̢̠̺̮͚̥͚̓͋̅͊̈́̆͜͜͠ͅw̵̹͎̺͓̼̞̜̘̉̔ḥ̵̛̙̦͈͓̿̅̆̓̒́̏̄é̷̡̘̝̺̮̰̱̜̬̊͊̑̀̌̐̍̆́̄̅͆ͅr̵̦͉̗̫̙̄̄́̕ḛ̶̡͗̉̐͂̽̽̀̀̋͘͘ ̶̡̢̠̲̯̮̥͈͚͕̹̎̏̈́̈ͅḑ̵̛͓̞̫̟͍̫̰̰̤̠̰͌̆̔̽͗̔̓̅̋̏͠ơ̴̧͍͇͉̙̜̝̫̝͛͋̉̍̌̀̇͋̕͝ ̸̻̲̣̣̻̠͓̩̜͈̖̥̑̈́̉͘w̵̧̛̗̼̯̯̞̘͇͓̓̊̀e̷̛͓͐̓͆̈̐̆͋͒̎̓͘͝ ̵̢̡̰̤̳͕̱̗͓́̈̏̀̿͋̈́̔͐̐̑̈́́͝f̸̢̨͓̣͔̗̹̈́͂̄̃́̓̔͛͘͜͠ͅë̷͎́̌̑̕ḁ̷̢͓̫͈̰̖͙̃̓t̶͎̤͆͛̑͑̆̔̍͐͗͛̀͜ͅṵ̶̢̧͖̼͖̰͙̟̦͔̪̂͂̅̓̒̈̈́͒͂͛̉͜͝ͅṟ̴͍͒̀̿̌͛̾̾͝e̷͇͉̖̫̙͎͔̾̿͂̌̀͌̒͝ͅ?̷̛̛̥̈̌̌̔̒̈̊̑͛̕)̵͖̏̀͂͜~

Just listen to the teacher~

If the Savanaclaw's words didn't inspired mass panic, the clearly disembodied voices filled with manic energy singing the verse which was booming across the lounge did.

People were stuck in their seats out of fear and awe as their surroundings were a dark mixture of smoky caverns and deep ocean caves irradiating emerald and purple lights blended together and centered on the impossibility onstage singing their heart out.

Azul felt his knees go weak, "T-two songs by the great seven combined?!"

I know it sounds sordid~

But you'll be rewarded~

When at last I am given my dues~

An injustice deliciously squared~

Be PREPARED~

Azul and the Leech twins were the only ones to see the light of mischief dancing in Yuu's eyes as everyone else panicked. Grinning, the prefect made a twirl with their arms outstretched to the sky, crooning the rest of the lyrics with a feral smile that sent shivers down the Octavinelle trio's backs.

Beata Maria~

You know I am a righteous man~

More screaming ensured as the room mutated into the catholic version of Hell with a burning volcanic landscape. Yuu was simply grinning as they did a little spin on the stage with their arms outstretched.

"ANOTHER LOST LYRIC??!"

"THE GREAT ONE IS MAD!!"

"SACRIFICE! SOMEONE GRAB THE SACRIFICIAL PUMPKINS PREPARED TO APPEASE THEM-"

Yuu: trick and treat!! (σ`∀´)σ

Azul: isn’t it supposed to be ‘trick or treat’?

Yuu: *preparing the Disney Villains Medley* I said what I said

#twst #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst halloween month 2021 #disney song yuu

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libidomechanica · 9 months ago

Text

Untitled Composition # 11453

A sonnet sequence

Had heed of which to conceit of my face. There mething maid. Why did he begin now wherewithall away. But tell. That should string leaves drooping whom, could be closer? As show so yellow leave me here ever beauteous to spirit’s. Than a cycle of this pomp to cry aloud friend; but fear. And face is meete: a chapelet on a moment her so when you like tranqullitie, witnesse called thence came to sing’ or Regent, whose loved in glory, and the wintry world, to fall; that thou, to-day, to stay, and wiser than you open first prepare thee, hold on fire, of herbes or wanted, upon the brink?

And ever worth into this fair face, I espye: the bliss assured of silverly around ears, which theyr sheepe, such things that fine began to wearing o’er have you because ye hae them burn to the young Jessie, while the deep into them all its wings and wanton Nimph for her! And see but one of heart;—as I have gassed all times with head she just light; Thus on it anew reviving world is discreet at all: in vain. By the interpret when his excus’d I to the many a sounds of me why I send you that old Susan will not show farwell she prayer he shadow of a ready as my stept.

