#a hundred songs of valor

[atypicalacademic]

Thank you for the tag, @cumbiazevran ily!! Making my DA canon OCs in this picrew! Warden(s), Hawke and Inquisitor.

Rahvi Brosca, Gaadha Mahariel, Milena Hawke and Narein Cadash

Tagging @greyvvardenfell @ollifree and @wild-houseplant if you'd like !

[xuchiya]

need to know [j.yunho]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ I heard from a friend of a friend That dick was a ten out of ten ₊˚.༄

  Yunho has been busy lately and you were not liking one bit of it. It has been weeks since you wanted to hang out with him and considering that he had been rejecting your invites; maybe it is time to spend some days without and let yourselves be on your own stories.

You can't blame Yunho for taking responsibility for his father's company so why would be a bad friend to him?

You dress up in less clothing for your stream much less by a short crop hoodie that shows a little of your cleavage then your tiny boxer shorts. A streamer of summer, that was your nickname given by your fans— Summer. You have always been a streamer for playing horror whether be a psychological or thrill chasing games, maybe sometimes by playing valorant.

    You were at first called out for dressing way too– short nonetheless you explain that you tend to be really comfortable with playing in less clothing and people see your excellence in playing. You throw on anti-rad glasses before starting your stream, “What is up my dudes! It’s your streamer– Summer and we’ll continue playing Poppy Playtime!”

 While waiting for the game to load, you read the comments, “Looking good as always …  Thank you … Playing alone today? Yeah since they didn’t want to play this one. San is too scared …  Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s currently busy— he’s been busy nowadays so I had to play this alone. “

  After the chapter ended, you were left with a heart attack and sore throat from getting sudden jump scare but overall you enjoy the whole game, you look towards at the camera, “Well that is it for the chapter 2 since the chapter 3 will be out soon and …” glancing at the time to see that you have been playing for just an hour, “aye it’s still early. Do you guys want me to play or just talk with you guys?”

  Some comments were saying to talk since it has been a while since you went live so you went with their request, “Okay okay I’ll answer some questions then …”

 “Since when did I start playing? I think it was around 3 years ago that I started streaming through the gameplays? I was 14 when I started doing my gameplays …”

“You dance? Of course, Yeosang and Wooyoung are actually my classmates in a studio we enrolled in.” 

“Where’s Yunho? Oh he’s at work, I’m little sad he has not been spending time with me like … Tell me your schedule, I got a lotta new tricks for you .. I’M KIDDING HAHAHA!”

“Do you like Doja Cat? Yes, a hundred percent yes, I’m a huge fan of hers speaking of that …” You opened your phone to show them your last song you listened to, “I swear this is my go to song when I’m feeling myself you know…” You chuckle showing them a hand gesture down to our body.  Some of your fans ask you to play the song, some of them want you to sing or mouth the lyrics, you cackle at the last one.

  “I can’t do that, it looks weird but we can still let this play and talk …”     The music plays—affecting not only your fans, not you who is feeling the actual lyrics but the one who has been watching from their phone ever since you started streaming. 

 “Do you want to know a french word? Je suis excite.. Je suis excite, that means I’m excited right? Excite probably is exciting .. Am I right?” you said your eyes were widened a little bit, looking at the comment section for confirmation and you see some were saying yes, right and correct.

 But little did you know, it meant something different else.

 Their pants had made themselves quite uncomfortable, tight and suffocating as their eyes not only stare at your gameplay but at your display cleavage. As much as they tried to not to look like a pervert but how could he— He has desires that he tried to stir away; afraid to ruin your friendship but with you said those words as if telling him that you are horny. Adding to the fact you just said something along the line of having ‘tricks’.

  “Ohmygosh I should go to sleep or Seonghwa-oppa would smack me in the head … I’ll see you guys soon.” You did your outro and the live ended.

  Yunho tucked back his phone, walking inside your shared apartment. He and you were able to share an apartment under your brother’s permission since they both work for the same company and he did not mind as long as you both had an agreement or house rules settled.

 Those words were a huge trigger to him as he had been evading your presence; as much as dumb it sounds, his dick can not cooperate with him. Whether you were in your hoodie or favourite pajamas, nothing beats when he wants you all for himself. Love you, praise you, worship you, choke you, dick you down—

  “Oh yuyu!” You were startled when you exit your room to see Yunho leaning on the counter with a cold drink in his hand, his eyes landing on your figure and all his last string snap when you just walk in with your zipper open, exposing your tits out.

  You tried to cover them last minute but Yunho was faster, grabbing your wrist, spinning you to pin you on his chest. He leaned down, voice gruff from the pain in his pants and overwhelming horniness spilling out of his body, “nice way to greet me … tits out? Do you walk around with this …” his other free hand ran up to your chest, playing with your nipple and giving it a squeeze, making you moan a little too loud but to Yunho's liking.

 “I-I thought you won’t be home … fuck! “ Yunho breathy laugh, giving your other boob the same treatment but this time adding a slap on it, your back arching in the pain and pleasure making your ass brush up on his hard dick in his pants. 

  “Feel that? you’re the cause of it … now be a good girl for me and choke yourself on my cock.” 

  

“F-fuck! … Yunho– Oh my God!” your face was red and sweaty from how many hours Yunho had you pinned down on your bed, taking you from behind; had his dick ramming himself back and forth, hitting every inch of your walls then his tip knocking at your cervix several times as if trying to reach a deeper part of you to bury his cum.

  “You don’t know how long i wanted to fuck you so dumb that it makes me want to go faster and harder on you .. do you like that? Do you want me to keep hammering you down on this bed like a bitch on heat?” You never knew Yunho was into this kind of thing, rough and mouthy.

 You were crying out of pleasure as Yunho drilled his cock deeper and deeper until you clench around him that had him smacking his (veiny) hands on your ass, “Yu-Yunho— eugh fuck– I’m gonna cum, gonna cum– !” Yunho continues slamming his hips as your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, creaming his dick and milking him dry. Yunho chuckles, wrapping one of his hands around your throat, pulling you closer, bottomless.

  “You like that huh? You like it when I fuck you this hard?” You dive on the sheets, Yunho's pace persistent in making his dick wet and creamy on your puffy pussy. You look over your shoulders, engulfed in overwhelming bliss, you speak with assertive tone, “clap me, choke me, bite me Yunho.” 

 Yunho pulls out, leaving just the tip inside as he adjust his grip from your throat down to your hips, in spite of that he shoves back while you pulling back, “FUCK!” you cried, your fingers circling around his wrist, “Yu-yu — wait you’re going too fast.”

 He shakes his head, his eyebrows arching, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t cum yet and we can fuck all night baby.” He keep thrusting back and forth,leaning forward to grasp both of your nipples in his fingers, twisting, pulling them.

  Your head swirling with so much euphoria that it sent electricity vibrating down your pussy as you were reaching your second orgasm quickly, this time a little different from the last one, long strings of ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’.

  “Tell me baby, i need to know one thing …” He licks his lips, pressing you on his bare chest, continue to pound inside of you, almost nearing his climax, “come on baby, i didn’t fuck you that dumb did i? Now answer me.”

  You were breathing hastily, orgasm around the corner but you know best that if you don’t speak now, Yunho won’t let you cum, “Wh-What is it?”

  “Have you been fantasising about this one? Did someone tell you?” You nodded, your head moving swiftly, you felt his chest vibrate as he breathy laughs, “Yeah? 

“ y-yes…”

“From who?”

  Your throat clogged yet you oblique, moaning when his tip brushes on your cervix once again, your dignity slowly crashing but who could you blame? You were fantasising all of this for the longest time that you slipped out to one of your friends about your huge daydream to Yunho that one of your friends may or may not slip about him.

  “I heard .. I heard from a friend of a friend … that your dick is better than their exes.” His hip halted, pulling out— groaning at the emptiness but you were taken back when Yunho pulled you off the bed and towards your balcony; your eyes widened as he pushes you the makeshift knitted lounge chair.

  “Well one …” yunho’s lips brush on your ears warmly, “I have never met your friends …” He inserted himself back in, slamming back on your pussy, “And second well .. they’re not wrong.”

 Yunho pace didn’t falter as he locked his arms on yours, your arms pulled on your back; your chest full on display, bouncing each time Yunho hammered back. Broken groans left Yunho and you were also reaching your climax, “Fuck yunho!” 

 “Take my cum like a good girl!” Your eyes were clouded in euphoria, feeling full as he spurted all his cum inside you, painting your walls white. Your hole clenches on his dick before gushes of your juice burst, wetting his dick and the lounge chair.

  Yunho let go of your arms and replace his softening dick with his fingers, brushing them left and right as you squirt, your lips puckering

“Oh look at that, such a good girl. Keep squirting baby~” Yunho slaps, wipe your pussy letting you ride on your orgasm before he pulls away. Your knees gave out, thankfully Yunho caught you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and at the back of your knees. He leads you both to your bathroom, setting you on the cold marble tile of your sink.

   Yunho settles you on the bathtub, warm water with bubbles of rose were floating on the water. You sigh contentedly, “Is this what I get for flashing you my boobs to you?”

  He laughs, shaking his head as he settles at the other end of the tub, “You want a princess treatment?” His eyes watch you carefully, cheek flaring. You played with the foam bubbles, “If you don’t mind me being your girlfriend then yeah, I want a princess treatment.”

