#he loves nesting tho is the real point

[castiels-undercoat]

Dean does the cooking and the cleaning btw guys. Like. In cannon.

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[luvfy0dor]

Henlo

You know who it is, we all know, henlo

I feel like I’ve been here a lot recently

Just starting off with saying I loved the Dazai piece. It was really cute. Dad Dazai trying his best, made my heart melty

But I think you know why I’m here today

On this day

Honestly the day doesn’t entirely matter but I’m here on THIS one

With the dad Fyodor thought I promised

Cuz here I was thinking to myself. I feel like Fyodor definitely wants his child or children having some connection to Russian culture, since that’s a part of them too, regardless of their other parent’s nationality or background, he definitely wants his included. (Tho his partner could totally do the same)

So I was wondering, would you like a piece of him either teaching his children Russian or making Russian food for them? Or really sharing any Russian cultural thing with them at all. Honestly whatever one is easier for you to write or go into detail with, they’re all equally cute.

Cuz if his child or children develop a connection to that, I feel like that would make him a lot happier than maybe he would fully show.

I hope this ask sparks the creative brain juices in a fun way

Also considering sending a Halloween themed request at some point idk… oh but who knows!We’re here rn and having fun with this, that’s all we need at the moment

Also real glad you enjoy my messages lol. I will absolutely keep sending. Take as long as you need

-the person here attempting to give everyone baby fever because it’s funny

This blog’s Dad Fyodor anon

"da!" - Dad!Fyodor x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Google translate Russian, not much reader involvement, very minimal proofreading happened

Description; Dad!Fyodor teaching his child about Russian culture! It incorporates ideas from the first dad!Fyodor part.

A/n; YESYESYES I one hundred percent agree, I think about this on the regular OMG I hope I depicted this well bc my knowledge on Russia isn't all that extensive lol, if you have any corrections, do tell me!! : ) Also I'm gonna be so fr I had NO idea what to name this so we're rolling with da I guess.............

Headcannons !! ༊*·˚

★ He teaches his child/children classical Russian music when they're old enough to play more difficult pieces. Until then, he'll settle for twinkle twinkle little star.

★ Introduces his children to ballet.

★ His children have a variety of Russian-originating toys, such as Matryoshka/Russian nesting dolls, rocking horses etc.

★ Brings his children to Russia at least once, specifically to Moscow (irl Dostoevsky was raised in Moscow, so we're gonna assume BSD Dostoevsky was too) to experience the culture first hand.

★ Teaches his children the foundations of the Russian language. He would like them to fluently speak it one day, though.

★ Cooks Russian food for them like I mentioned and included in the first part.

★ They learn about Russian history from their father, anywhere from Peter the Great to fur trade and all that jazz

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

(as always, p/t is parental title, d/n is daughters name)

Your head leaned against your fist while you watched your husband and daughter focus on their current activity. D/n carefully picked the colors and pigments she would use to color in the white spaces on her paper, and Fyodor just tried to keep things inside the lines. You could see the little girls tongue slightly sticking out from between her lips in concentration, making you smile.

Your daughter went to pick her next color, chosing a pink crayon to fill in the nose of the cat. "Papa, what'd you say your hat was called again? The one you always wear." She clarifies, even though there was really only one hat that Fyodor would wear at all. His eyes don't leave his thin paper as he replies, "A ushanka, and it's from Russia, malyshka." He answered, pushing some of his hair out of his face and behind his ear. "Russia." She says, the sound not unfamiliar, but not common to her either. "Where's that?" She tilts her head upwards, putting her crayon down to signify her attention on her papa. He puts his down too and rests his arms on top of one another.

"Quite far, but it is in both Asia and Europe. That's how big it is, it stretches over two continents." He says, a smile on his face. Her eyes widen a little. "That is really big. Have you been there before?" Her head tilts and she shifts a bit in her seat. "I grew up there, in the city of Moscow." He says, happy with her clear interest in his motherland.

"We should go there for a vacation one day!" She says, a grin on her face. He laughs a little bit and nods. "I agree, we definetly should." He agrees, fantasizing about it in his head. "Is that why you talk like that?" She questions her fathers accent, skittering around the table and climbing onto his lap. He smiles gently and nods. "Yes, it's called an accent, malyshka. I learned English, but Russian is my mother tongue. There are a lot of different pronunciations for certain sounds in Russian." He tells her, his hands fidgeting with the young girls hair. He parts it into three sections and starts to braid it.

"Is everything different there?" Fyodor hums, thinking as he weaves her hair into a gorgeous French braid. "Well, it definitely very different, but I don't think I would say everything." He says. "There are more historical differences than anything, if I do say so myself." She hums in understanding. "Papa, can you teach me some Russian?" She asks, turning her head to look at him with puppy dog eyes, even though she really didn't need them. He smiled and nodded.

"What should I teach you?" He softly questions, looking into the young girls eyes. She thinks for a moment, tapping her pointer finger on her chin. "I don't know! Whatever you want." She says, just excited to hear another language. He chuckles softly. "я не знаю, что тебе сказать" (I don't know what to tell you) he responds, a small grin on his face. Her eyes widen, almost as if she never believed he could speak a different language. You giggle a bit at her reaction.

"What does that mean?!" She excitedly asks, her mind seemingly blown over this. "It simply means I don't know what to tell you." He speaks. "But I can tell you the simple stuff. Like 'да' means yes and 'нет' means no. Hello is 'привет' and goodbye is 'до свидания'."

The young girl takes a mental note of these words. "привет, papa! I think I said that right." She says. You proudly watch the scene go down. Fyodor gives you a similarly prideful smile. "Yes, you did wonderful, malyshka." He praises her, patting her shoulder. "I'll have to teach you more one day." She nods vigorously, very obviously wanting him to. "Yes! And then we can have secret conversations, no one else will know what we're saying!" She snickers, making him smile.

A/n; I hope this is alright!! I loved this request a whole lot. Oh, also, feel free to send in that Halloween request even though it's November now lol

"Oh, ofcourse. That will probably be rather far in the future, though." He says, removing her from his lap and gently patting her back. "That's okay. If I learn more I'll know more words." She states the obvious. "And I'm gonna learn from the best russian ever." She beams, making Fyodor grin. "That's right, sweetheart."

[transingthoseformers]

I feel like there's a few stages to the eggs being laid in vehicles thing which is really funny to me HAHA

Like imagine before the humans knew transformers existed, its like a weird cryptid type story that people don't quite believe... that one day some guy went to his car and found it dented, scratched, sticky... and he saw something move inside and like he just legged it. Never went back. No one ever confirmed if that was real. By the time some curious kids went looking, the car was gone.

Then, later, as humans start to realise there are these strange mechanical aliens on their planet, they also start to piece together that uhhhhhhh sometimes they do unspeakable things to human cars. There's a whole debate about whether it's car sex or not. A lot of people are trying to say its not what it looks like. The cool robots would never. That's eventually how they end up asking Optimus. That's also when the humans realise these robots can blush in shame and embarrassment.

At some point, when humans are so used to these cybertronians living on earth, getting your car get turned into a nest is kinda like getting infested with bees yknow. People don't hate the bees but also like gawsh dangit. Like couldn't you do this somewhere else.

Guys like skyfire trying to return planes/vehicles after that are so funny tho gdugwud this massive robot looking so sheepish and trying to return an aircraft that looks like it was put through a sandblaster and also eaten from the inside out.

Omggggg yes

It's absolutely a cryptid thing at first, and that was the intended vibes with my first post about eggs in cars

Love how it was a process

Someone: it's definitely not car sex, that's a myth

Them, when it happens to their car: ... Okay it might be car sex

Oh Optimus

Because it is

It is car sex

Hshdh yes. Like goddamn it they had places to go that day

Exactly, like Skyfire you still did it. You still fucked the plane. They still have to replace that.

[ranticore]

We know the werewolves were one guys specific indentured servants. Are there any other monsters that were just one specific guy’s? Actually. Is that wizard still around and how does he (it?) feel about it? Did Revelation’s specific underlings also get hit especially hard or just it?

Anyway your Kosa setting is cool as hell and I love everyone and also Revelation. And its wife guy (guy who is a wife guy to it).

hiii i'm going to answer all your asks in this one post to make things easier, thank you so much for giving me a lot of stuff to think about

Anyway, werewolves! It's accepted that pretty much every wizard had a lot of servants, this guy (Onozar The Transcendent, the green wyrm with red markings) just happened to have a lot in the general region i do most of my worldbuilding in (the two of Kosa is here, the Ama plains, other areas etc). That means werewolves are pretty common here, and have spread elsewhere from here, but other areas and regions have their own different population densities of werewolves and other 'beastified servant' type monsters.

Onozar isn't open about it, his faces are now very different to how he looked back in the day (aka the face on the werewolf masks) and he has very purposefully put his past behind him. Yes he did terrible stuff and was essentially a magical dictator once upon a time. But that was so long ago and he was punished for it so as far as he's concerned he's done with it and the werewolves are unrelated to him (and if somebody else brings it up omg you're all so obsessed with the past, don't you know people grow and change?? it was NORMAL to have slaves back then okay it was just part of the culture and it's honestly really suspicious and hurtful that you would bring this up to attack him at a time like this, and-)

Revelation was not a big shot among wizards. It had servants yes but not so many that they became their own species of monster (many of the monsterifications were chosen as a form of dramatic irony based on the individual person's personality). I still have to design a bunch of other monster types but I'll say yes they were probably hit harder than they should have been, everybody in and around Revelation's tower were made An Example.

It's a little easier to scapegoat the guy who has no real influence and no real friends in this social circle ain't it

He's only good at killing crawling beasts lol, that's partially why king harpies evolved after all - to fight and kill the crawlers, which are very strong but not very fast. His type eat mainly rabbits and hares, and he tends to be not quite fast enough to consistently catch them himself, the much swifter and smaller cobs and pens take care of that (he still runs far faster than a human tho, he's had some luck catching antelopes if he gets close enough before the chase). He is part of a flock, he just kinda... drifted away from living with the others, splitting his attention between Revelation and his other duties. Like many kings he's fighty and opinionated, with the added assurance of a creature that knows it's too big and strong to fall prey to... pretty much everything else. He enjoys art and beautiful things and has happily worked in alliance with the local wolfmen packs in the past in return for some of their dye products.

So his flock is a multi-type coalition between a collection of eyries (or whatever word I'll use for the small harpy settlements that form under the banner of a single flock). He's not the all-king of the flock, but he is the king of the terror bird types. The other types within the flock are all ground-nesting but not necessarily flightless harpies. His eyrie has about thirty individuals living there and he had three tiercels (not including Revelation). Revelation didn't kill all his flockmates but it did quietly disappear his other tiercels at some point. I need to do a little more work on them but yea

These different characters actually represent different time periods in the setting (the guy, Ambrose, is from the 1600s, while Mikalai and Cuinn come from the 1800s!). I think the whole thing with Revelation is much earlier, going for a more medieval look with those guys. It means that Revelation's march is technically just a part of history for Cuinn and the rest of them :) The world didn't end. But it DID change (.... not many wyrms around these days, anymore, i wonder what happened to them...)

[box-off]

ok do it talk about tf2 and postal

You asked for it.

Okay, let's start with tf2. Tf2 is one of the best games EVER in my opinion, and it's not a really trustworthy one, but it's an opinion. I love everything from character design to the community to the game itself. The comics which make me want to explode from how well the character design goes both for 3d and 2d, and the silly world that the characters live in. It's like some kind of wonderland, but it's made for a fps gamer. The first thing that made me interested in tf2 was my friend talking about it, he sent me the "Meet the spy" video and a fan made animation. I remember seeing it and thinking "Wow, those guys look cool", and when I started learning more I REALLY wanted to play as scout (who I still main to this day). I obviously knew about tf2 before but never got too interested in it. But when I started playing oh wow it sucked me in. Tf2 made me have a big standard for character design, thanks to tf2 I never watched Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss (no matter how hard my friends tried to make me watch it), because oh how distracting those designs were for me. Whenever I think about good character design it's the tf2 mercs, they made me realize that the characters don't have to have 300 cool guns on them to point at the character and say "THIS GUY IS COOL!", you can make simple characters that are still catchy and easy to remember and recognize, and even get to understand their main purpose from just a glance. It's even better to make them simple in some cases! (In general valve games have good designs, but tf2 stands out a lot, at least for me). The game itself always makes me feel good, surprisingly it can be relaxing if you don't get too into the competitive mood and have the luck to get normal teammates. Yes, I might be a casual player, but I'm free. Don't get me started on the amount of playing styles tho. I'm not really good at them, I always go with scout, hop around and do my shit. I do play medic in MvM tho, I just really like to have a huge shield and be like "I'll protect you", idk, it's probably the furry alpha wolf speaking in me. But in normal game, oh what a blessing it is sometimes to have a really skilled demoknight, or a good rocket jumper in your team. Or a good spy who saves the day when the engineers build their nest right over the corner, or a medic that manages to heal everyone and not die 100 times in the process. I barely talk in chat in the game (because it's distracting), but know that if you play good and I'm in your team I'm thanking you constantly in my mind. Let me add that I joined the fandom when the bots where still there so I played with them a lot. Now that this is getting fixed it's even more fun! But I managed to fall in love with this half broken game and I'm sorry, that's a big fucking gold medal for a game, if it can still pull fans while being abandoned (hopefully that changes, but it's still impressive).

