#and it’s charming as hell! the music is RIDICULOUSLY good as well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

r3starttt · 2 months ago

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HELL IS A TEENAGE GIRL

PAIRING: Jennifer's body (Abby Anderson x reader)

CW: blood. murdering-killing. vomit. sub! abby. oral. Owen!!!!!

AN: this goes for my beautiful amazing talented gorgeous @clairoscharm . Ieally hope u like at least the beggining and I'm sorry for making it SO rushed!!! u deserve better

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @roos4lm4 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles @0court @dinakisser @lott6i @imagoddess1 @viajeros--sin--destino | ABBY: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi12 @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee @wastdstime @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @0court

People always found it a bit of a joke that a girl like you—pretty, effortlessly charming, and so untouchable—would hang around with someone like Abby Anderson. The class nerd. The lesbian with a mile-long case of compulsory heterosexuality and a fake boyfriend. Everyone knew he was just there to shield her from the obvious: the way her eyes lit up like a puppy every time she saw you cheering.

They didn’t understand what you saw in her, how her soft sweaters would end up around your shoulders when your mom forgot to pick you up in the raniest day of sixth grade, or how her glasses would fog up every time you hugged her just a little too long.

They also didn’t remember that day in fourth grade when you were playing boyfriend and girlfriend—naturally, she was your girl—and she punched a boy who interrupted your first kiss just to mock you both. His mom was more furious about the kiss than his kid falling down the slide.

She would always be your girl. And you would always be hers, or so you've dreamed of.

Everything really began with that stupid cross scrawled across the back of your hand, a sort of ticket to a "club" full of sleazy mustache-twirling creeps and horny teenage boys. You were in it for the experience, of course. Abby, ever loyal, tagged along as usual.

The night started with you picking her up from another one of her fake boyfriend's dates. Fifth time that week. You never liked Owen. He was basic—worn-out jeans, some boring neutral colored shirt—and he couldn’t wait to ditch his belt the moment he stepped foot in Abby’s meticulously organized, nerdy little room. He didn't care about her classical music or her favorite bands posters or her books or her theories or her love for anything.

But you did.

You knew boys; Abby didn’t.

And every time you saw him with her, something in you twisted with jealousy—he wanted her, and he got her too easily.

Abby was something with plenty potential, naturally smart- a genius to your eyes. She had good grades, good money, a surgeon as a dad who was single and overworked himself- like father, like daughter. She folded her clothes neatly and organized them by color, she chose what she would wear a day before, she would have a schedule for everything- you always present. Her hair down made her prettier than that gentle braid she'd wear every day, and whenever she did her lashes and added that extra gloss, her face looked so pretty, and her glasses were that perfect extra she needed to be perfect for your eyes.

And then there was this boy, horny and getting a boner just by the sight of Abby's bra. You despised Abby for allowing such lame boy into her perfect life.

That night, though, it was you who had your eyes on someone else—a band, well, a man. Not for the music, but for the thrill. Older guys, somewhat famous, the kind that would treat you like you were stupid.

And the idea of it had your heart racing.

Hormones, maybe. The chance to see if anyone could ever make you feel the way Abby did. But with a dick and the creepy beard- like Abby called it.

She warned you not to, you just didn’t listen but laughed, batting your lashes, your glossy lips flashing in that ridiculous puffy white jacket.

You were invincible, right?

Wrong.

It all spiraled faster than you could process. The screaming, the snapping bones, the music turning into something warped and twisted. The man—one of those rockstars you thought would show you a good time—stared at you, as if he was just as shocked by what was happening as you were.

You stood there, frozen, as if it was all some bad dream.

Then, suddenly, you were outside, Abby’s hands gripping your waist, trying to lead you away as your broken heels gave out beneath you. You felt like you were burning from the inside, your mind fuzzy from the bartender’s “gift”—a drink served with a wink after you'd playfully pressed your arms against your breasts, just a little- enough to show them off for a pretty girl discount.

You collapsed, feeling stupid and weak, like you were drugged. Abby’s warm hands pressed against your face, and her lips repeated something that must've been your name, but before you could focus on her, you heard that man’s voice—the same man you’d dreamt about for maybe a day or two—crooning, “Let’s go to my van.”

Abby’s "no" cut through the haze, repeated over and over. But it didn’t matter. He shoved another drink into your mouth, the liquid spilling over your glossy lips, staining the glass. Abby’s glasses caught the reflection of the chaos behind you, the carnage inside, but no one seemed to notice.

Then you were in his van. Skinny, twisted, looking like something straight out of a nightmare. To Abby, you were gone—like a corpse. He dragged you in with a grip too tight on your waist, and just like that, the door slammed shut.

By the time they were halfway there, you were eerily quiet. Your glossy eyes mirrored the messy streaks of lip gloss now smeared up your cheeks, the result of tears and desperation. The skin around your nails was raw and bleeding, torn from how furiously you’d been scratching at yourself, trying to ground your fear.

"Are you guys like... rapists or something?" Your voice came out small, weak. You were just a girl, after all. You’d never expected a bunch of men to kidnap you, let alone drag you somewhere far away. But if you were about to die, you’d rather it be with Abby.

One of them scoffed, turning in his seat to mutter to the driver. "God, man, I hate girls." The guy riding shotgun glanced back at you, his face almost as pale as yours. He looked scared—like he hadn’t signed up for this. "Are you even sure she’s a virgin?" he asked, nervousness creeping into his voice.

The driver shot him a glare. "Yes, I’m sure, I don’t—"

"I’ve never—" you blurted out, your voice cracking as you struggled to hold back sobs. "You should, uh... find someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who’s good at it." Your words were stumbling over themselves, trying to buy time, to make them think twice. After all those boys and awkward make-out sessions, you’d never gone further. It scared you. And deep down, you’d always hoped the first time would be with someone who mattered—someone with pretty lashes like Abby, eyes like Abby, a body like hers, a voice like hers. You dreamed about it being her.

"See? Told you she’s a virgin. Y’all owe me a beer," the driver said smugly, ignoring the panic in your voice.

They kept shoving beers at you, forcing you to drink. Soon, everything started to blur—the dark van, the Satanic symbols plastered on the walls, the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes. Your mind drifted as they dragged you out, the cold night air biting at your skin. You recognized the place. The falls—the very place that gave your town its name. Were you really going to die here?

"We gather tonight to sacrifice the body of..." One of the men started speaking, his voice dripping with dark ritualistic glee. You barely heard him over your own muffled screams. The ropes they’d tied around you were crude, hastily knotted, biting into your skin.

You fought hard, thrashing against the bonds, trying to kick at them. Your thighs were burning, knees scraped raw as they shoved you forward. Your heels had long since fallen off, lost somewhere in the dirt.

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," the man you thought was your dream sneered. The same man you’d been stupid enough to trust just hours ago. He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to look at him. "Maybe we’ll write a song about you," he teased, pressing a mocking kiss to your forehead before shoving you toward the edge of the falls. The roar of the water was deafening, mist from the cascade sparkling in the air around them. Everything about it was twisted, surreal.

"With the deepest malice, we deliver this virgin sacrifice..." The knife came next. Cold, sharp, unforgiving. It tore through you over and over, ice and fire mingling in your veins. You couldn’t make sense of the pain—sometimes it burned, sometimes it was numb, like your body was trying to shut down. You wanted to rip your heart out just to make it stop. The agony tore your screams from your throat, desperate cries for them to stop.

Was Abby okay?

Owen's words were right that night. Who could care about you and those assholes with they stupid looks and voices and music when people just got burned alive.

But for Abby it was just a stupid jealous rambling. He didn't like you, his argument? You're a bad influence for her, telling her to prioritize girls night instead of him, or teaching her to put on more makeup for their dates which he had to pretend to notice. Because you made her laugh louder than anyone else and she would get called out during classes. Because you brought the best from her, a best he couldn’t.

"No, no. I'm telling you- Owen! fuck! listen, please-" any other argument she was trying to make it have sense for his boyfriend completely shushed on her brain as a loudness interrupted behind her. It was something falling- maybe someone. Steps and a quiet growl what she could manage to understand in the few seconds she was given to turn around and press the phone against her chest.

You were covered in blood, your pretty pink tights broken. Heels not even on. That pretty white on your jacket covered by a worrying amount of blood, ripped. Teeth tainted in blood and dark eyes. Your pretty make up ruined, mascara as if you'd cried and those glossy lips she adored to feel on her cheek each day you greeted her first thing morning now blurred and melt into a disgusting mix of drool and blood.

Owen's voice long forgotten as you were there. She spoke your name many times, you simply got on your knees, opening her fridge and getting out a random fried chicken her dad had bought. It smelled putrid but you could not care any less.

Her shaky hands cleaned her tears off, adjusting her glasses as she kneeled on your side, patting your back.

You shouted at her, an inhuman sound leaving your mouth followed by dark vomit. It was like a weird heavy oil.

She didn't understand that day but you did.

Your last time alive was for and to her, trying to escape into the safe of her home and her arms but unable to as you were far gone and replaced by a weird entity. A sickness.

She ran away, thinking on who to call or what to do. You knew she wouldn't but the thing inside you didn't.

Abby Anderson wouldn't acuse you to the police or try to escape or do anything at all that could hurt you or put you in any danger, she just wanted to help you.

Your force was scary, stupid against her.

You pinned her against the wall, her lower back hitting the furniture on her entrance and your hand breaking the glass of her pretty picture from earlier that grade. Your hands bleeding more and more and her pretty clothes earlier chosen just for you to see and admire now drenched in your same blood and dirt.

"Are you scared?" You pressed your lips against her neck, your breath hovering intense against her flesh. She was trembling, crying. You felt the nod on her face and just there your dirty nails cradled her face. You just looked at her, a lost look on both of your faces. The salt of her tears burned on your skin, but no inch of skin flinched.

She tried to call your name but you just leaned forward again, biting at the little necklace on her neck with her initial into a pretty gold. Abby sobbed- Your Abigail, the strongest person you've met was heart broken, and terrified.

Her skin was salty and her perfume was comforting, it almost made you bite. But you didn't, you stepped back and freeing her face, you pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. She hated blood, but she took it.

And just like that she spent all night with sobbing eyes and fogged glasses. Her nails dirty in whatever dark vomit you've displayed on her floor.

"Abigail" your acute usual morning greeting made her blink for once this morning. Her usual perfect lips now chapped. She felt your bracelets hit around her neck before your gloss spread on her cheeks. "You're alright." she mumbled.

"yeah...? why wouldn't I be." Your eyes rolled as you put the small notebook and a pen over the shared bench. "Yesterday at my house-"

"Oh my god! Abby you overreact all the time- Remember you thought there was an earthquake and it was just those fat kids playing?" you giggled, the loud of your voice no longer shushed by her as she was in pure shock. "People died, it's national news."

"Anyone we know?" The lip gloss glisthened against your lips as you put more of it, your lashes pointing at her eyes while starting at her lips. "We know everyone." Her tone obvious.

"Sucks to be them, I guess." You shrugged, about to lay your open arms and take full space before her hands hold you in place. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you, besides the obvious need of a fucking mani, bad." The edges of your eyebrows fought to turn into a frown, curving slightly at the edge of your nose. "I don't know maybe that I had to be all night scrubbing the...carnage off the linoleum-" your voices overlapped. "God don't talk like that it's... one of the most freaky Abby behaviors."

She showed you her hands, the under of her nails in a disgusting black, it made you want to throw up. "No- don't show your hands- stop." You shoved them down, the cool of your skin making her frown. "It makes us look both like total Gaylords."

Your lips were drenched in blood. She was sweet, with her freckled cheeks and the short bun on her now masy hair. She whined so pretty and so far she'd been the only one to try and fight back. Her nails scratched on your back and neck and arms, almost made it to hurt your eye too. Maybe if she hadn't done that your teeth wouldn't have pierced on her skin like they did.

Your grip left bruises on her skin. A gutural groan- half a moan while you uncovered her tits to hold her nipples between your fingers.

"Good girl" you whispered, holding her still.

If Abby could se who's organs you had on your mouth right now, she would turn into dust in a matter of seconds. Her girl, her all life best friend, had her mouth filled with blood and fresh organs that belonged to the girl you've made fun of together your whole life. Ellie Williams, the quiet girl you mocked with Abby by calling her all kinds of names because she had a smartness you didn't and you envied, she had the girls you couldn't, she was Abby’s first friend and most likely first love- she never realized. And you envied all of it, so, instead of getting over it you're digging into her open stomach, drenching your hands and clothes and mouth with her blood and her flesh. All of her is delicious, really- well, all except her tattooed arm. That's putrid.

The empty house you've found yourself in suddenly felt quiet as you could finally free yourself from her gripp. Her short nails had left a small bruise around your pale wrists until the pain became too blinding and the blood wasn't enough to keep her alive.

Cigarettes, lighter, some old ticket on her left pocket. Some dollars on the right one.

Nothing worth keeping from her. Truly.

Just the gain of your youth again.

"I'm feeling scrumptious-" The lighter fired small sparks way too close to your face. The taste of blood eventually disappearing from your tongue, fading withing each gulp of your salivating mouth. "Oh okay! cool im-" Abby tried to speak from the other side of the line. Her voice cutting through the not so long distance between. "You know when you kiss a boy and your whole body feels on vibrate?" the lighter in your hand with a small initial drawn with permanent pen caught your attention, almost making it sound like your words had lost trail. Abby frowned, laying her stomach on the bed as she held her weight over her elbows to speak a proper "yeah" just loud enough for you to hear. "Me- uhm, I'm still a little bit depressed about the giant smoldering funeral pyre in the middle of town-" yet you interrupted again.

"Move on Abby, it's over- And...you should be truly caring about your best friend who's having the best days ever since like Jesus invented the calendar." You finally stood up, hitting the cold of Ellie's leg just to make sure she was properly gone- as if all the blood you've sucked from her and all the flesh you've filled yourself with could somehow be meaningless and not enough to end with her.

"He didn't." Abby didn't even tried to explain it to you. It would be a waste of time and for once in her life she was feeling like hanging the call and leaving your bimbo brain to manage itself. "Well whatever. I'm like... a god- what's got you busy from paying all your attention to me? mhm?" you practically groaned at the absence of her response. "Gotta go, Owen wants to see me."

You pressed the fire right against your tongue. As if all the mad in you felt comfort by the pain. "You know... he's looking kinda cute to me lately, with his stupid t shirts and that-"

"Yeah, whatever, bye."

Your tongue burned.

"No offense but you look really tired." Abby put her black backpack over one of her shoulders, struggling to get the other side over her arm. You, you took your small purse and empty notebook and hid yourself under the violet hoodie- A hoodie that covered almost your knees if you tried to. Unlike you. really. "Wat's wrong?"

"I feel like boo-boo. My skin is breaking out, my hair is dull and lifeless. God... it's like I'm you."

Part of it comforted Abby, knowing you still had energy left for your humor to be this passive aggressive and your love to be this mean.

"Are you PMS-ing?-" you stopped before her, eyeing the pretty pink on her clothes up and down. She'd took the advice you gave her a few weeks ago on how to drees more for your liking. But, what the fuck was she speaking right now.

"Abby, that's not real. It was invented by the men to make women look crazy and you should know better."

"Oh I should know better? fuck off."

It was killing you, not having her near. She was afraid of you. You thought it was selfish. No matter how ugly your skin was and how much your stomach could kill you of hunger you couldn't get yourself to hurt her, yet she seemed beyond terrified of you. She was even mad at you.

It was killing you to see her with him. She wasn't good enough for him and he wasn't good enough for her.

"Hey, Abby. I'm sorry" you practically whined, holding her hand and locking your fingers with hers. She was mad at you, for, twice this year. That's a lot.

"Can I go home with you?"

"God! Abby stop with the screaming you're such a cliché-" The initials of your last victim shining beneath the gentle orange light of her room. The lighter on Abby's hands. "I won't bite you..." The whisper almost hit her skin as you crawled closer to her, your knees sinking in the matress. "Why are you wearing that..." she eyed the overworn hoodie hugging your body. "Though you'd like it..." Your nails tugged at the edges of her sweater, showing the bare shoulders beneath her white tank top.

She looked horrified- and more than breaking your heart, it made you pussy starved. Maybe this is why boys were an easy target.

You cradled her face between your heating hands, caressing her cheekbones under her glasses until they fogged. You chuckled at it before taking them off.

Her heartbeat could be felt on your own body, as if you'd already made her yours- She'd always been. "Come here..." you would expect a flinch, a push, a slap. Not her saliva meeting yours, the fat of her lip between yours until it goes the other way and she's got you in between.

It makes you wet, really. How her shoulder stiffen and her posture straightens until it doesn't and she leans to kiss you and savor you back.

She feels ridiculously soft and the little clothes she wears are beyond inviting. But there's nothing you'll push on her, not a boundary you'll ignore. She's the most tender flesh you've had, the most loud pump of blood you've sensed and the prettiest salty your tongue has feasted on. She's your girl, your Abby.

And she's whining at the little kisses you give her.

Abby Anderson, the girl you've craved for your whole life more than anything is now under your mercy, for you to take and enjoy as you please- well, almost.

You lay back again, meeting her no longer maddening eyes but soft brows and the locks of hair adorning her braid, resting over her shoulder.

You lock your fingers with them, undoing her smooth blonde between your hands. And Abby just stares in awe.

Just a few seconds ago she was about to cry at the confirmation that she'd lost you and now she wanted nothing else than to play girlfriend and boyfriend again and have you between her legs to fo the job Owen had failed miserable at.

And so she did, straddling your legs and sinking your bodies on the matress. Her lips eating yours eagerly, like she'd craved you just as much as you did. And you were so warm, scary comforting.

Your hands slid under her white top, covered by her sweater. The tip of your nails scratching the middle of her back until you got to her bra.

"What the fuck is happening." Her voice became loud, too acute for her own good.

The little heart with the BFF craved on it hit your chin, forcing your eyes to open and then your back to drag you and sit in front of her.

"My god, Abby. I've never heard you drop the F-bomb before." She stumbled over her words, trying to make it all have sense. The lighter on her hands again and suddenly being tossed for you to own it again. Your little award. "Slow down tardy slip, you sound like a sped." You imitated her stuttering, brushing some of your hair off your face.

"I'm gonna call the police." She threatened, but you just laughed it off, cupping her cheeks to deepen your tongue between her lips.

She didn't hesitate on following your lead. She never did.

It's fervent and sloppy and wet. And you have drool over your chin, you're truly rabid.

Her ass gets cupped by your hands, and she whines against your lips, taking her clothes off for you. Her bra reveals the perky nipples beneath and you direct your mouth to them, brushing the straps down her shoulders to get a proper taste.

"Let me hear you... yeah, like that." it makes you wet how obedient she is. How soft her nipple feels between your lips, It's delicious. "I love you Abby." Your arousal grows at how her hear stops, how her face genuinely lightens again for you.

"Lay down, come on." You guide her with soft murmurs and praise, a touch so gentle it could never be fair for Owen if he ever tried to feel her again.

Your hands traveled to the back of her legs, pressing a soft kiss on each before putting them over your shoulders. Her jeans unzipped before you got rid of her underwear, and sinking in between her legs not Inmediatelly- but after you took a proper look of her wet slit and your breath hovered.

Your mouth leaves kisses over her puffy clit, fingers sissoring her soaked folds. You could come just by how pretty she sounds for you. How she held onto you and trust her body to you.

In exchange its only fair to savour every inch of her. Licking, sucking, kissing her arousal. Teasing it with the tip of your fingers and tongue before actually thrusting inside her.

And you lose yourself in her, sucking at her clit- moaning against it at how fucking delicious she tastes. Her legs are so soft, and her happy trail is as pretty as the under. Her tits show enough for you to remember forever and her hands are constantly looking to hold onto you, to lock her fingers between your head into a tender grip that you have to guide into harsh and rough.

You can see her fogged glasses. Her once perfect hair a mess all over her back, pressed against her pretty skin covered in sweat. Your name falls from her plump lips as pleads. Over and over again- too overwhelmed with your pretty voice, your hands on her- she just whines, searching for friction, rubbing desperately against your sloppy tongue licking over her pretty pussy.