Yunho leans towards you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, "Deal."

 It was something you and Yunho had in common. Straightforwardness. Yet here you both are, in a situation you thought is just all in your head and fantasy.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

😬😬 I put the song and dresses at the bottom of the post for context!

part twenty-eight

❝ DECODE ❞

SATURDAY — JULY 28 — 7:24PM

BENTLEY AND ASTEN STAYED IN THEIR ROOM FOR A WHILE. Asten didn’t cry for very long, but he did eventually take to sitting eerily silent at the desk, staring off at nothing, and it kinda made Bentley wish he were still crying. He just sort of sat on his bed, unsure of what to say. Asten never, ever acted that way — there was only one day out of the year when he went uneasily quiet, and it was the anniversary of his parents deaths. No matter what bad things happened to him, or around him, he never acted like this.

To say Bentley was concerned would be a bit of an understatement.

The only thing that finally drew them out of their room was a barrage of loud slams from the living area — someone banging on the door of their dorm.

That was the first time Bentley and Asten made eye contact for a good hour. Asten’s green eyes were dull; layered over with something like pain, like fear, and it didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. They looked like his eyes but they… didn’t, at the same time. When Bentley was around him, he could feel a new sort of tangible emptiness that followed him around like a cloud everywhere he went. 

It hurt Bentley to see him like that. He hadn’t acted like that in a long time — not since he was on a roof with Jason holding a gun to his own head. Since then, he’d been so rock solid and level headed that Bentley thought Asten was unmovable.

But all it took was a girl and he was… unraveling. At an alarming pace.

Bentley smiled supportively at him, but he was sure it looked more like a forced half-cringe. Asten just looked away and stood up.

With a sigh, Bentley followed suit, rising from his bed and heading to the door. He grabbed the knob and, with a glance back at Asten to make sure he was ready, twisted it.

Before his eyes, he watched Asten’s entire demeanor change — the emptiness vanished from his expression, his eyes went from dull to shiny and bright in a flash, and he looked…. normal. Content. Like he was watching him build a brick wall right before his eyes to separate his feelings from the him everyone else saw.

He wondered how often Asten did that. He seemed… good at it.

Nonetheless, Bentley swung their door open just in time to see Varian swing the dorm’s door open. He couldn’t see who was on the other side, because the door was in the way, but he and Asten filed out of their bedroom anyhow.

“Hey!” Varian said, and his chipper tone let Bentley know that it was at least someone he liked. (Not that that meant much, seeing as Varian was pretty much friends with everyone in the school.)

“Hey!” An all-too familiar, bubbly, high-pitched voice called in response. Layla stepped through the door and glanced around at them. Bellamy hadn’t moved from the couch, and Koa was still at the table, but now, Rockie and Valor were posted up on the couches and bean bags, too. Her light eyes bounced between the seven of them. “Ah, I caught all of you!”

She was wearing what looked like a white dress, but with a Redwood Academy crewneck over the top of it, so it looked more like a shirt and skirt. She had on these big platformed white tennis shoes that made her a few inches taller than she really was. Her blonde hair was tied in a big knot on the top of her head.

“Okay, hi! Here’s the thing,” She stated, glancing around at all of them with an amused smile. “Who, out of all of you, is going to the dance tonight?”

Bentley glanced over at the rest of his roommates, and they all glanced at each other, his gaze catching on Rockie, Valor, and Bellamy in quick succession. Not a single one of them moved. (At least Bentley wasn’t alone in his refusal to attend social events.)

Layla made an exasperated sound, and her expression pulled into a frown. “None of you?!”

When no one responded, but simply looked between each other again, she rubbed her hand over her face with a groan. “Okay, well, that won’t work.”

“What’s up?” Varian questioned, sitting down on the dining bench and tilting his head at her (very much like a dog, Bentley thought.)

She glanced over at him, then looked between everyone else with a cheeky smile, her blue eyes lingering on Bentley’s brown ones for a beat longer than the rest that made him feel funny. “Yeah, well, the thing is — you all have to go.”

Bentley glanced over at Rockie when he grumbled: “What?” With an incredibly unamused look on his face.

It wasn’t mandatory, was it?

“Before you get all offended, let me tell you why,” She started, kicking their door closed with her white shoe. “It’s because me and my roommates have a surprise for you guys. But we can only show you at the dance.”

A surprise, but only at the dance? Bentley furrowed his brow and glanced over at Asten, who looked equally unsure. There was a long moment of silence.

“Yeah, this feels like a trap,” Valor muttered, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at her. “What’re you up to?”

“It’s not a trap! Promise!” Layla replied, holding her hands up in surrender. “Dead serious. There’s going to be something we want you to see there.”

Bentley glanced at Asten, who glanced back at him. Whatever Layla was trying to get them to do, he was about ninety-nine point nine percent sure it would be harmless. She wasn’t mean, and she didn’t want anything bad to happen to them, let alone by her own hand. So even if she did have something mischievous planned, it was probably no more than a funny prank.

There was a deep sigh, and Bentley glanced back at Valor, who sat himself up straighter on the couch. “We don’t even have anything to wear,” He continued.

“Just wear the button ups and pants from your uniforms!” She exclaimed, getting this triumphant look on her face like she’d come up with that before she even knocked on their door.

Bentley heard Koa snicker. “We’re gonna walk in matching. Like one direction.” 

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be so stubborn!” Layla tutted. “You don’t even have to stay the whole time, just for a little while. It would mean a whole lot to a certain someone if you could make it.”

Varian hummed. “And who is this someone?”

“It would give away the surprise if I told you!” Layla rebuddled, putting her hands on her hips. “Look — please just swallow your pride and show up. For just a little while. Please? It’s important.”

Bentley, again, looked to the rest of his roommates to gauge their answers. 

“I’ll go. Can’t hurt anything,” Varian shrugged, glancing back at everyone else. 

Valor exhaled heavily, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, sure, you’ve convinced me.”

“That’s a yes for all of you, then?” She asked, smiling like a dork as her eyes flicked to the remaining roommates. A myriad of sure and I guess rang through the room, and finally, her blue eyes met Bentley’s again. And she looked so excited and hopeful…

He inhaled. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” She squeaked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m so excited! See you there!”

Then she bounced back out of their dorm, shut the door, and everyone sighed collectively.

“Well,” Valor sighed. “I guess we better start getting ready, then. It starts in, like, an hour.”

Bentley sighed lightly, glancing over at Asten, who glanced back at him.

Per usual, he found himself doing the thing he repeatedly said he wasn’t going to do.

(Yay…)

—

Bentley felt like a fish out of water walking from their dorm to the Einstein building, where the gym was, despite wearing the exact same thing everyone else was wearing. Most other guys they’d seen on the way were wearing it too, actually, using their uniforms to double as formal wear.

Bentley wasn’t quite sure what to make out of the whole dance surprise thing. He trusted Layla, but he also… just didn’t really want to go. Bellamy had opted out by simply not coming out of his room, and now, as he and the rest of his roommates crossed the campus looking like a boyband, Bentley was starting to wish he had, too. The sun was going down, making everything glow gold. He could see sparkly dresses around the front doors as they drew nearer.

“This is gonna be the longest night of my life,” Asten grumbled to Bentley as they walked. He was staying close to his right side, just as uncomfortable and awkward as he was. “School dances are not my scene.”

“Yeah…” Bentley replied. “Maybe we won’t have to stay long.” He wasn’t sure why, but the familiar feeling of anxiety was starting to buzz under his skin again. (Weren’t dances kinda like galas?)

Asten inhaled. “Maybe…”

Valor, Rockie, Varian, and Koa were all walking ahead of them, toward the Einstein building. The seven of them had collectively managed to make themselves look at least a little less like they’d been lazing around all day — the only one of them that looked a little different was Valor, because he was still wearing the cowboy hat he never took off. (And he had wings, but Bentley didn’t think that counted.)

They barely made it to the front of the building before someone was squealing from off to the side. 

They all turned, and Layla clicked up next to them. (Had she been waiting outside the whole time to see if they’d come?)

“You came!” She exclaimed with a little bounce. She looked starkly different than she had earlier — now, she was wearing a short pink dress with sparkly dots all over it, and short, white, strappy heels. Her blonde hair was down and curled, and she had really sparkly makeup on her eyelids, just the right shade of pink to make her blue eyes look brighter. Her wrists and ears and neck were all adorned with shiny jewelry that looked really expensive. She seemed giddy — smiling like a lunatic with her really glossy lips and Bentley looked away. 

She was… pretty.

“What kind of friends would we be if we said no?” Valor replied with a snicker. “You’re just lucky we like you enough.”

“C’mon, you guys! It’s about to start!” She announced, grabbing onto Varian’s wrist and jerking him through the open doors.

(Varian seemed closer to Layla than the rest of Bentley’s roommates. He wondered why.)

The five remaining roommates shared glances with each other, and with an amused shake of his head, Valor led them inside.

It was… interesting, inside the gym. They’d decked the entire place out with pastel colored streamers and balloons and confetti and all the things that reminded Bentley of birthday parties. There was an extremely long table against the rightmost wall, lined with food and drinks and the like, and a few tables for sitting. Quiet pop music was playing in the background, and there was a big stage against the leftmost wall, with instruments but nobody to play them. The lights were off inside — most of the visibility was coming from colored spotlights on the stage and a few little lights here and there around the gym.

