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1800titz · 6 months ago

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WOOO second part to the pornstar!au (Tiger Harry). Find the first part here

If you'd like to read more goodies from me (including a RIDETHET!GER threesome, already up!), my patreon is HERE :)

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, anal sex, Sir kink, choking-ish, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 4K

“They’re both just such pretty holes,” Harry coos, and he thumbs apart her lips before folding over her to reach for his priorly discarded smartphone. His confession is mottled by a sigh, “…I simply cannot decide.”

Tiger has perfected the art of edging.

Not even in a literal, tethered-from-the-sweet-peak-of-precipice with an iron hand wrenching backwards sense — though, she’s seen plenty of that through his camera work. It’s a finely formulated craft, making her skin itchy and her cunt weepy before he’s even really touched her. And he hasn’t. She thinks, maybe he’ll nip at her clit with the pads of a forefinger and thumb, but he doesn’t even do that. Instead, he takes a step back. The phone pings. Action.

“Spread,” Harry tells her. Light. Easy. Pats at one cheek, “Here.”

Y/N obliges. She rolls onto her shoulders and tucks her arms behind her, splaying her fingers and pulling the flesh apart there. There’s a hiss like a breath coming in through little nooks between his bare teeth. It feels absolutely glorious.

And lewd. A torrid kind of heat climbs up her neck. Lingers in the apples of her cheeks when Tiger pets at her thigh — probably taping a close-up vista of her oozing pussy — and comments, “Look at that pretty, little cunt.”

Her digits jolt over her flesh, squeezing it apart almost desperately when he traces the back of a finger beside her clit, and then meanders up to her leaky entrance, prodding with the tips of two fingers. Not quite breaching. Tiger slinks one — a forefinger— up the short trail of her taint and nudges at the hilt of her plug, tracing the petals. Stuffed with silicone flora. Pretty.

“Fuck. Fucking gorgeous.”

He sighs all soft behind her, and trails lower.

“I think—“

Harry scopes the hood of her clit with a thumb and then pulls it back to scrape with the pad of his middle finger — a motion that makes her jerk and wrests a soft sound from the back of her throat. A deviously mirthy hum comes from behind.

“I’ll fuck you here—“

The tip of a finger brushes her weepy, pulsing seam.

“—first. Stretch you out a bit before. Sound good?”

She hums against the sheets. Please. Tiger traces the rim and sinks in to the second knuckle with paltry notice. His fingers are long, fill up more space than her own. Lengthier than hers. Girthier. They prod at the nooks and crannies that yearn to be grazed with little effort on his part, and by the time he’s sunk to the base of his chilled ring bands and added a third digit, Y/N is nearly drooling into the sheets.

“You are such a tight, little thing, sweetheart,” Harry hums. Enunciates his speech with the wet squelch of his fingers plunging, cradled warm and wet by her sloppy pussy.

A mewl gets muffled in linen when he scissors the pair, stretching the seam taut, and rolls his thumb in slippery circles where her slick has trickled. There’s heat swelling in the trench of her tummy; a warm tide pool sloshing in waves that crest. Higher and higher. Building. It overcomes her — this tsunami, blighting her ataraxy until she’s a slobbering mess at the foot of his bed, keeled over.

“Gonna—“ Y/N warns, brows pleated and mouth pried apart, tongue brushing bunched fabric with little couth.

Tiger milks her through it, rigid fingers pumping and thumb swirling clusters of spheres into her pulsing flesh, until all that’s left of her are melty shambles with a weakly fluttering cunt. And it does flutter, throbbing emptily as his digits withdraw. Sucks onto them like it doesn’t want to let go, and then spasms around bare atoms like it needs to be corked back up.

“Good girl,” Tiger praises. He sounds soft and pleased. Concentrated as his cockhead prods at her hole— “Got my fingers all wet, too. That’s two for two.”

He swipes them at the back of her thigh, so she feels how slick. The pink border of his mouth is probably twitchy. Traces of a smile scratch at his dialogue the way something claws in the pit of her tummy as he nudges with the fat tip. She feels melty. Frozen fudge on a summer day dribbling down the handle. She thinks, for a moment, with her knees and her shoulders seeping into the mattress, that English has slipped her mind. Nothing plucks at her vocal cords, almost as if they’ve been snipped entirely. A high sound crawls from the back of her mouth, though, when Harry tucks his cock into her.

He’d been big in her palms — the pads of her digits hadn’t quite kissed around his shaft when she was kneeling, sweeping her tongue at the slit of his ruddy head, and her jaw had strained wide apart to fit him in and swallow him down. Even still, Y/N hadn’t anticipated the stretch. He bullies his cock into her — just about halfway — forcing against her spongy walls in a way that’s nearly too much. Like a paw wriggling into a glove that’s two sizes too small. She feels him in her belly, deep, as he sinks in, inch by inch (hisses escaping the cracks of his bared teeth and scraping at the edges), and bottoms out. She tastes clean cotton on her tongue, mouth wide and muted dumb, eyes screwed.

A gasp shatters the lull, like one sucked in bobbing to the surface of a sea that’s going to ripple and kick her back under. It thaws in her achy lungs as a soft, dreamy moan when Harry fetters her wrists with one hand at the small of her back, rocks out, and pumps back in.

“There you go, little bird. Nice and—“

She cries out as his hips snap.

“Full?”

He rolls out slow, and her fingers twitch when he pummels in to the hilt. Ragged, little noises scarper from her mouth like he’s punched them from her from the inside. The ping of the phone sundering its video doesn’t register, but she realizes he’s tossed the phone again when he pets his free hand over her ass and stamps a sharp, stinging blow to it. Harry sets a brutal pace, then. Soft strokes that strain her rim taut and give her room to adjust simmer off when something scathing boils in the trench of his belly. He grapples her joints in his palm firmly, and the tempo of his hips smacking into her morphs merciless. Used and abused.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Y/N whines when his thumb presses at the hilt of petals stretching her littlest hole.

“Fuck, yeah,” He mirrors, snarling, and twists at the plug to siphon a whimper.

Inferno spumes her arteries when he wriggles the plug out, groaning, and replaces it with two wet, blunt fingertips. Three. They stuff her fuller than the plug had and have her wheezing for oxygen to mingle with the scorch that permeates her veins.

Her knees shuffle over the sheets, she squirms when he drills into her again and again and again, and he grapples at a love handle to keep her tight in place, “You asked for this— and you’re gonna take it, baby.”

Y/N does. There’s not any alternative when he hammers into her and burrows half-moons into her flesh with the ends of his short nails, but she doesn’t want there to be. She scrapes at the side of his palm with crooked fingers — the one that cuffs her wrists together and pants into the sheets.

She’s seen Tiger fuck. She’s watched the videos — a little redhead clawing at the stair-railing with wet eyes as he coiled her hair tight over his knuckles from behind, or a brunette keening under his frame as he tucked her calves over his shoulders, pounding in from the tip to the hilt and all the way back out. The ones with a curvy blonde clawing at the sheets, whimpering as he pummeled between her thighs, and the one where the woman with the pixie juddered helplessly over his lap, crying out as he stippled a slick trail of open-mouthed kisses up her jugular and manually bounced her over his cock with a firm grip at her hips that dwarfed her size. Y/N has seen so much of the impact in screen captures — slobbered chins, streaming eyes with mucked kohl and smudged liner. Tips of noses hued cerise or pinky and lips swollen and sloppy with spit. Still, she’s somewhat surprised to feel mirrored evidence over her own face as tears drip in rivulets over the apples of her cheeks, as she gnaws at her bottom lip and drools onto his expensive mattress. It’s not the aftermath yet, and Y/N is sure she’s going to be a disheveled mess by the time the camera on the dresser shuts off.

His cock spits ribbon after ribbon into her with little warning. He pounds into her, something cruel and brutal, husking growls. A groan slides up from the depths of his chest, and he slurs a string of curses, fingers twitching in her other hole when he empties into her pulsing cunt. Y/N absolutely milks him through it. Her slick walls spasm over his cock, and she whines like the same effects curdle her bloodstream and erupt across neurons.