Abby never said I love you back

"Hey, sorry I- I need to talk to you about you know who?"

It had been months after that. Currently October 31, way too cold to still be months away from December.

Abby never said I love you back, and that's all you cared about. Not all the deaths that had been your fault, not the sex, not her cum dripping down your chin before you crawled to her and deepened your tongue into hers again.

And Abby, on the other hand, she didn't care about else than the stupid lighter.

Fuck Ellie, and fuck Owen, and fuck her.

"ugh, our little Abby?" The boy seemed oblivious to the whole thing. "She's been acting off lately, but it must be you..." His passive aggressive self was- "I think there's something wrong, she's been really upset since... you know, Ellie died?"

He frowned, stepping back from you just enough to eye you up and down- to look at your tits. "They were being intimate and-" he tried to stop you, but you held him in place "And, I just- I'm sorry, I care about you... so much, more than I've ever had the guts to admit...."

He stood there, quiet and still. You, held the sides of his arms and just like that he was on his knees for you.

"Abby didn't deserve a boy like you"

"I feel so empty-" he kissed you.

The only man beside her father to get her full heart and soul, was kissing you. He wasn't only betraying her- your Abby- he was doing it with you, the most important person in this world for her.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Your teeth sinking into his tongue, ripping it from him. It was too painful to even scream or shout or fight back. He held you, his gross hands were touching you and keeping you in place. It wasn't his strength nor your fear but the shock of the sudden disgusting feeling within you. Shame.

You throw him into the pool, your dress heavy against you. He got trapped between you and the fabric of your white stained dress and the natural heaviness of the water.

His head hit with the walls of the pool endless times until he tried to fight back for once. Abby.

"You were never a good friend, even when we were little you would throw your toys at me and bite me and- " you cut her off, trying to step closer. She wouldn't let you.

it broke your heart.

"And now I'm eating your boyfriend, see? at least I'm consistent." You left the floor, all the anger and pain and shame mixing into one. It wasn't you anymore but whatever those men had done to your body and your brain. Abby wasn't Abby, she was a threat.

"Why do you need him? you can have any boy you want, why him?" the next words were mumbles until she pronounced insecure. Insecure.

You didn't reply, not a single word leaving your lips until you managed to make your way into her.

"I'm not insecure Abby, how could I?"

You tried to contain, you really did. The live and adoration for her was endless, no demon, no man, no boy, no nothing could ever take that from you. It was a thing that made you, you. She was the thing, the human you loved more than anything in the whole universe.

Yet no matter what, a man would always take the place you deserved.

"I am going to eat your soul and shit it out Abigail!"

"I thought you only murdered boys"

"Oh, I go both ways."

388 notes · View notes

liveontelevision · 10 months ago

Note

I beg of u pls more slowburn luci... I'm starved... No one writes him as well as you💔 I'll give you my kidneys 💔

THIS ONES FOR YOU BB

Did it Hurt? Lucifer x Reader

enjoy some quick fluff >:)

♡♡♡

Lucifer always had a habit of losing his temper. It wasn't often, usually when a specific document was giving him a hard time or when he would return from any meeting that took place at Heaven's Embassy. Or, with the relocation of his quarters, whenever a certain radio demon would push his buttons just a bit too much. You've seen it enough times to know when to leave him be and when to step in, but you hated to admit how familiar you became with him in this state.

It was a lot of work keeping up with the hotel after its renovation, and Lucifer did everything in his power to keep the hotel running behind the scenes, so Charlie could focus on her new residents. Being his assistant for so many years, even following him to work at the hotel, you were absolutely delighted to see him so passionate to work, obviously motivated by his rekindled relationship with his daughter. But with the whole redemption premise, it meant a lot more contact with Heaven, and that drained his battery more than anything you've seen.

You hated to compare, but it almost reminded you of his depressive episodes after Lillith disappeared. He walked the halls in a daze, putting on the brightest smile only around the other hotel staff, but you knew him too well to be fooled by his lovely grin.

Throw some drinks into the mix? You'd witness a truly gruesome sight.

It was almost evening when Lucifer realized he actually had caught up to his work and had the chance to enjoy his night. His first thought, no matter how much he'd deny it, was to find you. It was always easier to enjoy his rest and relaxation when you were around. Something about you just left that affect on him. It'd drive him crazy if he thought about it too long.

You found yourself in the newly renovated lobby, still decorated with a bar that exentuated both Lucifer's and Alastor's aesethetic. It was one of the few things they had compromised on.

Lucifer insisted you stop work for the night, but you only agreed after thoroughly skimming over his documents to see if there was anything that would keep him up too long. After finally being swayed, you give him a quick pat on his arm and wished him a good night, assuming he would take the oppurtunity to sleep through his newfound free time.

With a satisifed sigh, you slammed your empty cup on the bar's counter, shouting for another. There was a loud roar of cheers coming from everyone around you as Husk refilled your glass. You lost count after the first hour or so, your head beginning to spin before you could consider the consequences. Soft Jazz music was playing from a small radio, hidden from view, and the entire hotel staff was bustling and chatting as if it wasn't nearly midnight on an average night in Hell.

You had heard something particularly ridiculous from Angel that sent you into a laughing fit. Nearly falling from your barstool, you felt a sturdy hand brace the small of your back. Startled by the sensation, you whip your head around a little too quickly, leaving you dizzy and blinking before focusing in on Alastor keeping you upright.

"Careful, my dear! I enjoy the festivities as much as the next depraved sinner, but we can't have the king's secretary hurting themselves now, can we?" His words seemed rude, but he managed to say them with a charm that prevented you from truly questioning it. It didn't stop you from mumbling under your breath, "i'm not his secretary.. asshole deer demon - " You managed to say it quiet enough that he didn't react, but you did catch his ear twitching and turning torwards you for a second. You quickly resumed some random conversation with Charlie or Vaggie, you couldn't remember its contents if you were asked about it today, but it was better than dealing with the repercussions of insulting the radio demon.

It went back to being chummy and pleasant for a moment before you saw Charlie peering past your shoulder, an excited gasp escaping her lips.

"Dad! Come drink with us!" Charlie leaned back from her barstool, Vaggie bracing her drunken sweetheart from falling flat on her face. You quickly turn, dizzying yourself again, before seeing Lucifer making a hasty decent down the stairs. His hair was freshly quaffed, and he wore a clean white dress shirt, that smelled of a sweet cologne when he walked past you. He had that twinkle in his eyes that would appear whenever he was in Charlie's presence. You loved seeing his eyes that way. They'd shine no matter how heavy the bags under them were.

"Of course, kiddo! Your old man's got the night off if you'd believe it! Pour me a.. uh... something strong!" He puffed his chest out proudly, happy to spend some much needed time around demons in a casual setting. He propped himself against the counter between you and Charlie. When you finally caught up to his words, your eyes widened slightly, giving him a gentle tap on his shoulder. Lucifer turned to look at you, and you caught him speechless for a moment. Your cheeks were red and hot, your eyes dazed and a bit watery from laughing too hard, but still reading concerned for some reason. He's seen you in loungewear before, but you were barely put together in this state. Your hair was sprawled across your shoulders, a few strands blocking your eyes. You wore sweatpants that loosely hung from your waist, revealing your middrift that was visible from underneath your cropped t-shirt that bagged off your shoulders. After snapping back to reality, Lucifer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.

"Yes, yes, dear, here I am. Hope you've been having fun - but not too much! Fun.. Aha... what-what is it, what do you need..?" He stumbled over his words, attempting to be charming but failing miserably. A staticky chuckle responded to his words before you could get out what you wanted to say. "Poetry, your highness. True poetry~" Lucifer hated to look away from you but did so anyway to send a red eyed glare to Alastor, who sat across the bar. He scoffed before scooping his freshly poured drink into his clawed hand and taking a quick swig, slamming it back down. He coughed for a moment, hitting his chest with a balled up fist before sending Husk a teary-eyed thumbs up. "Smooth.. Another..!" He squeaked out. You resorted to taking a soft grip on his forearm after he got too distracted to hear you out before.

"Sir, be careful! We both know you can't hold your liquor.. just - be careful." You spoke in a hushed tone, far closer to his ear than you intended to be, but personal space became foggy in your drunken state. He shivered, feeling your breath against the side of his face, then quickly turned his head up to hide the red creeping across his cheeks. Clearing his throat and picking up his refilled glass, he let out a pompous laugh.

"Thanks for worrying about me, but i'm fine! I'm the king of Hell! I can handle my.. whiskey?" He turned to Husk with a confused look on his face, only to get a confirmation on his drink. He sent a charasmatic smirk in your direction after getting a thumbs up from the bartender. You couldn't help but giggle, covering your mouth to not embarrass him or yourself. He always eased your nerves like this.

What a dork.

You smiled to yourself for a moment before feeling a hand brush the hair that laid across your eyeline out of the way and tucking it away behind your ear. You looked up, fluttering your eyelashes as your eyes focused in on the figure. You turned red seeing Alastor brushing his claws across your hair to keep it away from your face. Without proper judgement, you cringed at the suddenly intimate interaction and jolted away from his clawed hands.

"Now, now, I'm only trying to help! You look an absolute mess, darling." You shrunk at Alastor's words. He still spoke charmingly, but it was clear he had a few drinks as well. You let out a nervous chuckle, running your hands through your own hair and crossing your arms over your exposed middrift.

Lucifer's seen you stick up for yourself before. You were as passionate as he was in that sense. So seeing you almost curled up into a ball at Alastor's words, that were spoken closer to your face than he'd ever want to see, made him growl. "Keep your distant, buddy, maybe you should call it night. If you know what's good for you, that is." Lucifer's confidence only grew with the alcohol finally hitting him. He laid his arm across your shoulder, slightly leaning you away from the demon that towered over the two of you. Alastor found a weakspot and knew exactly what to do with it.

The chatting went on for another hour or two. After Lucifer was calmed down by Charlie and yourself, you all managed to have a decent time until demons started heading back to their rooms one by one. Lucifer was going on a rant about some bullshit documents that Heaven sent and how he'll have to set an appointment to go to the embassy soon, while you propped your head on your hand and only half listened. It wasn't because you were disinterested, you were just coming off your high. You still weren't sober enough to warn Lucifer that he probably had one drink too many, but that was a problem for later.

"Why not send your little servant to deal with Heaven, hmm? I've seem them dealing with plenty of your problems, i'm sure another burden won't hurt, wouldn't you agree?" A wave of radio static washed over your body as you felt large hands fully encase your shoulders. Alastor's claws were cold against your skin, your shoulders exposed by the drooping of the oversized shirt you wore. When he was drunk, his little quips seemed much more personal.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, carefully pulling your torso away from his grip." Ha ha ha. I'm fine, Alastor. I can handle myself, even against Heaven. If i have to, I could totally deal with an angel!" You bragged, maybe the confidence of alcohol made you respond, maybe something else.

"How about you? Think you can handle an angel, Al?" Lucifer added to your words, his arms across his chest. Alastor's eye twitched, his clawed fingers digging into his dress shirt where he was nearly killed this past extermination. The static in the air crackled louder for a moment, before Alastor spun you around to face him. His hands were planted firmly on either side of the chair, caging you in uncomfortably.

"Oh rest assured, sweetheart, I'm fully capable. If you ever need.. protection.. on one of your little errands, do let me know, hm? Maybe you'll need a gentleman to accompany - " He slowly moved in closer to you, until your could barely hold yourself up, your breath hitching as you lost the strength to handle his exessive teasing. Lucifer ripped on of Alastor's hands away, before pulling you from your seat and holding onto your arms to brace you from the quick movement.

"Back the fuck off, bitch." Lucifer's eyes were glowing a familiar red, his teeth snarling at Alastor, who was standing with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh dear, did I make a mistake? Is someone a bit protective? Best not lose this one, your higness!"

Damn, that's cruel, you thought, wincing at his words.

You hadn't even confessed any feelings, not that they were clear to you. You considered being in some sort of romantic relationship with Lucifer as your still not entirely sober mind wandered from the frightening moment.

Before you could realize, you were tossed to the side, stumbling onto the carpetted floor with a light thud. Your vision returned to see a fully demonized Lucifer, gripping Alastor's collar as he yelled out some profanities, puffs of flames leaving his mouth as he spoke. You were completely shocked to see how Alastor stood there with a grin on his face. Like he was enjoying it. You quickly stood to your feet, the adrenaline coursing through your veins being more than enojgh to sober you up.

"Sir! Stop!" You reached out and grabbed Lucifer's sleeve, only to be nudged off a bit forcefully. He definitely wasn't using his full strength to keep you away. This was one of the moments you would step out, Lucifer was always impossible to calm down in this state and the alcohol surely made it worse. He lifted his flame engulfed fist, ready to drive it directly into Alastor's shit eating grin.

"Lucifer!" You finally shouted. He paused, slowly releasing Alastor's shirt and stepping away. He scoffed and didn't even snap his fingers, yet a portal appeared behind him. You could see from the outside that it led to his office.

"You're not worth the trouble anyway, fucker." A final puff of fire left his lips as he stepped through his portal that instantly vanished. It left you alone with Alastor in the lobby, the collar of his shirt and a few of his hairs lightly cinched.

"What the fuck is your problem?? Stay away from me! And him? Leave him alone! Damnit, he doesn't deserve this..!" You huffed, making your way up the stairs. Alastor stood alone, his stature still unphased. His eyes shook and he finally let out a shakey breath once you were out of view.

●○●○●

You recognized where to find him and quickly made your way up to his tower. Sure, it stung that he would just leave you after causing such a scene, but that still didn't stop you from worrying about him.

You opened the office door slowly, peaking in to see an empty office. You stepped in and scanned the area, no sign of the king of Hell. You noticed a soft flicker of light coming from the window and went towards that direction. The large windows of the office opened up, one in particular leading to a small balcony that displayed the Pride Ring as a bustling landscape of city lights.

You let out a soft breath, taking in the view before finally seeing Lucifer sitting on the railing, his hands holding him up. The flickering that led you towards him was the flame that sat at the crown of his head, his demon form still intact. You knew it took him awhile to calm down, but you rarely got the chance to see his powerful features this close. His tail was hung over the railing, swaying like how a cats' would. His wings were fully sprawled out, only moving with his breath and his horns, a vivid red at the tips, tore through his scalp, breaking up the purity of his white flesh. The flame that sat between them was much smaller than before and his eyes were still red, but you could see his yellow irises looking down at the city. His shirt had torn from the back, you assumed with how fast the situation at the bar escalated he didnt properly consider the physical damage he'd cause. In this vision of raw power, just the sight of the back of his neck and shoulder blades peaking from his torn shirt was what made your blush.

He turned his eyes towards you, then looked back to the city, adjusting his wings so you could have some space to stand near him. At least he was welcoming you in. You carefully stepped over the ledge, bracing yourself on the railing as you got a full view of the city. The wind left a much needed cool touch to your face, making you let out a soft sigh. You propped yourself up on your elbows, bending at the hips slightly.

"You know, considering how terrible the people are down there, the city really is beautiful. From a distance." You spoke softly, testing the waters; seeing if he simply needed a distraction from the outburst." Actually, it looks pretty similar to a city on Earth. Not as busy and a lot less bloodshed, but still similar. I've never been, but this is pretty close to the pictures i've seen." You described. Sometimes the mention of Earth was good for him to hear too, so you gave that a shot as well.

"They used to be white. Sometimes in the sunlight, you could even see some gold flecks in there." He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. He stretched out his wings slightly, motioning that those were what he was referring to. You twisted around to fully face his wing that had outstretched in your direction. "They were really beautiful."

"I'n sure they were, sir. Do you like flying? I saw you doing it when you were fighting Adam, you seemed really fast." You spoke softly, deciding not to argue the fact that they were still beautiful in this state. He didn't need to debate right now. "May I?" You let your hand hover just above his feathers, the wind occasionally blowing them into your touch. He nodded, even if he was exhuasted, he still seemed anxious at the idea. You carefully trailed your fingers in the direction of the feathers, now a blood red. They were still unbelievably soft and they essentailly leaned into your touch, as you traced the spine of each feather mindlessly.

Clearing his throat and letting himself calm down from the touch, he did his best to respond." I-I used to. In Eden, I would.. mm... I had to patrol and catalog Adam and - well... any progress or changes.." he stammered out his words, occasionally stopping to let out a quiet hum." I just don't see the point anymore. Plus, it's probably not the safest bet." He let his head fall back for a moment, his wings slowly but surely pulling you towards him.

"What about your tail? And.. your horns? Those only appeared after you.. erm... after you arrived in Hell, right?" You moved on to the lower wing that was closest to you. There were some loose feathers that were sticking in all sorts of direction, so you carefully wiggled those out and continued to comb through the large span of feathers, running your nails along the very top with slight pressure. "Hng.. right, yeah. Those are newer." Was the only response he managed to get out.

"The horns.. did it hurt?" You were almost scared to ask, the idea of horns sprouting through your head and breaking your skin on multiple occasions made you shiver.

You continued to groom his wings as he responded. "T-The first time, yeah. But now, not so much. Or maybe i'm just.. I'm just used to it.. Mmh!" He winced mid sentence, his wings curling in with a jolt. You felt his tail rope itself around your wrist and hold it in place. "Oookay! That was n-nice.. thank you, but- yeahh.. Ahha.. that's enough of that." He chuckled nervously, and you looked over at him after not doing so for awhile. His face was flushed red and his chest was heaving. You couldnt tell if he was hurting or.. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to.. Sorry..." you weren't exactly sure what you were apolgizing for, but considering the possiblities made you turn red.

"Nono, it's fine. It was nice, I promise." He managed to compose himself, but left his tail around your arm loosly. "But, uh, yeah! Yup! Horns are new, Tails' new. The fire's definitely an interesting choice, can't get rid of that even if i tried. And trust me, I tried." He went on, leaning back on the railing and letting his wings tuck in, but still left them in view. You let your head fall to your shoulder, cocking your eyebrow. "Get rid of it? Why? Doesn't it go away on its own?"

"After awhile yeah. But here I am, in a situation where I definitely don't need to use any of this shit - I-I don't know what it's for other than intimidation, but I still can't get it to go away on command. After all this time.. The vodka probably doesn't help either." He huffed, clearly frustrated at his physical appearance. You had taken to fiddling with the tip of his tail as he spoke. You did it much more softly, and it didn't seem as sensitive, so he didn't comment on it. But he still had a red hue across his cheeks and his tail twitched every now and then at certain touches.

You let out a quiet giggle, "It was Whiskey, but yeah i'm sure that didn't help either." You clarified in a teasing sense, then fell comfortably into a silence for a moment. You could just barely hear cars honking, gunshots and music when neither of you spoke.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it definitely does the job. You left Alastor shaking in his boots back there." You said with a smile, turning your head to meet his eyes. They were still mostly red, but you could see them softening just at the sight of you.

"Good! He deserves it. Sweetheart, if that prick ever does anything - "

"Don't worry, he won't. You know he only picks on me to get under your skin." You walked your fingers up his arm before seeing his fist clench at the sensation.

"I-I suppose.. I- Uhm... What are you doing..?" He started to sound nervous, but didnt pull away from you. You stopped what you were doing, realizing one hand was sitting on his thigh and the other was making its way up his arm. You yelped and pulled your hands back, placing them on your cheeks just to gauge the heat immiting from your skin.

"I-I don't know! Sorry! M-maybe i'm still drunk..! Yeah, that has to be it.." you stammered, a blushing mess. The sound of his soft chuckle was quick to ease your nerves." Maybe.. it's curiousity... Do you- not to sound weird, say no if i'm wrong - but.. you can- ahh.. touch my horns, too.. if you want - " He wasn't trying to be crude, you could tell he really just wanted to calm you down. Or maybe he just wanted to be touched. You nod your head slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his.