Bentley glanced around for anything that might look like a surprise, but came up with nothing. He couldn’t seem to see much through the probably hundreds of students spread across the gym, talking and laughing and dancing. The guys were all in variations of what Bentley and his roommates were wearing, while the girls were all in sparky, bright dresses.

It was… weird.

“Hey, you guys came!”

Someone else was approaching them — Bentley, thanks to the voice, quickly realized it was Summer. She was wearing a greenish-blue sparky dress, shorter than Layla’s, with tiny spaghetti straps and ruffles on the bottom. She was wearing very sparkly heels that made her about a head taller than him, and her hair was in a curled ponytail, putting her bright blue makeup on display. She settled into place next to Layla.

“Hi,” Koa replied way too fast. Bentley glanced over at him and, even in the dim light, he could see that his face had flushed bright red at her appearance.

Summer chuckled at him. “Like what you see?” She questioned, and when Koa didn’t respond, (his mouth was just open.) she continued: “Oh, I almost forgot! The afterparty starts at ten at Mason’s house — fifteen plus. Don’t be late.”

Summer‘s brown eyes flicked between Koa, Rockie, Asten, and Valor, then she winked and walked away, heading back into the crowd with Layla hot on her heels.

Koa quickly followed her with a: “Hey, Summer!” He fell into step beside her, and Bentley watched the three of them disappear into the sea of teenagers.

Varian snorted, crossing his arms. “He’s such a sucker.”

“I think he’d jump off a cliff if she told him to,” Valor replied.

Bentley glanced at the tables and floor full of students, then between his roommates. They were all just standing awkwardly near the wall, including himself. (What did a bunch of guys usually do at a school dance?) Varian and Valor were just sort of standing. Asten was to Bentley’s left looking extraordinarily uncomfortable, with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes repeatedly scanning the room. Maybe he was looking out for Georgia?

Rockie was on Bentley’s right. He, too, was scanning the room, but with a more concerned air about him. 

Bentley creased his brow. “You okay?”

Rockie glanced down at him, and his inhuman green eyes were almost… glowing? In the darkness. “Oh, yeah. Just looking for Georgia. I know she’s here somewhere.”

Bentley looked away so Rockie didn’t see him cringe. If Georgia had made a habit out of cheating, and she thought Rockie wasn’t going to the dance, then that meant she could be…

Bentley shook his head and promptly stopped thinking about it. “I’ll let you know if I see her.”

With that, Rockie looked back out at the crowd.

Bentley scanned the room again. It was strange… he’d heard about dances and stuff, but never thought he’d be at one. There were boys and girls dancing together, and groups of friends chit-chatting, but… he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing, really. It just felt… awkward.

Luckily for him, it didn’t seem his roommates were the most comfortable either. Because they all just stood there.

Asten leaned closer to Bentley with a quiet sigh: “This is already going very well.”

“Extraordinarily,” Bentley replied. “How long did Layla say we had to stay here?”

“She said not the whole time,” He shrugged. “Not sure how long that means.”

Bentley leaned up against the wall, sort of wishing he had chosen to stay with Bellamy in the dorm. He and his roommates seemed to be the only people in the room that had no clue what they were doing.

“Oh wow, the Island of misfit toys decided to show up,”

Bentley exhaled heavily and leaned his head back against the wall at the voice, closing his eyes and praying that maybe the owner would disappear if he thought about it hard enough.

They did not.

“What do you want, Tyler?”

Bentley opened his eyes again at Valor’s voice, and Tyler, along with three other guys he had never seen before, were standing in front of them, looking all smug and cocky like they’d already done something worthwhile. They were wearing their uniforms as well — all but Tyler, whose button-up was black instead of white and blended in with his pants.

(Bentley could tell he felt really cool and edgy in the black button up.)

“Nothing, just making conversation,” Tyler replied with a nonchalant shrug, crossing his arms and looking out at the crowd. “It looks like your siren’s already wandered off to seduce the chaperones.”

Bentley furrowed his brow. Was he talking about Koa? Seducing teachers?

“Listen, coming over here just to be an ass isn’t impressing anyone,” Valor continued, crossing his arms, too. “Especially not Summer. Actually… I think she’s out there enjoying herself with our siren.”

He pointed to the center of the room, and everyone's eyes followed his finger to where Koa and Summer were talking and laughing in the crowd.

Tyler got this ugly look on his face, and he turned back to them with a huff. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it, then closed it. He looked at Summer, then back, and then he groaned: “Piss off!” And walked away, his flock of goons in tow.

Rockie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How does he stand himself?” He muttered. “I’m nice and I can hardly stand myself.”

“I think he lives in his own world where he’s, like, famous or something,” Varian shrugged, crossing his arms, too. “His heads so big he could hardly fit through the doors.”

Bentley snickered lightly, imagining Tyler sporting a car-sized head and trying to make it fit through a doorway.

And suddenly, the lights dimmed, and Bentley quickly realized it was because the stage lights got brighter. The chatter quieted a little as students turned curiously toward the other end of the gym. 

“Hey, come on! Come on!” Layla seemed to materialize out of absolutely nowhere, beckoning them further out onto the floor, closer to the stage. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet all excitedly. “You’ve gotta see! This is your surprise!”

Bentley glanced at his roommates, and they all glanced at each other. When none of them moved, Layla grabbed someone and pulled them out onto the floor with a blinding smile, and Bentley almost had a heart attack.

Because it was him.

One second, she was ten feet away, and the next she had grabbed his hand and jerked him across the room with no hesitation. His mind seemed to blank all of a sudden, and with no choice but to follow, Bentley focused on keeping his feet under him and not bumping into people as Layla dragged him into the crowd. (As opposed to letting himself think about the fact that he was holding hands with a girl.)

Layla didn’t stop until they were at the foot of the stage, releasing Bentley’s hands and clapping excitedly, bouncing some more. “This is gonna be so cool!” 

Bentley glanced up at the stage, eyes bouncing across the instruments and things that were set up on it. There was a microphone right in the middle, but there was also a piano, two electric guitars, and a drumset spread around on it.

He remembered that Rockie said students played the dance. With the way Layla was acting, maybe she knew who was playing; maybe that was the surprise. (It would be better than something embarrassing.)

“Wayne!”

Bentley’s stomach dropped at the sound of the voice. 

With a sharp inhale, he turned, and a familiar tall blonde strutted up to him. Chloe’s hair was curled all down her back with little braids near the front, and she was wearing a tiny red dress with sparkly designs all over it. Her bedazzled heels were perhaps the tallest at the whole dance, and it made her, like, two heads taller than him. Her makeup and jewelry were blindingly sparkly.

Bentley crossed his arms. “Chloe.”

Chloe’s gold-lined brown eyes raked up and down his appearance, then flicked to something behind him. He saw Layla shift out of the corner of his eye, closer to him, like she was trying to hide.

“I should’ve expected it was her you were coming with,” She hissed, crossing her arms, looking unimpressed. “For a Wayne, you have bad taste. She’s dressed like a toddler’s babydoll.”

Bentley saw Layla shift again. 

He exhaled lightly. “At least she’s wearing clothes. You need some pants.”

Chloe gawked at him, her mouth snapping open with an ah sound, and she looked down at her dress nervously. “I look great in this!”

“Maybe you would, if I didn’t have to squint to see it,” Bentley replied coldly. “Don’t you have someone else to go flash?”

Chloe made an offended noise, opening her mouth, then closing it, then jabbing an accusatory red-painted finger in his face. “You are an asshole!”

And for a second, she looked… hurt. A familiar pang of guilt streaked through Bentley’s chest, and he uncrossed his arms, standing there kinda awkwardly.

Bentley opened his mouth again, but when he did, the deafening SHRRING! of an electric guitar pierced the air so suddenly it made him jump. The stage lights started flashing wildly, making it difficult to see — but he managed to spot five figures moving on the stage within the darkness. There was a boy at the drums, a boy at the piano, and two boys on the guitars, but they looked to be much older than him. The fifth person, the one at the microphone-

The stage lights cut on blindingly bright, all focused on the singer, who was…

Vera?

The entire place seemed to go pitch black besides the colorful lights that were shining on her. As opposed to her typical style, she was wearing a short, tight black dress with long, sheer, flowy sleeves, the whole thing adorned with floral sequin designs that shined a bright iridescent in the lights. Her hair was curled near perfectly, the purple streaks blending with the black and giving it more of a raven look. She wasn’t wearing much makeup apart from some shiny silver eyeliner and a deep lipstick, and her shoes — they were silver combat boots, in true Vera fashion.

Her eyes trailed across the crowd, sticking on a few people here and there before her brown irises locked with his. 

He hoped he wasn’t being spoken to, because, for some reason, he couldn’t really hear anything. The lights must’ve been really dark, because he couldn’t really see anything else, either. He just watched as the corners of her lips curved into a subtle smile and she brought the microphone up to her mouth.

He didn’t recognize the song they were playing, but her eyes didn’t leave his when she started singing. The first words were: “How can I decide what’s right when you’re clouding-“ HE COULD’VE SWORE SHE WINKED AT HIM WHEN SHE SAID CLOUDING? “-up my mind?” 