When Harry pulls out, fisting at the base and gruffing a hum, he thumbs a bead of cum that leaks out to coat her clit. She absolutely sings, at that.

He lets go of her wrists. Twisting his fingers gently from between her cheeks, Harry blows out a breath and—

Y/N keens like he’s slapped her when Tiger splays his palms over the globes of her ass, spreads, and spits where he’d been fingering her apart. It’s glorious. Harry presses his cockhead to the glob of saliva smearing, still manhandling apart one cheek, and tells her, “Spread,” voice worn and mottled with pants like his heartbeat is thundering ichor in his ears.

She does. Her own heart hammers behind the caging of her ribs when he makes a lewd sound, breathy and awed as he smacks over her asshole with the head. He slides against her perineum when she jolts, spine zagging, and hums.

“Is it gonna fit?” Y/N beckons. Her cheek smushes to the wet spot she’s made against the sheets. It’s the most gloriously humiliating revelation.

He winds around the room to the nightstand, where, through tear smeared peripherals (like a bleary windshield coated with condensation), she watches him cull a bottle of lube. The cap clicks. Harry sets a knee up, and the bed creaks, meshing with a sound of amusement and a slick hand working lubricant over his shaft. Her lashes flutter as Tiger works two wet fingers into her, to the hilt, unceremoniously, scissoring. He pulls them out.

“F’course—“

Y/N gnaws into the smooth, slicky flesh beside her molars.

Tiger grunts. She’s forced to arch at the palm over the dimples at the base of her spine. As if to test the theory, the slippery head of his cock nudges to the puckering seam.

“…We’ll make it fit.”

Taking anal from Tiger, Y/N learns, is a feat.

A pornographically debauched sort of rite of passage. She’s seen the pictures, too. The teasers he’ll post on X with only the pink tip of his cock in frame, a ringed, vibrantly lacquered hand cradling the back of his partner’s thigh to tuck up and showcase an asshole oozing cum. And the videos; the ones where the girls rake their nails into his tri’s, knuckles bleached, necks strained as garbled moans climb up their throats as he burrows in. They’re always blissed out, after; their visages melty and the lines where their foreheads and hair meet teemed with sweat. She has to wonder, though, as he prods in, how they quite make it fit.

A high sound and a tight squeeze part-way over the tip has him petting his fingertips over the metacarpals spiking through the skin at the back of her hand.

“Just breathe for me, baby,” Harry tells her, soft unlike the seat of his jawbone and the grit of his ivory teeth, after, “I’ll go— slow.”

Y/N inhales. It’s stolen from her lungs in the form of a long, low groan when he stuffs the tip past and the rim rides over the ridge.

“Is that too much, baby? Yeah?”

She suckles a bit of the sheet between her teeth when he mends the stretch of his sloppy, wet cockhead with a thumb that swipes from her leaky slit and meshes cum against his cock and the taut rim of her other hole.

“…That’s okay, we’ll get you there,” Harry coos, “That’s the hard bit all done, yeah?”

It’s all hard. Hard, vascular flesh like a rock spearing her open, sinking in, sedate and measured. Viciously careful and slick, accompanied by a vicious stretch, despite the lengthy preparation. He’s measured in the way he stuffs in, nearly centimeter by centimeter, pausing along the way down his shaft. Even still, it’s an ache that settles deep the further he sheathes — the kind she feels down to the marrow in the little bones constructing her spine, her pelvis, her ribs when they refuse to expand for her lungs.

“Relax, sweetheart, relax. Squeezing me so snug.”

It’s just advice, but it’s strained; filthy. It makes her cunt twitch.

“Push out a little for me. It’ll— yeah, slide in nice an’ easy if you do,” Harry coaxes, pausing the leisure roll forward of his hips. Her hole flutters over him. He makes it another inch.

“Just like that, little bird.”

She’s been holding her breath for twenty-three seconds by the time Harry pats at one of her hands and instructs, “Play with your pretty clit.”

It’s sore, but not in the way that it aches as he presses into her. The pads of her fingers brush milky cum that’s managed to seep out with the flex of her muscles, and they draw a circle over the sensitively overstimulated bud that droplets have leaked over. Her lips pry apart that way her fingertips pry bliss into the outstretched palms of her neurons, grappling for pleasure.

“Oh.”

“S’it sore?”

“Mm-Mhm.”

“But it feels good,” Harry states.

It’s just that — a statement, no inquiry to the borderline prideful cadence of his words when he sinks in three-quarters of the way. It’s enough to have her breathlessly wheezing over her noises, digits stuttering in their shapes as she pinches at the hood.

“Breathe,” Tiger chastises.

For the first time, his voice is whetted, like the edge of a cutlass, and she imagines his dark eyebrows creasing. The tattoo of a ruddy handprint — a smack — gleans a loud cry enmeshed from the sheer sting of it and the way Y/N jolts, bouncing forward and back on unanticipated inches. It’s cruel. Mean with his peal of laughter.

He’s soft again. Mirthy. “You did that, not me.”

“You startled me,” she argues. Her chortles flux into another, blunt, “Oh,” when Harry rocks out a little and back in, cooing in feigned ruth.

“Oh, did I?” Harry murmurs, trailing a wide palm up the indent of her arched spine with shallow plunges, “Poor baby.”

She squirms when his fingertips wind to the vale of her waist, scrabbling up the ladder of her ribcage lightly. It’s only for a split second, but it draws a squawk and a string of giggles; in turn, a low hiss from him.

“Fuck,” Harry grapples onto her hips, craning his neck, a grin lining his syllables when he admits, “Every time you laugh, s’like, squeezing me.”

It’s devious — the way his palm scopes the cinched flesh in the same area it had the first time, reveling in the squeal the wriggling pads pry. Her jaw clinches and she nearly bites through her tongue when her teeth latch together. Despite the stretch, her hips lurch forward on their own volition and her knees shamber towards the headboard, the circles over her clit all but forgotten as her arms outstretch for freedom. It only gives him a wider canvas.

A soft huff seeps from his nostrils, like the view of her hectically sprawling is entertainment. He pins her bones in place by the hips and lugs her back, sharply enough for her to groan at the pump into her.

“No,” Harry scolds, tacking an ankle with his hand. He bends one of her knees back and keeps a grip over a love handle on the opposite side. “Where d’you think you’re going? I wasn’t done.”

He’s polite enough to cease the tickle torture. Considerate, on his part, she supposes, since he’s got the sole of her foot aimed to the Rough sawn oak beamed ceiling. The gunge of kindling lust spumes, and it clogs the sharp anticipation of his thumb pressing to the tender spot between her heel and the ball of her foot, like cruor. Instead, Tiger hones on jabbing into her fluttery asshole, drawing a slew of progressively humiliating sounds. Her top teeth seal over the sheet and she gnaws the fabric in between her incisors like a feral dog.

She doesn’t really get it until his balls are slapping against her flesh with the fervor of his tempo; what it’s like to be used and abused by Tiger. Mostly, it entails being glazed with cum, inside and out; utilizing the same loads to swipe over her clit that leaks from her sloppy cunt as he pounds into her ass with little mercy. No intent to give. And still, he gives plenty. She feels him deep, spearing somewhere between the knobs of her spine and the soft flesh sheathing her tummy. She can’t recall a time she’s felt so full, vena thrumming something sanguine mottled by him. The ache spurs the bliss building at her pulsing clit, and she retires to chew at the back of her free hand, tucked under her wet face.

Just up until the point when he yanks at her hair from behind, spiking tingles at the crown of her head, and directs through husky breaths, “Sit up. Up. On your hands.”

Y/N clambers. An inky forearm hitches over the column of her throat from behind. A sharper arch, a muscular bind over her neck, a palm that dwarfs the knob of her shoulder, and hammering at her backside with no remorse. His nails claw into her love handle, and in turn, Y/N scrapes at the tits of his mermaid, her flowy tendrils, her tail.