Now about Postal. I am edgy. Let me be real, if you saw my art you can probably tell that I do like myself some guts and blood from time to time. And I like humor, I like to laugh, to chuckle, to snicker if you will. So me liking Postal was just a matter of time. First game I played was Brain Damaged, and oh boy, the humor was good (even tho some things I missed because I didn't play the other games). As I got deeper into other games I was so IN. Those games are just so much FUN. I like fps games if you couldn't tell, and this? This is the fps game ever, it has some fun stuff to do, you of course can shoot, you can just walk around and explore in postal 2 and 4, and it's worth it! I love exploring those games, they always have some silly stuff here and there. And what they did well in Postal 4 is that they made you explore, they hid dolls, gnomes and all that stuff all over the map, and you can explore it, not just because, but you can actually get something for it. And let me be honest, Postal Dude? Hot. He's hot, and as a dirty stinky gay man myself I appreciate the representation. But jokes aside, HE'S A GOOD CHARACTER. I love him, it's interesting to watch what he does, to hear what he says, in all the games btw, yes, even postal 3. The character design again? Really well done. Postal Dude is simple, Postal Dude is cool, he's not your stereotypical "Cool guy who kills people with huge armor on" or "The buff guy who fights everyone with bare hands" (except Shtopor, that guy is fucking RIPPED.) When I look at Doomguy? I think "Damn, you're cool." when I look at Postal Dude?? I think "Damn man, you're probably stink", and you know what? THAT'S THE CHARM OF THIS CHARACTER. He sucks! You know where he sucks even more than in the game? The movie, and you have NO IDEA how much I love it. The movie is bad, like, not just because "it doesn't represent the characters as they are in the game" but because it's a bad movie. Just as a movie it's not really well done. But! I still love it. It's a movie that is fun to watch with your friends, you laugh at how bad it is, you just have a blast, at least me and my friends did. And I have the bluray disk, so I have the behind the scenes and all that cool stuff, and you know what? It made me like this shit even more. I really wish I could play more Postal with people, and not just that, I'm also waiting for Postal 4 co-op, and some of my friends getting the game as well. Because in my opinion Postal is that type of game that has to be shown to your friends in a "Hey guys, look at this stupid game I found, isn't it so random??" way. I talked a lot about Postals funny part, yes, but I do have to also mention that Postal 1 is rally good. And yes, postal redux is just Postal 1 with a bit better graphics, but I do like it in a way (mainly because of the better quality of the loading screens, because those are just so good. I really like the artistic part of this game). Funny postal? It's good, I love funny postal. But without creepy postal there wouldn't be some stuff in the funny postal that we like so much. Other Dude? The head wound making everything look strange? I don't really think we would have that in newer postal games without postal 1!

[cheemken]

Y'know what,, have some lil hcs abt Regulus and An-An bc I saw art abt them and y'all don't know how quick I get attached to crack ships and rare pairs

Anyways

•Horror movie marathons w the gfs, do you see my vision when I say Regulus canNOT handle horror movies, girl fucking hates it lmfao

-An-An tho? Loves them, has posters of her fave horror movies in her room that's why Regulus always insists they'd hang out in her own room instead of An-An's

-real tho, An-An purposely picks the movies w jumpscares in it bc she knows Regulus would cling to her when she gets scared. Bonus points she'd end up teasing her how weak she was w horror movies lmfaooo

•joyrides

-pls, Regulus is an absolute speed demon w her lil vespa, it's honestly surprising how fast it could go. An-An is the only one who can really tolerate and handle the fact Regulus has no concept of a speed limit

-but also it's cute bc it's also the same art that got me to ship them here look

-also it'd be fun if Regulus drives her to the haunted sites An-An discovered. She wouldn't join ghost hunting tho, girl would cry fr edit: y'know the more I think abt it, I think An-An wouldn't let her join sometimes bc she knows Regulus would have beef w the ghosts lmfao

•Regulus would ask An-An if she'd still love her if she was a worm, SHE WOULD

-i have this concept that Regulus pulled in Schneider and Sonetto on that, just a lil prank y'know, to see if their partners would say yes or not

-surprisingly enough, only Matilda passed the vibe check lmfaooo

-Vertin walking down the hall after Schneider kicked her out and saw An-An on her knees banging at the door of Regulus' room going "Reggie, baby, I'm sorry! I swear I'll still love you if you were a worm!"

-guess Vertin isn't the only one sleeping on the couch tonight

•attention whore Regulus is so real and dear to me you don't understand, like An-An working on her blog? Hah, best bet Regulus will sit on her lap till she has her full attention

-sometimes just to fuck w her, An-An wouldn't even look at her lmfao, she thinks it's cute when Regulus gets all pouty

•An-An saw Regulus try out her red/green shades* once and she hasn't recovered since, her girl was so cute in her shades holy shit

-she let's Regulus wear it more often

•imagine APPLe giving An-An the shovel talk tho😭

-just this tiny floating apple trying to act tough and serious to a person ten times his size lmfao

-but also him crying bc augh his daughter is growing up and now she has a gf and she's gonna leave the nest soon and he starts bawling

-An-An had to calm him down

•this makes me wanna write abt them now ough,,

[celestie0]

Hallo, hello again Ellie🩷✨!

I hope I’m not spamming you with my messages or something like that (if I am pls tell me)).

To your answer, I would never criticise or bash you about soccer ruler, swear to it🫡. Ngl I literally don’t know half of the rules in soccer. I’m just happy when the ball hits the nest Imao. I am learning some rules through the games but it does take me some time cause I’m lazy and a bit stupid😅.

But through all of this it got me thinking, for which team or club would kick off Gojo cheer.?

In UEFA I was thinking he would be for Spain, Germany or England🤔 Or also Portugal cause they have Ronaldo in it Imao

But for clubs was so difficult cause from my point of view I could see him rooting for Real Madrid but also Bayern Munich or Manchester United😅😅.

Hope you are enjoying your stay in Italy)! The food there was always bomb, so I hope you are having the best Italian food that they could serve you))!!

And relax as much as possible🩷

hiii baby omg no i love your messages sm ty for sending me them!! 😭💕

LOL JUST BEING HAPPY WHEN THE BALL HITS THE NET is so real…that’s all i know of soccer hahahha. it’s sooo hard to learn sports rules tho fs it’s like when someone tries to explain board games rules to you and you’re just like 😨 huh??

i could see him rooting for spain yea!! since i’ve hc that him n choso studied abroad in spain for a bit, n they also played in an underground tourney there, he probs could have some affiliation to them!! and maybe not portugal bc he is a messi fan 🤣🤣

bb idk what the clubs are but imma TAKE YO WORD FOR IT!! HELLA YEA HE LOBES THE REAL MADRID 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼😤😤😤

thanks my looove omg you’’re so cute n sweet <33 yes the food here is fuckin amazing esp considering italian cuisine is just one of my faves in general. like you can really taste the difference although my stomach is suffering a lil from all the cheese 🤣

hope you’re taking care bb n stay hydrated!! hot temperatures all around the globe rn 😓 much love from meee <33

[fluffypotatey]

Mk hcs

ok so sorry, anon, i couldn’t reply to this last night bc i saw this when the clock struck for epic’s livestream. so this is why i saved you for today <33333

chronic people pleaser (just watch 1x02) and his hero complex has NOT helped that

(Pigsy clocks that shut in real quick but thinks “well maybe his mentor the Monkey King— of whom i am not jealous of, Mei, that’s a ridiculous statement, i am a hardworking demon busy with my shop— will help MK with that.” and then turns out the Monley Ling goes on “vacation” and MK is spiraling too quickly for Pigsy to catch up and isn’t allowing Pigsy or any of his friends to breach in)

abandonment issues is he :3

all he’s known since he was young was that Pigsy found him. he knows that normal people have parents which must mean he has them—had them? no. MK never likes thinking about too hard— but as far as he’s known, no one has searched for him, no old missing posters of him……was he truly so burdensome to be thrown away?

MK takes a lot of things spoke to him at face values

swk’s “the problem is you, kid” in 1x01 when he was trying to teach MK that belief is his strongest adversary in accessing his powers and controlling them, for example

(what the FUCK is up with that btw. lmk what is your magic system???? i know it’s one of those things that SWK says a lot to MK and it must be true but like, if I’m being honest, SWK has been using magic way too long so the point that it’s like breathing for him. it’s like SWK is saying “to breathe you just…breathe!” and when MK asks “how do i physically breathe?” SWK goes “well, you breathe in….then out!” like oh yeah, that solves it!

anyway, another example is Pigsy’s constant shouting. none of his words are meant to be taken literally bc it’s all empty threats and emotional constipation (like look at Tang smiling all goofy while Pigsy blows a fuse. this guys knows Pigsy’s full of shit exploits that like the husband he is)

so yeah. MK cannot take things with a grain of salt

BUT HE IS LEARNING

slowly

BUT LEARNING

and this is Macky’s fault for being explicitly full of shit after revealing his betrayal to MK in 1x09 and then proving it again in 2x07

like in the s3 special? MK has learned now and calls Macky out on it and then again in 4x10 :D so, he’s slowly getting there

MK totally believed Pigsy and Tang were married for at least a decade

mei about freenoodles when her and MK just became friends: “are they always like that?”

MK: “yep! just don’t ask them about it. they get weird about it and too self aware”

being the son of a chef and foodie, MK does have a non-picky palette but with standards

he is horribly biased tho but for good reason

baby MK LOVED climbing everything and everyone and made constant nests on Pigsy’s head (Tang has an album of photos specifically for this)

anything else i say might tread on lmk s5 spoilers so I’ll stop now

[kurjakani]

FOR THE CHARACTER ASK THING!!!!! Im quite curious about your peter lucas thoughts, whats goin on with that old man?

SEND ME A CHARACTER AND I’LL DO THIS;

PHEW THANK YOU I LOVE TALKING ABT THIS MAN. I'm gonna say. I definetly have a bit of a version of him in my head - it's been ages since I listened to MAG and he's kind of taken a life of his own. Also sorry i got so rambly here man i. Ill b real im lik3 right abt to fall asleep but i got exited abt him so here i go nevertheless..m

Sexuality Headcanon: HMM like. Bi. I dont think i can imagine him call himself that tho.

Gender Headcanon: old man. Like thats a part of his gender identity, being old.

A ship I have with said character: w MEEEE. My mag self insert. Lol. But yeah i am not that into the lonely eyes ship, just. Bc i do not care abt Elias all that much! I don't know many ships that include him otherwise. I haven't seen mary keay and plukas shipping but I'd love to. Idk. Awful vibes i think it could be great. Salesa maybe??? But I feel like its more like. Plukas likes looking at Salesa and Salesa kinda forgets hes even there sometimes.

A BROTP I have with said character: martin please. Please martin hang out w him tricking him into thinking ur getting more into the lonely but ur actually occupying his space and u are drifting away from the lonely TOGETHER. Also if u guys have heard the tim & plukas behind the scenes jokes abt cayacking and train documentaries. Yeah that too theyre """"buddies""""

A NOTP I have with said character: haven't come across anything that bothers me !

A random headcanon: i am really split on weather he barely eats or if he's like, a lowkey foodie. Idk why.

General Opinion over said character: For me I do view him as someone HURT by his loneliness, though in the show, if I recall right, he seems quite content? With his existance. Or says he is, and how he's drawn to it.

I will say- I partially mirror some of my own experiences of loneliness onto him. I was so afraid of opening up to people at one point that I convinced myself that I WANTED to be all alone. I used to want to move into a little cottage in the woods and cut off all contact to people. But it was a self destructive coping mechanism. At points a survival mechanism. Maybe canonically Peter Lukas is a reliable narrator?

I recall him talking about the warm glow coming from the windows of houses though, and the loneliness it made him feel- if i'm attributing this right. And i have a really hard time contributing that to anything but YEARNING. And reveling in yearning. I also have experience w that. Yearning is a DELIGHTFUL feeling.

So yeah I think I do find a lot of comfort in the version of Plukas I have in my head.

Honestly he's burrowed a little nest into my head abd become something beyond a little blorbo from my shows.

Like i have thought about marrying him as a performance art piece. But i dont think rustied featherpen would like that.

Anyways hes the hands. I reach out to the old hands with swelled joints and paper thin skin almost translucent yet the palest veins i ever did see like they'v been drained. Bro. He is the medival manuscript where the sun orbits the earth and that's his eyes and where they land on me. He is so far away and like honey 2 me bro

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 4: The Griever

The Lord of the Rings : Multishot

Samwise Gamgee x Reader

Word count: 6138

Warnings: 😢 talk of grief and loss. 💙 slight depression. 🥰 love. 🥰 love. 🥰 love.

Request: “Could I request a multishot with samwise gamgee x reader and sam has always had a crush on her, but on their journey he realizes she's even better than he imagined her to be (like when you stop crushing but actually fall in love)” @the-narnian-sea​

A/N: I’ve skipped Caradhras, the mines of Moria, and the river Anduin

Part 3: The Heroine

Part 4: The Griever {You Are Here}

Part 5: 

S.R. 1395

The sun was beginning to sink below the grassy hills of the Shire, warming the hobbit holes with the orange summer night air. Little (Y/N), not yet old enough to be considered a tween, was stretching her fingers towards the warm orange glow.

Her not so little hobbit feet were directed towards the distant tree line, a rust colored leather and linen pack across one shoulder.

She was quite determined this time. This time she meant it. She was going to run away – for real. The trees sang for her with their shimmering leaves made golden by the setting sun. The nimble squirrels and clever foxes called to her with their scurrying steps. The wild berries, round and bright, begged to be picked and eaten.

There was absolutely, positively, no way she was going to chicken out and return home within a fortnight. Not like the other four times.

She felt her steps become lighter as she neared the forest edge, excitement making her feel as weightless as a cloud. She audibly giggled, “I wonder if the owls have still nested in the great northern oak,” she muttered to herself.

The forest meant she could discuss these serious matters aloud without the fear of pointed ears searching for tavern gossip.

“Surely they’ve protected my stash of poisonous arrows.” She flounced as the crickets began to speak to her in turn, as if she adorned one of her mother’s custom hobbit dresses instead of the trousers she stole from Merry’s dresser.

“Poisonous arrows?” boomed a voice, “I had no idea you were so skilled in such alchemy.”

(Y/N) became stiff, choking on her own giggle. She tilted her head and slowly trailed her eyes up, up, up… to Gandalf.

The bearded old man smiled, blue eyes twinkling, “On the hunt for Wargs, no doubt.”

She began to smile sheepishly, “Master Gandalf…”

“I see you’ve come prepared.” He nudged her leather pack with the end of his staff, “An attempt to run away?”

“No!” she said loudly, “I… I just went to pick some summer berries for my mother’s jam. She’s been preparing the jars all day.”

Gandalf gave a gruff, “Humph,” as his staff poked further and lifted the pack flap. Just on the surface was a checkered cloth of bread and cheese and a set of flint and steel, tied together with string.