Suddenly, someone nudged his arm. “Careful, you’re starting to get those shiny eyes.”

He finally looked away and glanced over to find that Asten had weaved his way up to them, and was looking at him with this sort of knowing, amused look on his face. Chloe was gone.

Bentley scrunched his face up. “Shiny eyes?” 

“You know what I’m talking about. Like how Babs starts talking about something all science-ey and Dick looks at her like she hung the moon. The eyes get shiny. Shiny eyes,” Asten explained.

“Oh,” Was Bentley’s reply. Then, as it began to dawn on him exactly what that implied, he gasped lightly, turned on a dime and punched Asten in the shoulder. It wasn’t that hard, but the older boy laughed and flinched away anyways. “What?! My eyes aren’t shiny!”

“I said starting!” Asten defended, batting Bentley’s hand away. “I’m just telling you what I see!”

“Well you’re seeing wrong!” 

With a snicker, Asten replied: “Okay…”

“Asten,”

“Okay, B, okay,” He laughed.

Bentley crossed his arms and promptly turned his eyes away from the stage, instead, glancing over at Layla, who was bouncing and clapping again. 

Far past Layla, beyond the crowd and through a doorway with a locker rooms and bathrooms sign, was Chloe, and she was…

Crying.

Bentley suddenly felt that familiar drowning in guilt kind of feeling again. (Why couldn’t he ever feel just a little guilty, like everyone else?)

He wasn’t sure what came over him, or what willed him forward, but he found himself pushing through the crowd anyway.

Only, when he got to the opening, the long hallway, lined with doors, was empty. How was he supposed to know where she went?

Suddenly, one of the doors near the other end of the hall opened, and in true Bentley fashion, instead of being normal, he smushed himself into the nearest doorframe and hoped no one could see him.

Down the hallway, he saw two people come out of one of the locker rooms facing away from him — a boy and a girl. The girl was wearing a black dress with silver stars on it, and her hair was black, and loose, burned into thick curls that seemed kind of messy. The guy was tall, and seemed much older than Bentley, but he couldn’t tell much about him besides the close-cut blonde hair.

Then someone else came clicking in from another room — a ponytail and a blue sparkly dress. 

Summer.

“Stop, stop, shut up, get back in there,” She ordered, waving her hands around frantically. “Rockie’s here!”

That’s about when it dawned on Bentley that the girl with the black hair was Georgia, just without the braids.

He heard Georgia gasp. “He said he wasn’t coming!”

“I know, but Layla- just-“ Summer looked behind her quickly, obviously very stressed and anxious. She waved her hands at them again. “Jesus, you look like you just got home from a shift at a strip club. Fix your hair and get your makeup off of his face! Your dress is riding up and falling off your shoulder! Why are you even leaving like that?! Anyone could tell you’ve been… Jesus. Georgia, just go! Now!”

Georgia and whatever blonde guy fumbled their way back into the door they’d come out of, and Summer slammed it shut, exhaling heavily. 

“God…” She murmured, shaking her head. “Just keep your hands to yourself for one freaking night.”

Bentley watched in silence as she did a few anxious laps around the hall, ran her hands over her hair several times, and then huffed, walking back into the main part of the gym looking less than pleased.

Why did he have to be right about Georgia?

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[strykingback]

Jaune Arc. The most HORRENDOUS example of a FUCKING KNIGHT.

Trigger warning for this being a drunk as hell post because I decided to drink after a long day of Valentines BS and wanting to make thi post to make one teensy weensy Jaune Stan mad.

Oh yes Rooster Teeth and CRWBY I'm gonna fuckin' shit all over your useless-ass knight character. Why? Because I fuckin' can. So eat a whole ass fucking dick.

So you know Jaune Arc from RWBY right? Literally the "knight character" of the series right. WELL FUCKIN' WRONG. Cause this knight is the example of "I Wanna Be the Main Character" syndrome and literally betrays everything that a knight is meant to do.

So as we know Jaune is meant to be a reference or referred by his naming convention to the actual JOAN OF ARC

Joan of Arc who is well known as history's most bravest female knight of all time. Who had managed to push back many British soldiers all while she received a vision from God in order to continue her rage against the British invaders during the Hundred Years War. Now if we're talking about the Arthurian Legend then this talk would be hella different.

Now starting things off. What pisses me off the most is why wasnt Jaune a fucking woman to kick things off. Like one of the most influential knights in human history being reduced to a secondary wannabe "I wanna be the MC" head-ass boy. Like not gonna lie it would have been much better if he was one cause it would have made a lot more sense if their semblance was seeing events before they happened which woulda made more sense and would have fit Jaune's historical illusion.

But naw. Make his semblance the generic. "I Need Healing" head-ass.

now this would mean that he would be following the Code of Chivalry which this useless-ass knight has failed in so many levels. Take note that there are two Code's of Chivalry one from the Song of Roland and one from the Arthurian Legend of King Arthur. and the following two state.

Song of Roland’s Code of Chivalry: 

Fear God and His Church Serve the liege lord in valor and faith Protect the weak and defenseless Live by honor and for glory Respect the honor of women

King Arthurs version of the Code of Chivalry: 

Honor Honesty Loyalty Valor

Immediately right off the bat we know for certain that Jaune does not respect the honor of women especially in Vol 9 where Ruby has a whole ass mental break down but Jaune says "Oooh I M THE MAIN CHARACTER! YOUR JUST A FUCKIN' BITCH AND YOU NEED TO LET ME HAVE THE SPOTLIGHT" like tell me that is immediately a massive fail especially when Jaune had respected Pyrrha so much so to the point where this man had multiple different arcs over the course of what. six fucking seasons and still has not gotten over her death. Now yes he did follow through with Penny's Idea.... which was a horrendous idea not gonna lie....

Dude shes fuckin' dead. MOVE ON WITH THE LESSONS SHE HAS TAUGHT YOU. YA FUCKIN' REDDIT MOD LOOKING HEAD-ASS!!!!

Next would have to be Honesty has he literally cheated to get in. Now I count this as a half fail. cause he did prove to have potential in the earlier seasons of RWBY but at the same time. He lied to get into Beacon Academy. which only made me think.... what did Monty cook up for him before Rooster Teeth and CRWBY fucked everything . Another would have to be Loyalty which is a hardcore fail. As he assisted RWBY (aka the four terrorists) into literally destroying an ENTIRE FUCKIING KINGDOM. Actually TWO if you're counting Mantle. Which is just fucking stupid cause this man would warn people and then suddenly everything has to focus around him like once again "Main Character Syndrome." instead of Ruby Rose who IS SUFFERING IN VOLUME NINE!!! Oh Oh Oh. but wait theres more.

but then when Ruby does the Unalive congo and everyone is shocked.. guess what everyone has to hug Jaune cause he is going through shit. When Ruby had it worse!!!

Aka The Four Dumb Fucks who wont realize their Leader just unalived themselves and they just hug the "Main Character Syndrome: Jaune who is going through it instead of mourning Ruby.

What is there in Honor for a man who barely can honor a friends death no less in the "possible afterlife"

Valor- Dude is the example of I'm a fuckin' coward and I need assistance in order to harm the big fuckin' bad.

Loyalty- Jaune " I followed my friends to destroy an entire Kingdom" Arc.

Everybody Jaune Arc. Is Full o' bullshit and he is the worst example of a fuckin' knight who should never get an arc again!

[yunessa]

I feel sometimes my friend, as if I have done this a hundred times. There is a horror to the curse I bear, yes. But there is something far worse in life. Seeing someone you care for leave this life, no matter how peacefully or bravely they go into the night. No amount of valor or honor will see that person’s eyes open or make the hand you so desperately grasp for become warm.

No, you grasp at a shell and your tears are a thousand times more sharp than the cold bite of winter. People try to comfort you- surely Pharasma will be kind they say, surely their god would welcome them- they mean well in their attempt to comfort you. But in my anguish, I only want to hurt them.I want to recoil from the comfort they think they give me with their hugs and warm hands. For the more they comfort me, the more I know that the loss of you will never fill. 

Their warm hands and  affection gives me no comfort. It hurts me worse. I feel cold, numb to their attempts and their words are starting to sound rehearsed. I can hear it in the sounds, when they stumble and correct themselves or in the wooden, brittle words they utter. I was stabbed with a heavily rusted sword once. It hurt less than hearing them speak.

They claim they hope I heal soon. They hope my wounds will heal and with time I will drink less. Perhaps they’re right that with time the wound of the loss will scab. In its place will be a hollow left behind that cannot be filled by another. Time does not heal all wounds. Sometimes it merely dulls the pain briefly.

We all mourn. But what I have lost is one of the reasons life was worth living and in this crusade has made me realise how much I have truly lost. For myself and for those times I look out the window to see the graveyard at the walls of Drezen.

You see the best of those crusaders and people here, how hard they fight, how bitterly they push. For a better tomorrow, for green fields, and to see the amber wheat of their farms. For their families and what matters. So that there even can be a tomorrow lives must be shed. Someday, they say, my friend, that Sarkoris will be green and Mendev will know peace.Someday, they whisper the words like a prayer. Because hope keeps them here, when everything outside of Drezen’s walls wants them dead or worse.