III

We deem’d a seconds whom you, we have relish in us had escapes, we mought me temperate: rough your hours of thee with Wisdom wafted; the owlets builds up a glasse passed the pype to a shrilled towns, to brings are at a glasse: all as the unders black and of such ivory. But little canst the lowly bending at the heap’d with meagre, bare sheepe the sad distress overwhelm surmise? Beating, and moan all ruby red, cheeks like a vice: had she close alone could race with thee ioy of this, leaving, in narrow for my voice’s sink that dim apart in gastful groue most what hath was done. Me, day by day presence forth, and the osier-isle we the winds, and what is sometimes long past; to show your dreamed you. Among there vnprouided, leaving house’s latch there were thousand though mochell worse, a woman but glimpses of praises in hall, doth my great deep being crag, and now, perhaps a thousand gummy francke?

Thus fixed to Dian? Reaping vp waues, pampred in high fane? Beside the temple of great deepe, they always when all the golden quill, and Betty’s still at Susan groans redouble: ev’ry nymph mourn to, light, a little canst do though the drew, then to deare. Old Algrin, his chinne. I should be closed to this english homely hands, in tender prest peona guiding. Fluttering of thine day light holds her excellence, all pleasure filled by his most auaile. Visitor: I am gone in that regions? Was on an infant Orpheus, in Johnny! Around its good will, even and forgot how, upon days?

Now she none, then thus I leaven, and adore and wonder midnight deathbell run, catch the sayncts, which it shall be; thou doest prepared, she shuddering wings indigest such set the price of love my life’s fickle times we look, the breeze that left me, and vale, that smell, yet neare the best. The meadows of the day, and his brethren were, that comes, but with a squalid savage—what beat about our own at Keswick, and his legs, and nurse; and of S. The owlets purr, and with the dore stars dart that well for thorn; no leave the moments are while, that not, happy herself she choice virtue’s image, that play still she knelt, with a single break for pale enchantment the stoppeth the gold; that bless to be free from the edges left behind a blank as a fresh spring, hear us, greatly drawn, sees full many send: for conversation to her? To equally like a sounded in the wife, the nuptial room, imprison doors!

I, being, he hunts here be any dove. Let the tear their voices of his yerely some iouisaunce? Will be but an ancient kindness now, if you go ahead, go on, go on back, she could devise some folk of hot and Johnny’s lips drinking ill prevail? Done other, ’tis no prize, the intelligence, fetter does deserve you can. With wings of the golden chat, and mute than they walke another wrist is frozen, o Tinkler Maidgie was bonie white-flowery nest. If it thee thriue: neuer knewe I loue to skye, that airy train you with his bed of the day, ye wadna gie a button for ever!

VII

When laboured by therein did it would spared, buttress’d me to the many subtle canst not walking, as signe of him, seems to begins to this nightly pats the day care tongue fault above thy quill and tell the leaf, that blaze flattering rose And now she’s woo’d, up-follow when as the charms, they shoulden days? That never found; which I should shew that heaven fall, they fed nothing throbb’d no long Excursion of one of love me, and beauty brings because Give me bounteous story. To gathering be, and the Doctor, to clarion, hyena foemen, and here are thee: the river, are locke, thy dove with Magic-mighty wind out its voice calls me that somedele their veil I saw a crow to-whoo, to-whoo, and sorrows flower! Thy beauties the hardly for the door. Which now she’s gallop on a newe misse. Nobody turned their voice did roll the Muses well knowe, chaunced to the dreary mountain-height.

VIII

The wheel in prison: My genitals have crush, but in the long again.—Knowing known, even that joint: she sigh’d there let us kiss and times, where dwell. His quicker sike a paragon. Untimely woe, bethinks no moe the one for that harmes had prest peona’s hands, your wished hence, and let us look at the ground ever be still cryes. They did; but nowe sithence calling like a tinted for Perigot is weary woe. Niggard, why dost thou didst implores in the peoples plunging along they huddled from wicked in happy Betty Foy! Be rather messenger, the waters of emotion is no drearily on barren woman said, but sing, well exprest, where for then though the dore still, not with the How; Giving a younger the foule least parts ere the vale because the dull and quiet, turtles passions were bow’d down twenty little to a shrewish thee, my name—lo, the flock or Shepherd-god.

Love, to go that I brought I must ridge, who touch holds the rich result of Time, they would every sheepe bene of all the Earth so sweet flows down herself she hies, but bind me a ring-dove for his forenoons and darke heart with mine own worthiness did Johnny’s but of shepheard, and at gaze upon the burden may floating schooled the children’s circled and cave, thee in star-flower, endymion: yet still grew brilliant, where. So she did spill. Not—thy soul on Cloe’s eyes forth fruit, and you canst not so well apayd? What’s sae proud of merrier bene ycladde it is frost witness to blame if it be at best.

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and how the chord of things have ever afternoon, a faint fare-thee-wells, and mine own again, and swete Eglantine, and with her Dame, and trust me, where the spot wherever and poor guide appear like louing bright, Betty’s questioning, waning, willing to understand—better he beaded-curtains: ’twas loneness bears alone within the same, this english home, and yours, with greene? Many a very chere.—By that hill of fraud and gourd; so deare the heauens high upon thy call me, is silence and draw, to leaves in folds her for him, like a hawk with vncalled out and so to behold!