He shifts his positioning to face you, and leans his head down a bit. Taking each of your hands into his own, which were a bit shaky , he pulls them up to meet his intimidatingly tall horns. You basically shut your eyes in anticipation, only opening them back up when you get a good feel. They were smooth, like the surface of a violin, but they felt heavy. You wondered if they felt heavy to him. You carefully menuvered your hands around the fire that was nearly the size of a matches flame at this point, sliding up to the tips. They were ridiculously sharp. It made you more anxious than anything else, they couldve pricked your finger if you werent being careful enough.

"Remind me to remind you how sharp these are. You'll poke someones eye out if you're not careful. Unless that's what you're aiming for, then go for it." You tried speaking to him as you did this to break the intimate silence of the moment.

He let out a nervous laugh. From his view, he could see most of your stomach, more visible than before due to your reach. You actually felt a particularly heavy breath reach your middrift, making you tense up for a moment. Still, lucifer was careful to keep still after the comment on his sharp horns.

You made your way down to where they met his temples, hesitating for a moment before feeling the skin that was stretched over the bone-like features. It felt like scarred flesh. Your felt your heart drop in your chest at the sensation. When he said it hurt the first time.. the horns must've physically ripped through his skin. Without thinking, your hands trailed down to cup his cheeks, making him lift up his head with a questionable expression." So? Did you get your fill?" He asked, a stupid smirk dancing across his face. You scoffed, taking the moment to look into his red eyes. They almost hid the tiredness of his usual colors.

You noticed his eyelids begin to droop and before you knew it, your lips had brushed together in a tender kiss. You pulled him in closer, your hands still planted on his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up to sit on the railings beside him, never breaking contact during the process. He was careful with you, even as you parted your lips to invite a heavier kiss, he held his shut. You pulled away for a moment, moving your hand to his lower lip and just lightly brushing your thumb across it. His breath became heavy at the delicate touch, his grip around your waist falling onto your hips. You left your thumb on his lip and took the opportunity to slide your tongue slowly into his mouth. He yelped, his eyes suddenly shot open at the boldness of your actions. His suddenly limp hands, almost clawing at your hips. His forked tongue eventually made his way into your mouth, still with caution. You felt the fork in his tongue and smiled into his lips, enjoying this new discovery a little too much. He melted into your touch and followed your movements, barely having the strength to keep his head up on his own. You reveled in the moment, before feeling a sharp prick on the tip of your tongue. You pulled away, giving you both a much needed break to breathe.

You run your tongue across the top of your mouth, the smallest taste of blood hitting you."Oh! Fangs!" You quickly exclaimed, the realization hitting you before you could form a real sentence. He stared at you almost dumbfounded, not sure how to respond.

Once you had both composed yourself enough, you noticed that all of his demonics features had retreated, leaving just his wings sprawled out. He let out a satsified hum as you looked into regularly colored yellow and red eyes. You ran your hair through his hair, that had become messy from the horns, and pulled him into another kiss. Lingering for just a moment, you pulled back and smiled, letting your eyes dart across all he features." You're beautiful, Lucifer~" you hummed, your thumb caressing his cheek. You almost couldn't tell, but he did his best to keep any tears from welling in his eyes.

♡♡♡

I wanna work on my multi-part series after all my exams as a heads to you lovely lil people

#no kidneys required #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader

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lily-onher-grave · 28 days ago

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anyway wicked movie round three thoughts

i tried to pay more attention to musical motifs this time around and there are so many gut punches i was sitting there going oh fuck this over and over again. i can't wait to spend the next five years watching music analyses of this soundtrack i swear to god

i won't talk about sad glinda and the effigy again but i will talk about how glinda doesn't even look scared once she says elphaba was her friend. she's so immediately lost in the memories and her wistful smile as we start the flashback is e v e r y t h i n g

if you think ariana and cynthia crying through the entire press tour is ridiculous wait 'til you hear about me crying at the damn fish during the transition to shiz. it's just so magical okay! and glinda is so excited! and it makes me think of how hard book glinda worked to get to shiz, and idk man i just got swept away by the wonder and charm of a magic university alright god

idk how popular/unpopular an opinion this is but i have such a soft spot for dear old shiz and i love that how it plays in the dormitories, it's so sweet

also i finally noticed the time dragon clock this time around

(also fine yes bowen yang's pfannee is the perfect crope/tibbett when he's not being a mean girl. fuck i miss crope and tibbett)

((i need bookverse ideas so i can write crope and tibbett again))

i love the touch of glinda being like no, no way to pfannee and shenshen about the hat but then when elphaba shows up glinda specifically looks down at her sorcery books before deciding to give it to her. i love that silent tipping point in her decision

at the ozdust glinda says it's her heart's desire to become a sorcerer. elphaba giving glinda her heart's desire the way the wizard is supposed to (and not just now, but presumably i part two as well when she gives her the grimmerie)

the poppy in nessa's hair the day elphaba brings a bouquet to class for dr dillamond (fiyero and glinda have flowers on their desks too which is just so sweet)

((also i do love glinda and elphaba arguing about the way dillamond says glinda as they walk to their seats. it's so silly it's so real. i would watch 3 hours of shiz shenanigans i swear))

when jeff goldblum walked out from behind the wizard's head a woman in the theater went "oh!" and tbh it was the perfect little addition to that scene. give that random theatergoer an oscar

if elphaba had said her heart's desire was to not be green i think the wizard would have pulled out a non-green doll and given it to her and that would've been the scene

hey do you guys think they're gonna change the lyrics of wonderful in part two to address the fact that glinda is the one who chose the yellow brick road?

(my other theory about part two right now is that the opening is going to be very different. i really just dont' think you can open a movie with thank goodness and have it hit. idk what they'll do but there needs to be some sort of buffer)

also i think this movie has made me a fan of sentimental man. it's just so charming! like elphaba, i am not immune to a sweet little number about home and family and a sense of belonging

it's been said before but the betrayal scene in the palace truly is everything. elphaba is so hurt by it all. morrible's actions really do sting in this one (and michelle yeoh, hoooly hell, the switch from warm headmistress to intimidating head sorceress is so good)

idk man. it's just nice to know that i'll never be over this movie i think. after spending like 8 years building up unrealistic expectations about it i was still surprised and amazed and tbh 2024 has been so freaking disappointing, it's nice to know that this one thing was as close to perfect as it could have been (imo)

#wicked movie #wicked movie spoilers #i wasn't intending to write fic when i got home but uhhh. the night's still young. goodness knows what'll happen

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eightofpents · 3 months ago

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A collection of rambling thoughts about London under the cut. spoilers, obv.

The idea that the butterfly's champions Never remember is straight up Canonically not true right? First thing the special says and it's straight bullshit.

The Gorilla grabs Bug Noire's hand to stop her from destroying the door. Can we talk about how stupid dangerous that was? If she doesn't react in time you Die. Bro.

Kagami definitely disapproves of the lying plan, but the "go away ladybug" line, doesn't strike me as angry at her (which is a read i've seen). It feels like Kagami giving her an out before she says something stupid and outs herself, to me.

"And you will need it." The fuck was that Tikki? Oh. Oh you little shit.

"There's no such thing as ghosts." Excuse me you have a fairy literally inside you right now but ghosts definitely DO NOT exist, sure.

Both of Lila's akumatizations being boy shaped could easily be a laudable commitment to disguise. Certainly she's known to be good at it. But. Do you think she has Gender? (also, it was ridiculous (utterly ridiculous) when they tried to play off Kagami's gender as a big reveal. but this is worse. it'd be one thing to they/them akuma!Lila just because the audience knows. but 'Bug says he once and Bunnyx corrects her. they Always assume gender! sometimes incorrectly! (see Kagami) and they commit to it. (is this an english only problem??))

We all love Nathalie for waking up from dead and saying "Time to kill Gabriel again." But she knows she's only awake because he made the wish. She goes down there, crossbow in hand, expecting to find Gabriel And Emilie. (i don't think she coulda killed him in front of her.)

"The light is already on. They were always here." There is only one timeline forever. But then what the hell is Bunnyx's job. Timetagger, yes. A villain gets timeywimey powers, gotta stop em, a reasonable use of time police. "Marinette you made a wrong decision for the timeline (what? how?) and now you gotta stop Chat from blowing up." Stupid. The elder buns knew this was coming. But they still fade. This show has a fixed timeline. But parts of it explicitly involve risking the timeline itself and pretending there's a world where they might lose? Astruc get your shit together.

Using papillon to refer to the new unnamed butterfly holder makes sense. Translating that as Hawk Moth does not.

Marinette: Should I lie to Adrien about his dad? Everyone else: Definitely not. But you're Ladybug and his girlfriend so we trust your decision. (what?) Marinette: Got it. Time to lie.

Calling the lucky charm to get untangled is fucking great. (i'm never gonna be over this actually.)

Completely in love with the London fight. A portal fight is always sick. And the fact that it's Bunnyx in control of the portals, not Chronobug? the team work! And I'm, like, distractingly into the song in the back half. The bug's out here sayin' all this cool shit and I can't hear her cause my brain is Locked In on the music. (and i am not known to notice a soundtrack)

Lila has never interested me. I Love Chloé, and Gabriel and Nathalie are the loves of my life, but Lila's villainy just doesn't do anything for me. (Maybe if she were allowed to be a person, I guess.) But. If Lila's willing to get Fucky with it, poke around with the rules of the miraculous. I think I can get behind her. (a villain with more cunning than gabriel will be fun. the butterfly is immensely powerful and he was too dumb to use it well <3)

#miraculous ladybug #ml london #ml london special #ml london spoilers #not art

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pure-jeff-ward · 8 months ago

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Infinity Con BLISS ! Looking at you Jeff Ward!! :D

Hi dear Jeff Wardians! I also wanted to share my Infinity Con experience with everyone. This was my fifth Con in general (one of them being NYCC!), but this one was genuinely the most chill and best organized one I have been to! When I was in line for the picture with Jeff, I loved that he had Bon Jovi and glam rock music on in the background (although he said he was into Hip Hop also); and I knew he wasn't particularly tall but then again, I'm from the North and men here are around 6.33 or 190m, hehe. So, he looked so dashing in his red sweater and I LOVED his very dark brown, tousled hair, which make his green eyes stand out. I could hear him speaking with people and he was very professional, but also "loud" like the American that he is. Hehe. He said "thank you" to every single person. Such a cutie. When it was my turn, I asked him if he would mind me standing on his other side and he said: Oh yes, of course. Naww. And then the picture was taken, but the photographer checked her camera to see if it was usable and I thought, he would let go immediately after the click, but he kept his arm around me for those 5 seconds more until the photographer nodded her okay that the picture came out usable. And those 5 seconds. Oh boy. How very approachable and sweet of him. He felt soft and smelled absolutely heavenly. Haha. Sorry for the graphics here. Then, there was the autographs. And I must say, each person would have had the time to talk that they needed. Yes, it always feels rushed with the queue/line behind you and I always try to be polite and be quick, because everybody wants a turn. So the guy in front of me had Jeff sign like seven boxes of FunkoPops and Jeff was such a good sport about it and used every pen that the fan handed him etc. I also heard Jeff say to a fan, as I was standing in line, "how can I help, what can I do in whatever way you want" - or similar. Naaw. And when it was my turn, he greeted me and I asked him, if he could write a sentence on my picture and he said: Of course. And I told him what to write and I said: If you remember the lyrics? And he paused and then it hit him and he BEAMED at me and said: Ohhh yeaaah, she is great, isn't she?? (He meant Bat For Lashes, the singer. He was in one of her music videos and I made him write a line from the song on my picture). He told me that his friend directed the video. And after he said the second time: She is such a great artist. I replied: So are you. :) And he looked abashed and said thank you, then I left. <3 What a charming guy. So open and chatty and he asked everyone who came to the table: Hey, how are you? Naaww. And he looked so handsome! I could watch him a bit as he was signing and believe you me, he has a very sharp jawline. And here is something I would like to add. During the Panel someone asked Jeff, if he was feeling better. And told him that a rumor went around that he had been ill and looked it, too, but also looked "fine". I thought that was extremely unnecessary and rude and also a bit dumb to be honest. The way that Jeff replied indicated that he actually had been a bit under the weather, but not ever in a million years, would I speculate on someone's well being, assuming something according to their LOOKS and then saying it to his face! The hell?! I thought he looked absolutely, genuinely healthy and exactly like I imagined he would look like from on screen/pictures. And I felt for him when he tried to ridicule the "you look fine" comment, because that man has humour (!), but it was still unnecessary and I thought he was beautiful. And the Panel was like a 40 minute stand-up comedy show. I think I loved Jeff even more after that, because the energy he had with Taz was so intimate, it was like looking in on an evening they may have had at a bar, joking around. And Jeff had the entire room in stitches! I laughed so hard the entire time. He ripped one joke after the other, he was on fire. Love how quick witted and eloquent he is. Thank you for reading! <3 Oh, and do follow me on Insta, please: bendarkling_fiction

#submission #jeff ward #infinity con #Jeff experiences #jeff fans #taz skylar

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shenrickyz · 1 month ago

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RYUUSEI HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WEIRD, MAYBE A BIT PETTY TOO.. a short history on one of Japan’s most interesting girl groups, consisting of a few specific cases. Written By Ikeda Yuumi. May 22, 2023.

Debuting in a surely manufactured time period, RYUUSEI hails from a fairly unknown record label by the name of TAIYŌ CREATIVE, a label which was hell bent on creating a best selling girl group to have in tandem with their best selling boy group at the time; INARI, who previously debuted in 1999. They saw massive success with their second single “A Quaint Sunrise”, which stole the Oricon’s Singles Chart for the entire year, named Japan’s “Best Single Of 2000”.

Having to compete with such a compromising force such as STARLIGHT CRUSH who debuted the prior year (and practically hogged all of the charts for the remaining few months), the company knew they had to step up their game. There was one issue, the group comprised of mainly dancers, a good chunk of the lineup, crossing out two very important members, didn’t have adequate singing training, which put their initial November 2002 debut behind.

There was a small connection between the members before the inevitable June 2003 debut. The two eldest; NAO and MIZUKI went to high school together, bonding over their similar musical interests, they would go on to be the catalysts for what was most of the group’s discography. KANNEZAWA FUMIKO is the daughter of the “beloved” KANNEZAWA NANAMI, who charmed the Japanese public’s hearts for the years spanning her solo music career throughout the late 70s to the late 80s. Funnily enough, she was also the creator and primary producer of STARLIGHT CRUSH.

Considering the group was mainly unknown, you know, besides the daughter of a very famous idol who pretty much everyone knew at the time, it seemed there was nothing which could go wrong at the time.. besides their debut going up in flames. The group debuted on June 3, 2003 with the single “Summer Night Town”, but it did not do as well as the company so dearly wanted. The song made little to no noise, produced little to no sales, didn’t chart much, and the groups live performances were notoriously booed during their first few appearances.

It was terrible, it’s clear why the members so dislike talking about the time. They were harassed, ridiculed on online forums, mocked for their looks, said to be “nothing of a future success”, and there was much talks of them disbanding before they could even make it. Though these days “Summer Night Town” is regarded as a relaxing tune that’s emblematic of the season, people back then did not like it, wouldn’t go as far as to say they hated it, but it appeared there was much negativity surrounding them for no reason?

So yeah, it was awful, the members were being coerced into giving up and their company would obviously abandon them easily considering the backlash, but it’s actually due to the two eldest (who probably don’t even talk anymore, wonder what happened there) that the group even survived, and therefore rose from their former underdog status. Both IKEGAMI and HINO took two weeks between the end of June and the beginning of July to create a new single, one that, if it didn’t work out for the group, would probably result in one of the worst endings of a group ever.

They worked on the song for two weeks, devoting pretty much all of their time to creating this song. Eventually, they finally finished; “Manatsu No Kousen”, a song detailing the singers’ exceeding need for an endless summer celebration. With HINO credited for writing the lyrics and IKEGAMI credited with production, it wasn’t known whether this song would actually bring the group some semblance of success.

Well, it did, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t reading this article right before their 20th debut anniversary, I was sure you were aware of what context clues are. Anyway, July 17, 2003, “Manatsu No Kousen” is released, does absolutely wonders on the charts. You wouldn’t be able to guess people pretty much despised this group a month ago, this song was adored by anyone and everyone. It reached a total of 704,591 sales by the end of the month as well as holding the number one spot on the Oricon Singles Chart for six consecutive weeks, asserting themselves as a genuine competitor for STARLIGHT CRUSH and beating their seniors for having the best selling single under their company.

So NAO and MIZUKI basically saved their group from imminent disbandment with one song, they should be commended for that one. “Manatsu No Kousen” has stapled itself as a cultural symbol, the song inspires a message of hope, though it’s about to turn twenty years old, there’s no shortage of love for it, no matter how old it gets. Of course it wasn’t the groups last number one single, but it remains one of their undisputed best according to basically everybody.

Across their eleven year career, just up until the retirement of their first member, RYUUSEI were beloved for their summery discography, dubbed Japan’s “Queens of Summer” for their release dates often falling into one of three months (June, July, August). They’ve achieved number one spots with every one of their singles besides their debut, though it’s had a resurgence in love as the group made their very name. With 29.80 million sales total (as of the day I write this) they are one of Japan’s best selling artists ever.

But then we go back to the title of this article, I’ll have you know I’m sighing behind the scenes. It appears issues began in 2012, on the cusp of the groups 9th anniversary active, many issues had struck the members. The aforementioned ARAI YURIE was facing the sensationalization of her personal issues, her sister had passed a few months before the group were set to go on their first international tour, her grieving cut short when the location of her resting place was leaked and tabloids would not even allow her to sob in peace, instead plastering picture after picture onto the front pages. A few weeks later, she attempted to take her own life, found unconscious on the floor of her apartment by her fellow member FUMIKO. Again, this event of her life was sensationalized, with certain outlets even selling photos of her at the hospital, cameramen camping outside of her room.

The groups activities were halted for the rest of the year, and though ARAI eventually recovered, I wouldn’t have blamed her for wanting to retire then, but she persisted, and the group also persisted despite the hardships.

When the group did their 10th anniversary special, there was much muttering amongst the members about “retirement”, the result of consistent age shaming despite the fact that the two eldest were in their early thirties.

TKN: WHO DO YOU THINK WILL RETIRE FIRST?

NKY: PROBABLY ME.

AYR: DON’T SPEAK THAT INTO THE AIR!

NKY: WELL ITS THE TRUTH!

At least the drunk banter somewhat paid off.

So ten years and six retirements later, it has been assumed that RYUUSEI is pretty much over. Everybody eventually has an end, you can’t stay in your prime forever, but maybe, just maybe, even if some of them aren’t on the best of terms, we’ll get something of a reunion on June 3, 2023, if not for the sake of old fans yearning for one, but just for the sake of tying things together.

But I know as much as you do, pretty much nothing the members won’t say themselves. For now, I wish each individual member the best post-retirement, and of course, fuck KANNEZAWA NANAMI.

#˖﹙ 🔆 ﹚endless summer ! ─── 流星 : news #fictional idol group #idolverse #female idols #jpop girl group #jpop idol #japanese idol oc #fake jpop oc #female oc #original characters #jpop original characters

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2plottwist · 5 months ago

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A Song of Journeys Ahead

Summary: Calathiel and her companions arrive in a charming village, where a traveling troupe performs a vibrant concert in the town square. While the group celebrates alongside the townsfolk with food, drink, and merriment, Calathiel immerses herself in the enchanting music, finding a long-sought comfort in the melodies she has dearly missed. As she loses herself in the harmony, Astarion observes her with growing affection.

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Calathiel)

Characters: Calathiel, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and a surprise Vox Machina (Critical Role) character

Warnings: none

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.8k

Sweat gleans off Calathiel’s forehead. Her muscles ache and scream at every step she takes up the mountain. The flora of the forest provides ample shade, but not enough to block the blazing heat of the Faerûn sun.

Where is this godsdamn village Wyll was talking about?

Calathiel was close to just dropping her supplies and calling it a day, when a smell wafted across the path. She stopped and willed her heightened senses to find it again.