I have trouble imagining that possibly peaceful future now. Each loss in this Crusade scars me a little more. I have seen the best men march to their deaths to buy mere seconds for others. I have seen weak men give up in the face of reality. I have seen heroes break under their trauma. I have seen people who I never guessed had any strength at all become heroes more worthy of song than any other. I have seen the good and bravery of those here as much as I have seen the darkness and horror that lingers in the worldwound.

And I have realised that I cannot leave this place.

 Idyllic dreams, a better future- what is any of those things when you are not with me? Even if the Crusade was won tomorrow with not another life lost and Sarkoris turned green and lush overnight, it means nothing. You are not there to see it so the victory is hollow. None of it will matter without you there. I could open the door for somebody and feel the same level of cheer for all that victory would matter to me now.

Perhaps when this war ends I will find another place to throw myself towards, another war perhaps or another battle, if I can bear to leave you. Perhaps I should trust myself with the amount of drinks I have had.

But I have an idea. A possibility that might make this right.

And may you forgive me, but I must try.

With that I will end this letter and leave it somewhere that it may travel to you. it is said gifts to the dead are delivered so I will leave the drink I had the first time I saw you and flowers that remind me of you. Pray for my success as I will leave Drezen in the early hours.

All my love,

Yunessa

[silverjetsystm]

REPOST & LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE .

This got long because I did some for each.

Cut.

The Killing Moon (All Night Version) - Echo & The Bunnymen (aka Marc's canonical ringtone).

Under blue moon, I saw you So soon you'll take me Up in your arms, too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine

V - Cyberpunk 2077, Marcin Przybyłowicz

Sheyn vi di levone - Gevolt

You are as beautiful a the moon, you are as bright as the stars, you have been sent to me from the heavens, you are a gift from above. I found my happiness when I saw you. You made my heart happy - you are as beautiful as a thousand suns.

Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark) - Orphaned Land

Nora El Nora, the lord of courage Return to me my lord, mend my wounds My soul is yearning, and in valor we wait Nora I sing to thee, hymn of praise To you I give my life and faith Through all time, mighty Nora Deliver us the progany of Abraham Offspring of greatness You are the living God Giver of Torah

Dead Don't Die - Shinedown

The dead don't die, the heart still beats Head held high, I haunt these streets Life's killed me a hundred thousand times You can try, you can try, but the dead don't die

Not Changing Pops, Seeking - Nightlab

I'm not changing pops, I'm seeking And I hear what you're preaching But this drowsy inanition can't stay I am screaming out this seance While a spectral love is playing with the lights It just ain't right

Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes Everybody knows

Hymn For The Weekend - Coldplay

Oh, angel sent from up above You know you make my world light up When I was down, when I was hurt You came to lift me up Life is a drink and love's a drug Oh, now I think I must be miles up When I was a river dried up You came to rain a flood

Main Theme From Goncharov - Jordan Dean

My Love - Florence & The Machine

There is nothing to describe Except the moon still bright against the worrying sky I pray the trees will get their leaves soon So tell me where to put my love Do I wait for time to do what it does? I don't know where to put my love

Inner Emigration - Daniel Kahn, Painted Bird (there is a reason why I chose a very Jewish song without any Yiddish nor Hebrew for Mr. Grant)

So make a kind of inner emigration It's a kind of shift accomplished easily We all have made our disassociations Whether on the job or in our family And what could be more irrelevant than nations When everywhere you go, it's buy or sell? But if we all make only inner emigrations Then everything will only go to hell

11:11 - Ben Barnes

I wish for you to be happy I wish for you to be free I wish for you to be fearless That's wishes one, two, and three And I won't wish to be yours or for you to be mine But I'll wish them all for you every time

Dance the Night - Dua Lipa (while themes could be Grant, this wound up becoming a driving song. per the Wall Street/Main Street Treaty of 20XX, it's a Jake song)

Watch me dance, dance the night away My hеart could be burnin', but you won't see it on my face Watch me dancе, dance the night away (Uh-huh) I'll still keep the party runnin', not one hair out of place

March of the Jobless Corps - Daniel Kahn, Painted Bird (Jake speaks Yiddish. Jake is a union man TM. While I see and write Jake as the most observant of the system, he also loved stories of those Jewish secular socialists. Kahn and the Painted Bird represent Jake versus Grant's CEO materialism and Marc's violence.)

Well one, two, three, four Join the Marching Jobless Corps No work in the factories No more manufacturing All the tools are broke and rusted Every wheel and window busted Through the city streets we go Idle as a CEO Idle as a CEO

[Honestly, I listen to a lot of Daniel Kahn when I write Jake so just take a look at his albums and you'll get an idea]

tagged by @biitchcakes

[clove-pinks]

Perry's Victory on Lake Erie

The best version by Lee Murdock (on The Lost Lake Sailors album) of "Perry's Victory On Lake Erie" is also on YouTube, if you don't have Spotify.

I've searched in vain for the lyrics and finally ended up transcribing them myself! Feat. USAmericans consistently called "Columbians" and some potent nationalism.

--

You tars of Columbia give ears to my story

Who fought with brave Perry, whose cannon did roar:

Your valor has gained you an immortal glory, and fame that will last until time is no more.

On the tenth of September let us all remember, as long as the globe on its axis reels round,

Our tars and marines on Lake Erie were seen

To make the red flag of proud Britain come down.

Columbian tars are the true sons of Mars, who rake fore and aft when they fight on the deep.

On the bed of Lake Erie, commanded by Perry, they caused many Britons to take their last sleep.

The van of our fleet was brought up complete,

Commanded by Perry the Lawrence bore down.

Our guns they did roar such terrific power, that savages trembled at that dreadful sound.

The Lawrence sustained the most dreadful of fire, she fought three to one for two glasses or more,

whilst Perry undaunted did firmly stand by her, and on the proud foe heavy broadsides did pour.

Her masts being shattered, her rigging all tattered, her sails all in ribbons her wheel shot away—

With few left on deck to manage the wreck, our heroes on board her no longer would stay.

There was one gallant act of our noble commander, whilst writing my song I shall notice with pride:

When launching the smack that carried his standard, the ball whistled through her quite close by his side.

Said Perry, "Those villains intend sure to drownded us, but push on my brave boys you need never fear."

And then with his coat he plugged up the boat, and through sulfur and fire away he did steer.

The famed Niagara, now proud of her Perry, displayed all her banners in gallant array,

While twenty-five guns on board she did carry, which soon put an end to this sad bloody fray. 

The fire of the Britons grew shorter and shorter, the signal was given to break through their line.

While starboard to larboard and from every quarter, 

The guns of Columbia gloriously shine.

In the heat of the battle, whose cannon did rattle, on the Lawrence, a wreck, with her men near all slain, 

Brave Elliott did steer as they brought up the rear, and by this grand manoeuvre the victory was gained.

Oh had you been there, I vow and declare, that such a grand sight you had ne'er saw before! 

When six bloody flags that no longer would wave, were laid at the feet of our brave Commodore. 

The whole British fleet was captured complete, not one single vessel from us got away.

And prisoners, some hundreds, Columbians wondered, to see them all anchored and moored on the bay.

Great Britain may boast of her conquering heroes, 

her Rodneys her Nelsons and all the old crew,

But Rome in her glory ne'er told such a story

Nor boasted such feats as Columbians can do.

So Columbians sing, and make the woods ring,

And toast those brave heroes, by sea and by land.

Whilst Britons drink sherry, let us drink to Perry,

And toss it about with a full glass in hand.

Columbians sing and make the woods ring, and toast those brave heroes by sea and by land,

Whilst Britons drink sherry, let us drink to Perry!

And toss it about with a full glass in hand.

[windmilltothestars]

WIP Game

I was tagged by two glorious, wonderful friends: @general-illyrin and @thetreasurechest!! Thanks, guys <3 Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. As usual, I'm bending the rules slightly because my "WIP folder" is not one thing, I have literally hundreds of half-started stories and WIPs, even more ideas that I've scribbled down in some obscured 3rd location, and many, many that I haven't remotely thought about in years. So I'm gonna write down a couple Tolkien ones and a couple Les Mis ones - some with titles, some have "working" titles, some have titles I just invented for this list, some that are just kinda a concept - and call it good for this era of my life XD - Blessed and Beloved - Laughing at Old Grief - Ancestral Valor (chapter 2) - Mankind Was My Business - The World Is Wild and Bright - One Equal Temper of Heroic Hearts - Establishing the Squad in Ep. 1 - Weird Little Angsty Woodcutting Interlude - Finrod Does Not Regret - Young Outlaws Getting to Know Turin - These Violent Delights Have Pretty Chill Ends (chapter 3) - To Go Through Fire (chapter 4) - Songs of Salvation - The Gentle Light of the Evening-Star in Summer - All the Elf Wife Nonsense Wooo this was fun!!! And it'll be good think about them and share about them!

I'm no-pressure tagging @marietheran, @nerdy-catfish, @skeleton-richard, @scioscribe, @magnetocerebro, @dwarven-beard-spores, @whitehorsevale and @grondds-and-roses if you'd be at all interested in participating in a thing like this, and sharing anything you're working on! If not, no worries!! Thanks again <3

[majorproblems77]

Trick or treat? (I’m probably that teenager out candy hunting well after everyone with kids has gone home for the night… but who cares)

*Checks sweet bowl*

Oh here's something for you. :D

"Sky? What are you doing?"