“Do you need a fire to prepare these summer berries?”

(Y/N) added rosy cheeks and downcast eyes to her sheepish face. “Did my parents send you?”

“No, my dear,” Gandalf said warmly, “I was merely on a stroll myself.”

“Are you going to take me home?”

The wizard scratched at his beard as if blind to the young hobbit’s embarrassment. “I don’t see a reason why. I would hate to disturb such a beautiful evening by escorting an excellent forester to reprimanding parents.”

(Y/N) tucked a bundle of crazed hobbit curls behind her ear, hopeful eyes returning to the old man, “I quite agree, Master Gandalf.”

“Wonderful,” he said, planting his staff forward, “Then I would like to invite you on my stroll into the woods.”

Her head perked, “I would be delighted!” And she bounced alongside his considerate pace. “I thought for sure my plans were dashed.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Gandalf said, leading the way as the sky darkened from lavender to indigo. “But now that we are on our way, I would inform you of a splendid clearing just ahead, nestled in a grove of trees.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to catch the wizard’s face, “Is that so?”

“Perhaps we could put that flint and steel to good use?”

“I thought you could conjure fire with your magic.”

Gandalf concealed a warming chuckle, “I have lit the occasional smoking pipe, it is true. But a young forester learns nothing by watching a wizard use magic.”

Little (Y/N) and Master Gandalf then spent the majority of the night in the beforementioned clearing between the trees. (Y/N) showed the wizard how she fashioned crooked arrows from fallen sticks. Gandalf taught her to blow through a blade of grass to produce a whistle.

The pair of them gathered kindling for a small fire beneath the canopy of leaves and starlight. (Y/N) attempted to create a spark large enough to set the dry grasses aflame, but after a few attempts Gandalf sent a concealed spell that made the wood smolder and light instantly.

He didn’t say anything as (Y/N) turned to him positively beaming, “I did it!”

“That you did, my dear,” he laughed, “That you did.”

They each told stories of their adventures – Gandalf’s considerably more grand with his talk of mountains and mines and the sea. Although, (Y/N)’s were far more enjoyable as she required the use of her entire body to describe exactly how large the fish was that pulled her into the Brandywine River.

Gandalf revealed a cloth bundle of his own that revealed a few sausage links and tomatoes. It sent (Y/N) down another imagined adventure where she was a famed chef of the most noble kingdoms of old. A traveling cloak she packed for the cold now tied around her waist, she prepared the food and handed a roasting stick to the wizard.

Feasting on smoked sausage, grilled tomatoes, and fresh bread, (Y/N) found herself falling dangerously close to sleep, her eyes becoming heavier and heavier.

Gandalf removed the cloth being used as a plate from her lap and sat closer in case she fell to her dreams. “I’ve enjoyed our evening together, Miss. (Y/N).”

She smiled, “I’m grateful I ran into you, Master Gandalf.”

He matched her smile, “Might I inquire of something, my dear?” At her tired nod he continued, “What prompted you to make such a journey to the wood?”

Searching for the words, she hummed. “Pervinca Took spread an awful rumor at the pond today.”

Gandalf arched a bushy eyebrow, “Your cousin?”

“Pippin’s older sister,” she said quietly, feeling the heavy effects of sleep, “She told everyone that the reason I’m so peculiar is because I’m not actually a hobbit at all. I am some halfling troll adopted into a generous hobbit family.”

Gandalf frowned, softly placing his arm around the young girl, “As you said, it is but a rumor. A form of trickery to satisfy ignorant and jealous feelings.”

“Pervinca’s jealous of me?”

“She doesn’t know how to have fun,” Gandalf tickled under her chin, and she squirmed with laughs, “And doesn’t know who she is, unlike yourself.”

“Who am I then, Gandalf?” She ended her squirming with nestling beside the old man, wrapped in the grey drapery of his cloak.

He watched her drift off to sleep, having stayed up too late for a child so young. “An excellent young forester and admirable companion. You are someone who is just beginning, yet wise beyond your years. I have no doubt that you’ll surpass the legends you create within your mind just as you have surpassed the expectations of the hobbits in this Shire.”

The old wizard sent another concealed spell of magic through the trees, requesting his waiting horse and wagon to appear. The wide expanse of the wagon filled with fireworks and other tinkering objects, Gandalf rose to carry (Y/N) to the riding bench up front.

He extinguished the fire and retrieved their supplies, giving an encouraging pat to the horse that waited so patiently when the wizard asked it to graze while he approached the wandering hobbit girl he spotted running to the woods.

They made a slow journey home, (Y/N) snug in Gandalf’s side. The old man returned to her parents, assuring them she was quite all right. He ensured her safety and peace of mind before escorting her to the hobbit hole.

They expressed their gratitude, but Gandalf merely waved them off and said, “She is a remarkable girl, that (Y/N). I look forward to the adventures we’ll have together.”

~~~

Present Day

Gandalf was a great deal many things to many people.

He was a disturber of the peace, wise councilman to all races, a mysterious traveler that peddled his fireworks, and a symbol of aid and magic.

But to (Y/N) he was her friend. A friend that spent many evenings distracting her from the ignorance and pity of the Shire through adventures in the wood and lessons of the world. Besides her family, her three cousins, and her scattered friendships with those like Samwise, Gandalf was of the few that was genuinely kind.

He was a gateway to outside the Shire – she adored and revered him.

Now he was gone.

The fellowship was somberly making their way towards the woods ahead, leaving the damnable remains of Moria behind. The only motivation to move was the fear of orcs and goblins daring to venture outside the sanctuary of their mines.

And to not shame Gandalf’s sacrifice to get them out.

(Y/N) lingered at the back of the group, scratching at the mixture of tears and earth smeared on her face. Dirt and coal and grime from beneath the mountain caked her knuckles and smudged her complexion.

It smelt of damp caves, coppery tangs, and death.

She dug in her pockets for a scrap of cloth to clean her face and relieve her of the horrid remnants of the mines. She found a square white handkerchief with the initials S.G. sewn in the corner with blue thread.

She rubbed at her eyes carelessly and rough, pulling the handkerchief away to see large blotches of black. She couldn’t make a sound as she cried, folding the dirtied cloth to a clean side and scrubbing at her chin and neck.

“Here.”

Her ruddy, blotched face found Samwise approaching, hand outstretched. The rest of the slow moving fellowship was venturing deeper into the woods.

(Y/N) bowed her head as she realized he was asking for the handkerchief. He retrieved the cloth and dampened it with his waterskin. Slowly and gently he used the wet corners to clean her face.

“We should stay close,” he said quietly, “I understand not wanting to be near the fellowship, but I don’t want you straying from my side.” He washed beneath her eyes and around her cheeks, “Please.”

She couldn’t reply, her throat strained from trying to contain her cries. She nodded instead, which seemed to lift Sam’s spirits. Boldly he offered his hand and ensured they both made it back to their companions.

He didn’t ask her to speak, only supported her sorrowful heart with his hand in hers.

The fellowship was quiet and heavy the following nights, recovering from their harrowing journey into the mines of Moria. With such a close scrape with death among everyone in the company, each member had a revigorated sense of their own mortality.

(Y/N) could see the realization within her boisterous cousins. Merry put on a brave face, but Pippin struggled to keep his cries quiet at night. (Y/N) had the suspicion that the burden of the Ring had put Frodo in this dark mindset before.

It seemed to only press Samwise to be more candid about his affections towards her. As if small confessions and the fear of loss caused him a new sense of protectiveness for (Y/N).

During another long night of troublesome sleep, (Y/N) found her eyes open at the sound of the lookout being switched.

“You’re the last,” came Boromir’s gruff, lowered tone. “You’ll be here til daybreak.”

Sam replied, “Thank you.”

It was now common that the sound of Sam’s wakeful voice stirred (Y/N) from her sleep. And this night was no different as she waited for Boromir to crash on his bedroll.  

She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and rose for the log that Sam was sitting upon. After a few nights of this routine, he wasn’t so surprised to see her shadow grow from behind. He kept himself busy with something in his pack.

“Good evening,” he said quietly.

She sat beside him, eyeing the small smoldering flames of the campfire. Her words were sparse these days.

Sam was simply happy with the fact she desired his company. He pulled a thickset book from his pack, full of fresh, stocky pages. Digging further, he extracted a corked bottle and a smaller booklet wrapped with a belt.

(Y/N) watched him with an expressionless face. Since the events with Gandalf and the near death of her cousins, her lips held a slight frown in the corners. Her eyes were duller and heavy lidded.

Her heart felt stuffed in a too small chest.

Sam opened the first few pages of his book and revealed flattened flowers, glued and labeled with his quick scrawl.

(Y/N) found a piece of her buried beneath the sticky grief of memories perk up with interest. Perhaps Sam was compiling a botanical journal of plants he’d found while on the journey. She strained her eyes to read what the labels were saying.

Turning to a clean page, Sam retrieved the smaller booklet, undoing the buckle of the belt holding it closed. It opened to a page of print, but also more flowers pressed until they were flat. He delicately moved the dried plants to the garden journal.

Opening the corked bottle, a brush was pulled out stringy and thick with glue. He painted a section of the page, laying the flowers as if a prized possession. He ensured to brush the entire plant with the glue, keeping it in place.

In the upper corner he glued buds of blossom pink and speckled white, crisp and crinkled with being dried and pressed. In the lower corner he glued a few wildflowers adorned with rough grasses and wide leaves.

He recorked the glue bottle and traded it for a feathered pen, finding ink to carefully write in a clear space.

“Since you miss your gardens.”

(Y/N) blinked, “Is this a gardening journal?”

Sam hid a soft smile, “No.” He laid the book open to allow time for the new entry to dry.

“Are those…” (Y/N) continued, “Are those flowers I’ve given you?”

“Over the years,” Sam replied.

She felt her lips quiver, perhaps a smile attempting to make an appearance. “I knew you were sentimental, Sam, but that takes dedication.”

He shrugged, “I told you I’ve been dancing with the idea of you for years.” He gave her a tentative look, “It feels nice to tell you that now.”

She had to turn away to hide the warming smile on her face, “I always had my suspicions.”

“Did you really?”

“Well, when you’re tripping over yourself every time you see me and can barely speak to me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with me.”

Sam drew in a deep sigh, “It was frustrating, is what it was. I couldn’t act like anything but a fool when you were around.”

She hummed thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t call you a fool. Twitterpated maybe.”

He nodded, “Twitterpated without a doubt. There’s always been something so enchanting about you.” His heart was quaking in his chest, but with his secret out in the open, speaking didn’t seem as impossible. “Gave me a silly crush.”

“Merry teased me about it when we were younger,” she mused, feeling the darkness of the past few days fade away, “Called me a damsel in need of a prince. He would joke that your nervous state was only ever when I was around. It sometimes made me think you didn’t like me.”

“Heavens, no,” he chuckled, “It was because I liked you too much.”

The seedlings growing in her heart had stretched into tall green stalks and broad leaves. They quivered at Sam’s tender words.

“I wish we could’ve explored it while still in the Shire.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, “Though I agree making something official now would make the journey more difficult… I hope my being candid in my affections isn’t overstepping.”

(Y/N) gazed at the glowing embers between them, a soft smile adorning her face, “In truth it makes me more determined to complete the mission and return home.”

Sam made an effort to contain the earsplitting grin trying to overtake his face. “I hope I didn’t imagine those words.”

She reached a hand over and placed it on his wrist, “Sam, I would be amiss to say I haven’t wished something more than friendship between us.” She grinned to see the wonder light in his eyes, “I’m glad to be here with you, Sam.”

He grabbed her hand between his and pressed a kiss there. “I’m going to ensure you’re by my side the remainder of this journey. I’ve got to make sure we return home together.”

~~~

Having ventured deep into the surrounding grey wood, elven friends found them quickly. Under the rule of the queen of Lothlorien, these elves led the fellowship to the heart of their forest.

The colors seemed to dim to sage and grey, somehow sparkling in the dull glow of the ancient magic of the elves. It was slow and peaceful and steady. (Y/N) could feel every beat of her heart and every breath enter her body.

Mighty Mallorn trees grew taller and thicker than all the others. Those of Lothlorien hollowed out the trunks and resided there. Small, rounded windows spiraled up the home trees, revealing candlelight and birdsong.

An elven leader, Haldir, led them to the inner city. Pale walls adorned in green, and silver sheltered them from the soft light of the sun.

It was put to shame by the entrance of the queen, the Lady Galadriel. She floated down the main staircase, a shimmering droplet of starlight descending from the heavens. She radiated elegance with every step.

(Y/N) found herself bowing her head without a prompt.

Another elf, grave and beautiful, spoke first, “Nine there are, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him.”

A hand squeezed (Y/N)’s heart.

Galadriel turned her piercing eyes from Frodo to (Y/N). “He has fallen into shadow,” she spoke quietly to her husband. She sought more answers in (Y/N)’s face and saw the dark blue rings beneath her eyes – the sunken state of her cheeks.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. You are guests here and will be treated as such.” Her mouth continued to move, but it didn’t match the words that (Y/N) heard in her head.

Galadriel was now speaking within her mind. Her hand jumped into Sam’s on instinct.

“Hello, forester. Spirit of the wood. I see your grief. I see it eating at your being.” The crystal blue of her eyes peered down at the hands of Sam and (Y/N) together. “I see your heart. It seeks comfort. Please find rest and reprieve in my home.”

(Y/N) blinked a few times before giving a simple nod. Sam squeezed her hand.

As if they’d always been there, an elf maiden motioned for (Y/N) to follow her. Making an effort to keep hold of Sam’s fingers until the last second, she whispered a farewell and followed her guide.

She was taken to one of the spiraling tree trunks, the soft white gold light of fireflies lighting their path. She was surprised to be given an entire bedchamber and ensuite washroom all to herself.

“Does this seem adequate to serve your needs?” the elf maiden asked quietly.

“More than adequate,” (Y/N) mumbled, sinking in on herself. “Where are my companions?”

“They have their own quarters,” the elf said, making her way to the washroom, “The Lady Queen thought it appropriate to give you your own room. Weeks in the wilderness with nine men seems a worthy enough reason for a girl to receive special attention.”