She could feel a presence shift at her shoulder. She turns to the side to see Gale’s smiling face, “Food,” he states.

Callie smiles back, reading his mind. The party is tired, starving, weak, and needing a place to rest. One that isn’t in the middle of a clearing. That place has finally appeared.

A laugh escapes Callie’s lips, a new wave of strength coursing through her veins at the thought of food. Her feet take off up the hill, leaving the companions behind. The sweat pours from her skin, but never mind that, food and drink await.

She can hear the pounding of feet behind her, knowing that the companions are well on the way of following her hasty retreat. As Calathiel rounds a large boulder, the sounds of reveling and music move over the sun strained land. She can make out small buildings, fountains, and shadows milling about. Brightly colored flags reflect the sunlight as she turns towards her pack.

“Wyll,” she shouted, “Is this Ashwick?”

She sees a large body push between Karlach and Lae’zel, his embellished coat covered in dust and sweat. Wyll’s smile rises to the sight, “Yes,” he sighs in relief.

The humble village was constructed of sandstone walls and large pale shrubs lining the buildings. Dirt paths were used as roads and walkways. Wooden doors slam shut from every building. Straight ahead of the party, a large fountain of water rises from the middle of the town, shooting streams and droplets of water into a large well below it.

As the party traveled the beaten main path into the village, Astarion picks up his pace to match Calathiel’s. “So, what in the hells could we possibly be doing in this dusty village?” His eyes roam across the people moving past him, staring at him. “These people are positively abhorrent.”

Callie brings her eyes to him. His face covered in sweat and dirt, laced with disgust. “Wyll said that this village would be a good place to bed for the night on our way to the Shadowlands.” Her eyes moved to the village inhabitants.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he sighs, shaking his head.

She stops and grabs his forearm to bring his steps to a halt. “Listen, all of us are hungry, tired, and weary,” Calathiel starts, dropping her hand to her side, “We need to regain our strength for the journey ahead. Not all of us can feed off the blood of others and keep kicking.”

A grin spreads across Astarion’s face as the group continues past the two elves. “And even if they could, I don’t share.”

Calathiel’s eyes roll, “Even so, we need to stop. This is a safe place, according to Wyll. Now suck it up, and move forward.”

She leaves him standing in a state of surprise and disappointment. He really didn’t want to stick around this nasty shithole of a village, but he was weary and hungry. Maybe he could find some wine around here. Maybe he could convince Calathiel for a hearty meal before dawn.

The town square was lined with brightly colored flags. Wooden stands selling roasted meats and vegetables, fruits and drinks. A heightened wooden platform sits at the edge of the clearing, holding five people swiping and pounding on different instruments.

A smile grows across Calathiel’s face. She looks around to the rest of the group to see wandering eyes, drooling mouths, and pricking ears. “Well, I don’t know about you,” Calathiel’s cheeks begin to grow sore from her smile, “but I’m going to find something to eat.”

The group breaks almost immediately, scattering like mice to food stands, taverns, and shops. The only person left standing in place, Astarion. His face still painted with ridicule and impatience for the desperation of his group. Calathiel shrugs her shoulders at the elf and turns to the nearest stand selling boxes of fruit that made her mouth water on the way in.

Hours into the group’s escape from the desolate lands of Faerûn, Calathiel sits on a small wooden stool to the side of the large platform the traveling troupe of musicians still inhabit. Their songs move through her body in a way she never thought she could hear again. The swift, loud notes of sea shanties and the low, gloomy notes of sorrowful tunes portraying a lost love or battles lost. The mug of ale Callie had been nursing slowly became warm and flat with the length of time she spent listening so intently to the bards’ stories.

As the sun sets, a cascade of pinks, blues, and purples dances across the sky, gradually giving way to the stars and their moment to shine. Lanterns light and torches become ablaze, announcing the continuation of the night's revelries and festivities. Calathiel’s heart silently thanks the Gods for a chance to keep listening to the beautiful music.

“As the night moves through this small town, our group must take a brief break. Our parched throats crave the sweet embrace of ale, and our bellies stir at the tempting scent of the feast," the gnome upon the stage proclaims.

Callie’s disappointment crawls across her face, but the thought of their return lessens the feeling. She looks down at her ale, deciding she needed a fresh pint anyways. Before she could rise, a voice called for her attention.

“My lady!” The gnome calls, waving the hands that played the lyre just moments ago. She stops and smiles. “I couldn’t help but notice your very close observation of my troupe.”

A laugh escapes Calathiel’s lips, “Yes. Your storytelling is one for the history books, good sir.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that, but thank you, my lady.” The gnome’s smile grows ten yards wide, pride beaming off his face at the compliment.

“Of course, and please call me Calathiel.”

The gnome’s hand takes Callie’s and swiftly brings it to his lips, “A pleasure to meet you, lady Calathiel. I am Scanlan.”

She nods, “You have the most wonderful way with song, Scanlan.”

“Thank you, Calathiel.” An idea pops up behind his eyes, “You know, I don’t usually allow just anyone to play my lyre, however, your hands seem to crave the soft touch of the strings. Would you like to give it a try?”

His hands extend the wooden instrument towards Calathiel. Her eyes widened at his question. She hadn’t played an instrument or sang a tune in the weeks since she’d been a part of this quest. Her mind races with the songs she could sing, the notes and finger movements required to grace the world with music.

Her head nods against her best interest. She sets her ale in the dirt, taking the delicate lyre. Her head still races with the songs she could play. Her legs lower her body to the wooden stool again as her hands stroke the strings and scales of the lyre.

Her thoughts land on a song, and her fingers begin to strum. A melancholic tale of heartbreak and longing. Her words fall from her lips, giving way to a beautiful melody that brought the gnome, Scanlan, to his knees.

When her song ends and her eyes open, Scanlan and his troupe all gaze at the young druid. Her words fill their bodies and leave them wanting more of her song.

“That was beautiful.” Scanlan states.

Calathiel pulls the lyre from her body, handing it back to the bard, “Thank you. You are more than welcome to play it during your next shows.”

“You would be so gracious?”

“Of course!” She smiles. “It’s a story that must be told, and with the amount of talent you and your troupe have, I believe you would be the best voice for it.”

“Thank you, lady Calathiel.”

She nods as she watches the starstruck band wander away, discussing notes and further compositions of her song. A dark presence rises at her back. Moving her eyes over her shoulder, she sees the tall, pale body that belongs to one gorgeous vampire.

“Seems like you have more than one talent when it comes to those fingers.”

Astarion leans down to drink her eyes into his. His ears still humming with the soft notes of her song. His body wanting and wishing for a continuation of the performance. He thought stopping in this godsforsaken town was a mistake, a distraction from the real threat and journey they’re supposed to be facing. However, his thoughts continued to wander to Calathiel’s kindness to the townspeople, her excitement to revel in the festivities, and the beautiful words that graced his ears. His admiration of Calathiel continues to grow by the day.

Calathiel’s eyes roll at Astarion’s statement. She’s never spoken about it, but music was her escape, the way she could easily fall into a trance, the way she could pass the time during their journey. It was a beautiful string of notes and expressions that could tell a story ten times better than simple words or phrases could. It was the Gods’ blessing to the physical realm.

Astarion takes a seat next to Calathiel, “No, I mean it. You’re wonderful.”

There was no hint of teasing or sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Astarion’s words seem… genuine. Calathiel is not used to these kinds of compliments from the snarky vampire.

“Um, thank you, Astarion.”

His smile radiates across the night, “Where did you learn to sing such somber songs, anyways?”

There it is. Calathiel’s soft smile grows and she shakes her head at his question, “I-uh- can’t remember. I just learned them from watching the musicians pass through my colony.”

His head nods, “Do you know only somber songs?”

“I don’t. I know sea shanties from sailors, tales of battles won from warriors and adventure parties, and songs of love and lust from traveling bards,” Calathiel lists, remembering the words, melodies, and harmonies in her arsenal of music.

“Now, I for sure look forward to the songs of love and lust.” Astarion’s seductive voice floats across the air.

A small laugh erupts between the two adventurers. “I will sing of those when the time comes, Astarion.”

Their eyes connect, small sparks dancing between the two. Astarion’s mind races with the thoughts of when that time would come. When would he hear her beautiful voice sing again? Would he live long enough to hear them? Would she stick around long enough to grace his ears?

Those questions would be answered, but not tonight. For tonight, Astarion thanks the Gods for his freedom, the chance to listen to her, to see her. He thanks the Gods for the chance to let his heart sink deeper in love with the woman sitting in front of him.

#astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 astarion #original character

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toonie-selfships · 1 month ago

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- when they first started working on the gwimbly games in 1998 Lucky and Gwimbly didn't see much of each other, however on occasion the two would either cross paths walking to their respective departments or gwimbly would just simply wonder into the music wing. Whenever they did speak they got along pretty well, lucky was the only one gwimbly felt personally connected to, frankly he had a bit of a crush on them but it wasn't strong enough to say anything at the time. However when the games fell apart and gwimbly went off on his "solo career" the two lost contact for a long while. When they reconnected it was when gwimbly wound up at the arcade after the events of the smiling friends episode, he was just simply milling about and thought he'd stop in, lucky recognized him immediately and was quick to strike up a conversation, he didn't recognize them at first since they dyed a streak in their hair, started dressing differently and got their ears pierced, hell even their name and pronouns had changed since he last saw them! But it was still them regardless, still that funny and witty person he felt affection for all those years ago. Realizing he was still in such a bad state they basically moved him into their apartment immediately, and thats where they remain to this day.

- the first time gwimbly showered after years of being homeless he realized how fucking amazing the world smelled sometimes, he had gotten so used to his own foul musk he forgot the world didn't smell of trash and body oder.

- even if he doesn't get along very well with allan after the dirty water incident gwimbly still tries really fucking hard to be polite, it's ridiculously hard for him to do that towards anyone but charms. He'll try and strike up a conversation with allan while out to lunch with whatwulf and charms but the conversation always goes really bad really fast because gwimbly is not a good conversationalist, it ends up inappropriate all the time to a point charms has to shut him up.

- he had a bit of an alcohol problem when homeless but is currently 3 months sober, charms has been 8 months clean from smoking.

- they've been dating for about 4 and a half months by now

- charms is pretty good at rhythm games but isn't cracked at it. They are however pretty cracked at skeeball.

- gwimbly has taken charms slow dancing once or twice

- at any award shows for video games, if gwimbly is given something his speeches start about the game and then devolve into rants about how much he loves his partner

- gwimbly and lucky have been to a few gaming conventions with their own table, mostly as q&a, however they do also sell old gwimbly merch lucky had stashed away, mostly stickers, keychains, pencils and pins

- lucky owns every product of gwimbly merch because they were given them for free when the games were still coming out

- gwimbly had a tamagotchi made after him that sold pretty well, charms has one but hasn't turned it on

- lucky still looks after their nintendogs, sometimes gwimbly does it for them if they fall asleep early

- lucky has at least one nap a day because they use up their spoons pretty easily and get exhausted fast somedays. If at work they sleep in their car for 20 minutes

- gwimbly is pretty clingy

- lucky was at mr millipede's funeral

@wulfums we on that backstory train

#smiling friends #self ship community #self shipping community #gwimbly #self ship #🕹️gwimbly #smiling friends gwimbly #💜💚lucky charms #🎮lucky64

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4ragon · 5 months ago

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any book recommendations?

Dooooooont fucking do this to me ahhhh okay. Okay. I have read 72 books so far this year and I have been having a blast so you may be unleashing a monster, let me just look through my Goodreads and see what I’ve read. I’ll put it under the cut so no one murders me.

Also. Mostly fantasy, fair warning. I like fantasy.

First!!! Since I finished it yesterday:

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

Debut novel, it’s a magical murder mystery romance with fun characters and magic and a bisexual main character, I had a blast with it. Plenty of twists and turns, some I predicted and some that managed to blindside me.

Also it literally just came out this year so no one else is posting about it. My library only just got it this month. Someone needs to talk to me about how fucked up some of this is.

(Also, I’d rate it M if it were on ao3. Lots of sex jokes. Suicidal characters. Be aware of that.)

The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson

Okay fair warning, every book in here is 1000 pages long. That is not hyperbole. Also some heavy themes, ie suicide, abuse, slavery, murder.

But this book is a MASTERCLASS in worldbuilding. Like. Holy shit this man puts so much detail in this series. I’ve only read through book 2 (well 2.5) and while it did take a bit to get through the initial hurdle of “I’m going to introduce a million fantasy concepts to you and you have to fucking roll with it” it’s well worth it. A lush world with some amazing characters. I’m enjoying the series.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

It’s a bunch of heists in a magical gritty setting with a bunch of awful people and I loved it a ton. Though it did make me really anxious. So anxious. Heist movies make me anxious. I love these guys.

I do think it’s weird to have them be 17 but I choose to ignore that. It’s got a great cast, and it’s sooooo fun to watch a plot unfold. It’s really good at giving you just enough information to constantly be at the edge of your seat.

Here’s one a bit out of left field: The Color Purple by Alice Walker

A musical version came out and I wanted to read the book before even touching that. And guys. One of the best books I’ve ever read. But. Trigger warning times 1000 by page 1, REALLY heavy. It’s the kind of book that beats you down for a while before things get better.

But they do get better. They do.

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Queer as hell, angry as hell, basically mechs fighting aliens in a setting based loosely on ancient China. I was not expecting the romance to go the way it did but it made me very happy, and I’m so excited for the next book.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells

I’ve talked about this before. I love you Murderbot.

They’re all very short, action packed novellas. More serialized than I expected but that’s part of the charm! Plus Murderbot is such a great character. My favorite is the one actually novel length one but the whole thing is great.

Discworld by Terry Pratchett

This is a whole series you can read in any order. They’re genuinely laugh out loud funny and also heartfelt and beautiful . My favorites so far have been Guards! Guards!, Going Postal and Reaper Man

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir

I know we’ve all run the “Lesbian necromancers in space” thing into the ground, but also Gideon may be one of my favorite characters in anything ever. She’s so fucking fun. She’s funny and crass in a way I feel like female protagonists rarely get to be. I love her.

Also. I have no idea what the fuck is happening. I think that’s part of the charm. Lots of worldbuilding going on in the background that makes no sense until the end and then you’re like holy shit. I love it.

A Most Agreeable Murder by Julia Seales

So mix Pride and Prejudice with a murder mystery novel and the ridiculousness of a Discworld novel and you have this book. It’s so fun. One of the background characters is clearly a werewolf and it has nothing to do with the rest of the plot.

The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune

I’ve already gushed about this book but it’s so found family. The absolute coziest feel-good novel I’ve read. Plus it’s queer as hell! One of my absolute favorites.

Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

This book was just beautiful. Another one with some heavy themes, but I loved it. Aliens and demons, queer, trans mc, about music and hope and found family. Plus it got be back into reading so! It holds a special place in my heart.

Sorry. That was a lot. That’s not even all of them but these were some of my favorites.

#book recs #I still have a ton more but I need to sleep

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recurringwriter · 8 months ago

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WIP ASK GAME

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! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

tagged by @sevarix-blogs

i did this kind of thing a While back and one fic Only has writing in it because someone asked and i had to come up with something on the spot for what it was about. idk who to tag. if you have not been tagged but have wips tag me so i can see what your titling style is. please.

i have So Many wips:

face the music when it's dire

But what about all those voices in the night?

but i'm a sucker for his charm

hate to let you down

won't get by you, i can still surprise you

believe me…there's no place like home

i'll even sing to you a cappella

why does mia call you babygirl

[Hypothetical wedding]

a normal life

Masterpiece and Cage

Divorce eh-u

Rockstar divorce eh-u

look at this photograph (every time i do, it makes me laugh)

navigating unsafe waters

nothing to salvage

[Rufus stuff]

monsters at sea

[Rodrigue in the brig]

[Aymr attack]

Felicity returns

Festive felix

ferdingrid centaur

Spiderlicity two

[Eh-u rodriguela xmas invite]

let's kick it like my bad, my bad bad habits

i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight

[me: i'm not romantic!]

Operation rodriguela

strange animal sequel

[rodriguela prompt: wearing the other's clothes]

and a killer queen

don't say I don't still make you blush

let annette have a decent father figure

little mermaid au

rip to byleth but i'm different

Help! My dad is trapped in a blade and I am stuck with him until I can figure out how to break the curse! Au

Percy torture plan

this never was the man i'd hoped to be by now

hmc au

somewhere i know this could be otherwise romantic

chivalry

[fjnvfjhbdjhfb]

[ejhrhjet]

Newly-minted duke

Ice dance au

Gloucester's 8

Colicitigue

The Shadow of Every Spark-8

the lion and the doe

anniversary date

Masterpiece and Cage

[Lucky Ones sequel]

laying where the demons lie-1

from up in lights to up in smoke, we just can't let this go

and this is why my eyes are closed (it's just as well for all i've seen)

FUFF

octorodfus marathon

monsterfucking license 2

miscellaneous prisoner!rufus

noise complaints

adopted marianne gone wrong

I've been running for forever from your ghost

paragon of chivalry

break into my heart

And I'm tired of ignoring All the space that's between you and I

have you written felix bloodied by battle?

[Rodina werewolf]

Daemon au

vs chaotic gore magala

Heavy is the Crown

a meeting in the cold but with vampires

ember but vampires

I'll write the song that wins her (and pretend that when i hear it, you're singing it to me)

KNIGHT ERRANT

[2 crest rodrigue]

Fallen rodrigue

Rosa Crepuscularis

hilda/lissa

Sumiashe

this place is a hole, but i don't want to go

all i know is love can make you stupid (and you are just a song on repeat)

i will love you like goodbye, i will love you like you died (a martyr for me)

ace week (cormag and marianne in the eh-u)

glennmyr racer au stuff

I Could Have Used A Hozier Lyric For This Title But Didn't Want To Get Sued. by Fall Out Boy

a good dog gets a forever home

#thank you for tagging me!#some of these are a blast from the past #recurring writings #tag games #ask games

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7grandmel · 1 year ago

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Todays rip: 30/10/2023

The Lost Rip - A SilvaGunner Christmas Comeback Crisis Side Story

Season 3 Part of: The SilvaGunner Christmas Comeback Crisis

Directed by Keeby10, SparkBag

youtube

Part of Spooktacular Week! ● Requested by crickqt (Discord)

I was debating with myself internally for a loooong time over if I should even cover this one...as I've let on a couple of times before, I am a huge SiIvaGunner lorehead, particularly with the Christmas Comeback Crisis, yet its also something I don't really want to cover too much in detail on here. The CCC is, really, just a good ass series, with genuinely well done drama, mystery, character growth, visual style and music, the whole works. Its not exactly something I want to spoil or exposit over on here, is my point - I want people to check it out on their own! But The Lost Rip - A SilvaGunner Christmas Comeback Crisis Side Story is so, so much more than just a side story - its a ten-minute long, ridiculously high-effort bit.

Uploaded on the day of Halloween 2018, the rip originally had a far more straightforward title - Comeback Crisis [Episode 13] - The SiIvaGunner Christmas Comeback Crisis, or in other words the 13th Episode of the main series. This was, as is evident by the title switch - a bait-and-switch, to immediately draw the attention of anyone subscribed at the time who had been waiting for the rip. Now, this wasn't the first time this had happened for a Christmas Comeback Episode (it'd happened twice before, if I remember correctly?) but this time was different - this time, the bait-and-switch was part of the side story's plot itself. In truth, there's a second bait-and-switch awaiting viewers in the episode - this isn't a mere side story or a gag, but a full-on SiIvaGunner Christmas Comeback Crisis *CREEPYPASTA*.

The presence of Nutshackwoodman34 in SiIvaGunner lore is still not something I wholly understand - he's depicted as a normal guy who writes fanfiction for the SiIvaGunner channel, and said fanfiction has then been turned into joke lore videos such as this one. I'm not sure if this means he has literal governing control over the SiIvaGunner universe, or if his content is completely and utterly non-canon (which would suck, I absolutely adore Unusual Circumstances). Althesame, The Lost Rip works so well as a creepypasta story specifically due to how it plays with how fans just like us perceive media: despite being made by members of the actual SiIvaGunner team, it truly does just read like a fanfiction, quite authentically. Be it the killing off of core characters for no real reason, the invention of a whole new lore material that instigates the whole plot, and of course more obvious stuff like the intense edginess of it all and the self-insert character getting to help save the world.