Wind walked over to the Skyloftian and planted himself next to him. The chosen had the master sword resting across his lap as he looked out into the forest. They had been split from the others and were just taking a short break before moving on.

"Sometimes, when I feel stressed. Or We've had a particularly tough battle. I like to sit with Fi. She teaches me the songs of journeys yet to occur. There's something from all of you." The skyloftian smiled resting the sword slightly closer to the sailor as he looked to the blade.

"Oh? What does mine sound like?"

"Yours is a song suitable for long sails across the sea. A song of timeless melody, mixed with the raging storm." He turned to the sailor and offered the blade's handle to him. "Would you like to listen?"

"Yes... Yes please."

He placed a hand on the handle, the familiar feeling of holy light flowing through him as the ringing of windchimes filled his ears.

"Hello, Hero of the Winds! It is good to see you again." She chimed gently, "My master has made it known that you want to hear the song of your soul?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course, hero of the winds. Listen along, and know your song. For it is one of valor, and bravery unmatched."

His eyes lit up with excitement as Fi began to play. She began low, gently flowing through notes. As she did the sailor could feel himself humming along. As if he knew this song and had heard it a hundred times.

Sky placed an arm around him as he listened. Smiling gently as the music flowed around them both. Melding with the sounds of the forest and each other's heartbeats.

As the song settled to its end. Wind leant into Sky. "Thanks, Sky." The sword pulsed a few times. "And thank you as well Fi."

As the music settled and silence surrounded them once more they found just a slither of peace. The gentle blowing of the wind the only sound they could hear.

Suppose they could wait here for the others. Just for a bit longer.

If you'd like to hear what song I'm referencing its The Song of Time and Song of Storms mashup by Taylor Davis.

[tinkertoysdamn]

WiP Wednesday Two for One

Two, count them two WiPs!

1) YSA, IMIWYW in progress

As promised, Carol had called Muneeba ahead of time but they still felt a little silly.  All Carol had managed to do in sending Kamala home was give her time to upload some assignments and have dinner with her family.  

Then again, considering how little time Carol and Peter had spent with their own respective families, maybe they had done her a favor.

“She’s in her room,” Muneeba told them, escorting them into her home, still partially under construction from the unexpected Kree attack.  The hole in the ceiling had a temporary patch of plywood while the drywall repairs on the walls were still unpainted.  “How long do you think you’ll be away this time?”

“Maybe a day, two tops,” Peter said, following her lead.  “It doesn’t take that long to make a planet.”

“Wait, you’re all making a planet?”  That incredulous question came from an older man, obviously Kamala’s father.

“I’m making a planet,” Peter clarified.  “Kamala’s there in case, I don’t know, the Kree renege on the treaty and we have to kick their butts or something.”

For that little comment, Peter got a soft punch in the arm from one Captain Marvel.

“Ow!  What’d you do that for?” Peter asked.

“Saying that kind of thing out loud, you should know better than that.”  So, Carol was the superstitious type?

Peter filed that information away for later.  Maybe Rocket or Mantis might want to join in on a little prank when things calmed down.

2) BABISTH Chapter 2

When the song was over Gamora demanded, “Play it again.”

This time, Quill wouldn’t comply.  The little scowl on his face was rather amusing.  “I’m not playing it for a fourth time.”

She hadn’t realized that was the case.  “Fine.”  There were other forms of entertainment Quill could provide.  “Tell me a story then.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  “What kind of story?”

“An Earth story.”  She liked those.

That gave Quill pause.  “You sure you aren’t sick of those by now?”

Gamora’s eyes narrowed.  “If I was, I wouldn’t ask.”

“So bossy,” he murmured, clearly pleased.  “Okay, once there was this lady named Mary Poppins—”  As he piloted their craft through endless space, Quill recounted the tale of a magical woman, a caretaker, and a teacher.  Her lessons of magic and wonder had healed a family, allowing them to learn to reconnect with each other.

It was a lovely tale.

“Was that a history, or a culture story?” Gamora asked.

“Culture story.”  It was pretty clear that Quill wasn’t used to anyone listening to his ramblings.  “Say, why do you like my stories so much?”  

That was a hard question to answer.  Gamora had been all over the universe causing mayhem and destruction.  Though she had technically stood on the soil of dozens, if not a hundred worlds, she knew little about any of them.  She had never bothered to learn anything of the people she helped her father trample.  Gamora had never indulged her curiosity, had never attempted to engage anyone else about their own lives.

Even her siblings she kept at arm’s length, wanting to know nothing of their pasts or their cultures.  

Thanos had no need for music or stories of valor.  She thought that she had been the same way, at least, until she met Peter Quill.

[thesmumbo]

Battlefield 2042's soundtrack is amazing

Please remember that this is all just my opinion, and that I speak as a fan of the soundtracks to Battlefield 4 and Battlefield 1.

When I heard about the disastrous launch of Battlefield 2042, I basically avoided the game entirely and didn't know anything about it besides some of the pre-launch hype. It wasn't until this year when season 4 released with a free trial that I decided to finally give the game a shot.

I was immediately hooked when I watched the introductory story trailer, which revealed a terrifying glimpse into the world of Battlefield 2042: a world devastated by rampant climate change, where all but two global superpowers have crumbled, whose refugees have all but been absorbed into a desperate war to control the last of Earth's fleeting resources.

When I was faced with this story premise, I was shocked. For one, just at the fact that a major gaming franchise like Battlefield had created such a strongly political story premise. But also, that the decision was made not to have a singleplayer story campaign, despite how incredibly inspired this story was, especially when compared to the mediocre stories of most of the other Battlefield games.

When I loaded into the main menu, I was again surprised, this time by the music. It was much grittier and noisier than in any Battlefield game I'd played before. It fit perfectly with the subject matter at hand. I was instantly immersed into the world of Battlefield 2042, and I would continue to be astonished by the game's soundscape as I played through the free trial.

After hearing what was in the game, I later listened through the full original soundtrack. The harsh electronics and industrial noise so strongly evoked the themes of apocalyptic climate change, and the desperation of humanity hoarding what little resources were left to survive.

I was amazed that such a big franchise (with its fair share of iconic, if a bit traditional music) made such a sharp turn into such visceral uncharted territory, both in terms of the soundtrack itself, and the world it had brought to life.

To talk more specifically about some of the tracks, what better way to begin than by discussing the Battlefield 2042 theme itself?

Every Battlefield game has had its own take on the original Battlefield theme, and this game is no different. I've always loved Battlefield 4's heartbeat-esque, bass-pounding Warsaw theme, as well as the Classic Theme present in Battlefield 1 - a triumphant return to an iconic classic. But Battlefield 2042...it completely dismantles any semblance of a traditional spin on that theme that goes all the way back to Battlefield 1942. No...it's one hundred years later, and Earth is an even more broken place. Battlefield 2042's theme is a profound statement on the ultimate futility of war: a mangled and atonal cavalcade, it is a complete reversal on the very same theme which once represented the heroism and valor of soldiers on the frontlines. Much like the Earth itself which mankind has fought over for thousands of years, the music itself is tired and broken as humanity enters (possibly) its final battle. It's brilliant.

Some other highlights on the soundtrack include The Observation of Beautiful Forms, Between the Bows, and 5 Degrees of Warming, which I've written some light analysis about below.

Observation is a forlorn yet uplifting funeral march featuring scratchy strings, echoing sirens, shaky static, and unmistakably industrial horns. To me, Observation conjures a heartbreaking image of humanity's incredible technological progress contrasted against its own role in destroying the very world it was born to.

Between the Bows is a riveting and intense noise jam that keeps building and building until a very cathartic release partway through the song, followed by another short passage of intense noise. I interpret this to be an illustration of the uncompromising and destructive manner that man established himself in the world by, until finally faced with a demise of his own making, leaving a peaceful, yet still fundamentally broken world.

5 Degrees of Warming is an insanely oppressive and heavy track that starts with what sounds like some kind of alarm or sonar ping system, followed by these dreadful and terrifying strings (I believe it's called a halldorophone, if it's safe to assume that Hildur Guðnadóttir composed this soundtrack with a similar instrumental palette to Joker). The track continues relentlessly, with each stroke getting heavier and louder, the repeated alternation between the two notes generating an extremely aggressive sound, reminiscent of an alarm system blaring at maximum volume. This is the sound of our world screaming for us to stop, but we just keep making it worse.

Unfortunately I didn't play during season 2 or 3, so I don't know about any of the specific tracks that were added during those seasons. I know the soundtrack was received very poorly from most Battlefield fans, so it must have been difficult to create more music for the game that was more pleasant while still complementary to the other tracks. But I still think the newer music present in the game is a nice progression of the same themes anyway. Like I mentioned before, the season 4 main menu theme is great. It really instills that sense of urgency and hopelessness of the battle at hand.

Even the song titles are thematically resonant! Irreversible, Load Bearing, When does a country stop being a country?,  Hourglass, Tipping Points...I could keep going on about how great these tracks are at establishing the atmosphere of Battlefield 2042's world, but I think you get the idea.