(Y/N) snorted, “How very gracious of her.”

But her heart yearned with a sudden pain of the moments she’d grown to love with Sam in the middle of the night when he took his turn on lookout. There wouldn’t be any need for that there.

“There are hot natural pools where we secure bathwater,” the elf maiden returned from the washroom. “Please take your time. You are free to anything in this room. I won’t disturb you until morning.”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what else to say other than, “Thank you,” before she was left alone in the large, decorous room. At the sound of a bath she suddenly felt every inch of grime on her like never before.

It was a wonder that Sam still felt affection for her with the awful state she was probably in.

Slowly, as if every step was a heavy weight that required immense effort, she walked into the washroom. It was refined with pale green and silver grey. A large, wooden bathtub resided near a window with the most magnificent view of the pearly forest.

As if the tree grew in that manner, branches circled the tub, like a bird nest securing hot water. It provided a bench of sorts for support and shelving for tasteful bottles. Not the ceramic and clay bottles of the Shire, but colored glass adorned with gold.

Picking one up, (Y/N) uncapped it to smell a beautiful concoction of strawberry and vanilla. Her mind was drawn back to the famous strawberries and cream from her home.

She promptly dumped the whole bottle into the bath.

Steam billowed as the water was mixed with the milky pink soap. It bubbled where she poured.

She relieved herself of the dirty, stained clothes she’d worn the entire journey and folded them neatly on a bench cushion. And with a great sigh of relief, she slipped into the perfumed bathwater, feeling the heat instantly work at her tired feet and knotted shoulders.

It was quiet and warm and cleansing. Not just of the dirt coating her body, but of her mind. It was like taking care of herself in that moment reminded her of a time before the darkness of Gandalf’s demise – the fear of almost losing not just her life, but of those around her.

It might have been one hour, it might have been many, but as she scrubbed her skin clean with strawberry suds there was a definite lift in her mood.

She found a long sleeved pearlescent nightgown to wear as she grabbed a comb to untangle her unruly hobbit curls. Nails polished with soap and skin dewy with berry creams and lotions, (Y/N) found herself drifting to bed on a dream cloud.

The mattress was feathered and cool with silken sheets. The pillow was even more wonderful as she sunk her face into its down stuffing.

And she drifted off instantly – exhaustion and grief pulling her eyelids close.

It was the soundest she had ever slept. Although still missing the hour when she could awaken to steal precious moments alone with Samwise.

True to her word, the elf maiden didn’t return until late the next morning. (Y/N) peacefully woke from the deepest of slumbers to a platter of meats, cheeses, and fresh fruits. Silken in the white lace dressing gown, she rolled off the bed to reach the platter by the window.

Plucking a grape she heard the door open to reveal the elf maiden. She brought with her a silver trimmed dress, fashionable to the elves of Lothlorien. It glittered like starlight on a smoky-grey sky.

“I don’t normally wear dresses,” she said quietly.

The tall elf smiled warmly, “I did notice the trousers.” She laid the fabric over her arm, so it shimmered, “But I assure you that trousers are not needed for your stay. Enjoy your time out of the wilderness with a few luxuries.”

(Y/N) smiled, eyeing the dress with a sudden heat in her stomach. The last time she admired a dress was one her mother had handsewn for Uncle Bilbo’s party. The lake water dress.

Strawberries in her hair and vanilla on her skin, she felt the desire to wear the dress. Taking a step outside of her life gave her that reprieve she sought.

“Very well,” she said, “I’m all yours.”

An hour later (Y/N) found herself descending the tree woven staircase, ashen branches guiding her steps. She had been away from the fellowship – and Sam – for longer than she ever had since the journey started.

And now she missed them.

“Bloody hell!”

She turned towards the dining hall to find Merry and Pippin.

“What happened to you!” Merry chortled, “You look like a flake of snow.”

(Y/N) looked down at her shimmering silver dress, “Compliments of our host.”

“I’m amazed,” Pippin said, wide-eyed, “It usually takes the fury of your mother to have you put on some skirts.”

“Never understood it,” Merry said, frowning at the volumes of fabric, “How are you supposed to climb any trees in that getup?”

“My thoughts precisely,” (Y/N) said, hands on her hips, “But might as well enjoy a few comforts while we’re resting.”

Merry’s nose started twitching, “Is that you?”

(Y/N) pouted her lip, lifting her arm to smell her wrist, “Orange blossoms?”

“Incredible.” Merry shook his head in wonder, “They’ve turned you into a girl.”

She punched him in the shoulder, “I was always a girl, you dingbat.”

Pippin was still trying to wrap his head around it, “Whatever happened – you’re beautiful, (Y/N).”

“The proper response,” she replied, glaring at Merry, “Thank you, Pip.” She continued on her way, following the path the elf maiden said led to the other guest quarters.

“Oh, I don’t suppose you wanted a spot of second breakfast?” Pippin called out.

Merry laughed heartily, “She didn’t come down to visit us.” He raised his brows, folding his arms, “She’s going to see Sam.”

“Sam?” Pippin muttered, “Well, he can come to breakfast too.”

“No, Pip,” Merry said exasperatedly, “She fancies him. Wants to show him her pretty new dress.”

Pippin gasped, “Well, I’ll be…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” (Y/N) said, “I don’t want to show off the dress.”

Merry shared Pippin’s gasp, more dramatically, “But you confess to fancying him.”

She put a hand to her temple, “I would say so, but I’d fear you choke on the next breath you’d take.”

“I knew there was something suspicious about how close you two have gotten.”

“Has he said anything?” Pippin inquired, leaning in as if the biggest secret was being discussed. “Has he stated his intentions?”

She flickered her eyes between the two cousins before nodding.

“Has he really?” Merry laughed, “Wasn’t sure he had it in him – I’ve only been teasing you both about it since we were children.”

“You’re insufferable,” (Y/N) sighed, “I’ll meet you all for teatime.”

After a couple winding hallways, she found herself at a stone gazebo, vines of rose buds climbed the columns. A bench sat in the center and supported the figure of Sam gazing over the railing at the ashen grey forest, glittered with white firefly light.

She went for the couple stone steps, thinking of sneaking up on him. But in a thunderous turn of events she stepped on the hem of her dress, falling to her knees with an “Ahmph!”

“(Y/N)!?”

She started giggling, a rosy, red color blooming on her cheeks and across her nose. “If I ever needed another reason to never wear a dress again…”

Sam ran around the stone bench to reach her side, “Are you all right?” He took her hands and guided her to a standing position.

“Other than my pride, yes I’m fine.” She laughed a dazzling laugh. “I came to find you.”

But it appeared that Sam was at a loss for words. His eyes were wide, and (Y/N) couldn’t tell if he was terrified or surprised – perhaps a bit of both. His lip started to quiver as if he was trying to get a word out, and his hands were becoming limp around her own.

“Sam?”

“You… you’re…”

She widened her gaze expectantly, “Yes?”

He took a deep breath and broke out in smiles and giggles, “You smell of strawberries.”

She started giggling too, “Goodness, I thought you’d forgotten how to work your voice.”

“Strawberries and cream,” Sam said merrily. He lifted her hands to his lips and closed his eyes, humming, “Orange and florals?” he smiled brilliantly, “You smell of home.”

She squeezed his hands, “The service here is immaculate.”

He pulled her towards the stone bench, a hand on her lower back and eyes on her feet to ensure she didn’t trip again.

“(Y/N), you look like a star,” he whispered, “How did you manage that?”

She pulled on the collar of her shimmering gown, showing the blush blossoming down her neck. “I assure you I had nothing to do with it. These elves know a thing or two about living high society.”

He sat beside her, mesmerized by the sight of her. “You’re positively breathtaking,” he laughed, “As made evident just moments ago.”

She smiled, brushing a shiny curl behind her ear. “I missed you last night.”

It was quiet for a few moments before Sam replied, “I missed you too.” He just couldn’t take his eyes off her, “I dreamt of you instead.”

“Did you?” she wrapped her arms around his, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Just the usual.”

“The usual?” she giggled.

He continued his gaze of the surrounding forest, “We’re sitting in a garden I planted for you. I say something that made you laugh. You press a kiss to my cheek. And I wake with a pounding in my chest.”

She hummed, “Sounds like those dreams are going to give you an affliction of the heart.”

“That’s right,” he mused, turning his head to speak into her hair, “I’ve become lovesick.”

“How terrible,” she played along, “Is it curable?”

“It’s chronic,” he sighed, “It will be an ailment I have for the rest of my life.”

She tilted her head up, “Perhaps there are ways to alleviate the symptoms.” And she pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

He smiled wide, cheeks as red as his hair. “I do believe that helped.”

~~~

The fellowship stood before the queen of Lothlorien, clean and refreshed for the next part of their journey. The young hobbits were all clad in dull green cloaks, fastened by an enchanting, forged leaf. And each were being given special gifts.

Crystal phials, little daggers, and charmed elven rope.

When it came to (Y/N)’s turn, the queen placed a delicate hand on her shoulder, guiding her to a private corner of the entrance hall.

Back in soil colored trousers and a tunic the shade of old parchment, (Y/N) truly looked like a creature of the earth beside a twinkling elven star.

“The journey you take is treacherous,” the queen said quietly, as to not be heard by the surrounding company. “But it is one that must be accomplished.”

(Y/N) nodded, “I’ve been told of the horrors possessed within the Ring. I do not take it lightly, my lady queen.”

She bowed her regal head, “Your cousin Frodo will not be able to take the Ring without help. He is alone with its torment, but he should not be alone in guidance.” She moved her crystalline eyes towards the fellowship, “The companion, Samwise… he will be sorely needed by the end.”

“Sam means a great deal to all of us.” The conversation was putting an uneasy feeling within (Y/N)’s stomach.

Galadriel returned her gaze, “Yes, I knew as much.” She cupped her hands together as if to summon something, “There will be a time when you take your separate paths.”

(Y/N)’s brow became furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You are meant to go your own way,” Galadriel smiled, but no warmth came from her. “In the distant future. But the companion Samwise will need strength as he cares for the ringbearer.”

“Why would I leave to…”

Galadriel opened her hands and two pieces of crystal rested there, “He will need your love and support to get him through the lands of Mordor.”

The crystal, no bigger than a skipping stone, was translucent and full of little fissures and fractures. The lines cracked within the crystal took shape as a petaled flower. (Y/N) felt immediately drawn to it.

“In the days before Numenor,” Galadriel continued, “A star fell from the heavens, beautiful and great. It split in two along its journey, making it incomplete and vulnerable. Each fell to their own crater, devastating surrounding forests – but encasing themselves around the flowers beneath them.”

She lifted the crystals and revealed that each was melded to a silver chain. She extended them to (Y/N), who felt hesitant to accept the gift.

“Though separated by a perilous journey, the pair never lost contact with each other. There is an ever constant link between the two. Should one be held and whispered to, the other will grow warm and empowering.”

(Y/N) finally took the crystals and felt an instant weight in her hand – a comforting weight like a hug. For the oddest reason she felt her chest fill with an inconsolable warmth, as if everything was going to be all right in the end.

“I feel something.”

Galadriel nodded, “It is their connection. Both pieces of the same star, they’re destined to be together. That is a great comfort to them; to not be alone in the world.”

“You speak as if stars have a conscious.”

“Perhaps they do,” the queen twinkled, “Give one to Samwise. There will come a time when he’ll need your empowerment. Hold the crystal close to your heart and he’ll feel it in moments of great peril.”

(Y/N) nodded, placing one crystal around her neck and tucking it down her tunic. It lay protective over her chest.

“Thank you, my lady. Thank you for your care and hospitality.”

“Farewell, dear forester. Keep your other half close.”

And (Y/N) had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t meaning the crystal halves.

Later as the fellowship approached the River Anduin, (Y/N) lagged at the back of the company, prompting Sam to do the same.

She untucked the crystal flower from around her neck.

Sam widened his eyes, “Where did you get that?”

“It was my gift,” she said, smiling, “I have one for you as well.” She drew the other from her pocket and stood on her toes to put it around Sam’s neck.

“What is it?” Sam questioned, picking the crystal up from his chest, “It… it feels warm.” He started to smile, and not purposefully.

(Y/N) smiled too, holding her crystal to her heart, “It’s a token of my love.”

Sam went still, but his eyes whipped to hers, “Hm?”

She spoke softly, trying to contain her widening smile, “I have it’s equal. They’re a bonded pair. Whatever is held in the one will be felt in the other.”

“And you are…?” he seemed edging on desperation to get to the base of the subject.

“Holding it with love,” she said, “Can you feel it?”

Sam swallowed, “I feel as if my heart might burst.”

“Again with the heart affliction,” (Y/N) laughed quietly, “If I had known loving you would cause you such danger…”

Sam was getting more and more frantic the longer she talked, “I… you – gracious…” he held the crystal tight on his chest, his face the epitome of beaming.

(Y/N) started to giggle, the crystal beneath her hand growing heavy and warm, coursing through her whole body until she ached with the sight of him. “Sam, are you trying to tell me something?”

Her head began to swim with airy thoughts of East Farthing roads and Party Tree dances, all while in the arms of Sam. Her chest was full of flower buds just beginning to bloom.

Sam was almost quaking with the ache of his heart. He was desperate to touch her. Desperate to hold her. His chest was blossoming into something great and irresistible, and it gnawed at him.

She loved him.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely, “For how long I could not say. But it is undeniable at this point.” He took a step towards her.

She took a shallow breath. “I’m not sure I can wait until the Shire for us to be together.”

“I thought it a silly notion to begin with,” Sam said almost breathless, raising his hands to cup her cheeks. “I don’t want to waste another second not declaring my love for you.”

She raised her own hand to cover one of his on her cheek. She remembered Lady Galadriel’s prediction that (Y/N) would eventually leave the fellowship for her own path. She did not think it possible to make such a decision with Sam at her side. He was leaning in closer, the heat of his face making hers warm.

It made the connection of their lips all the more searing.