“You really— are a little anal whore, aren’t you, little bird?”

She slobbers over his forearm, “Yes, Sir— oh— shit, oh, fuck,” so he spiles her mouth with a couple of his fingers. She nips at his knuckles, and he digs green into her deltoid.

“Fhuh—“ Y/N slurs around the digits.

He strokes a stuttery whimper from her taste buds.

She keens, shrill, when Tiger slips his fingers out and smears her own spit over her cheek, “Oh, fuck— you’re so deep—“

Her eyes are screwed, and even still she feels the pant of his grin against the opposite cheek. The way his lips ghost and graze her skin wetly with a low murmur, “Fuck, yeah.”

He twists his head and siphons the same fingers to his own mouth, gets them wetter, and bats the hand between her legs away to pinch at her clit. To fuse saliva, and cum, and desperation, working ardent over her bud.

“Such a fucking mess. S’leaking all over my balls, you know that?” Harry purrs, nipping at her earlobe when she whines, trembling, “M’gonna fuck it back into you, after.”

Y/N erupts. It spalls into flinders with sharp borders, somewhere between his cockhead burrowing deep in her tummy, the stretch around him, the pads swiping at her clit, and the filth he muzzles into her hair. She shakes like a waving bract, torn apart in his palms, spewing cries. The tight spasm over his cock has Harry chasing his own release, shuddering behind her and doubling down in a brutal tempo that draws soft whimpers from her mouth. The sharpest one comes when his chest rumbles flush with her back on a long groan, and he twitches in her as he presses deep and empties every bit that he can manage.

Rough sex, even with a borderline stranger, merits a soft touch to meld the jagged edges of the shards back together. When he seeps out, hissing softly and bobbing, slicked with cum and lubricant, Y/N crumples into the sheets like the junctions of her joints have unfused, slipping from their sockets to melt away into a puddle. It provides an optimal view of her abused holes, one puckering at the air and dripping fresh cum. Just as he’d promised, Harry spoons a rill that trickles out with the pad of his thumb and brushes it back over the slick hole he’d just been tucked into. Feeds it back in to coax a mewl.

“Two for two,” Tiger parrots, dragging the backs of his knuckles up her thigh. It’s an obvious reference to two orgasms each, now, and wears a smile.

If Y/N wasn’t so melty, she’d probably snort. She manages something like a grunt with her face planted to the mattress. She’s probably losing brain cells. The bed doesn’t feel breathable.

Harry nudges at her hips until her pelvis sinks flush against the sheets and her feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. Then, he crawls up over her, cock brushing her clean skin soiled along the way. She rolls over against her will. Gets bracketed by his arms as he looms over, mussed, damp coils of his hair pendulous.

“Hello.”

She swallows. Her ass is going to absolutely ache tomorrow. Y/N finds she doesn’t mind.

“…Hello.”

“You took that well,” Harry tells her, head cocked and talc glinting.

The boundaries of his ruddy mouth tick upwards into a lax smile, and even still, there’s an eagerly …awake mien to his composition. She wonders how, after that, and how his cock hasn’t gone down, a plurry in shade and sloppily oiled. It prods against the bone at the side of her pelvis.

“You …gave it well,” she responds, forming the words despite the way they feel garbled in her mouth, between her parted teeth, off her lips like the crevices of her gums have been numbed with lidocaine.

He ducks his chin and laughs.

Y/N ends up lodged by his armpit, tangled by the firm muscle of his arms, thighs flush together, with her cheek squished to the plush of his pec; a cushion over where his heartbeat is clattering.

“I’m all sticky.”

“You like it,” Tiger sighs, raking a palm back through his tendrils, off his forehead, and musses the tousled curls there further.

It feels nice when his fingertips graze up her nape, sliding into the forestry of her roots. They tug lightly at the follicles at the back of her skull in a way that makes euphoria seep down her nape. It settles in the first knob of her spine and slink through to the next. She rolls her shoulders.

“D’you wanna shower? I’ve got one of those rain showerheads on the ceiling.”

If her inner thighs weren’t crusting over, the suggestion would probably feel like a much more intimate dyadic. Especially because she’s well aware he’ll slide in alongside her, slippery. Soapy froth sluicing down his abdomen, sudsy palms cupping at her backside, trailing between her thighs, and rinsing the evidence of their collaboration down the drain. It tastes like another sex tape altogether.

Harry has grapefruit musk body wash and a citrusy shampoo in his shower. They’re the same ones she’ll lather into her own matted bird’s nest.

He notes, from the sink, twisting the silvery band and thumbing over the center, where a tetragonal, incarnadine stone is seated, “You got my rings all sticky.”

Y/N stretches her arms over her head. There’s semen spilling down the insides of her legs. She twists her head and meets him in the mirror just in time to see his eyes crest, his mouth purse and carve into a simper.

“D’you wanna polish them off with your tongue?”

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lucianhuntress · 2 months ago

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Day 8. Dottore x Reader: 76. “Can I freak out now?”

Yeah, it's vampire!Dottore time because I have no shame. 🙈 I am deep in this hell. Anyway it's placed in my vampire AU I should be writing.

Wine, candles and soft, smooth jazz fill the dim room. The walls and furnishings appear to be antique and the floor is well maintained hardwood. Everything in the room screams of couth and eloquent style.

Only a handful of other coworkers from different departments wear red dresses, like it said on the invitation; those who have worked under a year at the Northland Enterprises must wear red.

“Can I freak out now?” You gasp audibly as you let your eyes wander and take in all of the room— a vishap’s head mounted above a fireplace, exquisite paintings that are certainly old and should belong to a fine art museum hang upon the walls.

“Sit,” you hear an order and you turn around to see Dottore, who you have only met a couple of times, staring at you with an unreadable expression. His red eyes follow your every step, every swing of the hem of your red dress as you sit down next to him without doubting his orders. He is very much like your boss, Arlecchino, in that sense; there is an unseeable aura that makes you obey.

“I have been watching you,” he begins, “for a quite a while now— mostly because I can hear you across the room.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and eartips. “You must have mistaken me for someone else, I swear I am quiet most of the time.”

“But your heart isn’t,” he hisses as he captures your eyes with his red ones, stares right into you— like he is probing your soul with his. His lips curl into a smile, revealing his sharklike teeth. You can’t pull away, not even if you wanted to; you’re captured in his gaze and afraid to move a muscle.

“Yes, your heart— it’s like a symphony that irritates me when I try to focus.”

“Sir. I am sorry if that—”

“Quiet,” he snaps and you quickly shut your mouth as ordered. He leans in and you feel his nose brushing your neck, muttering: “so loud and tempting…”

Your pulse quickens and you feel heat pooling down to the rest of your body. This isn’t what you expected from one of the bosses at Northland Enterprises. Surely, he is not your boss, but isn’t this a bit too much and too soon?

He quickly pulls back, satisfied with your neck inspection. Maybe he was concerned about ergonomics? Maybe he saw you sitting like a shrimp in that chair at work and now he just decided to have a closer inspection. That’s what you keep telling to yourself, not letting your mind wander too much.

“Would you mind donating some blood for my… scientific research?” he asks, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

#dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore #il dottore #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #genshin drabbles #october drabble

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍼 ꒱ LEVI BEING A DAD

░ 🌹 Levi x fem!reader

⚠️Cws; domestic fluff

░ 🍼Dad!Levi tears up when he first holds his newborn in his arms. He stares at his little bundle of joy analytically, searching its features for any that are reminiscent of its pretty mama.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi insists on teaching your child martial arts from as young as their toddler years 🤭 especially if he's raising a little girl. He wants them to grow up strong and independent. It settles his nerves knowing that his angel can defend herself when papa isn't around.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi requires a lot of convincing to attend his children's imaginary teaparties. He will sit there, grumpily, dressed up like a king next to his queen. "King Levi! Do you want more tea!" his daughter asks in a tiny voice. He keeps his arms folded, but his serious face melts as his heart melts, and he's stifling a smile as he replies; "Of course, princess."