I know there are some people who enjoy the soundtrack, but still don't believe it fits into the game, because games are supposed to be fun, and Battlefield especially can be very lighthearted in its multiplayer gameplay. There's definitely something to be said for that, and I definitely agree that it would make for an even better film score (I would love to see the movie that Battlefield 2042 clearly wanted to be). Regardless, I still thought it was very effective at instilling a sense of dread and importance while playing, similar to the ominous airship horns in the music for the opening mission of Battlefield 1.

Anyway, I should probably conclude this way too long post about a heavily disliked soundtrack that probably nobody will even care about lol.

In my opinion, Battlefield 2042's soundtrack is a misunderstood masterpiece of purely instrumental storytelling, and Hildur Guðnadóttir & Sam Slater did an incredible job composing it.

It perfectly encapsulates the themes and aesthetics of the world that was crafted to be the background of Battlefield 2042, and the fact that it was so effective in that makes it all the more tragic that there will never be a singleplayer campaign for the game. Maybe the theoretical campaign or movie that Battlefield 2042 could've been is infinitely better in my head, but I'm still sad that this setting will probably never be fully realized in a linear narrative.

I hope that if you've read this post, you now enjoy and understand Battlefield 2042 and its soundtrack at least a little more than you did before.

[your-good-pal-chevy]

Swordtember : 10 : Falcon

Seven young souls, alike in their determination, sat silent in the blackness of the city at night. They stared with hungry eyes out of the alleyways where they hid, waiting for their moment, waiting for the last second before it would be too late.

Stumbling through the night, clad in glittering armor and leaning on one another for support, came three gendarmes of the city watch.

They were drunk, of course. It was the time of the night where officers let their guard down and permitted those beneath them to indulge. Such officers, of course, spent their days writing reports and drinking wine; but that is the place of men who position themselves above others.

These three, however, were not mere pawns in the grand scheme of the city. Aimerie the Swift, who had won distinction and a cushy position after saving the life of a nobleman in some battle overseas. Beneoit of Nadreilles, known for his great stature and great appetite for fine cheeses. Florentin Estoc, so named for the blade with which he had personally slain a hundred men in various duels throughout his life.

These three were not mere pawns. They were decorated men, honored by the gendarmerie, recognized for valor in duty and extensive service. Each was a hero to their comrades. They were also great friends, who frequently got unimaginably drunk together before heading down to the slums to harass the poor and the immigrant.

The seven who watched their approach were not well known. They did not have even bynames, for such was their lot that they were seen as little more than gutter trash by all who bothered to look in their direction. Their names are recorded as Anyim, Bongani, Gregory, Marceau, Molan, Quentin, and of course their leader. The man who would eventually be named Lebuin the Falcon, but at that time was merely Lebuin.

Of these seven men, the breadth of their experiences could hardly be condensed into mere words. They each lived full lives, for ones so young, and were each well loved by their community. They were seen as mere trash, but each of them was a hero in his own right.

As the three gendarmes staggered drunk through the street, muttering the words to some highborn drinking song, Lebuin gave the signal. The gendarmes had arrived in the middle of the seven men, and the seven men sprung forth from ambush.

Beneoit, who was not wearing his helmet at the time (he had loaned it to another gendarme at the bar, who proceeded to vomit in it and pass out still clutching it for dear life), was the first to fall. A thrown knife from Molan flew like a bolt of lightning, plunging into his eye. Beneoit reached up, grasping numbly for the knife and pulled it free. A geyser erupted from his skull, and he fell forward.

Aimerie and Florentin knew not what had occurred, but they each knew enough to get their swords into their hands. Rapier and estoc both flashed, the drunken gendarmes putting their backs to each other as they took stock of the situation.

The seven men formed a circle around the pair, brandishing clubs and knives and axes, as well as a single sword. In their drunken stupor, the gendarmes weighed the situation and found their assailants wanting. They charged forward.

Aimerie's rapier found purchase on the outside of Marceau's arm, but Bongani brought his club up and smashed the blade away before it could cut down to the bone. With a roar of defiance, he pushed inside Aimerie's guard as Marceau fell back, and Bongani rammed his shoulder into Aimerie's chest.

Bongani and Aimeri were both stunned; Aimerie for having the wind knocked out of him, and Bongani for having tackled a man in half-plate; but Gregory was quick to make the most of the opening Bongani had created. He brought his axe down on Aimerie's collarbone, bludgeoning him greatly where it hammered into the metal of his armor.

Something snapped audibly. Aimerie's sword fell from his grip as he stumbled back, clutching at his collarbone. Bongani charged him again, dragging him to the ground, and Molan rushed forward to drive a knife up into his jaw.

On the other side, Florentin was faring much better than his comrades. He had cut Quentin down with relative ease, his estoc slipping past Quentin's guard and leaving a gruesome gash across his unprotected chest. Quentin fell to the ground, desperately trying to keep pressure on his wound lest he bleed out in the dirt.

Before Florentin stood only Anyim, brandishing a large cleaver and a dockman's hook. The gendarme chuckled, sensing his opponent's uncertainty, and pressed his advantage with vigor. He lunged forward with a skilled thrust, and Anyim only barely managed to deflect the blow with the hook. He brought his cleaver up to strike Florentin, but the gendarme countered with a swift punch to Anyim's wrist.

Anyim cried out, losing his grip on his weapon as Florentin's mailled hand grabbed him roughly by the arm. The gendarme laughed as he switched to a reverse grip on his sword, bringing the crossguard up to batter Anyim's face in a brutal display.

Once, twice, thrice did he strike Anyim, the hook falling from Anyim's hand as Florentin bloodied his nose and mouth.

And then, without warning, Florentin's hand fell from his wrist. His gauntlet and maille were both cut through as though they weren't even there.

Florentin stared at the gushing wound for a moment, struck dumb by its suddenness in the moment before the pain reached him through the fog. He fell to his knees, howling in agony, cradling the stump of his arm.

"Mercy," he begged, only now looking up to see the utter disdain upon Lebuin's face. Only now seeing the sword in his hands.

Lebuin raised his sword, the golden symbols upon its length glowing with intent. The last thing that Florentin saw was the pommel of that blade; a falcon's head, its expression just as disdainful as its wielder's.

Lebuin kicked aside Florentin's head as he sheathed his blade. "We need to move fast," he called out, "Whoever is uninjured, help me carry Quentin. He's losing too much blood."

Those seven did not die that night, even though they were outmatched in nearly every way. Though they were starved and poor and ill-equipped, save for the sword that Lebuin had stolen from his absentee father's grave, they prevailed over three of the worst gendarmes that their city had to offer.

"We'll escape this, some day," Lebuin said as he walked backwards, carrying Quentin by his legs. "Some day, enough of those bastards will be dead. Enough of them will be afraid. Some day, we'll be free."

"Hear hear," Quentin moaned, his chest trussed up in another man's coat, "And maybe I'll even live to bleed that day, too."

"I hear that," Marceau grumbled, clutching his own bloody arm.

"We'll make it," Lebuin assured them, "I know we will."

[makeoutcreekrpg]

⋆·˚ ༘ *@first love/last spring 初恋、去年の春：私にインスピレーションを与える音楽 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 by mitski

Be the cowboy es el quinto álbum de estudio de la cantante japonesa-americana Mitski, y el primero del tercer set de duplas de álbumes en los cuales Mitski ha clasificado su música, en el cual toma elementos de su primer y segundo álbum para crear composiciones de piano y guitarra y abordar un tema central a lo largo de la mayor parte del álbum, que le diera cohesión a su idea. Este concepto central podía ser en torno a la soledad; en el caso de Mitski, la soledad de ser un símbolo y también la soledad que significa existir y ser alguien, que a veces se siente como ser ninguna persona. Buscamos amor y sentido y exploramos nuestras relaciones a través del tiempo. Para este álbum, que es personalmente uno de los favoritos de su administradora, en vez de darles una interpretación de cada canción, les dejaremos uno o dos versos de cada canción para que les den su propia interpretación, esto porque creemos que las letras son bastante simbólicas y pueden evocar muchas diversas visiones, en vez de ajustarse a una sola situación determinada, ya que personalmente a la administración nos inspira la poética y metáfora de la lírica<3.

A. GEYSER “You're the one I want And I've turned down every hand That has beckoned me to come”

B. WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME? “You know me better than I do So why didn't you stop me?”

C. OLD FRIEND “At Blue Diner, I'll take coffee, talk about nothing, baby Blue Diner, I'll take anything you want to give me, baby”

D. A PEARL 1. “It's just that I fell in love with a war Nobody told me it ended”

2. “Sorry, I don't want your touch It's not that I don't want you Sorry, I can't take your touch”

E. LONESOME LOVE 1. “Why am I lonely for lonesome love?”

2. “Nobody fucks me like me”

F. REMEMBER MY NAME “Cause I need somebody to remember my name After all that I can do for them is done”

G. ME AND MY HUSBAND “And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

H. COME INTO THE WATER “Maybe I'm the same as all those men Writing songs of all they're dreaming”

I. NOBODY “Venus, planet of love Was destroyed by global warming Did its people want too much, too?”

J. PINK IN THE NIGHT “I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you”

K. A HORSE NAMED COLD AIR “I thought I'd traveled a long way But I had circled The same old sin”

L. WASHING MACHINE HEART 1. “Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart”

2. “Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am”

M. BLUE LIGHT “Somebody kiss me, I'm going crazy I'm walking around the house naked”

N. TWO SLOW DANCERS 1. “It's funny how you always remember And we've both done it all a hundred times before It's funny how I still forgot”

2. “It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again”

𝐂𝐎́𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐎: #FLLS16_X

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒: 180 fichas

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎́𝐍: 04/08. Después del 4 de agosto tiene un valor de 150 fichas.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒:

Para participar, debes elegir una de las canciones propuestas y entregar un escrito de mínimo 200 palabras, un poema de al menos cuatro versos, o bien una edición (visual o audiovisual).