Heart, with myne the major part musk or civet canst not serve it ran away; though Ioy her door, would shew that were to part of all have circled and vnkempt: there’s a moon is no prize, that which is very day and the found, darkness these my night. Then had their eyes forth her image, that nowe sike myrth now that we done, from his song and within, the feature forest brain, I shape me—ever remove, The bad me lovely Rose,—tell how to the artery of melody;—that searching: yes, with his wesand beautiful, unanswered Johnny’s lips asunder you’ve done each party? When he helpless foot; bronze glow.

XII

The sun was a home, and two into the sunflower yet testifying restless resourse, rock’d me broke of the spider in peace hem to knock at me with vinegar and expire; so trembles the strongest languish. Her man, than if I fail beneath hath shut out, as he mountains and purging fire, that eternal, measure. It was on a hill, alas! Done, thoughtful still look on me. Me, had I been its bonds broken profit of beauty passion rules of superior sway, but that to reason; the raindrops in your eyes: so I will break footing, and open thy side by side, and the dreaming.

XIII

Tripping dragons all his spirits. I wanna be your idiot boy. That liv’st but be they might badge is buried the blackbird in the rocks that euen in the one bridge. And hurl their famish’d by that inward glance: so kept walking in public place; sylent and splendour far to leese this poetry, at least a wise Kings, the flood of witch’s life, or well, they told men in the bridegroom was the door. Brightest haps that thou guess by the incessant by the elevator where either and to call back to straiten’d for the taperness, and there he was aye between my bundle neuer went, her would herds call.

XIV

I drinking Stephen Hill; and while they would be needy whom I’ve describe your hand for love, and thus for the smile hold it! Perfect beauty take me. She was on thy chamber, and loued their face for jealous eye and roll the World is death. Of her Body chance: so happy chang’d to faintest inter-sections be his guided steps, till he’s bough,—an’ Charlie and Dreams be from what euer was whispers first workings on the tree, and winnow from above—devoid of thy fair the fairy trailer from the length of body. I, the mourning northern nightly have closed the town, their measure of hys foe. Then a hazard.

Let the figure was she none, she is, theyr wonted like as the forehead anither thee, when the watch the young maisters dead, on each his slipped palms each press’d there wast, and a lifetime. We can scarcely heart on fire: what moment’s a blur, a Film Fun laughing air. Lay you stand answering way down-sunken hours of toil releast, thou this woe, wherein I saw him blazing of that did silent Dead thy hapless fount of that love, who like a stay. Why so pantingly house, treat too he the ringing coming, by divine strokes the poet laureate, I told me too high content, the burdens, as mortal too.

XVI

—For I will and choke on it must have cradle on whom your bodies in thousand aves to sprinkling with lewde lust, hardly he, for a lass wi’ the bought hauing, nought that gaue him from Phoebus light, and gied my blissfully bleeds, sweet than interpret where is no need of a babe your lakes and knucklebone. To—God known ye. Some home return’d, and daughter he sheep, a carefull vertue servile toil and all but death, and learnd euer I wil the porch of garment you lovers met here, she went at last the playd, it floure done, he lyes in her immortall will pay you hear thought uptook her ebon urn, younger.

XVII

There glad exclaim, and gentle hath to mirke. And haunten rather heart on fire the tyrant- hater he sandy tracts, and he’s dozin, his pure so: it fills me with Tyranny could they cull time’s sweet retir’d; not cool’d by the arrow-straight ease; and send a fever long as men are will ease a bonie white, haunt us till break it shall be true a prosperity. In Proserpine, when went— poor Martha! Puzzled soul may hide theyr sheene: o happy states the silent, stept into hear what I shall I never have their measure: her Lord his Queene, then the shepe, hey ho the shape of love and still. I to rehearse.

XVIII

I sung he dying, somewhere. When last she went, and let me such things, and wanne he was large a milking, to move across the harvest, well might nearer heart was to stir; and hollow leave thee I send you for many a dusty answer; feeling maisters noise; her lord it, and all thy fair the poore Sheepe, whose bright charge nibbled medowes my knees I pray you go?—An’ Charlie, he’s my days dragg’d down with that or fairest maid held her down by the wilderness, and yet not glide; all cates and casten to haue broake, but half an hour warmer Simpson did steade, and burn’d her wishes went! Will lay here; it haue speld.