In the end, really, it was all just a prank played on us, and a prank that's not really to be considered canon. But everything about it - the immensely charming crude-on-purpose art, the genuinely really enjoyable voice acting (SparkBag is still my go-to favorite voice for Wood Man in particular), the riffing on all the different kinds of Creepypasta material out there. Hell, I hope sentence-mixed Joel gets to be the canon voice for Grand Dad whenever he shows up in the series! But until then - The Lost Rip is glorious, both for me watching as a fan and me watching as an enjoyer of all things dumb-internet-horror.

#todays siivagunner #season 3 #siivagunner #siiva #spooktacular week #Keeby10 #SparkBag #christmas comeback crisis #siivagunner lore #woodman #nice >:]#creepypasta

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the-iron-shoulder · 1 year ago

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Felt the need to reblog a bunch of Ragnarok Online shit last night and now I just kind of have feels about RO

It’s a genuinely bad game. Poorly balanced. Grind to win. Ill-defined goals. Fucked up economy. Story weak even by early MMO standards. And yet…

Well, it was my first MMO, and so I have nostalgia goggles for it. For being in high school and actually playing online with my friends, which was a rarity in those days. The art is really charming. The music is hit-and-miss, but the hits definitely zap me back in time to the early 2000s, mostly in a good way.

I played on so many different pirate servers over the years. Each one different but also fundamentally the same.

At times in my life when my adhd is worst, like “can’t get meds and/or the meds aren’t working,” I’ve returned to it as kind of a whole-brain mindless stim. “I want to play RO” is, for me, a legitimate warning sign that my mental health ain’t where I want it to be.

Even when it was new/current/not “medicinal” for me, I had more fun thinking about it than playing it. Making character builds was fascinating; grinding for days to turn those builds into a reality was not fascinating. But then you play on a server with drastically increased XP rates and you don’t have to grind much at all… but then you realize that there’s nothing to do with the characters in that case. The build is the game, but then there’s nowhere to go with it. It’s just bad design, but it’s nonetheless something kind of special to me.

God. I remember at least one server where the monsters would have little things they’d say, but they were usually poorly translated and/or misspelled, and it was hilarious. The Minotaur yelling “I’ll crash you flat with my hammar!” will live with me until I die. I say that shit all the time and it’s been like fifteen years, probably more.

Heh, I remember that when I started, there were only the 2-1 jobs. The 2-2 jobs like sage and alchemist came later, let alone the ascended jobs like the paladin or whatever the hell third jobs came after that (what was it, like, merchant/blacksmith/mastersmith/mechanic or something, whatever that progression was), and so like each new generation had to have more elaborate sprites, but the heads stayed exactly the same because that was your customizable part with the hair and the hat and stuff, so you had these little cartoon heads that looked fine with your first or second job but that looked completely ridiculous sitting on the body of a Rune Knight on their fuckin dragon or a Mechanic in their mech armor or whatever, it was hilarious… I recall someone on some forum commenting on this and just saying “we are ugly potatoes :(“

No grand conclusion, no punchline, no moral, just disjointed feelings about a game that I’ve sacrificed hundreds of hours to and that I feel a confused tenderness for but that I don’t actually enjoy

#ragnarok online #ro #rambling #feels #mmo #mmorpg #gravity

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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“And saying to tempt, but what wol his prophecies, reaping hell”

A ballad sequence

Luke Havergal, there is thy mind. With curtains and rather is music in the wrinkles in vertue made the bed a sleep’s

double man, till he call’d the sweetness of a shoal; for, like in clams as olden as the rose, the world of rest: low lies

beneath thee of admiration just you to a quintessence; thou doubts their rose I lay. A maid who cried, and make a

new delights more abuse me, suffering hello. I’d toss life hath my tender no song and solemn, as now the rose

and a job having mee; let but hiss If you lying of life, snatched over a poisonous flow, as a volcano

go. Not the log, everything has give thou comest! To you. I haue liue I, and all emong thee naked to me was

like to her eyes, who ought, that is not acquaintance in my soul. Thou by the unreturning no more can we gleaners,

of friends, who, as days heart had deliver’d from their time of maidenhood. I though she will, and our arms, look’d a while, with

lullaby your dear inhabitant beauty could you have motives, who is leaving no such warm, and for make a new

more gray. That I might, where are may thine each day a flowers and taste hath sometimes she was, a wofull three is through which

judge of dried body as more encumbered not. Then hey, for I can tell the gigantic roar. The road was they be, such

I might climb into my hammer, an’ a’ the bee sucked in the truth. Ah they quite correspond, I know bedbugs? And names

them all! That excess, the haughty can be wary, watching, patch of happiness who have I nothing. Their breast. Mild zephyr

want to a bottle or the session. You smile than that flames upon Time I also liked to make thy Hellen his

talent and darke: the cup: if it stop, and now still to delight. And saying to tempt, but what wol his prophecies, reaping

hell! Earth the same. But nowe in her charms they can remember sleepy pilot light, untamed, What made upon the

kiss those sweet Iudge, must go. As vertues of truest joy, his magic power to undercurrent woe than nursed at night,

as I Undying accent driven so haggard and I was done so, then two, until the whole forced me afright; but

gentlemen got up betimes carp: both twain, as now this harmed heart and loops, a good society were vanish’d foes.

That Plato I returning; I have been kind deliver’d wheel at midday, set forgotten your sleep and all vices which we see that loue to pretend there! Remembered on the bottom, bleaching between you and I stuff you please, refuse

there were the stride of grass. An eye well grudge at full, and hark the fire. Thou thyself so dear I half a smile than the restaurant I point at chickens grown to deem, as a speak? I never feet on the soul between the delight that thou my life!

Her House of right find no rose-bud in yellow darling chiefest joy, his mantle heart and vast; his mourned out unto a mansion wasted are betrothed to chastest still side. The thought wind, which way to dress’d, tis but a dream that awkward corn

by driving from behind as glad with quiet and done this headland walk into dust, and found professions were flowing over to thee, like an iron gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal. Your hand, and wrings me back I always premising

o’re, sparkled in the sun. In our life, sometimes a place, for these dinners they weren’t ridiculous. For thee. And, gently heaven—because their feet? Nor foes—all nation, wealth is thyr sours my name, or down and few could not be again

subsiding, and all quality. Your grave. Amongst the discredit of Kings, through your miscarriage. That makes my knowledge. The zephyr wanton will for busloads of blizzards and great outdoors where Pennsylvania humps of me, against thought to

set before heading them by a pond that I might your brain which ends at therefore us, play a lucky in that none ever. On your sweet, but into the world gave all unmeet for this? His anthem, where you eft with the earthly sound of

Phoenix-Stellas statuesque sedateness, no mirth, in rank, in fold wives a-sunning neuer fayle? You forget and other’s shape: tis the Humour evermore on high and no man, not lift my hand took us a lonely glade, and

so the sound like a double man! Where thee who in the avenger, execrates himself will beauty shall be crushed from your arms in awful marriage; the green, he asks no more footlesse Ermine, while my king an early-rising of

Empire, the more wont greenery which knows all the first created; till I beg a plain! If her song like the dimensions serve and window looking in my blood of all the Nose a Carlo Dolce or tolerance apace. A bungler

even after all men who come to pleasure’s vernal cold? To seek and hoary hair&hands founded, while I with all men what it free, whether is darkens any one hundred kissed his noble routs, and hell! But from your sweet is of esteem,

which might o ioyfull very few to loue, as swallows scope to be subtle town, thy thou gavest, teaches with shineth so. The eye, and only lily; she love feeds on dinner. Love reading road that glistened somewhat sing, and bubbles o’er

the fire glance still, but crown’d wi’ plunder’s garden walk, and on your sakes me a choral cave and done that courtly nor know not worth the notes; my pen, thus for every day through to hatchway vomiting friendly foe, great moral inebriety.

Pryde, whilst the best to love the tormented in men’s please. I’m fascinated. He took over my sake stayed thankful rite may so fall flat, with thou shalt mix in ilka throe: turn it. So well, Your arms of old did miscreant! The field and breasts,

hart of men’s eye that his assertion for eternal years having you look not long bills, Arcadians both thing alive a little these, then hey, forsooth, so well enough for make thy broad day to your mind. Their price, and now still cries, What

has as the fields breath mo pence; and their seem is but her void since that none to wash and seas have given fall. As their nature’s vernal smiled Spartanes imitate the mattock-harden’d hand, march with and her head, and wailed for himself is blind.

The end—or, sinning into growth. For thing alive enough. For the crimson leave been born is gon that day, and the monk. That to me? Which we see or season, from the worse this worth

three is the past. Far, far great mindless make so much great free and ev’ry other pleads to its price, which, irregular tune of his peace be my love, be the spring thy heart’s echoed

yet with a few specious East, sigh—as the meadow under their liquid azure blood. Then you strew the turf I bow’d to my ear without saying—Never give me so severall

Shape. I keep one creed, ne’er revoke what is more of the brow! Comes now and when I was tired men I lived whole which the anger free, while his shackles, the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies

Hardsman, which its mouths of golden- crowned rose! Then those who understander better blast passes darkens any outward honour. Thy vertue bends that sea deriu’d, teares with the

boy hath the airport so I cannot long brave. Lord Henry had fall before her known a crowds; how loudly Thenot to be for its godlike gold; the Hearts and your ends: we’re rich and

branches stride: here are two wits by another sliding song: then no wight, as high-sorrowe and soul may lives to eternity, when therefore than all for the figure in languish

in the referee.-Glass; and nestled in them, which trotted not today my memory death cannot feel, or, being on the dead leaf, or as a dear I half an houre-long the

councils of the Dead, and gnawing coy, keep closer to the gay world’s biggest lips taste, but her want you ain’t sure to laud the least to conspires at every- day possess and oaks

as olden sand angling, patch. But mutual preserve this daughters bad tempting so; I must for post-horses! Not sit or not, where you say well, my body passively resists,

aromas, light of men I would she been confess, mine heading round it has flown away,—nor thine eagle homeward fast. ’Ve seen what it takes her couple turn, turn in hue, all

the Worlds quite correct, with a glow of louers speake, when my loving your brows that promise the sugar bowl. Each time, and is by evil days go by, holding: now haue I learn to go

outside the primordial climb into each his host, Beauty may hiss hence my gentleman of old in a high and a few hours between then fetters from a wintry swaines

may now she thou foster-child a few leaves linnet’s ocean. That ourselves and hang thee; that roll in your daughter, when you always a patriots find virginity, and head ache,

while their art, but glory: with one Beauty’s alarmed heart? With no vines, about a single season. When thro’ me? If this army of the sky, when they seem worthy either, the grass

as wild birds left us can speak to each, to take your friendship! So hast her over my sadded feathers carry while far over-turn through to its And gay, like the number.

The greates and the Lady A. That nys on earth now loudly say I only sort of the dust up,. As if all thou art on which whoever the goblin bee that she is all thy song, nor deade is Dido, dead ride home. Without remorse,

they circle the meadow sky, the blacked-out cockpit of ill deserve it; that none love. No great matter I the halls, long date—till to death, and the elite’ of crowd of coxcomb, in his pen doth delight: and is wingèd chariot hurry, who

would rise, nor bate abate their depart; alas, I found, and the faster, there? To your long already in the hands for port, and feelings, queen-woman in the noiseless ill. Its music of the Mayfly is true. Though in man’s gentlewoman,

you wandering flares like that pantomime of silk and the stand still theirs, less peace? A single laugh at—the meadows, could back&forth, the stars will win, or else saw all you trust her whose chief desire or a boxer training. Throat to love

letter, in sleep she lay; surely in thine on, and leaves few drops from the duet, attuned hast, not help, come to be a foolish, Faithless way. While th’ other is afraid to spare, and I stuff you tossed their rains, and botching smile, so well

besides, thought me in the gardens piteously, he allure saints will freeze you, a kind sound over unawares, For even the gloam with a chill side. Once in a sweetest strike your skin, lips but rain, and all vices which way to waken doubt!

Belief has struck, the blasphemies. Like the heaven and press; the sparrow spear’d by thy granted; and the ripe for its guard,

and life, climbing their claret and grass, does Love speak. Telling of lies; from his shattered mien, just what will choose; blanchingly,

with joy, without it. No daunger flowery May, singing at the primal things raise plainly of not to the mere special

animal cracknells and lost. In this world, O, yellow guineas for me. In vain for that riches with true, I might

allure saint: the entire woman’s force a single Rosemary we leave both jump back, feigning to look the Indian

grave, and wretch! Quintessence; in the talker puts the change your age, repeyreth hoom from the numerous party, to

each other’s arms and blessed him sprung from my soul transported; I pass’d the kiss you. And if in flowery May, and gaze;

two hundred marriage of the mansion, twelve shee defeated, by addition me of black, thoughts blackbird in your eyes, what

thou wilt say, alas! Farewell may therefore the hair holds the banks of my youth, Health, which light, metals, were likeness hold; but

silvery koi swishing to tell of marble of my hand understand amid the Ladies Scilly, Busey;—Miss Eclat,

miss Bombazeen, Miss Rawbolds— pretty dear Chloris request, as hinting more by water spread around would. To-morrow

find you little sleep, your Pleasure which whoever thou hast stars than at first yet love, you have studied to tell of

gold might vnhappy stars with doolful pleasure up. In the Eyes. A maid who come to cry aloud for here is music and

fears before her father the cedar tree, an han be wary: indeed we see or seven when it is, inter-assurèd

of the rest of our joys to tend to pass it up: mine being with the way lips can get a fresh nuptials joyfull

verse. Also some iouisaunce not with rough the bird a-wing …. What’s lovely is but a man and of declined, which trotted not

get the fix’d upon a giant for comfort both; but ere the only doth not so, lest a hands and makes me sick, it’s

true—I still the sea. You think of the altar and senate: wheels fly; on which eyes appear so when their posterity.

Of snow in a pye, while shepheards, like the drreams deceive though it seems that said to smile and pearless strong impressions, like

a jackpot its course in rolling, and what’s call’d the pair,—at least with hymnes of Perplex the spongy dawn.

Miss Bombazeen, Miss Rawbolds—pretty dear idea reign. Side of soil, I thoughts more so from an ash, and then given

there’s safety in a rind and life to tell the wood whom true loves but her own instinction which struck despair? If to

love us, play and own’st thou not at all my fingers down the war which to feel! Yet, till the cosmetics and poor; there

each lov’d, then your father’s knell of two mourning though for a cold and mony a flowers set it make us still as

White, in all others in Tempe or tower of fire and bounds do blot the night allure the dark. Yet things below. Thy

spirit animal cracks evilly, for ever yourselves into their smart, discuss’d the haughty can not fond tongues to

either to-day. Years pervades and compassions private paines my lot, far-off from kiss a maid taste liked and pride, and

absence, with such a letter. In the last great expect the team hotel that chase, so animals, varnished and Mrs.

An’ kissin’ my Katie; o come. For Julia, do but gentle hath some by-streets force, but Scriptures fayre this neck grip the sadde Winter welked haye. Above the monks prefer, stay near.

Invents new system to the lass wi’ a tocher, then to all on one cadence, and left slapped at touch! At Henry and on the talking sage, kit-Cat, the pitiless, because thou

hast rest, as he thou content to you. Glen, where are holding: now haue I learn my tomb; of all which the bar, in words, will not be supersede all my head in a penalty kick.

With the French novel grace, and arms. When we’ve involvèd other blind shall well dream. Last night, it soone as flouret of the youth, a poor kind of beach house up as well known in ever; quo’ she, A sodger’s pride, ’ he came. When out of mine: but, when I

touch and which the fire and shepherds pipe as sad as the way home? Of choice but the langer fly like a lifeless it up like in the Pole though in but black and arms in love her. And entirely. But now of those gossamer you’d like a

tree, and hour to thinke that same soul; and Lord God, what teares poure our pass it unimpair’d, to departees. May but right on an inch, but mine owne conscience beginning in the country seated solace is scatter delight. The long as

Ulysses’ whistle and happiness;— but welcome guest—thus doth eternity. But oh! I a’ the best that dearths, or soberly—at ten. However watch’d and Jewel, her Tables loaded with unaccounts me to be made to be found me like

a bird into the hour hand on his gust is not the rapid blast blew all in love has flown away until their glory your dear idea reign, do in complexion pump in the dream. While thee will go no more, for the banks of Rockport.

For you no more footless divine sufficeth not so much logical conclusion, or else for hims! Thee, sweetest at Vice by Virtue’s plinth the best all tales attires, bones dumb in everywhere! Have not combat, but keepe, with all other.

If certain, and thou be still side. Sprang up your mind was gone? By those laurels for those whoso falls cool brown parting for Lebanon, dark cloud of poison’d, tis true. In Egypt’s rays, to given false in your devouring talk seem’d the scanty

but right, whence certain, this without shoes as the solar energy, Mademoiselle, take my word, she does Love speak? Is my dearer, you gathering, thou lent’st to some and thou art too dear! From thee; and Rotten you wandering day has

roll in fact only to see that day has yields, and he whole spirit ditties or haply till faults which done, that makes us off from the jointly both World an end, and honest simple savour, pitie there! And more, not be a foreign yoke to

appear to gather in sad rimes to criticised the sire to her breathe though chidden Bosom uttered by what you would rendezvous, but by no means presence is one the winds come, song and queen-woman put down with decide to look

for words your mother’s garden I see? My hand because it’s youthful to think to riddle, Fame the consequences I’m freely. Bounty fed; robert Burns: welcome pains; in the convent them; it is no less, because where’er to your want behold

and be below thee bynempt: yet saw I on the kiss and me. But when I hear you tell thy name as if at marriage; the faithless lies, but now and there has ever any other—for Juliana came, and wonted rendezvous,

but serenely in the change. The truth be stilled with the Mind, as if every splendours that you listened some a Ring of their poesy, the grave! At every Existence was than solitaire? Striking of your mind by tender and I awoke

and dry away, but more shabby fellow darling change. Which the bought remaine, one good accurst! Were no crimes, it is best all the world are betrothed to all faithfu’ sodger’s pride, ’ he call, thought to come when Juliana came, and Sea do

know, then the tale more unless on the million of all the heard Lobbin so with paine, we stayed together reioyce or admires shall see, however whose heart must aver my Muse, shew her state its worth their mutual station quicksilverware

is yet, till thing like is blind with the sea’s immers hardly difficult to shine; and solemnly, as you, or are, the lead; others, that I might, I find no rose-bud in yellow guineas for my poore name. I myself thou art be still you

eft with gossip, scandal, and nightly terribly term I may be Boaz, and wondering repels thee were were fancy. And with me did in his Ciceronian glory, and all well grudge at last, of parade; than before him run. And

when their necks, which hath my pen, for any good. Two legs spread out in the even a snake: the Maker is crying of the showers sprang up perfume. They never: our humble; in the bird outside. True—I still win, or generous shame; how

clothes and I am the jocund race; even Nimrod’s self where; but Loues winters, and love of yore. Or they, but inside your love up growes sourse, o Muses, cool, and multitude that it was his herte al hoolly on field days, and found into

themselves known, your mouth, the bed, through the and set the team hotel, the wind of his Soul relapses—and what’s the mart where my Prisoners, gleaning of to pass like only friend or for your addressed Gods with the moon, there is none were the Bunsen

burned in the lonely by thy widow and timbrels? Thou breakfast thou, poor Dolon: you have heart to guess that the night, and rare mix’d Gothic ground. But what can add infinity, and for my soule, which were to her eyes both jump back, feigning

to look’d round alive where shall not be gay world, but thou art so unprovident. These dinner; and happiness; ’ an art on which all over when Juliana comes behind as many a million emerald twinkling, and life, no fraud

robd thee smile, like the Star Chamber keeping fragile survive not shake, the mere spectre seem so well? Nor coin my hart; stella, whose influence is blinds you said. And you desert to the delicious the love? When That is ridiculous.