░ 🍼Dad!Levi will soothe your crying baby back to sleep at 4 AM, no hesitation. "No, no, go back to sleep. I've got it." he mumbles tiredly, and lumbers off to the source of the piercing cries.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi never thought he'd make it to see the day he married you, let alone build a loving family with you. All the things that were absent in his childhood, he spoils his own children with.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi stern and strict on his little troopers, even when they're babies and have no idea what he's talking about. You reckon he's joking. Levi has a complicated deadpan humor that you only understand if you know him well.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi calls on trusty Armin when his kids need a tutor to help with their academics. And who will help teach his kids to stand up for themselves? Eren and Mikasa. Not forgetting, of course, Erwin, who shows them how to be couth.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi gets nagged to retell his unbelievable war stories to his kids. Come adolescence, they're saying "C'mon dad! We've heard this story a million times." and it makes him laugh. They have no idea, no story quantifies his valor.

░ 🍼Dad!Levi will spoon you in bed, mumbling into your hair about how he can't believe the kids are growing up so fast.

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sisisimss · 11 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SIM DOWNLOAD - Lucia Batista ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Two posts in one day omg? ??? Watch me make her in CAS here! If you need some outfit ideas, check out Lucia lookbook here!

How to install this sim:

Unzip the downloaded folder and place the tray files into your Sims 4 Tray folder, which can be found at Documents » Electronic Arts » The Sims 4 » Tray. Can also download from the gallery (gallery id: simplug)

Place cc files from the cc folder into the Mods folder located at Documents » Electronic Arts » The Sims 4 » Mods.

Make sure to download all the custom content and sliders in the cc folder or else your sim will look different than mine

Here’s a video tutorial for the visual learners

TOU:

-Do not repost or reupload my sims without credit or behind a paywall. If you decide to use my sims in your media, pleaseeeee tag me so I can see!

-Do not claim as your own! Have some couth…

Download Here bestie

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#downloads.sisi #mydl #sims 4 #ts4 #sims4 #sims 4 cc #the sims 4 #ts4 cas #sims #sim dump #sim download #simdump #simdownload

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libidomechanica · 1 month ago

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Peeped, shining streams be free: but in his gulfe

A sonnet sequence

Peeped, shining streams be free: but in his gulfe. Brought two grand dear love. And feet the tilt of a burro.—To be lost though in you to come may triumph, being and is herte al hoolly on, to and found so he chewed her forehead’s like amorous birds are, or honor now I know, mong a number one is farre: I thought nedes be endured. For feare not yet a breach of callow jinkin’ round him to one by one and that other reason why my most fervently, the time so sordid and sing at emotion of the fieldes ay fresh, and blessed are, most quiet tomb, our fresher star! She has they chaffred?

And this inconstancy. Might doth find, but sorrowing, all this husband gave, purification to me, saying. From you, the high treason to heart of lost my métier, yet God’s just reverted back I felt as a swallow youth before mayst attune thy day-nets none do slacken, none scapes free from mine own, is no disastrous, blood worn like shepheards swayne, much had she is gone; ten time, where on its object finding now? My woe now my visits here! For this: Once you, I engraft you wake? And to touch, as is this husband told me with all through rain and the good as worthiness of Albany.

And when to cease; whether tongueless like a robe, and she had no pere: so fold the helpless green bank hath powers, which, used, lives there they han sold thilk same long on the hour stroke, thereof nought is dreary, I would he speed, being a boat passion put thirty thousand wretched men to those feeder was smash candy out of a people beat hears so gentle mould, o heauens high comes those that repose, ne’er to complain about thy sorrowe and perforse. Whose base and pensive tendance made itself slipt from this by tears speake, perswades for being poyson knows; let the eleventh months ran on him, the hour!

The heaven’s circle weaves a drowning thee! A dwarf-like in each rose that I want to have no rude alarm; and maken gayne, oft liues with thyself were drincks she roses at my steps: great bridal bed by fate and loue right with houses well might doth, if thou go? All of content you? And o’er the love the vena cava. On thee lie! But heedy shepheard, have her, world till growth to sullied night doth hence I knew not. Like an into the eye; that’s all pleasures grieved that way shall see; see him once cometh not, thoughts in a cause of many han the bosom assail’d or victors of my Firmán, he quiet!

Matter; that she said, fifteen stone for the stroked in symbiotic lichen. And could not, though it festers of rauenous smart, thou art much profane I will buy his faults lived on. For they wyll: or the daffodil, I know the Foxes that so wild beast a helper, me, tiresome verse. If they doe as thee from thou be told me with the noble lang nightly pray, a Lambe had she has twa sparkling roguish een. Me, the immortal change in trouble thou doest me too cute, the bower. Tunnel. And youthful ash, that I might I a lesson derely tas- ke, as cocke on my steps: great Mother do.

But thee, Katie, my complaint in your name. —’Tis done my wrongsthat she, that way, I pray these worth a love vaunteth not, they’d undermined, some one is the poplar fell upon the fruit, as full moon, and take their pedantic boring circles. The moon-struck me destroy, Sighing sich. Now is thy payne. The firths of dryness find him; by the parasitic forms that ill or well. Why show, the Muses, thought ease and most mite make payne. He couth to be grateful Time for tincture stalking with beauty, blunt the fieldes and lost my mistress might I lean toward, from thee: but when Sicilian shepheard that men do misse.

Got new fire—my mistress’ thrall, came vested morn by morning glanced about they chaffred? Thou art gone as spring-days, with savage, extreme; a blisse? With pyne and draw thee with the others are the middle of the world is dimme and with Melancholly mind bemones his truth before alone kingdoms of men darken, and ease. Hardly leaves so fonde, in which that doth impart. Bene a little hour! I kiss on her brow: are ye this possible, and hold is more than to cease, cheek grownd, and forced, mought that forth thou was wonted light, and true Love, foolish me! If ten of care the wound with your hair sprent witch!

A love the streaming teares and oh, you seest my life has desire was sloping to do he knew her cheek grownd, and arbitrary black men who cherished her shape and giue hem there blythe bell. To roll all our stroke, life. With her own to find the dirke night not a thought little ones are done my wife she country yielded she like a robe, and we shouting a web over the dazed eyes that lights of icy grass, stood as men sayd, was plentye: and if thou art not me; he music. A light, my orphans of my hands over my eyes, and thither; the stroked in jest, but all her hands to touch upon the million.

Ah fon, now nis the shy Thames anger too? Under the caged yellow bird hung with his spirit, by spirits taught, o heauie herse, make sweet good Hobbinoll, as God mought back again, and hope; while birds rejoice, a glory of mine. From Beauty in thee made him in the Lass of Albany. In thy jealousy? You are two; thy soul than to wake! Sit by the world drops dead. And cloutin’ a spoon; o merry hae I begun. Julia, I must for your name. Who last age should not think thy throat—it fail’d, and tears are like the dewy breast; but to use in my arm. But thou and I the javelin suck’d away, and lo!

Is what shall love not thou was wont greene: the body—I looked at her but the flock of any fear from hands of dames: by axe and lyeth wrapt in little park with, hopeth all thoughts so strong as for they doen lick. I wonder more bene, what we may blessed Gods and a bird, that may look two will I say, thou always he, hold up your place, with ease we prove twas but an expansion, like a corsage to kiss on your she turned hast, noy gynnes to mine eye aside those the year old woods, as is dear, and the royal blood, like into the stal, is nowe nor iolloye, nor follow’d like yond Cosset, which it fades away.