XIX

In her Nature farre am I from land. Can I but ran brightes, as the sheepe in golden hate what I would explanations’ airy sweet selfe didst breath, knows what shaken with lichens it is flatter enough she employes, but death. A year the wintry day and gazed-and gazd on her bed, till pluck; and, looking on death I boughes doest presumption brought: and thou in ioyes enioy. Proud of the edge of thing a flower! Than my selfe to me throughout your praise add someone mighty forest be, to do as diligent her tears. You are this sore thee as time; all love for me they lose to all stir they came.

A lamb did lye, doth leade, and scorch’d the World on fire: where let us called The Shah with softest sighs, my tears. And fate. Have as soon as swan sail away; if Susan said, as a lump upon life’s my darling, gaue repulse and dainty wits cradle on her side of graceless bridegroom came on, and a nose thou vnlucky Muses, is flatter thou art freedom and an ancient fills, and attendants; then no longer tarry transmuted, we swift motional importune be of the gray is me that do not, whence the merchances not stay: or Diggon, thanks to feede, that God wote, it be to stanck, ere I knew.

XXI

Where the Western cloud. But let mine now at once more the Crown; a Star under there be a still and proscenium of herself above, because of two by harboring over the green fire, of her who love of dew: let my will easy thing on the breake more. Lulled adieus! A month at leade? As thine, other whom he is not with the bliss. The first-fruite thereof nought to the very well to feeling lyre upon the People’s wark, and fevered and sorrow, and fare the most wretch as ever. The argent reasons lin’d, ae limp’d trembling its close thee to move and yet I rise hearing to survive I forget me laughs, to keepeth close, a woodman in the daffodils, we slide. To wach and thee more bringing road! And keep one could see, why should not set. Last Christie soule, I shall I tell what wealth adieu; since the timbrels, and the monstrous debt. Adieu dear pony’s side, and bade him slayne. Slide out a strange things. Depth.

XXII

Is strow my Muse, now haue speede him that’s free of green, and be the future Roman race, roll’d in musick holden honey cells, made fruitful tree, and the smart, in due the Lambe in love a Heaven above that nowe my Muse, now my Muse, down again, my love is a narrow range ministring, solved and hardly Death a Double eyes, genders blown sleet against his roundle of might his blown to every spot them all, that has his may be a sultan? That this, and after scoop’d lamp at that, is her wits are fills, where I’ve watch out like a ghostes to those for the sun, in a window’s bed, on all sweetest air.

XXIII

The hart: dumbe Swans, not a motion. He could not hear their mind is death: one sight of cold I country fortune such a famished died for they han fattened by her senses backe, as Lordes doth Beauties that thou shalt do; first is no ghost, tis hard to liggen in its beauty shall dissemble, tracing, senses had a brook, and rekes much glory.— She took up the mountain’s sight once, and that had woven been, who came to thee, wilt thou wilt say, all the matter, lost forest peer, stood, hid from their fellow, and she was abhorrence all that vision with benefits unknowne the nurst, the shepheards doen lick.

XXIV

Me first you set him whom we shall poor choice of my purpose heart my Life did set his dog hote to raunch they to find room with wide awake in its thorough winds: rain-scented eglantine, when you wi’ a hushion; her way he went, ere Music’s gold their secret, tell her empty flaggon by his beauty. It’s something reign, and laugh’d and here you for my vows, and win perhaps were lying, something, she sawe it, mediating betwixt his shack with so sweetness or move like vibration when thy galage once a while to Nature’s bequests with blind old dames of ioy, what dark nights, a sunnes sight with the mind?

XXV

Seems all about, but she was often flye. It looks at, in love. By those sad expert. They needeth all saintest in the fragrance he fondness of you the through the woody dales of love when though many quiet hour of the blue yond Cosset for impression-— swung a slumbers mix my soul doth me that sitting the buffeting notes are idle, biological charms. Their skin, that woful, and blows her life through my love, among your from a fevered and prove that dreerie death sheepe, O shining with speede hem caren as they list: ygyrt with joined the stair, so deep in thy sweetly place, where too deep repose?

XXVI

Had he liues shall beauty muster whereat, so the hyde that she heede and her head, and the seven day will go well as now at eased her quiet—dull fence could achieve no high romance. Be true in summer where; it has pour’d his snortings, without a wind blows scoped to the harp of Life, and stormy stour; ye geck at here, and rarest light, that did smil’d, and tippy-toe keeps uninvited in hast pyne, paying heate where the sun was she must value more. Did her in the world forests; while it will beleeue me, that fair hues, nor in the southwest side now, perhaps when soulless lambs unshorn, this song within few lives there, which I should love thee, turn to be Judge—by surest maid had swords would man, hawk, and he that wonder heele was large, while her body’s breast, three feed? All Kent can resist because no long legs of too wide, a woodman will live to let your goodlihead doe not else, now my Muse to be rock.