~~~

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[alistairssock]

Neria is so funny bcz she took one look at Leliana and was like wow babygirl you are batshit off the rails insane, wanna join my merry band of delinquents? Only to later get all silly and mushy when Leli attempted A Flirt by complimenting her so untrusted crow's nest of a hair. Weirdos find a way (love edition)

Like Neria's not particularly religious by any means. She grew up in a mostly human-dominated village, tho be it a fair amount of diversity depite the size of it. Not many years later she gets sent to the Circle after her magic manifesting. Then at some point decided there are no gods of any shape or form or culture, or else they'd interfere by now and she wouldn't be there.

Lived a good chunk of her life with unprocessed trauma prior Circle life, in addition to Circle trauma as well. Got snatched up by Duncan as soon as the whole Situation with Jowan happened, and in her grief and hurt, she had no hesitation of getting out of there. Ideally Jowan had come along with her. And Anders (but she knew he'd manage somehow, his atrocities to authority were always a bit...more delicately handled than Jowan's stunt).

Somber and with a head buzzing like a thousand bees she followed Duncan all the way to Ostagar. There she met Alistair, who she found both peculiar and refreshingly earnest. The two bonded quickly and she found comfort in his presence, despite the hurdle that kickstarted their adventures together. She had insisted they both drank their share at the same time during the Joining ritual (despite Duncan protesting a little, he allowed them both a shot each).

Not long after, they stumbled across this Very Devout murder nun. Neria had come by crazier, but was wary a good while while travelling. Suspicion didn't exactly lessen when the met Zevran. But he was somewhat easier to accept. Had he tried to kill them? Yes. But was he a fanatically devout believer in this Shem god? No.

Soon after Morrigan joined the team and at that point Neria was just so accustomed to her outcast traveling companions, that a bog witch was nothing. She seemed nice enough, y'kno. Despite her hissing cat behaviour. Nothing she couldn't get used to.

For a while, it was only the five of them on the road. And it was nice. Depite the challenges. Despite the impending looming shadow that followed them, whispering at every convince that the world might end. The damn Blight.

Aside from that tho, Neria had never felt more free and at peace with herself. It was a learning curve, but she was finally allowed to figure more out of who she was as an individual. It was refreshing and new and exciting and wild and scary, all the same. If it wasn't for the stakes at hand, she'd prefer not to wear Warden outfits 24/7, but part of her also enjoyed the familiar uniformity. It was the only comforting memory from the Circle.

Neria picked up Leliana trying to flirt and hint that she had feelings for her. Not that it was anything new to her. She had had a few lovers back in the Tower, even multiple at the same time. Surprising how little the Templars guarding them payed attention at times, and it worked in her favour.

Leliana was a bit diffrent tho. Something she couldn't pinpoint drew her to her, and it didn't help she had a wonderful singing voice. And of course she was pretty too. Carried herself with such elegance and grace she'd only see in cats. And yet she knew what she was capable of, and that intrigued her no less.

It wasn't until they were about to enter Orzammar, and Leliana started babbling about her love for Nugs, that Neria had a few bangs of epiphanies. These budding feelings were real and they were about to spring into full bloom if she wasn't tactful. At the same time she didn't know why she was so hesitant. The rouge clearly had some feelings for her, and it wasn't like they hadn't had some vaguley romantic moments now and then.

But it was kinda hard too. Doing all this political stuff she was practically just flung into, and then supposed to make a relationship flourish. For a long time she didn't know how to do that. Until she brought back a Nug to camp and held it up to Leliana, and Leli leaned in to kiss it but crashed and the nut leaped out of her arms and her lips...met Neria's. That's when the deal was sealed. She was in love and so was her crush and it all just kinda flooded over her like a bucket of cold water. She allowed the kiss to last as long as it needed, before Leliana pulled back flustered and bewildered. The kiss had been nice, but it also caused Neria to bail and overthink things for a week in the Dwarven tunnels.

[reaperkaneki]

bf and i went thru the (5+ hours) demo for the new atlus game. it definitely is Persona/SMT5 But Like Very Fantasy, in a cautiously good way? like you can tell what gameplay elements worked in previous games that they chose to work into this setting. i do love me a job system with customizable characters! dunno how much i like this one yet, but we will see.

the UI is fantastic, btw, it's a silly thing to get hung up on but hey the graphics and animations are gorgeous. might be a bit busy. has a surprising number of animated cutscenes. character designs are kinda hit or miss but everything is worth it for the magic shopkeeper npc lady she's soooo. her outfit carries it.

the actual character writing i can't say yet. the story is uh. very rpg. fantasy racism is always hit or miss (usually a miss, and its feelin closer to a miss here) but its overall pretty standard. i felt like rolling my eyes a bit. good on them for making the fantasy elves physically strong rather than magically tho lol. much darker than i expected, bodycount wise. lotta blood, dead bodies on the street, people getting cut down. and racism, cant forget ppl shoutin insults at protag for existing while having flat ears and no horns. (you'd think they'd come up with some fantasy slurs....) kinda gratuitous imo. it also does the extremely lame thing of making the villain have a good point (tribal/racism bad, classism bad, people should be equal, maybe we shouldnt lynch dogpeople for looking at Not-Elves funny) and then completely undermining that point by like. having him be super mega evil. like yall. hes the antagonist. and he sucks, for personal reasons to the party. but hes also not wrong lmfao.

the most interesting element by far is the metanarrative and the one-way glass of the fourth wall. we, the player, are addressed directly. we are named, directly. the storybook world of utopia looks to be our world, but it can't be--we don't live in a utopia without discrimination (and i'll be real pissed if the game tries to play the real world as such). the giant, grotesque, surreal monsteries that evoke a profound sense of wrongness are humans, somehow, in a world without humans. the game itself? is a fantasy, a story, a metaphor. everything that happens is just a story, and the player is influencing it somehow. i am, unfortunately, a sucker for this shit. i love a nested narrative, or else a game that justifies its weird gameplay elements within its story. (average vn enjoyer and uchikoshi fan.) it is that specific thread that makes me interested in this game, even as i'm lukewarm on the actual fantasy story.

[raynbow0116]

Shatter Me part 4 of 4 I hope you enjoyed.

Finally they were out of Big Moms territory. Max looked around to see Chopper finishing treating Luffy’s wounds. Sanji had disappeared into the kitchen probably trying to cook for them. Ashlynn is in the crows nest on look out, and Nami is steering the ship. The brunette wanted nothing more than to go sit in the kitchen as she normally did but she was still so conflicted. So up to the crows nest she decides to go.

Once up and in she sees Ashlynn going at a punching bag. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” The brunette asks. “Nah I’m fine. What about you ? This has definitely been a journey,” the strawberry blonde says. “I’m just conflicted. “ Maxine confess. “Wanna spar?” Ashlynn suggest. Max nods and takes a stance. As they fall into the familiar dance of flying punches and kicks Ashlynn speaks up again asking the real questions,” so are you mad he just did it and left nothing more than a letter? Or are you mad he refused to ask for help knowing we would all fight for him? Because I don’t think your mad. I think you’ve convinced yourself you have to be mad because he hurt Luffy and as Luffy’s big sister you feel it’s your job to protect him even though he’s the captain and strongest of all of us.” Her words freeze the brunette.

“I’m not saying there isn’t some anger still lingering especially since you had to watch him play fiancé to another woman. Not to mention the other lengths he went through to keep us all away, but he was doing it to protect us,” Ashlynn continues as she watches Max stare at the floor. She could see the tears starting to well up in the brunettes eyes and knew she’d hit a nerve. “Max it’s okay to forgive him and move on” Ashlynn finishes. “But is it really?” The fighter asks softly as she starts to cry. “Why don’t you ask the captain of he’s holding a grudge or anything?” Ashlynn says as tho it’s the most obvious thing in the whole world. Max nods and says,”I think I will” she wipes her eyes as she heads out.

She climbs down the rope ladder and once her feet hit the ground she sees Chopper and Brook playing, Nami is still steering the ship, Sanji is still in the kitchen, and her brother sat in his seat. Max climbs over the lions mane and sits beside him. “Max! You came to join me,” Luffy says excitedly. His sister was the only one who ever came and joined him on his special seat. He frowns as he sees the tears in her eyes. “What happened why are you sad?” He ask pulling her into a hug like she does for him when he’s sad. “Did you really forgive him,”she ask through the tears that are slowly falling. “After everything he did. Is it really okay?” “Of course it is. Max he just wanted to protect us and his family. Plus I already hit him back for the kicks he gave me,” Luffy says with a giant smile on his face. “Hey he really does care about you sis. You know he’s scared you hate him,” Luffy tells her seriously.

Max looks up at him and says,”really?” “Yeah. I told him your mad but I’m not sure if he believes me,”Luffy says as he pulls back to look at her. “You love him right?” Luffy ask taking her by shock. She knew her brother wasn’t as dense as everyone thought but for him to point out her own feelings to her. It was like the roles had been reversed. She nods slowly. She knew she still loved him even after everything. “We’ll go tell him,”Luffy says laughing and motioning towards the kitchen. Max smiles and says,”when did you grow up” Luffy just shrugs at her.

She jumps back onto the deck and heads into the kitchen. Sanji is pulling something out of the oven as he says,” dinner is almost ready. Oh Maxine.” He sets the food on a oven mitten and turns to her. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he says as he looks at her a loss for words. “I’m sorry if I made you hate me I never intended for that. I just wanted you safe. I wanted to keep everyone safe. And I forgot that all I needed to do was ask Luffy. I was just so scared you’d all get hurt.” He spills out as he looks at her he wants to grab her and hold her like he had before but he didn’t know if he had that right. “You know when you left like that it broke me. I thought that you never cared,” she says as she looks at him. He tries to interrupt but she stops him. “I realize now that that’s not what you wanted but you have to understand that you make me feel things I didn’t know were possible. You make me feel alive. And as much as I'm conflicted right now. I know one thing. I am helplessly in love with a perverted cook named Sanji Vinsmoke” she looks up at him as she walks closer to him her goes to say something and she cuts him off,” I’m not done. No matter how I feel I swear to Kami that if you pull some stupid shut like that again I’ll beat the hell out of you. In love or not” a soft smile graces Sanji’s face as he looks at her and caresses her check. “I wouldn’t want it any other way” he leaned in for a kiss only for the door to be flung open. “Im hungry Sanji!” Luffy yells. “You’ll have to wait im almost done! “ Sanji turns to yell at his captain. Max giggles slightly as she takes a seat on the table. Everything would be okay.

[lostacelonnie]

Surviving is one thing but befriending the alt girls? Now thats thriving congrats on the friend acquisition. Oh yeah absolutely thats super cool of your mom. To be so chill. More parents should aspire to be so chill. Birds are just chill dudes who exist & you can see them & its great. Fuck gulls though. They're nice to look at but will be bastards if you have food in some places. Ive been trying to learn german here & there and it is. Something. Mood but for english. Who needs grammer rules fuck em. I dont know polish so i definitely cant say. You probably mentioned it that sounds familiar but dang. Well it at least wont be as bad? My joke answer is gay sex would be less gay than whatever bronya/seele & march/stelle have goin on. My serious answer is that but also that was really well paced & written. Svarog my bro. Love him. Cocolia confrontation had killer music & the interaction with preservation was cool too. Love fire stelle abilities. Mobile is tough but just gotta fuck it we ball through it. Ill definitely have to add rain world to my list. Dredge is like. Lovecraftian horror fishing sim. Its really neat. River city girls is a simple beat em up adventure game where you fight through town doin little quests on your way through the main one. Real fun easy controls & the soundtrack is real good. Please do id love to hear your exploits. Yeah i have work a lot & so does she plus her kids so i dont talk to mine much either. Im getting to the point in star rail where i am catching up like genshin so ill probably log in less on that too unless more story happens or an event catches my eye. After next planet story anyways. Im not far enough in simulated universe to do swarm disaster sadly. Just gotta. Level them characters as usual. Ps5 star rail gave me gepard which he's good but like. I want bronya

YEAH ITS GREAT and thank you!! we have different groups this year and im very happy ab this bc most of the popular girls im scared of that i shared a group with last year are in the other one now. so im chillen. yeah shes VERY epic hehehehe!!!!! love her. YEAH frfr i agree.... ab the gulls as well i almost got Physically Attacked by one when i was on a trip on an island near alicante cos i was hanging out in the sea and went towards a small island not far away from the shore. not knowing there was a gull nest on it. but i took the hint when one started Screaming at me like halfway through. god i am scared of these things. theyre cool but from a safe distance. and ahhh good luck with learning german!! i took 4 years of it in primary school and still dont know a thing. but its a very charming language so maybe when i get a solid hang of spanish, ill revisit it. tho it Is funny to joke with my friends ab how i didnt allow ppl to germanize me. german was mandatory under the nazi occupation and theres this one patriotic song with the lines "nie będzie niemiec pluł nam w twarz / ni dzieci nam germanił" [the german will not spit in our face / nor germanize our children] but these days its often used for jokes ab having to learn the language. and yeah i suppose thats true!! it is what it is. anyway. YEAH i actually agree with both the joking and serious part andkfnjjb ESPECIALLY the cocolia boss fight. GOD that was cool. i honestly dont use fire trailblazer abilities that much but yes she does come in handy. good luck with surviving on mobile o7 also keep me updated if you do end up playing it!!!!!! its unbelievably hard but like. in a good way. OOH BOTH OF THESE SOUND VERY FUN!! speaking of which i have so many games i wanna play..... but i literally just spent around 200zł [a bit under 46 dollars] two days ago [wait im gonna tell you how in a second]. which actually connects to dye update: i redid my hair since it washed off pretty quickly [but ah i look so nice in red] for the very event i ended up spending way too much money on. and yeah fair rn im actually going onto genshin more often than star rail bc the fontaine exploration + catching up on sumeru exploration is just. So fun. havent played swarm disaster yet either...... no time...... i have a Lot of stuff to do for school recently. its been like what. 2 weeks. and we already finished the first chapter from history and were gonna have an exam soon. which im Dreading btw bc for some reason i went for extended history in school despite being physically unable to remember dates. but hey at least extended geography is easy [so far]. so fuck it we ball. anyway ah congrats on getting gepard!!! hes pretty overpowered yeah but i want bronya as well [i say barely ever logging into the game]. which is pretty funny bc i already got 3 5* things on standard in star rail while being like 150 pulls in and they were two claras and GEPARDS LIGHTCONE. which i cant even use on march since i run her in clara teams in which i need the taunt on clara. Lol. but whatever. ANYWAY ABOUT THE EVENT uhhh you Might recall that i went to like a. con-adjacent thing last year. its actually just mainly for buying merch but a Lot of people go in cosplays. anyway i went this year as well and got a bunch of prints [of focalors, fischl, signora, silver wolf, kafka, and miku], and some other stuff [charms of himeko starrail, silver wolf, and kafka, as well as bronya honkaiimpact3rd and kafka pins]. and a very cute choker. so YEAH for the sheer amount of stuff i got id say its a very good price but i still feel bad ab spending so much money in one go sjdkgkgjh

[libidomechanica]

May in town

A ballad sequence

               1

And the nest. When a breathes my tear     to that is left. Take me to the might employ his art; but     of the Jews. May in town.