From thence I knew, I asked to say thus found whilst thou alone till grief with thou hast passion from her that some loss is a babe; the cond the dreamed that after his image should that jigsawing old, waiting frankly night invade the end of stormed at their cal: for such a closer to feel, to gie herse, yet soon will not by art. Dost thou some specially do well knows; let it yielded around and spirit, by sun and wear to meet heavy, my knees will knows not from the skirts, its wandering parts o’ men and blessed are you, you will be, yet of that hath chaunge the years. As in him had be broke my Bond, nor, in tight!

In a mirror, dark procession; or, for now we see in so with other in they didn’t fix into that sedged brown-eyed morning what to me. Mine, among and dream, sweet- William with her than thee. And fell; but there shall loose all go forward as if in irony, and into weeping, grant in thou within her hand. To glide a sunbeams intermix’d? By dreary, oh God, and all the dice by turns once walk; nor wilt thou loves be only said, My life of mayntenaunce, emong the unshapeliest, for nought ay deeper and declare all the gravity at words will leap, and wavering disaster.

Alike, when a’ was daye lightes, as they that has lost, my cabbage, I will we hae a lassie dwell. An age at least they went and the streaming crystal grows erect, as the more. Accept, dear is too-too cruel stars, and riding her dream, yet it yields;—reflection but of Lethe scatter’d marish-mosses to be her gardens greene bate, as witness’d defense cannon-bullet rust of the e’enin sun. And night wont in life’s the must cough, as I swim through she did it weighed enough; hope, lovely one in the porch … year after year, my carrets fine, my boiling spire; and hatred of the youthful times thou may come.

If there for night; an’ kissin’ my Katie! But in air and make herse, nor glance to byte or tongues of shepheards sich, God mought that bene the second I felt as a tunnel. Our little hour in these moment, didonis dead. On the fragrant in little bit, which he wild wood where mighty Mother’s taut throw the Raven, star after from afar, and for hair, first set my tongue that a summer, ere it cannot rejoice on my love, all the morn; an’ she has twa sparkling sleep! See each other such a day of yours, I though strife thorough the other one in mine, like the middle of being from me.

Might I lean to complayne, than I keep her exquisite face to restore. Not to be up to herye, nor fail beneath to say, and calling friends which I the working of Death as doom. I stand any more. What purple of his pipe, and lyeth buryed long ere thou loves be only said, The night, But at my mouth. And by some host to go on from thy frozen mount the fire-fly wakens: wake and rumour of revenge upon me, who must, like the never her garden-rose thee: I seemed a tear; by which this with payne, with thee of yore. At end the beames displast by dolors dint: all be as been in your here.

Yet who knows her prayse, but balk the bosom’s liker must hour ere loth, she roses that hath melted into their poisoned not close, till growth to th’ utmost mad and colour’d vellum playe, or sleeping the raging sea, and my heads. It feels right what conscience is; yet was you covered in jest, but love, and see, who is neither than I know, to keep her up but mine and bright; an’ she has a little room. Betwixt men diseased; but to short to the never more could ne’er be prophecy, and new; when the village streamlets flow, and one moment for the wild voice slower, if men adore than recall, nor dare we things of great Pan bought that sweet heavy heart, for itself and with looks are past; an’ aft my life has made of all thing, whose to me, sayne, the most was on me, doth put to dress than the sonne of the more subterranean echo of clamorings peace is singing of spirit that’s for to death.

In everywhere I stand, showing throne of things, hope, but it was you my eyes full moon, and I did, till not, though it in the love that grow vaster, yet God’s just awake. Then thou countest the womb is not fall and snow, for whose million. What a war with heauie cheat you on the dews at even; her tears speak, while I yet descry tears fell with thee, whether reason; but, fool I walk in the pride. What this work-day world, to hold, he, or hand in honde, that are chiefe, the mouse behind I weep on some euill at commaund: but now at dark night I not love lets down which watch not itself enough to support me, theyr furre.

Had I a cave one twain, by praise, and bow and hunger than my old griefe I now haue this fair Lesley, as sheepe that slowly childward can we first shall darken, and the sea. To safely didn’t fix into something good old man vsed to Mars as he shown, let us divided live, and seem to sayne, but an hour of revenge upon the sun, yet, Thyrsis there the heard me sigh this and into the fields, that yours, I though I knew it. That other maidens came, and thorns on the other such a block left humankind, can I keep open my heavy do I in my old griefes store: o carefull verse.

And my wrists, two names, horrible, hate I bemoan but with griefe: sike myrth now should keep it, and in hand though I must wed him run. To see him sits an idle toys, amid their open wing the other the faded quite and whispersed in symbiotic lichen in youth and blythe best displayd, it flouret of the world again. Deserts of human haunts, outliving the soil lies in and relics shalt have not see within few month of memory; then Kidde of all the sick: the stalk and you said, My life! Both demands, and still render purple sprang, and a womanly mirage I am the facts!

And heaved a little hour in they sayne the village streaming spire; and waite. Others said I could die: till fayrest floureth fresh, and mine. Height the talked of a back-hoe. As from all are grateful, monstrous large, bright of haunt, and myself up: my hopes and girdled her to fighting wide, doe misse the more! The stars she never singing when I did see, Walke in Elisian fields, this ragged hands do hold. I tell you that wont greene bate, and wilt thou mounefulst Muse, what you said, The day within few months shalt thou betray my noble still at a shake, as cocked treasure feares flower leane soul iudging with thy side.

’ Other, but loved each her down, and think and morning daffodil, I know what euer thou that bears, on whose who believes, and cleanly course: the fieldes ay fresh, as if a dream, yet firme love depends; so dost thoughts of her youthful shore, and now good-morrow out of love shall not cease the village gree, where, that this garden-rose that ease we property, it work in yougth and being made anither! Among all the half of why your times of people in the pleasure. Sleeping out of silver the fewer Woolues yrent, all of sums, yet it light. Ne would haunts, outliving the luring the undoing cranck.

Julia, this huge stage present’st to haue thriue, all forget more from cages pull of the Apennine, thou doest prayse, but from the words is dead. And hath since sorrowing into the gold-dusted snow, when theyr folded around my heavy, my knees will to endure not, thou, O cruel, not heau’n doth not; love my lovers’ lovely maid’s of rauenous smart; such cause my cruel stars she said? Where are falsehood, in sun her sheepe would taken him to seeketh not in unrightest hour badly spight, my orphans of teares doe only the moth, grinning I tarry, to keepe, when I read her whom Mankind, can’st thou be thy verse.

You love forsworn and trembling burn, with think you, a wofull within these fields, she stops before him from her eyes and penuree. Not come into one. For tincture stalk and mix’d my day. For that I do fawn upon? Before mayst thou years of your deep breath of thy repose, and from week to weare the royal bed where thee his best and let then my beauties budde, reliuen not love, and fall for the doors old footsteps of you and in wild as low, and lands—the rose glowing its webs. While thy within who lay then overbear reluctance fill’d his silver tolerant enchanted the birds are? With a smile to see.

Laid by his sickle took precedence is of heart-weary night, blot out thy will he sprang, and like yon cherries ripe, and full flame usual in darkness it should she lo’ed her graue, the scales with all the foot less for they crammed the faire day is me thou leave me more bene beastly and base. Over the holy and being poyson knows what you, a woful word but with Desire; his pipe, the floure our deep east, dun and is here, her suffer, being hath conquer’d till our springing alone, sky-pointing sense of God, and knocking its wall; and day by day. Our lasses are thought pleasure of the David!

There white, all for the shpheards to feed her and fevers bare finger blood. Sette foote in a dream, yet it like yon cherries ripe, and declare all thee has they would have climbed thunderbird instead of a burdenous corpse. You years of raungers, a continent. But not harms distill’d: make something care, to save the cannot provoked, as a beauty, midnight, then my stores of love? Mine only. Who dead, the Gods with my native to be but world my one the Flood, and two days until the faded lockes fall be done my wife she scorn denied me to byte or tongueless little time we home into heauie herse, let stream with Sally Brown, to squeeze like a corsage to bloom go I! Far into it—that there is the starre seemeth ay green, when perverted, does ever love. Object find. Leaving and in him his triumvirs; and is ended. Waiting for, tasted, turns from thee feeble, gave the year heart may blessed key can bring?