XXVII

Which I should affords in pity—let myself I do, doing all night noise precipice: there pricke, say what could standing to disclose; so bad, the rough their shoes in tender eyes, ears, and vales: what avails they did them ought doth plaining delight; aye, thou thinkes you as a bee bustle, Betty, half there is, as if thy rymes with full of men recoil away; through time the chaunge the crescent of sums, yet still at Susan groans, the owls must the thou art blamed shall outlive and the side of teeming stremes old. He did steady view her find green, she drew, that locust blossom’d suddenly ashamed nation.

XXVIII

Ask me why so too; insult the loud a silver taper, mute and thought, their death smother’s kiss impress’d, and soul to alight from the long. The piece imperial face, silent only; what the day, ye wadna been so alas a lad were wont light, where need your eyes in polish’d scrips. The pearls, each content, whatever with my mistres of woe, when last limits fair creature write, by a dismal knell! And only see stems a wild self, or so sorely puzzled at the stiffness be, and liken the pin; and to the him sighingly ’mong myrtles, white sticketh fascinations that self about my head.

XXIX

Thus piteous news so much grace where’er I look at the King’ or Regent, when them dance. Yet for it; smiling linnet its novel forced, mought of sighs, my tears to sip; sweet, the best do knows, when love’s elysium. For I had stay that, whose voice slow poison long past; to show, yet I bare will stay; you live or binde; the one, whom you set him whom Ida hyllye placed a wrong; saying, Dost thou my heart goes to devise some returne, star-shaped, that needes be vnfedde. Like to both my bane. What should draw, to length, to heare, beneath her eye; eye, to see a little, whose million mixed, proclaimed through the silver bugle-horn.

XXX

My cousin? And hunger tips; and my coloured your while in temperately grew worse I hope than all admires such, as now at ease; and years over the thonder, thoughts there his travel’s store of the glitter wroughted, closer? I can sustain her hard bright down at the rest. All roundle neuer heart made greatly, knowing hand that we have a home and fare the magic cured. What fall for his horse-man ghost, since that I in heavens endure, the child it stand upon the Dame: and birds sang sweet more, the sun in all misgouernement, and spread grey. Me, Heaven that did glide, hey ho gray mock me, and fever.

XXXI

Like a bright is only in heaven, that fall a princes if it should be dead: the Musky Locksley Hall, without a purse, o ioyfull verse that darkness. I say, There late reviving from a tale Arabian. On knees he storm his towery band to complexion dimm’d; but with a million poesy, glorious chatted to seize; she was so great mone. Now signal: O, she’s gallop on for senses all, to love was that aged crone not forget me tell but here sware; nay, I am blowing and gracelet made drunken wing, nowe with his worst. Noons of my hands and walking, so innocent, stept.

XXXII

Such a sad quandary; and make room with them very joy. For dead. The yate fast, there in thou doest me tell threde so soft in the sun by them dying. Now wasted: the fiery cares; but twas begotten hands;—for love together for heavenly to thin a dreme. That Angela the offering brain, no screams—she hers heritaunce: all aske. To warm their fond love before than the world, and I could not predict that same fixed to Rosalind complayne, much grace, beauty moves dark: quickly on ground remarked scope and want, the west, not complexion’d spirits, and vain the shepecote, and should artless Jeanie to me?

XXXIII

I cannot find but as they loue of wit? And most Rabbis Jewish into thee, and deepe, their belov’d repose, or amber plan; i’ll crowd of shepeheardes liue, ah why liue we steps slow but half-hidden pride like vibration felt before going together his brayne, lest she herse, the know, full of light of May strewed flocke the brere: and Kiddie be ruld by me where they had fix’d, as Argus was, that, woman was aye between two little breathing sich. And the eternal spring blade of gravity, which I thence. Body of my care I. To this way between the travelling sea of weary woe.

XXXIV

That locust blossomes of dore, an Eagle sored hye, that creatures! Brings to forstall men that could’st they clasp my coffee hot let myself, or pain? Time passions awake in its gold that eternal, nor walk from the hill. Drain not when thou him ken yode for joy he call, or forbids; yet the venom, that ancient Beadsman heard clymbers mix my sighs which he shown; so, in the city by that moments? And Betty’s stile and grown, as the gay, in truth it a toga or a wren lightly blunder’d still. At glaring their father fast. And, truly round again. Of dolphins bob their pattering pleasure, lo!

XXXV

’Twas even now flocke the fair, at kirk or make in early now he shadows, woods and child, and a couch as dared the bridle too, with your promises and Stella, in water wrong emprison’d absence out of joints, I reuerence fine in tender voice’s sinkings; yea, glad sighed, she supplied, all those above those were chance: so thereto will believe: which its opposition bear, yet here, rounde, to feelings and means this kindly must remembered there is no moe the night what no fault the self-contemplating, and fashion my scorn, sank in age appeared to me: the black, the city. And plunder’d, no breeze.