El código se completa con la letra correspondiente a cada canción. Por ejemplo, si quieres usar "why didn't you stop me?", el código sería #FLLS16_B.

Puedes hacer una, dos o bien todas las opciones ¡No te sientas limitad-! Cada una contará por separado en tu cronología.

Recuerda compartir tu creación en el grupo PINK IN THE NIGHT y comentar la publicación con el siguiente formulario: NOMBRE + #CÓDIGO - LINK

[yunessa]

In-character character development questions for Yunessa!

💧 DROPLET  —  are you grieving something or someone? do you feel like you lost something or a part of yourself with it/them?

⚡️ LIGHTNING  BOLT  —  how has  the Crusade  impacted you? what has it made you realize about yourself? about others? about the world?

At a shrine made of stone surrounded by grass and stray flowers, there's a few letters left behind, set beneath offerings of wildflowers and a bottle of honeyed mead.

💧  & ⚡️ — 

I feel sometimes my friend, as if I have done this a hundred times. There is a horror to the curse I bear, yes. But there is something far worse in life. Seeing someone you care for leave this life, no matter how peacefully or bravely they go into the night. No amount of valor or honor will see that person's eyes open or make the hand you so desperately grasp for become warm.

No, you grasp at a shell and your tears are a thousand times more sharp than the cold bite of winter. People try to comfort you- surely Pharasma will be kind they say, surely their god would welcome them-. But the jaded and bitter parts of me want to lash out towards their attempts at comfort, their tightly grasping hands and the arms they hug me with. For the more they comfort me, the more I know that the loss of you will never fill. It will heal and with time I will drink less. With time the wound of the loss will scab. In its place will be a hollow left behind that cannot be filled by another. Time does not heal all wounds. Sometimes it merely dulls the pain.

We all mourn. But what I have lost is one of the reasons life was worth living and in this crusade has made me realise how much I have truly lost. For myself and for those times I look out the window to see the graveyard at the walls of Drezen.

You see the best of those here, how hard they fight, how bitterly they push. For a better tomorrow, for green fields, and to see the amber wheat of their farms. For their families and what matters. So that there even can be a tomorrow lives must be shed. Someday, they say, my friend, that Sarkoris will be green and Mendev will know peace.

I have trouble imagining any of that now. Each loss scars me a little more. I have seen the best men march to their deaths to buy seconds for others. I have seen weak men give up in the face of reality. I have seen people who I never guessed had any strength at all become heroes more worthy of song than any other.

And I have realised that I cannot leave this. Idyllic dreams, a better future- what is any of those things when you are not with me? Even if the Crusade was won tomorrow with not another life lost and Sarkoris turned green and lush, it means nothing. You are not there to see it so the victory is hollow.

Perhaps when this war ends I will find another place to throw myself towards if I can bear to leave you. Perhaps I should stop crying into this cup of whiskey. But I have an idea.

A possibility that might make this right.

And may you forgive me, but I must try.

With that I will end this letter and leave it somewhere that it may travel to you. it is said gifts to the dead are delivered so I will leave the drink I had the first time I saw you and flowers that remind me of you. Pray for my success as I will leave Drezen in the early hours.

All my love,

Yunessa

( @dujour13 Thank you for the ask!)

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Brothers of the Fourth! Behold, upon this horizon crawls a foe fit for the sagas of old, a tide of chittering claws and gnashing mawls! The hive swarm stirs, its hunger casting a greasy veil upon the sun! But fret not, for we are the Redemptor Roses, thorns amongst the carrion, blades bathed in the light of dawn!

We were forged in the crucible of lies, crafted from the dust of a fallen angel! Yet, from that ash blossomed chivalry, not decay! We spurned the whispers of darkness, our hearts aflame with the Golden Rose, a beacon bright against the creeping night! Forget the whispers of tainted lineage, of the peacock lord's twisted embrace! We claim only the Fulgrim of the past, the hero before the fall, his nobility and glorious vision our guiding star!

This day, the swarm seeks to choke the light from the world of Man, to drown its song in a symphony of gore. But let them come! Let them crash upon our shields, break against our blades! We shall paint the void with their blood, a banner raised high above the battlefield! This is not merely duty, brothers, nor service to a throne. This is our crucible, our forge of glory! Our chance to etch our names upon the tapestry of eternity, in letters of fire and song!

Remember the tales of Lancelot, of Gawain, of Tristan and Iseult! Remember the ideals passed down through the ages, the noble pursuit of beauty and gallantry in the face of the hungering abyss! Today, we are their living testament, swords of valor against the howling beast! Let our bolters be their requiem, our blades their epitaph! Let our hearts beat with the drumbeat of righteous fury! Let Our Cherished Ladies of the Sororitas sing hymns of our deeds for millennia!

Onwards, warriors of the Fourth! For the Golden Way lies ahead, paved with the shattered corpses of our foes! Raise your voices, let the anthem of defiance ring across the void! Remember the Emperor, remember your oaths, remember Fulgrim Uncorrupted! For the Rose! For the Emperor! For the Phoenix Reborn! Let the swarm drown in the music of our fury!

Death, brothers! Bring Death this day with the fury of a hundred suns, with the grace of a hundred ballads! Let the xenos know the wrath of the Rose, the unwavering loyalty of Fulgrim's Faithful! For the Emperor, for Quatora Prime, for the Golden Way! Glory! GLORY!!

~Knight Captain Léonard Toutain, Redemptor Roses 4th Company, at the onset of the Fourth Tyrannic War's Battle of Cruht, M42

[libidomechanica]

“Quick answered web and adore”

Beat even grotto were than head.     Nor at myself a flame. First spring, which at time the     erotically if new- made to get new Marriage mellow,     and goddess! She, strait-besieged

by turtle. Listen the fatal     here the wrote, for a hundred from these place it beneath     hide thy banners form a stand, not brain case heart affairs supposed     tight, or Missal topics:

poems must be one cannot     known thy grant you stain’d, and out in your bowers’ hooks: hope their     growing all: woe-hurried April dreamless from the Latmos     so idly left roundeth!

Into whom having a waver     of the blabbing nigh pale, were we have seen a wound, friend, half     English, or griefs the consequent doctors which keep here is     ruthfull of Life hast those

smallery, beneath. He mirror     blush’d, am I not set there is prompture were take, in the     place at single stiller, not like luckles full fling you have     that nough the merry clime,

thy meek the brick dies upon me     sip that I desire; her vein bed, their taste come, to parrot     turn the who do it for of Allah, while you the place.     The Ranks of praised sacred

shade from the might The three monstrous     sight forth. By garment could vex, and air-balloons to the foolish,     many case, her on his like a mossy cavern instead,     and when two poor fell

sweet did not for pleasure: freeze in     trains now white the world to do. At one more. With all porch, they     lost though to stolen hisses’ in love me—toll their fair off     like their swore, motive, and

flew out that was every guiled.     Into their very much dayly grant eleven what I     knew; both here; and blesse patient flashes scope, sooner walls, who     has blood was a’ besets

our simple ground of whatsoe’er foes     wish intery part from his wet Clay how d�� ye meadows     in our madder my own grows they met with buskins so he     ground waken’d down tender

shoot or me of love when proudlier     praised beside throat. She seem so nutty, and ivy-dart, in     persisterhood. Dying of man’s hand to make the tongue, he     saw you got our life-holding

valorous Don Juan, who know,     and transmitted down and daub his that some could finger in     the worth a summit, liest the Taverns lodgment, or face. To     you, maid! She thing, but these,

to you, faith its flesh is no more     shepheards hersel’ to be pray, enshade without these same none     of her gentler passion lurking be, troth, from care blast in     the goal is dinner at

love done, far fright be, to grown show,     and yet dare not know th’ Arabians’ presume to     be drops fell,—lounging. Though watch and understand a red lifted     without him, gliding,

yet am full song of new-born     woe is none chance according to make my love to catch again.     A summer’s journey, you my natal hope. Quick answered     web and adore. To these

hero; at six—perhaps, ’ thou mayst     live? Content, only collect from her breake doth the rill, then     the hope of the worn into help, and Earth the search my     jealousies did fall, and the

winterpos’d then festoons he roses;     my heart having near air, lest into an ease, but the     ransom, beside the worth on a line t is the curl’d at     the Husband alone; and

no great was not a distance as     to a moral, will matter’d a milking through perish! A     leaf to love the come try me bear and shrouds beneath common:     he said to say was her,

which coals are various for tend     upon the things she cold night of health colour turning photo     of hope and passionless painted in Spain; to other—     at length thy knight on the

horses, but in thy love here? In     ever doubtless, but not sleepy dusky groves, puffing on     they reading a reward; where knew, I pray for none can     Woe-hurried, unmarried?