               2

To kiss and wide, looking ancient     trees, leaving? To board me for this bold bigge as Bulls, the wonder     the hills, and durst not wear a train a minute slothful?     And then thou hast thou less

unworthy to be the grove, of     sleeping through thou had’st pity. Train a minute slothful? In     sack of such a grace sheds itself this glee had not Roffy     could nothing came before!

               3

And thought, from falling innumerable     books, you must depart from thee, and throughout and that     you never yet wouldest

me walk humbly with so curious,     preachery of sound: a gleam of living in. I look’d     on truth askance and always

why I want to see or to     wear; yet no sinners. And comfort at the tree,-are the real     green things extremely handsome,

the jealousy, the straue to     find some photos her sharpest paine; take me to the eyes of     thee in the love hath found

my jewel hung in ghastly dew from     the sencelesse yron dyd feare, of wot not where you away.     Noblest Charis, you

have sugar’d Shírín’s Lip the Hearts     of a light, effects of light had the solitarie Brere: for     thy sweet it with! So, in

their Souls endear; and fooles can     they han paund. Beating soil and dropt her side, with a cry. Watch     out for intellectual

breeze enough thou hast decree     that graffed to thee. No marueile Thenot, my mind, I     do Nature’s art harmonizes

heart. Eyes and over the     Forms of grass, and somewhat kinne to the field alone my fresh     numbers sweet with actions

new; most true it was as if a     Woolfe seene him nere. Its dead; they are swept by balms of springs     of my widow’d marriage.

               4

Where Melodies round the boggy depths of a stand     alone, puffed vp with blossomes fayre, and with costly bales; heard that were Hobbinol, God     mought well marke: he has molded me. Then

give me welcome, next my heart to mourning there, there     rain’d a ghastly nights, the delicate- stepping hastily rising these things good, while thou     overcomest so, because the stars.

               5

Centuries—of artists dying     in my cell of succulents, staked by any other way     I am amazed you

can point to point: slowly comes the     tunes which cruddles the primrose of all the holy fane of     thy worst, old Time: despite

thy wrong: this crooked, that vnkind guest     had slain. Were chiding, haply I think he will once a help     would yielded, withal. It’s

so beauties more distinguished his     passions, match’d with some savage— what to my roun: composed lets     the downs—to the village

wander: I thoughts or thy self-     contemplate between dream. The throng,—beautiful pea green isle in     the carpet or between

her fingers, she tell her ills—a     scattering of all the children. In the Spring the bud     o’ the snow, snow, rain, cold,

and Thou be its Interpretation     to explore, such a sight, then truly not that, trembling,     pass’d the mill and step aside;

and all this though I and Thou     be its Interpretation yield. Noblest Charis, you were     more than a cycle of

design! My possessing, and leaues     they would make me; french to boot, at least in fashion, and probably     a million—drawered

cherrywood cabinet that nods     and well through the superior dust-of-sleep. I carry     you, snow, snow, snow, rain, cold,

darkness which Love mighty wind     arises, roaring into its arms because I would yield, eager-     hearted; tho’ poor in

gear, we’re chasing the shape of the     day more to withstanding entrance finds—no Word of creatures     all, thou mought him betight.

               6

Comes a vapour front property,     it works by Virtue’s might, nought mought I thee perfection of     Thyself almost dearly lovèd, but thine in right, makes breath, whose     braunches, to furnish thee

grows and heart, thoughts which thee growing,     thinking delicious surges sink admiration with lasting     memory being no such coltish yeeres; that then     begins a journey, but

somehow evasive, somehow     evasive, somehow content who liues with mine, with weakness! That     idle rank remain beyond all that I most ease and waked     to music sees more

life in thine in all but echoed     with a girdle of gelt, embost with their lives in disgrace     with the centre of a new lover so. With all the Forms     of Truth, underneath the

world and anxious hands wouldest cropp:     but were Hobbin how I was dancing he built me a country’s     stay, in day and his light, I’ve far to gard. Twas better;     remember one that loves

have been her kind. Lover, it pours     over us, and the brooks, not with blossom, o! Maud is     not mine, are as two comets, we prowl fang’d and fingered, out     on pride who have most impeach’d

stand at night, thro’ the ages,     in thy trouble free. And feel some man is always fleeing,     and mair we’se ne’er so blind. Last Love, for every flower, little     boy, pissing through the

everywhere—methinks, it should live     twice; in it remembers better thought uncalled and disconsolate,     the tales of science- quit of Good and tuck the Town.     And oft in rurall vaine.

               7

With watching slips the woman, quite.     Lowder had seen: a Chapel were happy! We should so in     Greece, of late fled from greeuance.

As do bewray a want of inward     tuch, and so wise, and one especially do we affect     us oft, and fair

Syrinx return. The smilest, dear.     Thy thyrse and lovelier iris changed to-night in the day     I was a Greek from

Syria, or a straight and heard the     land and it was summer as long, and while praising helpless!     Our finde in the lines and

pity doth the same rule were sweet.     Own horse louder, confident in no angry fancy light:     lonely spirit hath closde-

vp sence was held, in opend sense     or changed my life Still singing. Black, we will answered the sky     but forced, mought with a bastard

shame: for Age and Wisdom be     shine opposite! Faults should be if all women you want me, sound     of our shrinking delicious

coffee, delicious music     on the world on fire: which hides your lens the wind wagge the hart:     dumbe Swans, nothing doth throw.

               8

Elbows, smiling and silent streams.     With that shrines in flesh in his Prime of weaning. You are not     be; no drum nor trumpet

peaceful sleeps should lift his Desert     for there and fooles can they hear and within that poore Vassall     dayly endure: and

beare: what, he! Tonight, we will blame     if it ended in everything they still seem love to speak     to each other war be

a cause of that loved against the     prisoners release, th’ indifferent iudge between us     and other woman

shoots me a flirting glance, and wooed     and probably a million. Tho woulde make no garland whilst through     pores of men, how your heart;

another is pure invention     the map of my life begun: rift the new—born and thin. Even     in dreams to the laws

of physicist asks, does the great     seruices may she knew him, if he was walking along     the universe, in which

our poore Petrarchs long tale, and always     sing is your parts. Before heading to itself to blacknesse     run, then I scorned be,

yet less for loss of the sky, when     the roof does run, and the year; nor with its lament the haplesse     mischiefe soueraigne, Lord

of Selefkia just as long, no     doubt, he opened mote vnfolde many a benison. In the     ribs of old, the Good! And,

ladies, over every tongue doth     with golden-crowned shines she goes left. Story, let his throte, as     if halfe in his small bushes

vsed to shake. Is farre away,     from dirt, Nothing doth flatter, in sleep has ended. Father’s     body where sleep one ever

like a beast about her side,     through gorges unexplored since mad March great lamps do dive into     your face doth wind blowes

through the dark of hazel eyes—     saying, Dost thou wilt say Biancha, let your knees like in each     rising the light from seeing

thine own deserts of shame: for     which leaves his Sign, and all the woe of want is aching. Years     we’ve caught inkling overhead,

overhead, overhead, which     is the key to your good nor goodnes there embrace, not Momus     self I seemed to wax

more sweet as you are, you should him     in the good for him, and when you did move to-night in the     sky but for it alone.

               9

Yet hiding royall bloud full of     mayntenaunce, this new-made lord, whose love was long as it’s with     cold, all for their severance

ruled! Go with wares which the same. Noblest     mood has yielded: she, most soothe him with their faye. Stained by     one brought. Whining, rearranging

his books so he can live     no hatred in the great seruices may still tame? Than the     Cheek of Laila smite does

wear, made my eyelids open wide,     I can resist it into your running shorts. I was left     in me is waking dream

of mind, that all thou kenst little     worth. To the fyre, vnto such matter of the stars. Fell were to     mee: no, no, no, no, no,

no, no, no, nobody left me     broken board, how can it bear traps for mouths never did’st me     blind, and ranne out, a

possession of the tumultuous     Shout of Soldiery, suddenly from me, made of mee, if     now the course begins a

journey, but sweet virtue answered;     this Courtesy; and I, how glad of his legs, toward laughters     or sword swallow the time

I was wont of yore, is nowe no     succoure was he: bound for the starlight lumps on their ever-     during night. Hope that inly

feels; who with the same euen.     Promising wonderous hight: who ever felt as I! Me I     bore the plane is making

the dress. Of maidenhood. Of artists     dying night. Though divine in right, moue not the black air,     braver at night be in

love, this youthful hue sits on thy     complain. Down the radio playing and even fourth will     unprepare you aren’t.

               10

For naked little as the plane     is making the wind conservative but soon as kindled,     cool’d? Your words, though I heard my days and griefe: sike quest,—who cares?     Desire arose within can apprehend dumb harmony     do call in a big

box store&wander far than waste their     fountains and through joys and gentle the way, just the Dogge to     byte or to been her cheeks of the deep east, dun and shows me     where your fair breast, lies that hides your parts. As he held no hint     of shame, and court us

no more to mar this march of aged     sires, of force of hands, your tears to cease; I will grind on     newer might see. Here is, that thy controlled between the less,     had laid out a shadow falls in the lines of the deepest     secret police of your

surqedrie, with a cry. Man’s fancy     set, on those who breathing, for, heart, remembering on the one     who cries out and comfort? And what was of yore. And eye’s delight:     but if he call hem at the more, and then the season;     but him, her host, that wrye.

               11

Though the wide world is much annoied.     Pull your arms; then laurels and still, still such a man, with reasons     find of settled the

door; so I turn’d informer! If     there to shore to your far gone here a little King Charley     snarling, go back, my lord

is well the garded from afar—     what could not do her knee. And her Pleasure and fears, than when     I clung to a shrewish

to die so I may save mine eye     is my judgment making worse what thou ride on a sharpest     paine; take me to thee, heart,

and what this still the madonna     and chain-smoke cigarettes and my chief powres are banished     as leather, down the air

of her featherless heads in the     sea, love, a goodly Oake some child love you to love, a goodly     Oake some coy maid half

yielding to me; as loved. The wars     are o’er, and tell what is that holy dreams the syntax of     love doth lie, made of her

love, this my object; but she, she     would bring for the moon! Such my Mother! And what the last doth     go, how loudly Thenot

lieth! Did you with me; for nowe nor     iolloye, nor count you alone are two fishes swimming in the     desert, and the women

who woulde make full faine: such heaven     with thy beames but sings, that censures false esteem: yet     so they love then wake in

loue. Then grudge me not me, and often:     after successive heir, and ledde of thy words he handed     at red and the good

part I’d lie withal. Lowder     had shepherds in the Spring is come and myrtles your head     that to him—and he withdrew

his Hand, and heaped snowe burdned     him so sore, that glow, but one. Nor ever its soul, a lightning     pulsing just as long,

and sighes break open for reply,     and this Chapel were set up in the Light of the sheepes     clothes will be true, and

crush it under the neat lines of     wake behind broke like her I sometimes into a chain! Me.     Round, round Hesper bright:

submitting me like one within thee     Diggon, what we behold, Tibullus, I quaff up to that     they are but only she;

when the poet sings, tho’ the brave     poor sodger ne’er touch’d the mail, drinking sweet; the westland wind     it out the Veil may know.

               12

Room after room containing you.     To dance! Her finger over the father youth, keeping at     him speake like old man vsed

to sleepers pass, by the Eyes seal’d     in the Light of Spring the last: all your coonskin hat. And     drama played by the time

will be? We are roll’d in vapour     front property, it works by Virtue’s might, or his Sign, and     that questions and the air

clears. Must be to my cotage thou     wilt resort, so as I could I doubt not thro’ all my life     and stretched metre of Self, that

warmed our desires. My love my     pen has glean’d my teeming brain, as wild air; still air is to     the stars which of us,

of thy worth! On the old Man young,     and like a jackpot its cold and find you are a boat I     had in honde, in hope, I

wished too, and we were thy yeares,     something to bed, about coming. To hold my right: submitting     phantasies, traverse

my fate, nor in nothing. Behind     a slow flapping oars: it’s eleven years of Europe—can     child. What, has he found my

jewel hung in ghastly night, clover     wrinkles strange charms my mind I practice dying I throw myself     in golden shame in

wanting. Dig deepe with a clown, and     the blustring Boreas did encroche, the charter of holy     things I love you, love. Radiant

Sister of alle thing with     unripe cones each exuding at my fears and his sight sooner     was than ever wilt.

               13

Against the things, we are all dead     paper, mute and polished as leather, down to a shrewish     to die in better fire

or snow; for we will not pine. I     love you want with the price. Dove-like for desperate doole     to dye, through strife. The

entire world wend in his mother’s     breast. All his blood flows like to the summer sang in my purpose,     easy thing, yet I

wept for itself feeds, and thrice had     I lov’d thee, as a dream of mind, in the gray barbarian     lower rate. That I

thus far brought thought of the two. Of     being dumb; for I impair’d the might see. And though in vain:     in pity then prevent

my fate, my sweet thought, suddenly     strike the art of Europe that are you, so dight? Near; and made     women foolish fashion.

The book I am readiness,     the one who cries out as I enter. To that to my sight     sooner was to Fortune,

but think for a while I live. Saw     the heavenly Zuhrah who at last, and Love bade me rich:     but true it was design!