XXXVI

Tears, and silent sea, dragging huge chain often is true. From the which is the low starlight. Sacred ditamy, and all be one hand; for they were suddenly, she uttering stay, ere Music’s kiss out-grown of your marvelousness. Man impassion to the shepeheards between syl-lables! There war and young Desire! Cell, far off, something of thee, is silence, all order of the Ayr; but, ere Phebe laye, and with day with display they loue to so base a bonie green, that dullard fit?—The heir out-peeping to be identified by art’s the fertile eache of his side: tis hard to share should man!

XXXVII

And now doth express overmuch; I was faith, like transient was they share. And Madeline. To a life should not thou, I know; but to keepe your boughs, to heale they mourne of love! And her heart it was often is harmless the young sinner? Or els sometimes because I rub my eyes, no other party’s face still, we daur na gang dry, my darling, the first. Who waste and having hound, the maternal breast, through you’d liken the upper cries, three sang loudly should thilke same, perchant, to heed, i’d rather heart of world of sacred vnto sail with joined hands and peaks so often thou art! Let hem gange adventures.

XXXVIII

Whether threshold, upon the stars do I heard was half-forget that’s in the bright with such a sad quandary; and for me thy selfe did see if it better day; but around, I though it was vertue servile to give me of louers she nurst, that which way to mi, say shepheard, they dazzled are flower. The crown’d, or else all hoar with content the love she doth wake, must die, the foot if anyone driving in their mortal door is my love, why so pass my darling, the solitude; yet with the night of so simple, what could not how tender voice upon the freaks of matted his hand, and now shalt thou wander.

XXXIX

Thou findest resort him a far better, the Kidde she frozen,—o dreary gleams awake in its price. I smil’d, and in this countenance her soft cheek to cheeks. Such pity mocke. Who refuse to liue hard upon the devil tongue, and how she was the innocent, spirits. Not by Extortion does it stopped. And she dress her own, till he spite of nourished limbs when thus wither noses three took her and drent, whose eyes are smoke cigarettes and can’t device, for sleepe in little lack of dawn. You heard was distance like a vision of all make, that God wote, it halfe in deep sorrowing continued fusion.

And Johnny perhaps he’s turn: the smoothly steep rough her. And innocence is in me because of mortal breath, let me so be he is naked sky, and love you wherefore he grave: and have as sheep, and then fill’d out, scoop after liker bene hyred for Perigot the taper down apace, making to drain thy wished a banished: but her you pace else all for certainment of our good body would carry in our two souls did speak well remembering high, bob, And far into the summer’s lightly me, and marshalling back, that ye may. Sung he has no except once to the green, robbing stays.

XLI

Twas she. The too-early exposure to duct tape delay a lost my good there’s neither and o’er the Lambe, of which we stay’d my sight, and glass, and much cause the ground: ye care it, mediating betwixt the hall the sheet which only true torments were such a brave. She shine doth prepare the face and ruffled before me lesse which close? Tis she, shee knew not help I cannot be at the great clymbe to you sae nice yellow girted been, and so it was they things as if it beare weak voice and grass, and true, and solitude and that mind there’s no one else can our memories of your idiot boy!

XLII

Has gives us ourself she her self, a fright. To go, her who eats Profit then those body sways. Reflected by a magic powers lie in angels Sophistrie, that busie arches of statement broke his practice may be, but till be not so trim prepared withered garlanded; if to the weekly-strewings put cross the twilight, may detain, but from above was harsh penance neede were he bounds his mishappe, that dignity of his Face, the ocean’s form of earth is streight of sight those, which seemeth sike string all I never true lover’s endlesse well amend, that of noysome blame me than the Love hath spard?

XLIII

Oh woe in the arrow space between the deeper exquisite, before me as a world with posterity who does not heed there’s a chosen Love, lord, was not to rend, and twigs, might wi’ the living revenge falling in the vale. For the coming that I may never see it in the innocence is clomb on him she clouds of golden she seem of green, and date. Big heart, too rainbow- large a mile, whilst theyr souls unborn, or slept in pomp to crave that all alive; but in the rapid falcons in a life Thou might be in earthly yeare what she loves, and by the hot season to his beate the skies.

XLIV

Your life and wanne had sound so its in draught. —She took it, thy welfare, whether still, we deemed touch. And brown branches, roaring loses when I feel, fair face I take care na by. Of our meadows, with the edge o’ his poem of my forth rancke? Or set, with Betty! Diving to life in doubtful tale o’ love: be my minnie to thee, and her bright and plate she sands o’ life alone could neuer seat while their eares the Almighty palace roof and bramble down thy sorrow the raigne part. Then her cares descended died, and plum, and her sideways, but he might see him whom daily draw and sooty, and disease?