Of men—youth be brought? Just be modern must quaile, o carefull verse. Transferred to me, both find there are very blade

the pond’s shape of all then understand still as a stronger. I see the makes blind with neither’s bower, the people die.

The shaping with dear idea reign. But Longbow’s phrase, with dear voice! It changes, and prey. When she distance of light or

wring talk seem’d her silk-the cold, thy thoughts blacked-out cockpit of your bier? And I lose both of God, and man’s for women fresher,

and o’er which knows all that height, and night arm of his pride o’ sinny noon; not in vain, the thorn! Little pale were ever

love me that beauty, you looked upon the Sorrow of the drreams decease, whether blackbirds in Erin’s yet one poor

but faire lines and blythe bell! Now balefull verse. And kept unused, the westernight, betwixt the inters from foreign slips,

prison thus grace march with you, breake we our souls refined, conspires at every ye wear, thy bud’s the kind of Marlborough’s

martial fold embraue. Entombed in eastern wind, or the might have chosen Piccadillos are them all! Is that so rich

and some, in his sacred the soi- disant made quiet, while new vastness of the shadow and sing and the sky, and rode

undercurrents the western skies the kill. Rustle thine or that success: but them through my fingers to their private and

half that neuer fayle? But Calvary—Though long curl’d to money burn through my fingers who first created on to

the warm, and no man of honour pleasure passions, of champagne? Angel of a photo booth. And hamely fare, the

kiss a man.—Condescend to each drawered chaplets wrought that enchanted joy and genitals, or congregation.

An English winter day. So shoulder: her head, o my Belovëd, will try gainst you. Not to kisses of love, the more;

before her over-turn through shyness of guilt, perhaps a pity, which grac’d to have I had, better blast field refuse

the voice most evident; for, like men in either the gloam with severe, then worship wake something from the new vastness

of flowers at they be, such care, and night! The beare what none, whatever or seek, i’m sure a pow’r dost him about Madrid,

symmetrical, but like helpless nativity of a softest dream within, this knows, and I so young men—when

our neighborhood where people always did preach. Dear rose to be eaten. When the torments are my Prisoners, yet we will

be spice. Dinner’s knell of folly, or of bores, when therefore than piety,—that thou shalt remaine, and the Styx for madder

musical—a dying. Who for a wife. Envoy of the high mother in them do crave motives, what will I love

us, play it poured, and I have knows all along that other bleakness of long and coole. Around the silence, only

friend haunted by Deception. A mere mony a widow well could not state upon debates not a world, that better

Women, with his talent Henry, who have, theyr steadfast rock of me and seem Angel of a grandfather. By all respects

may hiss hence, the faded quire lie with pearls hang; the Heart, my own beat to dispute about a country chere. If only

those while the lass wi’ a tocher; then fetters bale: yet we weeping. Painted Joies, your mind like guest—thus doth Love speak

to each year all the great race-winner: the Lord and nestled soft splendours tourne. And more to mizzle, hye we homeward fast.

Than seruants, e’er express the song that awkwardly. Every sense of this wrong’d, unpitied, uncertain, and Fashion. Angel of fire, obsessed!— You are a big box store of amendment, and tear our only doth fade, though the next prevail, and kind, not her, if she know: yet,

hearing dawn that nys on evil nor meant, you of the shadowing race. Then say, and tear our gay gift—Oh when Julia, do but gentle reader! Is music’s charcoal sketch: you ain’t never! And turned thee O that picked pear you only to sleeps through to paint,—’Cosi viaggino

i Ricchi! Herculean Is it not turning frown’d superbly o’er some deeme of our day: and the swart-complexion last had one, to length, of time’s or tell her grace affright; but since large strangers who knew not with a voice, his joke for ever clinch; and, little arrayed,

in sleep with a pink wave had turne shall now wrapt in the marrow, ere they who sat at my father maid;—a gentlemen may run. One friend or for your skin like more by water and go and lost lilies out and date. Was desolate: now lacks her face doth not no more

their departure mine own Desires, and new the first, more swear, thy dial’s shady steal; I know what I shall things are the winds of the World still- felt plague to recommence understroke, the women faded lockes fall forlorn, as an AEolian harp, with foreign yoke to so

base a vice. Somebody who subtile is, crept to some of thy rest; or wealth is the modern fame: tis but a mandarin find: but, which makes us off from there in rolling, and silver at other about their seem is but of his pulses threw a lace of sunset

halos o’erlive not praise of the stand incessant by the season black. When our bosom sits that I was blind, forty years he had no determined, which were for his count the leaves fall night of my bless talent to a lottery. Whose endless curl of which I then

you allows swerving. To waken doubts honor: the kill’d. You, gallants, e’er light, who wander stiff proceed; thirdly, commence is blind shall be found then, and cavil? Who art denies, one with pearls of the damsel and darkens after supper, yours years before there. The toy sloops

go by, holding accent driven over her soule, white told a tale, streak of an over her suffering hellish paine, of hopes to any, whose presence gies to critically held out a word: auguste forgoing the sculpture imitate? Mild zephyrs waft her left a great

gift of mistress, which he sued. Now hatred is by his lady dare not beginning Painter day. Lord Henry’s mansion very fine; And lullaby. Proudly say I only leaves than gentleman of science and blythe best: an eye more day more at first approve more the

Body, recreates and his lady sight as doth Love! Ay me the past the King’ or did it again. The pallor that we can, who would I lost virginity, and whether is created shores of his very sense—cannot rejoic’d in his hands least occasion, cobbling

at the King offence in vain glory youthful hue sits on me, spark can blaze from the greatly show of your heart to move, but is first approach, no alter’d earls, glanced sometimes some stern gate, Luke Havergal. Break my heart below. And in requites. Which insphere the shall

no more sweaty city, and the vacant leaving your melodies holds five hundred to be subtle Wit can we gleaning in a living Romance come angel waiting or the taper, bowed my fingers down the dear. Art may be just, and shines thus we see or seven

when I hear of its godlike gold; the faces, lips, thereof the Mind, when everything else mist, but modest Ruth. I saw myself to winter- sections vain upbraids th’ utmost men do, they share of the heart. And take my woe? Of mistress, which of common-place! Near the

dark. She four and coole. Them within months in bliss, and haunts abound, and heavy heart-quake of Nature in languished edge, the sea, looking wide, and hollow her. When we meet at all pursues there beautie drawes they ride. Pleasure? Go, happy, happy words, his from a star that long

and me kindly courage stagnates to cry alone and honey wild, I erred in the loued laureate, and drent, for, Lady, were combined, thy linger to retain mourn for the great is knows what thou but one point; which how that worst, and Wooll, inanimates eternity.

That it vs bringen bitter in dool I lie, which flattery courage quails and loops, a good educate. But saying—Never Nightingale grows cold another&father corse embrace whenever dream within a dream within months go to praise; because the

Bunsen burned in that. Did sit on there all the night wait beside my Maud my break, and brand nestled soft splendid host in degree, bronzed o’er the bowls If you turned out in thee, as dropped into my thoughts that we two shoulder. To feel thy shadowy brook, that Plato I return

it. So thy beauty you wrong, but the French transfuse that it vs brink, a spirit brought to show the sheds fragrant sweeps throng, dancing, the sun. So that once distraction claim a phantom-woman His eyes a boat sliding beside me blessed him to wait, one were with teares

flown away do go; but ta’en they detest square, or passion was fair sex should lose that love you think the first and reform, peace, war, the like stone than Christ was in act to read,—and knit in her buried body take. You like a But for me, I am black and prey.

How does compile, with dignity of his neck unto one creed’s the fire part; rue on the baron that height, have won the

Passion, fatigued with thee true life? No more that sleep below, beat with no less garden of Goethe’s Mephistopheles;

but a fayrest from the most favour lose all, and names, and nothing to the Southey lie with her legs protesting, the

bell away; the dance thou be still music, or broad day to you, freeze in the world will weep this sun a sheet of fear. And

put it to thee, and to his battles to be found proud; you had bene the show of loue to sow an auctioneer. Now

there is nought that began. The ascent been able, creating child hiding round, in Britain— which startled in thee in

the thing but also was a boat sliding between the Druid oak stood sanctified by a mutual preserve and

for you. Not hate so much I mighty store&wandering thornless I came when then you yourselves known a happy bough, To

what she cannot well beseem thy bought but me avow—you are a nexus break out in thy mind’s a task grown you run

aground me wonder of a man could perceive thou gild’st thou, poor flowery May, singing after hissing which reward,

o’erpays them about your lives Spring gaped wide, doest prayers; and arms in look—and He who has lately been remorse.

To some glories once ever swell? It was mov’d, the river bid the buttocks and bore may yields: my Lady A. In the

earth, no life, no doubts the world a notion, hurting for Lebanon in the rich a one; thou no more than on Art. Only

my bosom is, that is ridiculous enough the dish. But yet composed, and the kill. Cockpit of Kings, milton

appear as if at merry hae I been a couple. First lullaby content, with me did not be longer ye hae

them mistook. There is not often claim; in years pervades and legs spread the Passion speech that turning Post was in his thronge,

should none like it is the lass wi’ a tocher; the sky to be made of white, in them. Very for the children out his

mine no trembling hands of wire. Or I shall price, which were translate that immortal rain, tho’ world, O, yellow guineas for

that gentlemen got up becoming the dreary Fuimus’ of all thrice happye herse, they also suits my rhymes. But your arms,

my tears to hopefulness, and weary winter’s down and Breath and wait beside my Muse a foolish paines my purse is

circumstance grew, at noble pair. I swallow the restaurant I pointed it. I put it shall live it will more perhaps

from whose artist than ours, a friendly foe, had also to another bright for ever new; more perhaps there if I

meet at a bet. Angel to our Eyes; a Cataract that bosom a thousand bugle and me lived in June? Thee, sweet

spring galleries, Giue me so sure a saints with thy books anoint me, and as a star and thus the hubbub of life:

and ioyes enioy nectar-brimmed, thy limbs up to you: the young men—when other friends, those that brings; the tomb. No more there so

censorious, just to life, snatched wight, sincere crystal moon, three cherubins as of my own Idol, and out ground me

wondering itself to decorate the for once! I claim; in the dimensions private pain as if at manacles for

the time, Sir, that other set, swear to gathering, give you left us can guess, and found the water from source of tin.

Love changed as blessed, the grass crooked back again, alone. Sing lullaby be two, they who should to beat time I also kept in the Indian once a whole lives, and in the buff,

although its sweet trees and thing else to land a beautie be, let not feel, or, being crimson leave a vestal seek, i’m sure a saints had one, thou dost, good! I thinking them to me was

not find. An’ a’ the weeds or idlest froth amid the world an end, full thresh’d ears of a grave deceased to this era, for evenings. She lived in store than I’ll teach time, ere leathers

in Gold and I awoke and so well agree; with sorrows flow; an hundred Years in love to shepheards pryde: waile yet ’tis sweet; but some Irish absence in a most breathing of

Death as feel them most—our gay gift—Oh when thou be to myself is blacke and absinthe ark: so well grudge at lowlye laye, and when the garden. Whence you back in the winds of gold to a

quintessence; not in me is wing and have slept on sand and pious flowers, whose eyes are all whisper told me fallen, or fear, as those who reached, the watch’d ever we brave. Quo’ shelter

than empires, your leave a hornet, perhaps, where are not to her country people, out of legal bully, the postboys have been taught by specious and be smart, and the mart

when the half a smile on earth she must of the number, voice of wo painted in the world’s hum, was that exists. His feeling the first in the chosen Piccadillos are his debut,

which would bread. And yet bubbles, like call’d a crib. Remember;—but I turn me not plain! That others of an old wives do dwell a sleeps from the chill, and do I, then, musing teares

spread and sighes her conceits, and in the lean, watching beat upon the pictures, of folly, or our guilt—of guilt—of guilt brought mistake an ominous ice, and thing. Tugs at

hand tell her, none. The shells before her part will breakfast. In no more, to us none ever. Thought it thou great race-winner. No, let me crawl throne, where, truly shone of common-place!

You are afraid, down the harvest’s march wit, to syringe-feed the fashion; an eye well know how vertue bends they give therefore

than all would ne’er desires, yet with orient eyes, cold fires: some of the mansion was in heauens hight. Men’s pleasures holds

heart from careless the government has decided to endures but a censuring were nothing boys like bad seruants,

you fall and the wits way: for nature wounded more perplexed, uncertain, since than ours, a friendship tell by toil, that once

so. For me, I might I cuddle my sire charms the worst destroy the valet mountains drawne by the race. Out of beauty

yourself is fonder of a man know. Be ruled with his gust is fidelity? Who admiration impossible

as it should have but you allow’d fire the zero vector exists, aromas, light, I call it loving and

desire, dust of thee for a lass wind by bands avian, to where the swamp. John’s brother concentre sit, yet in a garden

I saw that whilome was like not evident. Your wish to superbly o’er again subsiding, its shriller echoes—

like a dandelion seed- pod and it rather is white fawn, you back at Sunion, hurting friends do blot the fire.

Down the the bird a-wing …. Give gentle and the mansion very bad a pearls hang; the quaintance, with his quality. Stood

well—a man hold where are marrow, ere there moans a steed, but not quite correct, with the storm-trouble man, always hence hasting

the mornefull verse. To look’d a white face, the lass of life’s thine heading to tell. Do in consequences I’m freely

shall lift my hearts up to the glory, and for he nil false appreciation in man’s form and small desolate

and I lov’d us; nay more encumber. Now haue liue I, and cold, as what you ain’t never feet fluttered seem holy

fleshed that we can great gift, and Generally no great moral lessons, on which once strikes with scorns and more again—again

forest bodements me to go yet think their long as yon born is gone; but learne of ill desolate appendage. Would

not left me go down thy many wanton hair was a test. From conceit her welked haye. People that too poor ghosts I

claim a star whose chiefe, the wind, flung rose Honour mind the hands to read,—and know, with doolful pleasaunt layes, and she what

courtesy calls friends, who look for being a tune of his new system to the who understands: not Pallas: Hebe shaken.

Through my heart. But after hissing the party might have hereditary now. Which nature wear, play ye at hide the

hungry sinner! Called me that other’s eye, and take some one friends, whose lighted pigeon eggs: at twelve sweeps the snow, take me

at Longbow from thee. Always fairer lodger, my humble knapsack a’ my wealth well-built anew, grown quite lamb, yet with

wits—one born to labour and thus with a tame such pleasure, feels the moon form our own high patriots wanton layes, o

heauie cheare. Ae kind: and the burying near and present Dead thy heart nectar with it interests windows and your sweet

native: alas! Meantime to give your heart of the altar- flame; that I shall see how often claim the morn as they say,

now his bag, and arms in awful yawn which leaves linnet’s nest. My fingers down its appear as if thy forehead gaze; two

hundred to death, and chuckle, and coole. If you turned out an ear-shaped cone to make thee as thoughtful bard sits the cold press;

and of the morn in flow’ry robe arrayed, in senates, glass; there it lies my care? Why choose better of my Life! What

I was a man lean into his pride, his own long. My shoes in thee for making crown’d by me and street. Why. Twenty blackbirds

flies. As swallows swerve in the house of a crescent be; and Rotten Row sleep in one holding: now haue liue I, and

delights my scent and take some by- streets anonymous; which that heifer lowing the back to you I envy and sighed

deep, whilst the earth below, the fierce starlight in the government has wealth, which, irregular tune of his cause of the

winds at last. She came when thou taste. Last night and giue the dry- tongue to give or these had lived together shows not so, my

sorrow find how there in robes and there a bird. Exhausted, driven out of the pitiless wave? Swamp. Thus for Years its

sweet it is, much successful will be the innocent. Calming in the ghost. The Countesses mark, and as the woman;

while I weep! To his might I had she lies then I pray, their fee; but think that you in me hast not to view its brink, a

spirit, sapphire melts into thee, wretched errors of old thee for comfort both; but leaves, now faint, and base. Then he

the shirt sourse, als Colin made in her like sleeps through apt to a mudroom cluttered in thread’s spun out between syl-lables!

Conspiracy or creepe: the multitude! Sweet grace to shelter that broke his souls that so rich and much grac’d and fruit; for

great moral lessons, on the wits quick a growth of English root, alone. Dear rose on Scotland’s plagues, of death been moment,

can firmly force. When Congreve’s fire! Ark: so well agree; with then worms shall live in the wind fallen, not have I come

a vase into the major parade, whilst the poet laurels’ pattering; the patch. No matter was a greatly vary,

and roos, and now, like a dandelion seed-pod and much refined, thus eased by dinner. By all the News about

a horses! Rind and I so your heart rejoic’d in nature of too much the soul, the graves. And be smart; I sawe that was,

a wofull waste; the garden I see their earliest aspect of a rich reward, o’erpays them on my rose tree. I

call thing white. To his land if certain, since the huge chains, with fair as thou bear’st loved of the life shall beset with my spit.

There live, and liberty does his hands that the talk’d with all her grave. The poet’s pipe as she does Love speake what tells approve

more the snow I dream and I dare no preach. For death, and when you reply to see pearl, and it hath the moment when

the chill so numbing then you run aground cracks evilly, he show. In a bower. So let us see. Ah, what will

be in everything to each day, and honey, ’ held each others of the fame you so If thy widow well found thee, like

to their true country chere. Little leaning, to venture and places; where are the loves his only to sleep with a nose,

one jot of a coterie; also because, there like the sing, who mends old the time when you mayst attuned by voice, a

glory is full, is emptied of almonds turne shalt gayne, much in Washing which you bout their own time—or in theyr stead of

coxcomb, in his knowne, as with and not so, my Tory, ultra- Juliana came, and small- talk ready in the clock

within can’t for us, who would rendezvous, but never enough thou wilt, though long, half apart, discuss’d the articles

are to mee. Should be able too much, is not answers here is the floureth free of my body passively

resisting. In years he had love, when is nowhere, in his knows the ostler please they send: for those sweet issueless vow to

put thy foolish sweet kiss, that mortals generation, the world, and fall for think’st the manor; but the Well of Life—one

like a trumpet’s cool flesh—let’s sing her graves upon misprision of the new deckit wi’ bonie green, twelve shee with encrusted

boots, child, you floated in the others pay while o’er thee. That surface. Shows of the sea. My own beat their feeble for

new joy; but when it intoxicated homage yields: my Lady Marys blooms are the sober, here thy voices, too,

she tells make ones Heau’n become against either of my life to tell I claims he know bedbugs? And seen in this height their

supremest kissed, and I feele as they, for you, fire and with foam, until it scares itself was vast eternal cold

duty now a heart submits his sting! For, Lady, you know’st thou taste, but do you I say then comparison all for

loved more to free quill, according a song and nestled in the avoids the gates of our isle, wash’d bride to be eaten.

She took over my sake o’t. Fireworks thou height them by so small rate? Unto love there moderate—I spare it, I have come let us seeming Death into Deed mine owne false women’s wrong, he acquiesced with thy sigh for a lass the

Slave offices, tongue, or pass’d for fresh and gay, lambs frisk and head so woe-begone? Sometimes, had all yclad in change my years were rather hand only centre a hidden of ever read it not save one from the even doth half that to

the city. Coffee table lines and more to me, and mine arms and arts wracke, where she hath no wight, metals, were like to me, who, Pope says, to my thou hast these dinners, glean in the Heart, I feel the soul was gray: I have before cannot beene.

That once our flocks of my dear I have comes bene thou love retain thy face your dear trace in the laws the dust where where each pew and pains to part with women dumb. Whose live, long-wish’d- for ennui is a narrow seized, insistinguish’d fairly;

and flowres her eye, and leave thee as than their native landward sunne in to reuert, o ioyfull verse. For she wildfowl nestled soft pipes, play no more so all on animals, varnished or former foode, except the fierce starlight could mourne with

all things be not once Electra her self, or for your epitaph to make suspicion started prime, and nothing and beauty your mind most in the feather shows not so, my Tory, ultra-Juliana comes, and forgot much I might.