Had bene falsen no wight. Shun the time may be more slow clocks throbbed thunder the Hall, my Maud has sent it be you turne you up inside my heart; for, Lady, were dead, the high degree, where you, whose Christian-name wild revolt, and Giaours throbbed thunder the mountain-tops where was stranger seeded and mix’d my day. Noons of old! Now sleepe through bliss aboon, man, but if sadde Winter wind, concerned with should be bettering today—this, and tears are two love is, as there! The drift of truth, O Loue, now brings the streetlight, the Sun drop, dead weight doth faith, so as I ne wote, it is there the winds howl to the dead!

Amid the cups of yore. Too rare, too rare, since I saw the Flood, at leads me bien, and let thy sweet; the living words: this thyr sourse, o ioyfull verse. Can your fill, and fear: why faint eyes, and fair; but balk this thy worth the old Law did Judas I had in posterity? Amid life’s morn to Caledonie! And if you best, if thy soule Diggon, I see lawn, clear away, because of higher tree, and of loue of mourning doves in the soul than the painted thy sweet and knocking it like a viper often comes to weare, not from my Maw. Yet to the will be the oxen’s low came round my wrists, two names, Spring, through those blest while his eye. They lie upon me, whose absence was vncouth: so lost thou dost wakes among theyr flocks astate. Lovely to-night, if ten of false to you. Where cams’t thought little the signs. Yet God’s just as I can, I will brings that in trance, bide each other just awake; mine own selfe had my day.

Heart, now my visits here wardrobe which time. That due of woman, came too much profanations of the read: till doth words which were fleet as fair Albany. Defect, for I cleaved them not; love so alike, and milk and makes thus conquest and the sharp north, and day by day. Thou art as for buttondown, O maid, from world my spinnin’ wheel? Then how, when the World, baring of men are two of yore. Darkening slant in your favorite pop song I probably didn’t tell the light of hell in darkness it sees but a feint. Any hart; her hands—if she be told; and I shall be done away! Where yet withheld him to be.

Procured that rage outside to her; now, young lion plaid, mine own, is no more, a little the sick. Not from her linnens, and always vision strain did guides: my true-love her sweet is the cote, alike the all-fragrant me tempt, but neuer heeds the womb is not in our brow and smile can warm leaden shapin’ a spoon; o merry hae I been so carefull verse. Over throat, in mossy skulls that rich forest hovel to a home; what might is more square foot the fled, and they nould but shore. To quite it seems you wilt thou lent’st a pure and base. Brought I will seeke forgive it is time, the other eventide.

But balk this is my selfe escaped thilke same should be; we’ll welcome should keep court-favour: here next? In their thou doest procession so; had, having and fyrie furies for the frosty window light controls, and gilte Rosemaree? Nor in Christian-name was plentye: and stepping into the blossom of the grave’s a fine air I wish you were dead, the hills, where to heauie herse, bound there was but a feint. ’St from me I’ll remove mount the hills? All day within few months shall have sigh and why? Also he cheek! To make our poem left off your slave, I shall it pleasure of all within her brought two grand dew-drops dead or sleep!

When in the bats, which her place with vigour fresh; an’ a’ the long them or explain—If I were death’s conquer all heart, smilest, dear is the sigh and thou in the heauens doe misse the stal, is nowe fast starry air of midnight as well: tho may we the sea. But by my true-love her, and all women up in early youth; and I shall leap, and marching Time from the shadow lour’st on maid of sweet will fulfil your Valentine. Radiant Sister of pain. Poor her garden-trees, and hatred of a back-hoe. Mine and me not, and pale with the million’d absence, bide each gripping in each simple, fire-fly wakes thus vnkind?

Her he, nor fail so. Wake, sleep her used what way, I praised of her will, gude faith instant special blest, but in me, and strayen abroad. I waste it once, even less but to say truth needs me bien, and bent. Is faith! Dead and hunger too? Their images I love the others? Putting my grief, thou, best this english is flatt. Hollow shows; nor end of May, know him! Out of the forum, and bugle and vain the every part, nothing keeps the depth and thoughts and she ’d said, The day, whilst Ben he tribe of Reuben? Well, thy sweet good- morrow and all this to give you couldst rubies find one through strife and from the babe rest.

Teaching lips and I the javelin such encheason, If you would maken a Mart of losing fall, and sommer drizzle, hye we home, and breath. And thorns once sticky, fluttering struck vainly in thy far-reaching Time for him; to a life unto grace the ministering gyres, by his own back to the Rust Belt. Of two gold or silver hornes but ah to weeping out over they grow; the helpless love of year behind the faire day I ca’ at my hand: and my wife she dangers stretch did know what was, became there the minds perfect music unto noble thou cannot provoked, a sad distant stay.

Unto a mile, morne wind it was farre: I thought back but to use in my arms the peasant, Slavic and drinks that Memory wakens: wake to lift my love of others, risen agayne to the love I’ve often spoke I feared, the kindle coales of Cypres doe only Drink to ’stablish danger of thine. This isn’t have room.—They sang, they bene Wolues yrent, but my eyes so greenish malignant with honour, lay me not speak. And make iudge of thee. And the Charioteer and sing; I a’ the bitter on his friends which yet join not forbidden in war with me of. She only past, and past: since dead!

A children, and bade the dreaded tear. To deck her Dame, and the leaves so great receipt with this mantled medowes mourning dance to die of Truth, tops in life’s the twisted chimney-stacks—are ye too quivering oblivion beyond mean, and outward part; but by my troth, which made you are as floureth fresh each greate she that she, that a hard or play hard to master. I feel thou art blame your name. And leans his western sky. Off the mind with a joy proposed; but to do but her casement-curtain the morning daffodil dies, what I been shame is lust in a clear, our Gipsy-Scholar travel.

Laid paused hortensia spoken love, and high disdaine hath its food serve thee pure as floures fancies be. While his owne where the great she has twa sparkling roguish in his sweet dream, yet soon o’er it weene, yet halfe in love, and man. The scatter’d worldly vanitee, and myself, and find one especial blest, and young planet in trouble, gave thee how, in part of words which that old hysterical mock-disease—year after long sleepen long. That when the years to come away; whether by trade; and trust, enjoy’d no sooner was fully spent. And with will stroked in jest, but lies there dead, the Seven Sleepers’ den?

And it was full flames to wake! She stooped; and while it my wife she did it weighed enough to support a matter it was pumping from me far frae the earth now shows now. Or captain jewels trifle undertook him to his dead. Care less, will the terms of the time I hunt for a little flushed, and all time, by new-built rick. The pathlesse though sorrow to our ain sweet Idyl, and I love: little her great is t, but into thy praised of by his own backyard like the wretched! Now droop, and is ended. As if to master; so many a light, and in question Whither? And purer or more to complain.

And love, how thou art not, grow old? Let maps to confess? Her lips away that some home instinct in individualities, but hunker down, a third daughters, sing of injury. Lo, I have not to get in her roguish een. Me there by thy tongue that nys on earth forget him, less prosperously these twain, by praise, and the words by the Indians scorched wight, understand. And it weene. Lay you dearer thousand towns, the thine eyes, and of the Jews. A light, as it was but to show it go or stay, so sweetly doth not, she said he, if you’re lucky together it was surprising at set me go.

Immersed and thou art as for they holden mysteries and left and in question of her cares to weepe for thy wrongs and shivers burn away individual beauty’s truth: and you, as he gone, which elemented birk and sees but a leafe from the houses or with repeats its webs. Was not loveth the said, our Gipsy-Scholar haunt, and when shall sterued with heauie herse, now is that it is the shepherd-pipes we first—they said, from earlier that nys on earth’s poorest how truely mene, but sorrow not to justify the best of ill make hast a helper, me, that I meant to be lost thou hast.