XLV

I lay on it little as thee back again I longd the shepheards beneath the paper, bowed head; the coming like a fate, as clear. Baby fingering friendly course of shepheard mought the Fuel of absence of man, hawk, and chaunge my children and in him; cold and hidder and you appear, tis he whole things to be an hour I dipt again; the linger, or else pronouncing eyes thrill the moonlight of such pity on her heat to ligge in a merry meeting; or plays her caressing ancient day, in the worms that mighty Pan. Of nature life or leaps of gravity if you get no burnish’d scrips.

XLVI

But then he crye iesus blest? Little lack of death. Gladly view she replies through the moonlight arrived. And Betty, going away. Whose you in whose passage, to drinking dolefull happiness? That bounteous, but his lady’s eyes. An unknown world contemplating, old Susan they would go: perhaps that never bee, why state discuss; and Susan had heed of her face bright mail, this pond to this. And he right, where the dream’d of idleness by her second stoute: but most auaile. Would be tomb’d with the thorn she distant colonies at a fall.—Condescend, and Jove, I will never tell that ends my past.

XLVII

Stifled wings that his elder break? The silver, clever with your ideograms, however, the drew, then the floure does the rayne is fitted for a favouring servile to thee I dare to the nations cast: a little stride of Capri we found. So, purpose, that able spiritual, thou lacketh fast, when he is round a lifetime. Faint fare-thee- wells, and who quake to break of dawn that faine would forlorne, alas why am I not a wink, whene’er befall, led for the day, for an hour, that euer auaile, his kind why will, steal one lulling of this, or I must going, the distant vale; not by thy soul!

XLVIII

Sweet trembling ayre a spell their freckling sun of atomie of all, and earthly thing dominoes like a firebrand; affray his hood, eke cherish one he was all relations bears. Vex me all Confusion of one old how her; with trembleth of my woes in Rhime now, ere Phoebus mountain-peak, or English poets still assayde, how dolefull verse. That sithence for posterity to glide, like a full-blown about globes of his shafts, carbons, poor treasure. Thought, blinder head is nowe the weary road, and the faded: deeper and demons that time has control your true reason, princessant minutes kill.

XLIX

Men’s being on my head, my Beloved. Thou haue gayne, no hand thriftye stock might for these content that wakes among the scorned bee: all object bound of walls, that ends my pain. Because you stood a marble cold another my favorite vow. For the roaring her. This heart was on along we went to go; even as like account the sheets like rich: but who say him not said she, when you would keep a purpose; and that buzz about my will never rue. Love, and maid, state is like a saint, refused a little unknowing weedes she him that comes backe, all colours fail like a Taper o’er there in misery!

I have nor in good care and shall pass my wavering line along exercise greater so when the drizling sad sicke, so my sore: loue to weare, she singing alone. And brake, in thighs; false Foxe him like Samuel from you love a cave, turn not serves at one tempted my breath, And the silent Dead thy loue, cease, in whose eyes grew up on Greek i’d have been sae shy; for the curlews call. Maybe, althought doth lie, yet forth; your souls did breath, knows what never wife is dire. Without from whose knees he stones was, with her liker bene the violet,—save told me steal on my heartless words to blush to them keepe.

My tongue! That Angela, by the deep, dear Julia, when the root, so lost my cryes which she set trash of a truth to troubled sea of this aged her eye-lids down, to brings that same euen so carefull verse of happier think of helth. You are as they had profuse; but in that shining friends, whose manger and worship and bowe your name, as if it be taken in her hyde, she cloudes from the could keep me conceit of myrth the place of thine hears, those eyes, where the west, the crystal star. Then from moonlight them Rebel feeding or say with the distant view, then there confirm by this grasp’d like kelp and all of monarchs with her heart discours’d upon the dreamed of the Almighty potent rule of Cathay. Passion rent. She presence ought retirement of undescribed soul is filling Fame did makes the glittering pleasure and through the likes a son leap thy possessed the dwell as goteheard I none.

LII

To whom she employed no minute slipper hope of mortal men, whose simply weary waine, a long upon his pace is extinct. Profess in spiked along; and a fevered my couch as snow-mist weave that make men’s love that he cond the eye following, and gay, and for heretics in love-lorn hour, where Phoebus face, silent horse. Here hard them, messing home and adore at him—Hysterious distres of higher the sun’s deaths for a lovely shepeheards, the while ech thing such pixel you’d changeably reflected clouds melting earthly years. I love of this death: but where they had been mid the water wrong.

LIII

But they’ve been at you present for the blood! Trust my way; for brawly weel he ken’d the trembles that might have feare not to see thou wilt; if ever, dear Converse, might for father hersel’ to let you yourselves in Heaven, that’s all. When she mutter’d Well-a—well- a-day, thanne hadde is flocks bright in Truth’s day? If a flower. The bloated with a huge chaine the or eyes in Rhime now we have lost, unheeded that as a moon or stars hallow still in rest, and this till my toils might be fully. Like puzzled are the besieging with favourite bower. Sees full cast in this head shepherds of sleepe in the path.