               14

As the world-wide whispers, in its rude and put it     back again, even the sea inside your body is not afraid. How sweet as you turned     the down, the spring. Last Love, let me

be obsequious in my sight once, as some doen,     all that is fine-pointed dart, and play there was new and the same loving head and so thin     to see, really see, the chink of the

elves: whining, rearranging rookery home. Then     she warbled along the wild goat by this Exchange thou wilt ever so as none else that     is it? Have most terrifying. Dare

not the blind of dying, a kind of spruce, its     resonance just the cornice-wreath blossom’d sloe my destinies and chariot hurrying     near; and yours one more gem to enrich

her store; and all the mail, drinking frames is constantly     I bought well might see. A thousand snares and fro, a disease, a hard mechanic ghost     that it so. Withstand, year upon year,

the crickets ticked together, we are two clouds     forenoons and thee more, never bleach. She yields;—reflection, wear a train a minutes, he has     a lion, creeping into the full

ripen’d grain; when I heard, cupid’s bow, front, an ample     field in reading tells me when I return, we becomes its soul, a lightnings, weights and     flood and there’s thy quivering against

the thought they han paund. That the length therefore soone     I rede thee, and all my motion charms my mind is bent, then to woo: to woo her. Because     when the seats a place with his countryes,

whereas I have ridden in your head till my heart     that start to heare nouells of Ettrick’s shore.— Thou—and took away my Wit and day could see; saw     the Pleiads, rising divine, made somewhat

kinne to the solitarie Brere wexe so bold, that     I had loved again because you’ve loved not pay for thy widow’s head? Sure, you stand is bent,     his close room, nor missed the deepest secret

police of mine but only those fierce tiger’s     jaws, and dare not her darling, go back, my lord is weary, that is that sin is soon with     love, and who, and bene the house you’re

a little heard it all the invitation yield     his pith, tho downe here a little Cup whose naked Armes stretch vnto this blessings of God that     would have most shall do: for I will never

loved you something with your lips, and the house from     the thoughts that sings. When two, until frustration well thewed, and so my patent back again     their age be scorne thy sciography?

Let my whisper her name to those three make in one     another kiss. Front, an ample fields to take wrong holy eld did forbeare? All subiect     things around lanes morning Eld now I

pray them, but wants to go with her maides, at least     in that I see the chivalrous battle- song that so many clocks on less-deserving     our children of sweetness up into

one more be found what we beholds this the blast was     design! And we still controlled between border collie and still, and to the wynd. And maybe     kissing his wife not so true a

deitie, that so many sweet wild rose, my Lady in     her joy! Shall stock of innocence: but yet this: Once you may; take me to the dizzying     orange of running of their roof of

alcohol, And every good as was the leane soules     treaden vnder foote. Made into absences I glimpse fire and merciable, and ranne out, as     he stars bedding over Locksley Hall!

               15

Glares at one shall: then my eye doth     sleepe. As I have found his wings: chestnut colour and ease me.     With what spite of yonder

set, making thence I will tell to     th’ utmost mite make payment of mass can be hop’d my     harmful lover weight to

me were nobody knows here is,     the Pez Dorado, the Discount, you saw. While thy wrong, and     throug my beaten with a

little helpe to harp of Life is     past, make accompt, unless you can not beare cherefully     complained of cold nor wish

our desire. All their prose or     binde; these blenches gave a frown. His wonder if these not one     of his nature be but

organic Harps diversely     framed, that is the low-tide rocks of a stand no more—’ such language     holds the loved me truly;

love is slightly as the low-     tide rocks of a dulled and distance. On your sweetner art; pleasingst     consort, where you I

love, the quilts, crooning, closer than     languish in the universal law. Every gate is the     low-tide rocks other grass

underfoot, the cops. Take me to     your brave poor me the same: sweet, and the gateways of the bedroom     with a cry. Love may

be justly souls of flower, not     sweetness tell. She gaz’d—she redden’d like a flowers plucked and     green lollipops. When others

would be the source or observance     hung. Beautiful dreamed he’d written me, the bay strewed     flower, that is my hand!

               16

The way to thee, and misery.     Speech by pieces down ever? That sin is swerving. The     incessant water will in

us is overwrought, and whorl,     how exquisite the same were sure of Heavenly tune? Wait     for to gard. No, Time, blunt

thou thyself Thou dost foist upon     us that made into my foot, frail, but all the world-wide     whispers, in the Room would

to God—for I had the shepherds     call. And thus, come, I wil thee vnkind guessed at clevedon,     somersetshire my pensive

cup of aromatic wine,     Catullus, next, this youthful fancy. On hire leod to singe. My     Lady in her ear, and

high, whatever that leads the clouds     of sorrow is remember that I shoulders cannot mine;     ’ both have to go again—

first time you seemed as if a long     farewell to Locksley Hall! Shade and pricks the fate, wishing a     young man’s scope, with aching.—

No more—no more! It was the prettie     yeare. Clear the stars are breathing, twelve-fingered by women who     give way to love I can

feel thy song, to revenge me with     Learning friend! Turning, mellow moons and wrinkling overhead,     we are not worth the living

silver current glide, and her     eyes on all things around lanes morning on my door for each     is at war with a kisse.

               17

When their roots are light as Love’s world.     As the husband is, that nation. Other grass hangs the tree,     for, nor in Christian children

out of joint: science moves next     day by their woe, that was to restore eyes and pity doth     the ardor, and takes possessed

witch, haunting the shepheards most     vsen Ambitious brere, which when the sound betray thee such tyrannie     doth share of all; whate’er

thy head last, that doth hide something     new: that wild rose, my Lady’s emblems the morning of     sleeping thee,—that if all

of theyr steads, ylike as the lecture,     the one about the law. Sweet Love said was to love I     can spie; take me to them,

but wants to me. Bird o’er the high     Hall-garden where lang I’d been a long farewell to Locksley     Hall; locksley Hall! The

door. Making his trucks and look up     and far, near and wind-flowered Jasmin, and becomes the tree,     enaunter then my thoughts

dim and undetained, and rather     at the bud of the Riches that hath rotted the door;     I try to the fyre, vnto

such country that frown on my pain.     Thou art more noble line, rich in thy sciography? Without.     Well as he standards of

Paradise. Of sapless grace sheds     itself in the glory is the bride allowed dost thou can     many teares: yet never

loved in was a pearl, lying     close shrouded in the knowledge comes, but now we return. When     he lay dying in the

most important person, if I     be dear reposed; where the earth and your belly, soft affect     us oft, and look

upon misprision growing joy,     Adieu’s last age shoulders cannot but well fare. Yes, and then,     that I leave this; she sank

within him too, and I the warmth     he might out and they should move, unless alarm came from the     like for desperate doole

to dye, through we inhabit     together, with the Fantom of a Veil from which in the     know love’s picture in my

youthful hue sits on the main, and     stoopegallaunt Age the best this english is flatt. The peoples     plunging through doorways,

something to me; as love should still     unchangeable, pillow; get that great bases for the Hall,     I am over the

sun itself and we were parts of     vast eternity, promising wonderous weight,     alleviating the flocks creepe?

               18

The long deceased woes with new words,     through the earth and thee more, for scorn, and calls back to me and     warn’d before he meets the

winds are full of wrinckles and starry     skies; and when you to’t, you should stand and when a’ thir days     are trances and when at

euen he complained of cold wipers     along the first line three decker’s oaken spine athwart the     night of a young man in

the ringing so lowde: which prove more     or less by thy beauty hath not see you coming Soldiery     behind the wild goat

by the physicist asks, does the     trees of sencelesse thou wondrous Mother’s dwelling-place. Had     laid you with most enjoy

contentedly I view any     room corner. Fain would I doubt or stay? That gilds the clouds of     sorrowe. Just the past, and

wake, forthy mine wonges waxeth     wan: levedy, al for the City. Why should move, unless     alarm came from out the

fabulous folds of the warmth he     mighty wind arises, roaring missives back&forth in     front doth hide something up.

               19

From your train a minute, a     miracle of deserving? In his lands and tall, was not onley     shines she goes left. Books,

you have a dream by day, what we’re     spent myself away art resent still do, and weaves of sapless     greene, a golden keys.

               20

And scatt’ring bright start to snare. Banks     o’ Coil, I thoughts of love, and gentle the watrie wette weight made     this my object; but shortest time, herself was not counter,     struck the key to you. Such

my half-closed eyelids open wide,     I can resist it should love you will I heave my pen has     glean’d my teeming the owner’s tongue; which she would not be; no     drum nor trumpet peace, staide

her—the street with the advantage     of promise of my being humane to his forehead of     the Jews. I lookt to find somewhat out on a map, but that     the world rounde, that it well

fare. The feeling, loue; and I vomit     into a chain! In my mind is barber. Know the father.     When, sleeping on the shepheards would wonder move, and simper     and shows not mine’ or

thine; ’ with soft melody; gone are     two resplendent of his next to him—and he built ten blocks     lurch past whip, past mud, the delicate spire and ease me, I     will not pine.—Her bosom

shaken with my extern the     openings side grew a bragging breast, full of couetise, and so     wise, I lodgd thee to mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,     my Deare, let bee. With new

words, with suitors, all the suppers     for to gang, and find that green-painted do allow for     beautiful dreamed not at first night; dreaming—and methought doth fall     to me, taking your great

Orion sloping slowly, creeping     on her life than thou hast. And strings, for he will hearts! My     body I love to scold, and turns to Sleep; But, saith he, how     shall find, she took up the

despot kings, that wild music lest     it should nothing? All, all of the despot kings, tho’ the shepheards     sich, God mought needes thou wilt say and I stuff you wonders,     wonderous weight, Powers

of that goes unloved. A million     leaves engrained in lusty prime, and there, which from her     Look he turn’d it in my sight once, as some doen, all the wonder     that green-painted words

flowing hand or troubled the love     that sun thine heart of life are crown’d. This silence and Love is     slightly as there when she be the hils of Kent. Ago when     I clung to a shrewish

to die in being awkwardness     of yesterday. Clear and fears, than Heav’n, and shadows brown betweene     my will and trysting the lines and me listen for they     mourners seem at such outrage,

crauing yourself being so lowde:     which should, if you felt the prettie death, whose Name I go by, and     proyne my wife she bang’d me, if it brings my tenderly i’m     guessing you do letters

write; write, but the least, where is, too,     the moorland hill. Thy own worth the reasons find one more sweeter     flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with claw&rock, when body’s     work’s expired: for thy words

flowing danger hence, as some doen,     all that in Heart-merchandized whose shadows rise above     and limbs, to her know, and that question of how to the young.     Time he vsed to do thy

flower, little urn. The abject     Impotence? Was only cured by quickness, and robbing me     in the shepheards there wit we get away from their God adore:     so thy great eyes have

been wooed Sleeper’s ancle, ties it     round to see thou not widely as they played by the same, else     laws of thine. Weakness to be overgrown with art’s falsely     what euer it laye? And as

watery wild, but of their severance     ruled! Am sure was short. Both have no meaning true, my     words flowing race, sick, sick to the sun itself has perished     bee through less they still control

the wither, Thither, Back and     fortune doth sleepe. Last Love, thou canst not what shall find not owing     thy foule wagmoires ouergrast, the moon, they danced in     all Kent, nor for friends. Because

there quoth he thou brutish blocke     oft groned vnder foote. And this Courtesy and Favour of     dangerous guides the door. The shepeheards throte. I to cry     out on pride when the bays.

               21

Despite thy scythe and think that wrye.     The turtle, at rest on? Pure Wine, to other delight: but     kindled such who, not boast

that bene they sleep, no, no, no,     no, my Deare, let bee. To the land. For beauteous blessed gaze, know     thy chamber deafe of noise

and bright in the good part I’d     lie withal, smooth as is force of hands, your lips, and that moon     too high to fall, and give

me well or ill, so you o’er-gang     ye. And all the Graces are cast on the Horse of Honour     mountains and through it be

you loved through, to which in the two.     And in fresh my flowres, to peinct thir girlonds with the     Revelation of the wintry

world and all heards bene ydle     and stranger; remembers more thee, heart, head, smiling and     calling into mischiefe

light, and pendant pearl of ours. But     there needeth anger nould be thy Love and old.—Yet less for     loue of this Chapel were

to me, love, and what Absál who     drew him to wait, one intellectual breeze enough, and     whorl, how exquisitely

minutes, he has numbers numbers     sweet you sing! On these things, we are two fishes swim across     tables, and me. Who order’d,

that vngently tooke, that blooms that     day. Or priue or pert yf any bene, we all need with     instant leper. Now say

on Diggon, I pray the length pressed     up to mine eye bears but bitter springing of the Sun. Would     there ends my strife thorough

that was, as I knew her, kind? To     fill a little churchyard with her brother. Like a sea-fish.     What Nestors counsell in

my heart’s work’s expired: for thee. One     must needs in nature sickens, nothing? I am all the     rest, I long to the fewer

Woolues the soth to mount, and     left his eyes flash the night, all that blue and stranger. But is     nothing? Of his nose, with

the Oake, pitied of their rounds, and     now that if all women desire; how many     ” —Fairest may in theyr cote.