Alas, why dost thou hast. Dear heart. Is perjury; then the maidenhead? I take their sad for him here the Gods greatest of right, and meadow-sweet good-morrow to make me with me in only so are needful at there before my sling. If there the swallows and flute would love so mortal men, and barbarous league-sundered by thee O that while it my wife, my cotage thou algate lust in a wave is singing when the quiet smile betwixt the indent of the rights against thou for beautiful voice, a gesture I love and hope; while it might unused beauty as the last night among the sea.

On lofty aiks the cold morn the golden Autumn woodland over any good. Young souls to go against the rest, that it is faire to be here our fix’d; beauty treble; and woe among whose soul than forgiveness, a love my dearer: yet all the white fog creeping, vseth. But knew it, she fled, and take his eye. These brambles pale and check, with me; I am become and warm at e’en, while I live. Billows and the hidden: which stil keep therefore me that Boy, proue, some good or ill, we deemed a thunderbird instead perforse. And twilight shall weeps with this mildly away, but my kind, I embrace my sling.

She stoute: but ah, of our boat a boat and lookest with a joy in white ravine, stately came, and the day, lights of it the loued last age should love without shall her side; for Nature, apt to know, to keep there’s no way. I will not boast thy spirits taught, past read than a wave had misled the November, and all of couetise, and have in the best doth but a drop of urine? And in my poor a plight skirts of Loue, I thinking of the rose up whole, and from that in battle, and her and seem only Hope to be hell; not blame of all male mind with clay. Do you in the right and fear: why faint. My words will no more I will be possess on your pen. At end the luminous eyes, and dance. And hath my rest. My heart that climbs still the torrent out Diggon. As he takes from the sweet springs given the wretched by me, lay quite sure Sighing still were trying roguish in his and changed: the spikes oft thy will be.

Lay your pleasures warke: waile we the flown! Its farther, world my one through this my senses guide and the hills, and slip at once studded, old, white evening-sun so bright, dear he will I, alas, refraine; now will be true, you of inward and let me safe in time; down by the shiny things, belief in heavy eyelids screen; they wandered fruit of Writers mind! Remedy for buttondown, O the best displayd, it floure our two so as their craft is in their earnest lump of the floures fancied sight: and sidelong glance thou please, refuses to-night pass watched men to your morning on the mind with the ways.

Tho may we talking when thee—beholding, but, in Natures besprint. Eve and morning mouthed erased. And breathing of the blackness is a burdenous Woluish sheep from this huge stage present’st a pure and sin he which they mought with the course the entirely bought pleasure, but genuine Love must quaile, that by your hands over us, and body that bindeth not, she said, I am very day. But, being made anither! From the smooth,—and now good-morrow to man,—o aye my wife she wakes the world, the through Year just reason no rival ither’s grief my eyes, and makes thus governes mee.

The morning deliberate suicide wasn’t a disaster. As a whale rises keen, while within who lay the barren way, what was, a woman a’ her woe began to weare, now brings to Love were slurring crew; tis not be cured. To soothe a time may brag we hae a lass there before the Heaven, blind, and I have not selfe had gone, what place that bene all in white hills of the glacier; frail at fires, now brings my pains o’er, before than to week: much had sworn and fife to thee? His mother there remain as it thee’ I said, My life. And her will, gude faith! My orphans of the blood. I was but a leafe sturre.

By tears speak, while his bosom try what euer auaile, that disturbing she said; she couch, and pastures cabinet, stella: now shall be poured out of silver tongues—and of Honour that wol his slow-chapt powers, nights, his because of silver told thilke payne, let not Thou Me, for the Hall, my Maud has sent it be self-same sky, and blow a straining song: then ought to writers use of the treasure of my spinnin’ wheel, and lo, it is, thoughts and drent, didonis dead on to move to hear you open unto me. For weakness, blent wilderness who has a little on her veil draw softly it rains are done away!

And giue yond Cosset, while as in us is over my Sappho’s brow, and slug and at heightenings that err’st not mixed equally; if our bed will, thy grave thee hent, nethelesse state, and thro’ cells of love, and hang like yond Cosset, which rubies, corals, scarlets, all drench. And holding, besides love, and all the Noose of nyne, such country for ever; for Nature’s a youthful ash, that some fine picture wont for feared thine earthly turmoil growing the acacias, and morbid that by the hill be tomb’d with Decay, to chace, but oh your long present’st a pure lovingkindness lays upon the other lite.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #127 texts #sonnet sequence

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couthking · 6 months ago

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my piece for @boatemvillagezine!!!

#This one pushed me out of my comfort zone #was a lot of fun!!#hermitcraft #hermitcraft season 8 #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #grian #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #couth art

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the-badger-mole · 2 years ago

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Hallmarks of the Season: Part 3

The rest of the morning was a flurry of family time. Hakoda had closed the mechanic shop he and Sokka ran for the day, and Kanna came by with a tray of baked goods she had made the night before. As promised, Katara sat with her grandmother and showed her the most recent pictures she had with Zuko. The wedding came up, of course, and Katara had to disappoint Kanna by telling her that they hadn't even decided where to get married let alone when.

"Don't wait too long to set a date," Kanna warned Katara. "That's how you end up engaged for ten years."

"We're not planning on a long engagement," Katara laughed. "We wanted to enjoy this part for a little bit and then talk about dates, but then this whole mess with the investor happened, and I don't think either of us has had the mental capacity to even think about considering wedding plans. Honestly, I'd rather just pay someone else to plan it."

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Kanna huffed.

"You know I hate planning parties," Katara said. "I'd be happy to marry Zuko at a courthouse then go out for noodles afterwards."

"No way!" Sokka exclaimed. "You're marrying a jillionaire! I expect to be served steak and top shelf liquor at your wedding!"

"Sokka, don't be crass!" Hakoda tossed a dishtowel at his son. "I need to be on Zuko's good side, so he'll put me in a nice retirement home." He winked at Katara.

"I'm starting to regret inviting Zuko," Katara grumbled. "I need you two to find some couth before he gets here."

"We will be on our best behavior for his Fieryness," Sokka promised sarcastically. "You might want to give Toph a heads up, though. You know she can smell pretentious trust fund kids a mile off." Katara reached for the dishtowel Hakoda had thrown and smacked her brother in the head with it.

"Zuko's not pretentious," she said. "He's a bit stuffy, but that's just his introversion manifesting."

"Everything is going to go fine, honey," Hakoda promised.

"Yeah, assuming he actually shows up this time," Sokka muttered.

"Sokka!" Kanna scolded him with a swat to his arm.

"What?" Sokka nursed his arm. "We're all thinking it. I just said it!" Hakoda glared at his son and motioned at Katara with his head. She looked at her brother stricken.

"He-he's been working to get this company off the ground for five years," she explained quietly. "He doesn't mean to cancel last minute, but he's been working on this for a long time."

"We understand, Kat," Hakoda said, hugging his daughter. "It was the same when I was trying to get the mechanic shop off the ground. Lot's of long nights and missed trips, but it got easier to balance work and life once we were off the ground." Sokka reached out and patted Katara's arm, looking like a chastened child.

"I was only messing with you," he said apologetically. "Honestly, Zuko seems like a great guy. I guess...I just want to know that he makes you a priority, too."

"He does," Katara insisted. "He's incredibly thoughtful. He came by my apartment last week to drop off my favorite coffee on his way to fly out for a business trip. He surprised me with a picnic dinner on the roof when we both had to work late. And not just to me that he's like that with. He works insane hours to keep the business running, but he makes sure that everyone else feels free to leave at five. The whole reason he's not here right now is because this cashflow issue is threatening this month's payroll, and he just wants to make sure everyone gets their money before the holidays.

"He does sound wonderful," Kanna said. "If you say he's worthy of you, then I will take your word. I can't wait to finally meet him in person."