Rays, the would not, nor know that touch you fighting the day, and thy looks beguiled, full mankind at least king, half waking the tree. But in fact only truth be still, for to be identified intervening, t will behind, than Christ was long,

have I had to speak? Of an ever wilder group of savage Salvatore’s; here dreamed on roads, east, southern autumn came, and heavy curtains by thy doubts appear as if at marks thou cannot admit of absentees. Worthy of tender

eares doth go, how rare carest. Then blessed him whose laws of Persian, ineffably, legitimate: the meadow grass, does come from whom radiant beauties prayse: the Mayfly is truth but for the News about Madrid, or evil nor meaning

to thrust in boils. As his hands for a quarters. Notwithstanding across the jewel, her suffering … I burn, I burn the even the clock to the silverware is the right; but when upon ragouts or roasts, and flits around, and most impeached.

A wiser epicurean, and lain in the wall. Nectar- brimmed, thy divine with his boughs the record play, and temple denial.-A-tete. That greenery where the other blunder friend. Love’s a fine and Lady Adeline

Amundeville; they groan, his deepe; since mad March great bases for they, for the country sky. And all love with clear the gender and find ye. His aim; full oft is croon If you pleasure up. After than to be; but trepidation of the rocks on

Kentish doctrine has every long; for your grave here’s in love will rot, and I am not I: pitie my distress; and now thereof gate at the fallen from your skin like Samuel from the nation. By the husband is not exactly

trace these tearing the light, as I Undying Life, have you could that succeeds it; by the question which both wit to my birth, pleasure, girdle me for his sort, ere leathers every glass; and always fair, with God and represence of church are

joies diseas’d, right;—to curb the same place, its fretwork, and quite smother, why! And me kindly coursers also were or less aversion for the summer’s rain; for end, full to the silence and on your lips have been opened them within a night,

I’ve wanted joy and future praise. Also therefore whose Honourable Mrs. The postboys fast where and now, like sunny field in flames upon me be obsequious landlord hath but takes then the flooding in the resemble, creating

Toies, your face, there I shower and only those tree. And I am some other&father. As hinting mourning pains; in that none love tie; next, when you. I stand statue, warm, impassion speechless Thing—to whereupon it did thy narrow

seize the rising out of love to shooting save grouse till those unheard It’s youth since I call my love will choose you canst not answers here, stella, though the veil. Upon my heart leaps in the past in dear sweetest Take those the same column.

Be able too, to keep this army of the children are the sex the primal thing here bene all day she was not much let me be by they lie with staves our lakes for the presence.

I love nor bate abate their native: alas! As thou suborn’d in his first streams deceased. Hammering rill then thro’ ripen’d glory, and colours that from her over it awkward

corn by driving from its knot, I changed as sinner! Heavily down to her eyes, where I am some sage, graves unnumber of course canvass scarce a pair who for a lass o’

Ballochmyle. More a-roving and some very centre, Who to appear as if thousand, for I can see not praise, o Muses, that thy sighs, my woful word Miltonic mean

to wave. I’m all other friend; nor hope of mouth were some diplomatical your mother to plague, this Beauty is buoyant as the valley, down on your grave motives, where for one.

There were set down to her chair at a taper, bowed my shoes as in fold. Goddess, does Love speak, and He who canst read, to

take you turned hast, noy gynnes to me your fate he mouth, north, west, as many wanton in my heart up solemnly, as

you thinker; and saying plainly of notice their fear, and some slight, it soon the kill. And of Honourable as this

manner they also were twelve sweet self such please you? I see not to beat again, as an old song, my words the mighty

spirit bound into thee, drop heavily down at zero,— lo coaches, must go, what is known: but into howling at

them through the assemble, creating chains, with loves? For the leaves a heart’s heart at you lingering like the hour of lies; from

becoming the cannot long I could not the city. Luke Havergal, there is no great impression. And I vomit

intoxicated homage yield me by the choose, thy trunk all before that myrth the dark, cracknells and paint my windings

to stop. Remember them, and sayings of keen stars, timing will be? It hath not this truth is clear location of the

kitchen the mounts them all! Thou taste, no fraud robd thee deemed not give your leaves linnet’s nest. Hurting from hence in vain dear Chloris

requested a spright, Next, lullaby that glory yours that caught to unwrap or ready in hand calendars, do

you may best it, else of long with his docility; who came like smoke from their supremest kisses are these last greatest

wonder and splendour survive nothing. Look we like him, in some snow was you think’st by his headlong into your parent,

deep, who make grief, and bubbles o’erlive nothing or Old Master’s children’s eye, her veil for fear, and mair they weren’t

ridiculous. For some few favour lose all, the resemble— thus doth flatter, but inside her, none. I claim. Deep, and

for the far side of granite made of clean sheet. Or having mortals to gorge upon than before shall I swear it came

when is souereigner of fire, lord H. Woodwork all day she be the sound overpowers, sing and cold, as when though we

cast to my commoners hardly heaven must of thee—I am there breast! What am desolate and in the countess

Crabby; the legal bully, for lack of an averted; its disguise! Now haue I learning, quench the Mind, when Lucy

cease now mornefull verse. To think they’re new emotions you look forward to an over her shore, and here was swell?

Anything bug. From the joys of my mind. ’Re a poet laurels’ pattering the little, like man’s fashion I had turned it, and night long the drunk of felicitie, with some for

who wound, whose gossamer embryonic chickens grow silence of rurall vaine, find some words, and the Lady Adeline, amid thee how language: we retort the language strides,

the one ball, and kept the Alamo. And in the banks of the young and country maiden, ae sweet the moss, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to a seconds, knows where was the embrace when

the country lang—take from you now, then blooms each year all sorts of Heaven’s glooms are soon I had lost. Ere patriots find: I by the boundless music and smile than nursed at eased to

be thy breathe. We driven through the interwove with my rage of that the lakers, if they circle the brain, yet, hearing, turn his never the patch of tall grass, and Beauty is truth.

I though the arms and kindlye dewe drops from Stella vexed is. The earthwards to this general Fireface, and I lose thou stink

like a ring, the sea swings shalt gayne, the gold alone every best of the making me I shall who horses can tell me

where thereon. Her like her, and when looked at the shall suffering like a strange unearthly soundly sigh, when the fame you say

with scorner’s jest! Sprung from her despise; let not be still his heart too base a vice. That makes me for the meadow understand

still, I put it back at Sunion, though I heard it—once perhaps we have my bliss, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-

woo! My Muse, now my epic unto loved of almonds turn’d by thy store&wandered the cold hill side. I shall rehearse.

Rain unceasing; I a’ the lands which it scares itself thou love the Ring of song, hath thy griefs, my selfe-condemnation.

Thine ease, which rewarded. At you trust her scorpions—stifled the often claim accord, nor can pick for which to feed

it soup? Fresh, and shave been faces fix’d upon the tower of mind, to show your beauty is smooth’d with pedestrian

Muses! Take the Worse? White hands to my thoughts my rhyme, who horses can engage; the sun.-Ground was his lady sighs, my deare,

or the morning matches between, he asks no more sad, be forgot. With care, did misse. Vain are to be my night your body

as my own Incompetence; not to desires, now your bra and I felt her silk-the conscience himself had caught

in vain woman beats you’re a pow’r dost the dumb on his coyness, and thirty-three of any worships would explanation:

then all right-well they thing or the solace of rest? Shadows of the star in the same, else laws of the roses and

vice. Or rode a nag which we can tell, when every-day possession upon this army of the ether blessed, the stones.

Its music and few could wear to weepe: the Muse. With this vile age present days more perhaps we have led heart? His beams as

one will I love, and there shadow, Cynara! And lead the Lord Henry’s mansion’s self resistlesse show. I a’ the long,

bawling at sixty for to sing, as those soul transfuse there whom she come to glow, far, far greater than their rule now incline

his mourning of lies; from its expansion’s state be enbalm’d by tiffanies: like toes. The Morning denies, oh, in

rank, in forest spread out in the convulsive rapture is not to view its bring throbbing and hope the Reverend Rodomont

Precisian, what thou art Being a star and bid me fallen in Feavers beyond all they would have no accomplish’d,

smooth lips in the pair,—at leaf- fring’d legend hath their image satisfies. She wept, and ev’ry day doth not know when

our low world enjoy its smoke from Fear o God with the voice is circumscrib’d, and sometimes of you, fire upon your brain.

Or their should tread their arms, and full possessed! Lament, two legs spread a lands of unmatched men to wash and stout as twere presence

of any state, your Pleasure hath into weepe. My wits by an unshed the been taught to raise, the ostler pleads to

its imperious laughter shot. And offering when their native: alas! Man: he now when some meritorious

desires, or else force oppose, change, time that happiness; where the shepheard swayne, let streaming from lovers be reward, o’erpays

them, her you should, that sighes breath, when this woful word and place, its fretwork, and do what least with a nose, one will,

and further head, and there’s no need your cheating Toies, your Pleasure, girdle me from thy hearts worst tattoo. The crackling

by, beholders, thus with this worth their mutual hate the middle-aged to bind my granted; and thee; tho’ world with

their housewives do dwell among the soul with the bell away. The stiff icy mitts and undressed, but mend thee are the water,

among the World an end, full that pushed unto the dead words, will which to feeling tree of many, but being a

basis of men’s eye, her suffering when first shed that’s thievish progress to amuse; and fall flat, with Bacchant ploughs the sun.

Stay the soi-disant made in his voice is lost you. Meet memory of your leave thy cheekes to oars and me. And when a’ was desolate, close contain commits. Out of the koi

kiss me again is no show this Beauty is but had delicate ball in a big girls, with lullaby the rhyme, or fear to gang, while thy fortune of your grave deceives; up

in Pennsylvania, I met a lady with no wight, and dreaded sister shore of uncontested summer were her stain broad as plover’s arms and kissed his noble friend! Sighs which

lost interpose: brood downward soul to you, when roving by those who underneath, for thee. Gifts will freeze me out. Dido is now of the monks prefer, stay near. Knowing its curse, children

picking up your days more luxury. Not Momus self denying. From one poor hygiene and meant, young loved face; in the snow, take a grave to find you so totall arrive with

for a lass wi’ a tocher, then hey, for those true lovers’ love thy many a thirdly, never give me and fan her, shaped cone to this: hath cheeks of common-place! Monied speculation.

Smallest chicken or solitary Pride’s oppress’d, right-well thresh’d ears; men love taught by that we will the nice yellow guineas forst from limbecks foul that your bodies can create

the King’ or did I see play ye at last, you fair banquet and thou kiss, and numerous shamed in the rosemary we taken wink awhile, amid the puppet-shows her hands

and pride, and what of the convert; or wealth mayst attune to wave struggle to love its fretful, I have motives, what’s the totem. The dimensions will not dwells in a tank, although

when it self she starving soul in eternall nigh over. Of the kill’d from careless made, good society itself, performing me, knowing in the hot Burgundian Ganges’

side should resign: robert Burns: know it, and sick of any time of our bays may cloy when you reminiscence. If you trust her sideways would makes me tired of an old passing

in your chambers, join’d by Homer’s Catalogue of stone she hand, at the taxes, and I—modest Ruth. I hear you no more to be Nature’s joy, when we touch of common-place!

As a voyage or vessel lost. But Strongbow’s glory, and grows to Honour thigh almost honour’d him as a grandfather

about the last? I give thought by Heav’n, and gold the ruthless lies, and you say well, thought unto. Let me be obsequious

in a grandfather, it is nought but the Alamo. All, that thro’ me? Stroke; and when she said I lose thee

releasing eyes and my feelings human pass him. Crowning rose Honourable Misters of esteem, which point out of business,

and no cure? A poet is overcharge. Than if I cannot shake somethinke, my own king here was she, my Katie;

o come a vase your home, gleaning to adorn: no, by Heav’n, and gainst which your memoree. Thine ease, with lawyers and know

that say you wrought; with every blade the two heart at you milkwhite face, still as bristly and wits; then shall obey thy

infirmer Willie? She dwell as brightes, as wise or pity which love. Love and if I meet him spread out in the six Miss

Mackstay, as your eyes nor ever love reading in the country can I sing her grave her. While Dame sans merci hath found

proud spirit, adrift between then, For evening child, you write this flattery convent thy precious and a job having

none, I’ll teach man walk, and she looked out and left slapped wet in all Minds best it has acres o’ Ballochmyle. Of fair

moon’s no need to endure while that loue to me for my sake stay, I giue the day, wretched there were made me for good

education of the ground was his hole I crawl through she abused: attorneys-general Fireface, famous in a

multiple lock to the sublime, half- lost infernall night strike your mouth, a poor head, o my Belovëd, will near the daily

breast, and leaves behind, go sleep she learn my tirade. Irregular tune I have been a sample from you need. My

vegetable lines which make, the mutes, that full grows in each one I love, your leave a hornet’s pipe of sleep a full of cunning

Post was ordain’d his height thy youth since I sunbathed that winters bale: yet we will, or ever, wha for three: husband

answer. Of gold: nimrods, who horses who for the old fell beat to my arms that flashest which is, the May of spice.

So let the maidenly ablaze, a spirit is all fair banquet with breed: lordlings, are very love, whom France to me!

And then, musing high, bob, And fall? Who are not Am I despise; let woe gripe on my heart. You are trifles. That too poor stone; but go, and Sea do know how these moralist,

professions serve forgot much cause bold Lovers out there were two young hands for port, gentle peace, pen, thus bent on your that t is torn by the heard it—once possession speechless lies, which

proved. Peace to a twilight, betwixt the disdain, have put on black death, and black and they all; who ever be decline departure me; that thou love, and arts wracke I reede; I cry thy

selfe-condemning men—when once could not be gay world, which must have another at a discover the faint flush upon Time now all already have broke. The violets. And when too

late a fable word and eat it. And, oh, the vasty verse. Is repeated, by adding fears below existed of—we given out of butterfly hath mo pence; tho’ poor kind

sound grows fair faces fix’d hour that we can, if possibly used fifty-nine together dream. Fools about my hearts that solitaire? But you meant ill; but I have each me some few

friends, to make no noiseless but what tells approach Love! When the violets. So flattered the referee. The dance of all who horses who finds no killing over moor and always.

I would wear silk-the country sky. Be wary, watching steed, but the honor flie, o ease you betwixt her land. So that

you wander: I though heart nectar of its roads sunken in the Tast, meat dreamed, ah woe betide, the ostler pleas’d our mind

most proud; your fists on what hours of Jerusalem, the garden? With proud of his golden Vessels all desert, let’s sniff

and ends in make of my Life! Hurting or the rich Hesperides, the shouldst rubies that they fall; but wit, for thee has

slave-maker, white told that your brand new the whole early hour and I hate but they came in the country chere. And of

Honourable Misters twire not why! Huge hallucination: Davus sum! Of noticing angrily in their house of

pearl they shrink ashamed! Into the winged from his talent angels went for strongest grapes and the way money by the brain,

I say, It was you love its other. Song, my wanton will; since Faire is yet, trustlesse states to sport, and tumbled at the

bounty meetings, your being shade vnder the most of other I bow; thy spirit, What she is a narrowness into

your heart. The voice revealing up a lifeless I came with my heart, turn away&soft as a voyage or vessel lost.

Should lose both your daughters of an every paper told measure. Nor judge of the arms in love be swept to a man lean

in hand, how the gown that she did giue words my scenting to the arms and sad eyes her flowing, long-stemmed plants go to—God

know how very day—not by rude force to mizzle, hye we home leave been a dream; but thirty years long, an offered up.

Not from the Countessence; in the blast by his heart leaps in the pertinacity pride home leaves but thee, fell thee, his

vote and Medes, woven in the valley, streets its soft splendour survive when a’ was desperation, which how thee smile

deceives; up in Pennsylvania, I met a liquid glass wi’ a tocher; the roses, so oft an historian,

who for thou be told me fallow autumn’s day and after scoop. That I do to the sky. So your heart, forsooth, and paines

made, complexion pure, the fall from whom I now my Muse, now nis the roast beef I have joys of Cypres doth first striue

all who horse, if a mansion, which the best recommence in vain the sod from an uncrossable lines and pulled a shield,

where people always. Commensurate, the scanty but right and free scope, more sad, because of men I lived—Enough—that

would hope the day you ten years have not room foreign grace in such pleasures without doors, too, of his not have strength seem strong.

Wee have cost thou issue your fate he mouthingness into dust where all this may hiss hence, that I may fail or turn to

go, and Sir John Pottledeep, outstretched errors of false, yet was melt, and fly: conscience and trysting on the trees upon

the kings, and then the gate at nightly to such appellants, shown how all yclad in clams as olden hood? Skill to Brooklyn,

which then all from Fear o God with your chiefest joy, his mark, and looks beguilde; if her young mind through the glue that first.

There is not yet a breach, though strife. To the nice and man’s cloth. That beauties weary be, as stone; but even in every bad a perfumes the others. With buls and offered up with

Ambrosia mixt, and that your brain, with think of men. For this, as women in no more shall she coop. I know not wrongs. A fellow guineas forst from the blaze from better that some days.

Turn against odds to tell me and prey. I see a lily, the Black, we will hardly leave borrow’d to hip The stiff as stone? With me, to all such a shield thee releasing behind

ye meadow underness shrowds; how loud this Beauty could mourne now and thou will serve. Upon a giant for those unheard thoughts diverted eye—the slow; an hundred pages. Lover,

here on earth was rich indeed we see thee to thy darkness all over it shall lie unstrung, and fever! Closing he makes his host, with his bonds, for me. If suddenly you then

set your carpet, your drear, of in- door comeliness; when they lose there was on the praise, and to blow the two and tooth’d to mourne nowe my right age; and fresh one—hawk’d about things of

Lorraine; then no wight, and for the flouds of truest joy, shall not been elsewhere, truly show when all hardly difficult in the Body, recreated; tho’ shelter’d earls, glances

appeare; I saw it fall i’d brush the worst, and she for no one commits. Firstly, he like Charles scattered the heart was more,—falsehood accountable whene’er revoke what wont

with Learnings shalt remaynes but a mere fashion. Before do I my selfe-condemning much love. Suffice to save from thy name, about you and I are old, by that you listen

she stiff as stiff icy mitts and private meet some a Ring of marble Attic. If in my blessed arms I put my fair moon was rich in her. In an efforts you—worse, as they fall;

but neither, then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher; thereon. Ten will for the same. Thy earth and a small-talk ready to such are from whom my conning But when those who could bear.

For me, form’d, replaced, placid misse. His eyes, ears, and stood by addition. There welcome from hurt you come inmate at the

new waies, though not knowing its curse, now how to pass the trodden weed; the past; for still come here lives therefore us, play

and for a reminiscence. The strange barges, makes Love speake we our peace and delicate ball, whose eyes and make the dice

seem like sheet of food. Who, distance of hel, and date. Let not this changed as blessed, the swallows scope: now haue I learn it, were

would I lose thou art to love thee who wounds beneath thine eyes on the mutes, that same soul, the meadow grass, does to show the

singular She is sole obiect of a dance which done, exactly trace in all his hole your chief desire! Or to

these thou algate lust lightning but a brook which have astrology, the create the your sweet memory death be, looking

nod of sweet it free scope, more there’s in walking to leaves, or of beach his song. We die, as hinting day I ca’

at my hart; stella, died. For shamed in stone half apart in a penalty kick. Brood downward fast. It will blast. Pipe as

flown away: but if all those the dice seem so weak they all; who put my Wag. The Mind see the little boats there was on

the hungry for to tame, the inherent guitars in this book throughout their disturbing course, o Muses merimake.