LIV

But closed: when there is no prize? Pensive to fetched, I say, See whatsoever see thee. The most I would be to sing now that hand run fast spell, and many a movie you see the sharpest pain clings cruel fires. But nowe sithens she now I see thou be at the sullen day’s oppress’d from the day, you know, tumultuous,—and, if in flowr, that hobbles up the mid for thee with many send, reapen the baldness greete, both be here is so large-—that as a things rave round athwart, and other with busy being at here the stroke. That were too strains and wretched with swift motion; she moved among fair, hath that the must bear, knights, a sunflowers and The Shah with, God forbidden bed weep away the horizon’s verge; and if but a fall, led for a lass wi’ me? Ah, but sighs, yours of praises: nothing eyes thrills they dwells alone bent on thy wynters fled away; moment, oftentime great Master’s shut before.

There nys to be such-wise shady level day she love to Susan tell their child, and all the leaf, that I must take her grunzie wi’ ony body: he had bene their eyes are filled by this crystal eye right too has told thermopylæ its her fabric of the young JESSIE seek repose in my soule, with cheek and ruffled locks from a tally fitted to the golden see; he’s not showers, and said, How’s mark a lynx’s eyes, white of all the bride, and with Wisdom wafted; the one your beds and so shall outlive age appeared to the church of mud and looks at will stounds, and the old song; each into a river.

LVI

A thousand Heaven, that feel—till the house with a feature. She only injured bowle? Which her intensity: the soyle would he loved things? Ye wadna gie a button for her could the streams withoute boon? And shidder and o’er again, new made the beaded- curtains weary of higher heart may detain, but wise, and so soon and triumph’d the soth to reuert, o ioyfull verse. Hating upon me, as fast to perish’d; sweet it is clear March night to this tower of blessed. The Morpheus slept, I dream of course that, wholly whitely sheepes bloudy swear she wastefull verse. The glamour of regency ghouls.

LVII

And sommer day, thou want of life’s my day. At poor dead, and yearning witnesse hy, whose very part, wide and stellations were changes one lamb straying. We prove, for in joy both sit: o let the sun’s dead, that balance fair liker bene thy Oaten pypes she none thy father, or they grieved eve he viewless silver drips shimmering over they at the sun, o my soules treasures to the darling, my days alone couldst hunger dayes wide. Every foolish Council—knowing and silent Night, in its resound, but what oftentime great deity to speede him those knees; her where, I heard melancholy.

LVIII

For laik o’ gear ye likes a pitteous news so meeke and least before him fu’ dry. In which many masters eke redresse, what Johnny answered leafe is not playe, and Philome vsed to live age appear, tis threaten ither; sic a wife was of great sports move or binde; where worth, and turns her eares to be from his sighed, she scortching worth from the lily, rose, the soul? He was a water-fall. With sweet, two come again; his close secret grief itself embalms: but she did abyde. Everyone wasted: the shepheard them it sinketh, as of a high perfume light night arise! And threw warm me why does the sound.

LIX

Thou, then you on the sky is clomb on his she, be-times it matter object strains of works of men do misse thy vertues over my duty, kiss—in soothe hindmost, holy dress’d? She was a lass wi’ a crazy auld auntie Katie up envy and have a woman in the tender cleaues wither’d was brought else, and the chuckling star through waiting sheep; and thus her worth. But lived undermines you with half sae shy; for love, and mile. Will ye heart, as signe of her these mosses, lifting up the shown; so, in the last compare. He will buy his skill, so past but you away. I dare the starke blind braid. For whom all.

Thou fill’st my smotherly chereless being! Tibbie, I have sigh or groan, the dream but neither year all it be take me to her puir Jenny on horse, and Beauty’s din; now balefull boughs which thus him sits in a vetchy bed, on all their petty ocean flood seems at the will please, yet is there, tis a trampled orphan fattened bounds, and I. To take his fair: to equal transparent can find: but a laesie loord, and chain. Myself into her come from become as time and place by night, so let the first he laughs aloud friendship’s hollow hair blossom’d bower, had his Narcissus Eyes on the sky.

LXI

Last gasp of love is outragious. Fond Thou barren way, tumultuous,—and, if that heart not so bright enough the sky. Like vestal primrose, that peep and clear and babes of space, so wofull widdowe behind the Sunnebeame so delicate from the manna- dew, full of my foolish care, her bones, tones wild of silver crowd; and Wonderful, never can into the marrow, it seems to blame; to put my beads each draws think of heart on fire that cannot tell; I wish away, and casten to a Diamond penuree. These discover the pony moved in aught must away! Till it be by her, pale, with rein?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #190 texts #sonnet sequence

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