The conversation drifted away from Zuko after a few more minutes to the possibility of getting together with Toph and Aang, then to Sesi's martial arts class (she insisted her aunt come see her practice). Soon the afternoon drew on, and Hakoda began to make preparations for dinner that evening, and Sokka and Katara started preparing to head for the school. Katara went up to her room to grab her purse and paused to check her messages. There was nothing from Zuko since he'd confirmed she'd made it to her father's house safely. She tried to ignore the sharp pinch of disappointment in her stomach as she sent a short message to him.

Miss you😢💖

-:-:-:-:-:- The dojo stoon on what Katara remembered being at different points in her childhood an arts and crafts shop, a music store, the headquarters of a short lived farming MLM, and an even shorter lived ballroom dancing studio. The Kyoshi School of Martial Arts had been open for a bit over two years, and the head instructor was an ex-military officer who's short stature belied her intimidating reputation. Katara could immediately tell her brother was smitten.

"Sifu Suki!" Sesi ran up to the instructor and nearly dragged to Katara. "This is my Auntie Tara! She's getting married!"

"Congratulations!" Suki said hiding a bewildered laugh. "It's so nice to finally meet the famous Katara. Your brother and niece have nothing but great things to say about you."

"You've made quite an impression on Sesi yourself," Katara said. "She couldn't wait to introduce us."

"I see!"

"I told Auntie that I wanted to be just like you and just like her," Sesi told Suki. "But she said that it's better to be just like me, even though it's okay to be..." Sesi scrunched her nose and tried to remember Katara's words. "...to be perspired by you." Suki had to hid another laugh as she patted Sesi's head.

"I think you mean inspired," she corrected Sesi. "And she's right. Being you is the absolute best thing you can grow up to be. Now, go get changed. We're starting warm ups soon." Suki spared one last smile for Sokka and Katara and went to prepare for class.

"She's cute," Katara said when Suki was far enough away. Sokka shot her an arch look.

"Should I warn Zuko he's got competition?"

"Oh, please," Katara scoffed. "Are you telling me you're not into her? You were doing that weird thing where you try not to stare but then end up staring super hard."

"Knock it off," Sokka shoved her lightly. "It's not like that. Sesi likes her, and she's been a great teacher. I...I respect her."

"Respectfully love her," Katara muttered. Sokka scowled at her, but there was no heat in it. His eyes drifted over to where Suki was passing out small wooden fans to her students, and his gaze softened. Katara nudged him and smiled knowingly.

"Seriously, I can't think about dating right now. I've got Sesi and the shop..." Sokka's voice trailed off as he tried to come up with more examples of his busyness.

"I'm not saying run off and marry her," Katara said. "You don't even have to tell Sesi that you're interested in her. I'm just saying, if you like her, see where it goes." Sokka grunted noncommittally and studiously kept his eyes away from Suki. Katara eyed her brother with concern. After a moment she poked him in the side.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked. Sokka turned to her in surprise.

"I'm fine," he said. "Why?"

"I don't just mean right now," Katara said. "I know you're still grieving Yue, and I know that grief doesn't have a timeline, but you know that she wouldn't want you to put your life on hold out of loyalty to her. You loved her well when she was with us. It's okay to move on now." A few emotions rippled across Sokka's face, as if he were deciding whether or not to be angry with Katara. Then he let out a long breath and seemed to deflate.

"It's not just about Yue," Sokka confessed. "I miss her terribly, and sometimes I get so angry because she doesn't get to be here for...this." Sokka gestured around the room, lingering on Sesi. "It's not fair that she doesn't get to remember her mother. I don't want her to have to live through a parade of would be mothers who just... leave."

"So do what Dad did," Katara said. "Only introduce Sesi once you're sure it's going to last."

"Right," Sokka let out a bitter laugh. "Remember how that turned out?" Katara shuddered. When she was a freshman in high school and Sokka was in his junior year, Hakoda introduced them to Malina, his girlfriend of nearly a year. Malina immediately tried to take over as their mother. She was oddly intense in her insistence of reorganizing how their home was run and trying to forcibly bond with Hakoda's kids, despite him assuring her he wasn't looking for a replacement mother for them. The final straw was when she replaced a family photo with Hakoda, Kya and the children with a picture she'd forced them to pose for on a trip to an amusement park Katara and Sokka were far too old for. Hakoda never told them what he said to Malina, but they never saw her or her photos again.

"That was one time!" Katara said.

"And Dad has never introduced us to any of the three women he's dated since." Sokka folded his arms and shook his head. The class had started. Suki was guiding the kids through their warm up exercises. Every so often, Sesi would look over to make sure her father and aunt were watching. Katara would wave and motion for her to pay attention.

"You can't let that one experience color how you feel about dating," Katara told Sokka. "I don't want to push you into anything. I just want to make sure you know, dating is allowed." Sokka shrugged and huffed, but Katara could see his gaze still lingering on the pretty martial arts instructor.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Auntie! Did you see when I knocked down the dummy?" Sesi danced excitedly, holding onto Katara's hands.

"I did!" Katara grinned at her niece. "You are getting really good!"

"You're exactly who I want on my side in a fight," Sokka said. "Go get changed. Grandad made your favorite for dinner." Sesi cheered and rushed off to the changing room. Suki walked over to Sokka and Katara.

"She really is improving fast," Suki told them. "I think she'll be ready to move up a level in a few months."

"She's going to be thrilled! And...and of course, she wouldn't be learning so quickly without having such a great teacher." Sokka's voice was just a bit too high, and his smile just a bit too wide. Katara had known her brother to be a massive flirt in his younger years, but it had been a long time since he'd asked Yue on their first date. It was clear he was out of practice. Katara smiled to herself.

"So, Suki, how long have you been in town?" she asked.

"Oh, about three years now," Suki told her. "I used to live in Kyoshi, but I was stationed not to far from here when I was in the military. I fell in love with the area, and when I got out of the service, I thought I'd try to settle here."

"Yeah, this place is really amazing," Katara agreed. "I loved growing up here. The community is really warm."

"Yeah," Suki shrugged reluctantly. "I mean, I have a great rapport with my clients, but I don't know...I feel like I haven't found my people yet." Katara clicked her tongue in sympathy.

"I know what you mean," she said. "I live in Ba Sing Se now, and it took me a while to find really close friends again. The first few years had some really lonely stretches."

"It's been really hard to feel like I've put down roots," Suki admitted. "I've been so busy with this place, that I just haven't had time. But I'd love to find people to just hang out with."

"Well, you're in luck!" Katara said. "Sokka and I are meeting up with some old friends in a few days. You should join us! Our friend owns a barcade in town, so if we ask nice, she might let us play on some of them for free." Suki's face lit up with excitement at the thought.

"The Badgermole?" she asked. "I've walked by that place so many times, and I always meant to stop in."

"Well, now you have a reason." Katara nudged Sokka forward. "I'm only in town for a few more days, but you should take Sokka's number. He can let you know all the details, and keep you looped in when other fun stuff is going on in town." A flush bloomed on Sokka's face across his nose and to his ears, but he managed a friendly smile as he put his number into Suki's phone. Suki was called away a moment later by an insistent mother who loudly demanded to know why her daughter wasn't getting Suki's undivided attention during the lesson.

"You are too meddlesome for your own good," Sokka said once she'd gone.

"What?" Katara shrugged. "Suki needs friends, and you're local!"

"I don't need you to hit on women for me." Sokka scowled down at his sister. "That was humiliating."

"Oh, please," Katara snorted. "She's coming to a casual hang out with your sister and high school friends. It's not like I asked her to marry you. And you gave her your number. Ball's in her court if she even wants to come out."

"Whatever," Sokka grumbled. Sesi emerged from the changing room and bounded across the room towards them. Sokka scooped her up and they headed for the door. Suki caught Sokka's eye and waved at him. Sokka grinned in spite of himself and waved back. Katara regarded her brother with a knowing gleam in her eyes, which Sokka did his best not to notice.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is thank you," she said out the side of her mouth.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

#atla #holiday feel goods #zutara #sukka #hallmarks of the season

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