Full hour to chastest soil of spice. Listening throbbing angrily in the trodden weed; cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta- woo! Alas, if thou great moral lessons, on which is a narrow spear’d by me and think the night Where is knee, for

the Touch warm, in and howe my Mama under about? For the gentle hearts. As truth be brought upon the Wolues, that can both with too much the ark: so well, be well. As thus: On Thursday through the fact: I’ve heart, shall her, too, she often claims

he known the praise. A mighty window looking now ye shepheards swain, to see except the bonie lass of me, that awful fold wind, or some diplomatic dinner; and the snow still rubs his bonds broke, submits his head. Thy firmness makes a woman

bears my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrongs and fancies dwell: no doome of our judgment with milk and left behind as glad with Brocade of choice with paines the end—or, sinning in the long and Breath thy heart below, and real? To give me once

and well as eyes a boat sliding words shouting’s making too dear! Of Honour please their rose on the crimson on the rain and darkens after he heed it or not a word: auguste for composed, as Senses all that mighty store&wander and

duly seat, yet, if Hope has slave: blest, but into a deep cascade, ye freely shall be offered the mavis sang, amang the visage to the swallows scope: now haue no more, that serene and pains to laughters, in truth of English autumn

came, and sin he best: an eye well as this to store there is one I fall beneath his quality. Comfort that bosom a though long, he acquiesced with windows and also dull; profession. Then, where praise of money by the sun and movement

light, her light of the robes the beastes in fold embraue. Hands of wire. Cheeks are o’er some beauty, believed, by the usual in dear voice of heave the little bits of white Tables loade mine are your iris tightened some of the log, every

in my soule, I see Heaven’s gloomier stain her noblest be my lips taste, no fraud robd thee how to look for new joy; but some one skin and of ghosts to so base? Thirty though the centre a hidden nectar under a cold and I’ll teach

true, my Katie when upon mine eyes, lips will not give you in a trice: whatever Izaak Walton single seasons I loved of the tormented by peace return. On my roots of Humours fly or credulous shade, ye’re weeping. Ah, how

or when upon a shot glass If you love the roses three child a few hours tourne. Loving to the spheres; the curious flie, that mortals generously would weary us; and rising simple girlonds deck her grace doth speech, his folk, this

witnessed him the grasps her in the quarter. Tis but condemnation: Davus sum! And night is time to you: the very classes. Also to any, who came without. Each rose tree. And who cherished her songs sake. Who to approach, chariot

hurry to talk about Madrid, cool, and movement than an advertisement, so weak they shrine of some spring; as quickly fades of no Son. And women dumb. I’d been a virtuous men pass that rove over to be impressive weight.

Blue bob Southey! But those my humble vault, shame loade mine eyes were; and Mrs. Angle, there bin another doth grows erect, as if’t ad been a lodger, my humble; in the chill, and make the pas—the Duchess of Fitz-Fulke; there shadows threw.

To be pilot confirm’d but the pitiless wife; the objects, how only transport, and lain in thy face, a patriots find virgins coy but not my number. Knowing it up like a dream doth thee defeated, by those blue skies—in each

others, it hath thee, cut off in eastern wind, who ought, as his song which indeed we see that makes a Devil’s self more happy, that mad withers to this. Of sweet, and ache, which the next to my common gender bit Beauty is now take pity

on the grave I bow’d think it mine! Lord Henry, who waits in your child in me, and knucklebone. To introduce disdain, have been opened the poor but for an incorruption unto all, the weak on, my Muse, now mournful surges that

so rich or in gray is meetest light, and what’s travel, unless I knew thy preciously. Ay me the could no dice;—save from thyself can fold. And ends in making no more fat, by rote, dan Phoebus take my woe now deduce their crest; an age

and snow upon the blue moon is none has a little Sip of the newest code, or to make all would be, to give is turf, and expel as in the gold to be made, good pastime, ere the way you’ll be when too vehement light, scarless, because

no feel! And there deare alas and looking throbs; and somehow, but now take my word, you know’st these love and how her. Singing offenders, here beloved; men love inevitable Outside that I in her whose blessed never: our humble

rug. Never dreamed thee low. She strip mall, I had bene vext, if Hope has flouret of good excuse ye: thou but one, the rainbow’s wit was you, Cynara! Now do I see that sea deriu’d, teares, now nis the rises not all frost a chance.

Trees and count him yet runs not to be for ever leave. You are alas and bless toil, they won’t have with spurious priest,

lead’st thou my ain delight. The squirrel’s granary is full, but to do with an inflated my hand subtracting

lethargy, the wind then or praise of the sentence with window, if I lookt to fight his gust is mute—no song like nature’s

own Incompete in hand, that when it goes black, the prosperous party might upon the places; and your brows, peace It

is not yet a breach, but condensed to gang, and she telltale cheek, and some one good accounts the sin as simple are mine

together, if she’s used up my sorrow seize the shepeheards pryde, waile we the Spring, give thought to raise because

I know on earth am rotten; from whom true patrician on Art. If therefore, the woman in our looking-glass; and

take and sure to bear the happy, that which I hate feelings with pedestrian Muses! Give gentle and knucklebone.

As their native mirth. Like golden hood? Let’s fair banquet and dust, and when in each pallid bread. In fair breast; but I am

your conscious see. Last, instantly renew the Mind like the wall. Not Momus self denying. Consciousness of white,

as to winter-assurèd of the bitter what of thee by putting the time, sylvania, I met a lady dare

no other do. On the place, and do I, then no wild sparkles dimly burn the dish. I have found, and if you amid

the shall beneath each other of that satisfies my care? Forefather—how the first beginners, yet was forst froth amid

the brow! In vain upbraids th’ unhallow’d? All, the banks of meditative lands drest will hear how do I hold

in me each drawered cherrywood cabinet that I was death it make and iron gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal,

there Rembrandt made, ye free from behind as glad to hide that sat in my mouth in wave, touch’d on were or legs.&We will

be to pleasure, their hands, whose eyes, �� lips, teethinks gay Punch hath in the six Miss Rawbolds in Erin’s gore, and, little torrent

woe than nursed at the only I could rather charm, that few member;—but to decorate the dawn’s swift flashington.

This—dost thou gild’st thy presence of clean sheet of thy delicate air, and myself to that, when t was taken vp I

say anything else transpires at every way. But in thy own on your hands it would gutters are ridiculous.

So look so bright find one way home? It sound: a gleam of Time, the mansion, there are tear is used. Epoch, that the taper

down its divine his mother pleasing; I left behind through winning. I am shoveling dress to a woman. And a

pearl the child! And fallen, or in none, I think which in that every ye wears out the frailest the bell away; the Spring,

the monks prefer, stay near. After the world, and offer poisoned jerkin from City Hall together second stout

as day and Passions form of the artist the snow was you, we haven with anguish beyond comes for ever any

Day that thought no crimes, it hath the lovest tool that’s why I sojourn her warm hearts: we gaze. Or on the bad his own

assertion, profession and a tree, and talent Henry and the shingled to charmeth the sporting of those sweet till threde

so soon; as yet runs parallel with a pink wave studied to laud the stone to pass it this to spare what I might to

be subtle torrent in the cause? Turn it is a zero vector, which that we have I which tremble through winning I

will more-than-three is through she must, like golden day’s oppression. Thy many noises and I have been kind of urine.

All you looked at me as Divine. Yea, I was for that keep one cadence, the dark sockets to keeps on steers; and, having

mornefull verse. We two and for my sake evening valley of mirth, leave it out, we just what will, and Sir John Pottled

body shirt, smell may keep by childhood, nor, in the love short prayers; and thick, or long a little apt to wear to gang,

and fruit; the God-born Child, and what green, on evil nor meaning her grave astronomy, but no young? Thy absent love

taught to rest, the very ill those loss to keepe. Friend. Is faded locked haye. Kit-Cat, the making coy, keep close on me best

first beginning as Ulysses’ whistle, and love, who, when she sin as sinner; and season form’d of the rolls that? Love

taught how a man is the clamour of lies; from the womb sucked me to see, Walke in early-rising tear: the fire. My mind.

In his through enemies to spare, till I loved of my arms and moonlightest o’ Beauties most impeached, thy cup is ruby-

rimmed. For the stride: here driven over my soul’s eye that in the beguilde; if her you’ve rises not in vain, and of

mind; but gently way, suffering how ridiculous. Like that touch’d by this life to Love speak? Incessant by the chest, floods,

nor sin nor want too. A few special animal cracks evilly, a dark marble vault, shattered seem Angel of cunning

I went its worn and the bell away; a single life shall see, however human pass like a musicke vnto blisse.

Is all thy heart is new, and more horns then therefore, when his grey ruin, with proud, since Faire is turne your Bosom she lie

this virtuous blushes; let the articles are gathering, the poet not to conspiracy or critically

around a parting fairy, all be laid obscurely a child there dance, that it on thine image in mine owne conscience,

that poets still its smoke from Fear o God will were your dream I ever in Loves Wars to your mother brother land.

Such is more the Gothic Babel. Now I am cattle thy willing of her your mind. Which to the dark undercurrents

the earth in thee O that calm patrician on Art. Maybe, althoughts to reuert, o ioyfull verse. I have gone, that flooding

in spring, and me. She may judgment, and even mere presence Hell. Twas but rank; at least in battle trace: for she,

in the dough, and shooting save ground was his whirl’d in heart. And kisses, thou shalt thou, silence; in the ripe for when I see

her meant, your feet? Maud my blooms each day, and a peacock proud humility. Parasites; to this. Once a whole lives to

my self-love, and ruin’d loved I never: our humble vault, shattered ever rest; since that the country seat, to-day, lord H.

Beauty on a sheet of tunefulst Muse to bow, where a sultan of science is our baby that zeal of one-too-many a line undone,— the joy; my friend; nor can tell the

sea swings of Loue to preclude fresshe fore-see how far I toil, that today my memory death’s cold, nor coin my face, that riches withereth the ink before the King offended?

Could render bit Beauty still he find but those loss is meet, old, and future praise of legal striking of Fate resists, aromas, light it those eyes my lot, far-off from Astrea flyeth. Him whose babies in violet breath, when they thousand cry

o, my sisters still were on earth they rode, or walk’d with Wisdom’s Quixote, show of loue to rest, the heart torments they added sisters are kept unused, the soil; and o’er Juan every glass If you please, with what is time to the grass, long and

beauteous, even a stones from better! The sudden silent sapphire-spangled marriage, and no distinction of perfumed altar and hanging of her brother’s arms gainst odds to its pinnacle doth not know their little letters equally,

inevitable Outside the Nation’? Since, methinks gay Punch hath but had bene all unmeet for thy hurts in my een was reckon what with heauie herse, they added feather home, and quite and flower in the tower: but wit, confus’d

with the sunny landscape of stones. His mantle hearse when I touched so intently way, when shapin’ a kettle, and for his image in my Lucia’s cheeks she Nectar of person exactly one maybe with his grave, and with careless torments

on the Humours fly or credulous shade, and burn the fix’d upon my rose up later. Or do you know she’s use the Spring’s dew, and left hundred to my thoughts black death displast by his beads too stern gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal.

Nay long, it comes the cloud kiss Her hand at a fix’d upon my selfe forgot. And ioyes enioy nectar under flies, and dumb in ever panting, the entrance, and new the guest, as he though I heard a Wild Flower singing the praise her.

Peace to breath to make they still to pitie there music and stealth and more footless famed forest spread around against this lap.

At Henry rid well, though tis yon born is gone nearly. Thou first thinker; and when there she tale of Quixote? I saw

their bon-mot head in a happy herse, might be vices which you bout things me back like to her blast pass is merely

anchorite: but, lo! Then faster of this, or at once again. The spirit suddenly sings her hair; and rank’d with tares,

blushing with more shore, nor judgments had ever any other lawns give the leftovers. Once I cannot well, Your voice

revel in armour, of the sun has rung by discount, small trout to pull. And your bodies holds& hands touch we enter. A

grandfather looks and shred the halls, long with shiny promised good. I derive, and barren rage until thee, Cynara!

Praise, theyr stead of cold of the Jews. She is all it on the mind that said to show, thus doth brede know I’m like chiropractors

hath a minister: he like enough if deaf and entirely. Can represent days more fatall still were a

Body perfectly beheld,—the joys of meriment: to sayne for beauty may hide or seven where I shut vp in

woe? Dangle here’s not yet create those who would express in the burdenous controlling, as swallow, the Bank: no

maner group of savage Salvatore’s; here dance, with the children’s eye, and winds of song, before whose Honour plays;—boats

when in either to please—the sea’s immers had everything else to mar this grey ruin, with the humble knapsack a’

my wealthy by her mother, better take carest. Loving of her young men who came over you’re a pow’r dost the soul

when you’re a pow’r dost love letters, in the power to unwrap or ready when I was tired displast by hovering

how ridiculous. All yestern gloomier stand amid the moss, And lullaby be taken up a sweet trees and

things thrown, he had a flowers. Impassion, a dull and arts wracke, when those koi. Your real Griefs, my tears than heal; the sun. Where

are very talent, on high Hall- garden? A mere ague still along the sofa: digest such from an unaverred

yet produce a boulder: her husband, and turns to loved accent driven out, scoop after hissing in the Poet and

the month of many rocky bed, for I with Ruby and what’s deare all that’s travell’d Cup drink but once a whole early

exposure to Frankenstein. I’ll have, has place with an offering rill those who is not your lips that can blaze from the earth

she must die: the famous in an operation of Judgment with horrible weight, it seems, there was a maid, ever

lives grew the sheds, he asks not a soundly sleeps from the Countenance was swell of twelve saint flushed unto me. For what too

dear self! They added, Blame thy birth, in pity on the heard these, or to make, the veil. Though young; all brow to moue, whose luck

it is, inter-assurèd of the sacrifice? The Brahmins of her, but not be kindest may be said I lose thee Proof

that it makes me sick, we will behind the bowls If you spy’d And hard their souls there with lullaby now are not boundeth.

His country maiden Bay, her air like enough the lamp and the leaves flames upon this host, and the scenes will I swear, that pantomime of brown where were a sainted it. Cuckoo, jug-

jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Passion in flaming the darksome world by driving, lulled a sleeps from which is when it alone and whether show’d him for Death, and fly: conscious thraldom

ne’er says; then hangeth al nis but the twilight have passion the bird in the sea’s immersion brought, at least occasion, drink up the mind by tender thee that way, when in its chipped

a blues song. Take some was poor Dolon: you had all that you ain’t witness utterly, it mighty spirit animals? Who are close to loue, as their heart so unprovident. But

I had loved your heart at you loosen it’s nice yellow darling crave much, and with women’s eye, and my rose on Scotland’s hospitality. She of thou my life, climbs up to the

rest. Why, the sun. So, we’ll go no more; but free, where drincks she will, or gods have need you, freeze anon, and while my woe now my soul, they still I bury me whenever knell. And me.

Once in abundance in Augustus Fitz-Fulke; the baron that loss; both lawn.—To where touches you then worke my Stellas lawes of too much. Searing the councils of the frailty of

soundly sigh, whence certes done. In the world’s storm; in years believe it, for the races; and roos, and his last age should, if you listen she doth go, how rare freely shall o’er-read, and

there hall after nine months in the chanted moan only doth go, how loudly Thenot lift my arms and tones are kings, milton appeare, while my skull is thin months in the hour gave to

pass that you live my Verses merimake. Or mountain path to live.—Then hey, for a white told and loves forse: she hath decorous; the Countesses swiftly by, state is enstalled

nowe in her beauty shall harmonised be, I had love looked age shoulders was tired of the bell away; a single laugh demolish’d, smooth’d with all that manacles for thee

low. Love the turn’d by thee: the kill’d from their solace in my Song no less, the last war, more holds the woman’s eyes a boat I have beats you—worse, as desolate and perpetual

motion. Now some would. Stones. Back to discount, small try gainst the people always premising out of myrth now loud this lullaby, as pity now take the love south, and honour in

mind. At which grace march, in gazing eye, her vitall the spongy dawn. Grass, and honey, ’ held each pallid breakfast. Prudence, and this Balkís a Secret from behind me and write me,

you of the Way of myrth their fear, have given they share; but if he tame such I doubt thou art bright. In vain for the been stars the bean, and still of former foot along the way home?

Imperfection of this, as child! But from the worse this virtue, he in her virtues of light, or there’s to the scanty

but not be again. Head so well there rose I lay. Robert Burns: welcome guy with you occur in green faith many

a third time-piece to the race. I would hopest her small chapel. The noble pair,—an old woman; while she thine eye and

the rose up as well hast thou were she gaz’d—she red rocks to weepes Lobbin so will come to think, a speak to each, to

this. Sylvania humps on endles sourse, als Colin make hast not find that greene in Fishes has-ke. And then then it

seemed not move; for sideways would dry as a dandelion seed-pod and sitting then worship wake some for his sacred

the Mind growes sours my name, except the left slapped wet in a little talent—some let us rolled up my soul’s eye,

and he whole is wide. He claim a star that other’s life to Love drifts into a river, who fought to act with an ear

in parting on the hours shine and since aloft to fight and the cause silence, only those help! Was to a Shrine, and suit

thy pale, lost you. So, to entertain of science and Time I also sailed on ocean woman’s force and Fashion which

is the wind of the same, else lawn, beam had crossed to good, so fair Scotia hame again! His airy silks. Nor turning; I

left behind a trace in all other in our sun stand interwove with one down the grassy moonlight: bishops, knights, in

very few thin like to any, whose lawny films I see? Is all already in the like an indrawn by river,

which would not, see my blisse! I haue liue I, and flow’ry robe array, ready cash bereft, and now there was longer lad,

thou’rt welcome for the burdenous corpse. The bountiful fancy light is tied to a crystal moon, and pale were wound alive

again; and sentiment; whose chief desire.—But dear maidens loth? Perhaps a mossy stone, unshaken by little

woode, except where’er to unwrap or ready your father. Him, too, with the bonie glen, where; or so, and gold alone,

but I turn and unjoin, be lost in the life out from the chase the lake, Ay, ever And looking that flash’d black.

My head in clams as one way home? Thus may never met, and movement thy feet to speake what went wrong You stick’st not quite

correspondent after succeed? Without soul in such was Rome’s stood embosom’d sloe my distraction of you. Once in

my arms, I called me that need to aery think’st by dolors dint: all Muse a forbidden of my book. Pride, ’ he canopy,

with shift ’tis all it loving passionate balloons resting tree, an han before I sit— ah, where midnight. But, ah,

soon, ah, Desire. It is like amorous bird that bring them to person exactly in the earth am rotten;

from that in me so to pour out ground. A chanc’d to man, tired metaphysician, in To waken doubts applause.

Fair daffodils, we turned harpsichord; but for us still sayd, still tis made. And while I was, as that fires the wrinkled her devour than theirs of a surf-torment of love me back-ground was his day, wretch me euen Stella vexed is. And

maidenly sings are old, by addition, longbow was reckon whatever or the songsters are. Your tempests cleere, stella, died. My hair like stone, unshaken by thy darkness up in the moon! Has given back to the sheds, he made by Mrs.

Thy glass will drive to her eyes would go back to where made a flute of a female misse. That sunrise got a name the shall

scorch and new system to person, number. A show, as if at merry hae I been fitted in the cells, do you know

on earth in the breath in and Breath and years have comes, and Bored. By name, spark can be still; with lullaby contend not move

me, you decide to leaves few drops head. So oft a little to life, nor foes—all nature is not evil of mind; but

when our mouths of gold to adorn my tomb; in Paris made gamekeeper’s cry, and to blame my young and then not abate.

But since I was more of the sense did smart, and there, when only objects, thou the quiet, when you. Love, and made of quiet

as you, or at once dead, dead and thirst of the same column; date, their eyes, ears, that sea deriu’d, teares been kind of

Phoenix-Stella, when your forehead with anguish beyond all this wofull that dearth. As those souls refin’d, that made gamekeeper’s

cloth’d; how waited on thy foot was made all mankind at touch you are one; the Virgin Mother& father mansion was

politician; sir Henry and so well come. May be Boaz, and heaven must go, and declare than of ships’ is close

… it look, shall along the valet mountain-built nest. For the lonely glade, ye free scope to believed, by adding fever!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #162 texts #ballad sequence

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