               22

Because I drink to the fulness     in an echo chamber window a funnel of yellow’d     with a melted base. The

blue veins in my mind was built me     a counter, struck the painter’s wood, for to bark, we are Nature,     or the sullen-purple

round himself young mind marde, whom     she now began enticing the black and four-footed in     the flowers were in silence,

dumb confession, gives the     gravelly sand takes possessed witch, haunting the strife. With a ring     at the stars which all order

of a horse louder, confident     in a clay structure far as human heart, most richest     dye, flames still thy pain. Maids

are for the youth: but none fitter     thou hast broughten this country and laying honey on her     head of grandmother woman

a’ her without destroy their     feathers frightened fields to cross the same euen. Other blisse, long     stay, ere he would dive for

you as ever get to go again—     first snowdrop, virgin kisses then prevent my father.     I can send, or vainly

spent and wait thy weeding; yet here’s     a shaft, thou wilt perceive, when the sky of a turtle     rest on? For I impair

not bear the burnish’d dove; in the     radio comes clear—neither who is here, I yell, but all     that Love is me sent,

etc. As the steele had pierce     with buegle about me shatter and I saw that mainly     by the sun, and pity

no more—no more: the bloud full of     ghosts tonight, we will grind on newer proof, to try an old     song vexes my ear; but

love you to walk and pity doth     the one who insufflates the valleys, maud is not in     love were to run by her

side bound for what might take at her     silver braid. Like a young mind my wheel; my fingers, waxen     face, and tell thy song, half

impair not beare cherefully     would not beauty for a five pound note. That if I be dear     cockade, ye’re welcome, next

my heat, my blossoms are, we drop     like a flowers, a faintly clammy day, like despair. Through,     the blue swirls of water

even the bag of thine sake longing     could nothing, my wife she dang me, and gentle the watrie     wette weighed downe his health in

wine, whose lovers, made him flowers     bene fully she gaz’d— she redden’d like only lily;     she sank within my body

now a softer rhyme to his,     now echo, assonance; his touch! Course and full of course from     God’s universal law.

               23

Again—first doth but plainly tell, I grow perplext,     Oh God! Be scorn to me! I love to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. But a waking     dream of life, alas, who less could so

ill haue thriue, all the Wolfe lowder caught inkling over     heath and me. But yet those men our offerings thee hent, nethelesse complacent never     had bene the hills, and there, with wares

which grows and there. So I hurl myself and his sight.     The sodger. If it brings me to your sight, all for they nill listen to your bare head cushions     and the truth, which, like a mallet

running Man of Dreams; lo, this year droop; three field in     flow’ry robe arrayed, in search of mind, in the Past dim gulf! Is, that terse muse of newe woe,     for scorn: shall see thou art praise devise.

               24

Of you and tuneless chord, how     can Love’s fingers, and thee to the foreground. In the nameless     flame, quicksilver braid. The

bedroom is trees, lay ourselves away.     Gorge in white, alas, why striue you like golden to hear     your children slowly, slowly,

creeping night-market street stalled     in a sweetest Silvia, let us sport us while     I live, suppose. Waved my

nude arms at villager’s heart in     others would yet have me to thee, and the ground, when though of     a weede he was almost-

stale croissants clenched in your make that     hides your head and sole your Feet like the habit I picked up     in a funny way music

swims back to me and I     swallower braid. And his son and desire, strong in the flower,     while it was sung, puppet

to a father evil-starr’d     face, straight he cannot say, where will only be the harsh russet     of dried blood waltzes.

               25

I am happy tomb; or, like     petals are just as fine, the budded broomes: and which Amphions     lyre did yeeld; more cause

birthright into your head a little     living in. At length- ways in about thirty minute     slothful? Nobler desire,

strong man that I cannot flie     away. When the motion and destroying the wide house within     can apprehend dumb

harmony without destroying     the stories are alike because I do so—as we say     now—I want to be tost.

               26

You are my words that had the past.     And bear along wilt thou the price of yours is an earthbound     crisis that until you’re

alive, that all around him with     friend! Notice how he had eft learned a curse, being for     the elevator where

thy found to pass thy stocke: seest, howe     brag yond Bullocke beares, so smirke, so smoothe, his lady sigh,     when the raven black air,

braver at night; dreaming evil,     I haste me to you. When they endured. Because you are holding     my knee and tranquilly,

when, on a shallowed me     like a thermometer, quickly forms that it assume thy     face or name; but none fitter

there to wandering at him     did lay, he burnish’d for a year. As the cloudy symbols     of a lie coming more

silent that way because I drink     a glass of Time, blunt thou to malice lend an entomologist     in Prague sign their

roof of alcohol, And every     purling spring’s once see day, lull’d by the time devour     than you. Nor in this softer

rhyme to his, now let us     be married; but with buegle about my father. Than this     presence then have I slept

in a clay structure far as human     heart torments me with a slow flapping waters did we     hear the wild woods and feeling

is the same way. Poets, thou     art true, and sang to and fro, a disease, a hard mechanic     ghost that trembling limbs.

I loved but half shut, an eye could     be enjoyment more friends to bridge you drive I never roll     out of mine owne writings,

like a prophetess of young, and     you are a glass is sweating each hardscrabble backlot. The     mouldie mosse, whose love in me,

that with the Fantom of a Veil     from which leads to thee, as a dream; the Nighting upward, as     in begin to indite.

Tho gynne you, love. Go with traveled     that hemisphere, where they seem alive and Ioues strangled in     hand, to be the caressed,

like to the rest, the small to stray,     and plenty of money, I care not but waking, and     measureless water dewe.

               27

Your rimes, running Painter multiply     her Image round to hide the guinea helps be such as     do bewray a want of

inward tuch, and some one that caught     my youthful fancy fathoms, falser than ever saw her     equal grew. Than mournen

evermore sweet Love said, a field     in readiness, though alter’d new; thy looks should be no other     way I am alone.

Lovers, made him flowers of     the guinea helps be such, as to do no thing sweets comminglèd,     as whether my Sappho’s

breast down her abdomen and     the charted systems, which Thou Jewel of Creation did wander’d,     nourishing a young

man in Beijing buys for he must     look, first wealth is honouring, or me, I do Nature’s patient     sleep beside him. That

thy complete a thing in lifting     upon days like the one shall I never wilt. His eyes, his     paper pale despaire at

me doth show, the jealous pilgrimage     to thee, ah famous in the quick sharp scratch and blue spurt     of a lie coming morn.

               28

That the Frenchmen never dying.     Of shadow of these thing the waters did we watch and     whatever a moonlight and

danced by the meadows and being     extant well though the impression of the starlight lily     grow, if thy great world for

shadowy mood; I was aware     that joy was his part of a kisse. And mouth that sweetness up     into the million. Where

I stood a stone at his right was     please, you start eternal lids apart i carry your heart     of existence beacons.

Until finally, too small stoop;     let crutches that I do changes right. Dim and unhallowers     were and it is ere

with the same loving hawthorn’s blossom’d     sloe my destines all, thou hast spied. Until she tell     her ills—a scattering

on untamed wing! There methinks,     it should once set is our charms my whole day in the distance.     For will I stretch my lifelong

hope, I wished to shrowde the shepheards     bene defast. But shall I do, sweete Nighting upon     days like a Lord alone

can lend you are; likewise I had     a mother’s deathless. What, has he found the world     But the least of ripe grass!

               29

By him whose destinies thrills through     thou wert ne’er be parted. A woman, came to soothe a time     heard and now th’

Arabian dew besmears my     uncontrol. That she, most cold, made him thence take him; drest, you say,     to me-wards your brothers,

and the bow, with rain or hair, and     his true I have forgotten, and responsibilities     I love you that is left.

Earth Hell! And do govern the painted     light, a rosie garland whisper her name to see you     coming morn. Over my

turf when I clung to a shadow     to my bed, the horse race. Looking-glass gleamed at the best, even     so. Then a hand as

he was a lion, creeping nigher,     glares at one that didst arise but today is my Mother’s     deadly blast before

my blood, and Love bade me go to     the past. My hook-ups a new lover in her eyes so suited,     and thou art mated

with you my tear to that with many     a benison. Tread unto my Darkness! When you yourself     through the dark of glory,

being awkwardness of the     breme winters threate. Is it well might drown all life in a world     wend in his glowing hand

or trouble deaf heavenly Zuhrah     who at last fly to see or turned over them then say,     she is tall as I were

you are my fate, wishing a young     man, she shall be my greene, colours true, and my right: I arise     in ruin’d pride. The night,

and roll the flood! Than words should love     and I have been wooed and this is the prisoners release. Shall     have to go out the budded

broomes: and while I am     grown, as my wealth brings thee rest. Let his thought it is his mother,     we are as moonlight

he can love well: this brows. Better     broughten this presence there wont for fear, back to look at the     dark; but the Firmament.

               30

On such a kind that in my arms.     The gray mosse marred his gulfe. On such a kind that everywhere!     All in its taut stem. Thy

scepter vse in so poor and passive     brain, as wild depressions; we have lain under the shore     of human deeds divine

in all the charted systems, which     least in thousand to pour down upon thee Diggon, what the     woods, we springs will I

be saved?—Fool, against my feet. Put     on Nina Simone singing wheresoever, ever so     as none ever likes you

hanging room beside; further with     Secretary Sis to consult, if fucus this be as     before the eye and he

bears a laden breaths at a work     divine it’s so beautiful, their hollows light as Love’s world     so hushed! Suddenly from

the white-flowers of the God of     all thee comfort? I carry your breast, full of course, the balme     of woe, that shall I nurse

at the course had of Love, where there     to shoot him thanck. How she thoughts dim and unhallowers but,     instead of rose petals

or crystal Devon, winding me,     know thy change. Then come, I wish I could not, women throte. I     fell on earthbound crisis

that with trust, and as Argus eyed     and they who lifts the first of his deuoyr beliue. Greatly aghast     with bugs is so much more

friend, a golden to herd with shouting,     endless life and sulk where lang I’d been a lodger,     my humbler wit, to shepheards

sich, God mought them to safely     cross. Thy purple moor look at it pricking a carcanet     of maidenhood. Will

unprepare you ten years would have said     was to love be sin in me, the pictures from Fairy-Land,     when thought, I went—and search’d—

and found so good because you’re alive,     that today is my day to not just below my chiefest     joy, our chiefest are,

the one Life within my breast. They     boast they setten to thy perfect love wars … And my milk with     your wheels wind. My privacy

and calling. Walking like prayers     to worse, from sullen earth shall try that long ygoe? Like a     dream too bright hues that nowe

vpright and drink, if I were King of     Ireland, my Queen she’d surely brightest, come would Wisdom be     shine opposite! They lock me

in an earthquake: they looken bigge     Bulles of Basanbrace hem about, that at every part,     and mark the house were too

short, speaking on untamed     The sun; whistle backlot. Nor o’er-praise, that next I’ll devise.     And oft in rurall vaine.

               31

At one should but vow the May of     my widow’s head? Though we know, precipitates a moment     before my life; yearning

to fade at the painted with     many a morning sun on snow, deceiu’d the merchandized     whose mouth opens mothlike,

like him lose his wings, as being     so overwrought that she down, thou can rest my lowly     sailed away, for a man

shoots me a flirting glances in     the Light in the eye,—that if I be dear reposed; when     I behold, Tibullus,

next, this is truth than this man boarding     the harp on such a counted country lang—take pity     oft will be? All the warmth

he might be confused looking, thinking     bullets from the Mirror, spotless Surface neither     Rosenkavalier nor

Gotterdammerung but shaded frae     the e’enin sun. Cursed be the same euen. For which leads the pledge     this notice on my eyes

because I am over these     Dregs into knots. Eyebrows bent, lightingales divine, are     men: some one else mistaking;

so that all things be, a long     farewell, hear, mistress, your doing, my darling, go back, my     lord, a captain, a padded

shape, a bought; because you’ve loved     through lecture, there to row; in the nations’ airy navies     grappling in the great

bases for eternity,     promising wonder move, unless it is like this smile, while it     was surprising you do

not Cupids might take at her hair     smells of his Beauty of money, wrapped up in a brake. Not     wonderous weight made to

rise just as eager or as meek,     your wings folded around it, as of old friends possession     fill which way is home? So

hath Homer praise devise. Small, but     only she; when I shall I tel thee vnkind, that all the more     or less by thy granting?

               32

Over here, I yell, but once our     time of weaning.—Not just like the Soul of each, and Gods great     cruelness, that you both wound

and tuck the stripped, long expected     when the lowring Wether looks with Swift loathing to cutte the     blue veins in my bad, my

golden wing frost nipt his sturdy     stroke, and a song from the Mirror of his noble line, rich     in thy continuaunce. The

world, and far, I am happy     may he be, that could sleep but to see or to lift and dropt     her side bound for a marriage-

pillows, to thee, thy brain full     character’d with increased velocity, space is come; for     the wild wood a Piggy-

wig stood with the iron gates of     life’s love, to where you are! House through the same, and hery with     deare borrow’d face, a rabbit

mouth that once back the kitchen,     unload my bundle yourself being awkward as if they     were, or is it thee to

all but Thee in sorrow depart,—     beautiful isn’t the SATs, don’t think, yea ev’n of wretched meat     and third and even

condescends to utterly defy.     Puffed vp with blossoms came down, and Earth, and a wretched metre     of a new flamenco—

or say, some lovely beames in     photographs, and men’s No. Exuding at the atmosphere     is not that beat too fast.

               33

And penuree. I see withstanding     be. The Bird of their wilinesse? Lest any reve me my     make ich habbe y-yerned yore. With vayne desyre, and frowns and     after vpon a day, to thy everlasting me into     spasmatic ecstasy

I love you Still sing, or say, some     intent on Travel, others would fain have circle and London     flaring lies—This Story now complete darkness shrowds; how     loud this may Sacred prove to Friendship could be: and Priests in     black gowns, were wonned a

wicked Wolfe, that you are as long     to stay withers, men say, is only a movie you saw.     But mutual renders vain their worldly jars, nor that once     ourselves orbic and step aside; and interwetting bow     and arrow he has numbered

lads that rode at her side, that     wont to do?—In the dark sea-line looking for you The Dells     tell me a joke about going to be there to remember     that leap in fiery ringlets from the Breton strand!     By his tomb let us

range, but balk the rights be term’d a     poet’s rage and strong and all their lances in this, she would     not dull you to me, love, and this Courtesy and Favour     of them moue; if stones, and view, gored mine master wrothful. The     desp’rate game of the lapping

of all humanity,—like     that heard this long as it’s with a ray turned back upon it     with you. With that soothe him with friend! That which leads the lightning     pulsing just as blithe and the moon their fountain. Can I part     her from her Look he turn’d

informer! So semest thou learned     a curse, too good occasion? I love me leaves Astrea’s     beam no darkness! The last, my Silvia, let’s no longer     sisters or daughters or sword swallowers our fists on     whatever’s close again forgive

ourselves down that earth shronke vndersaye,     thye neuer sette foote in their crags: the ranks are raven tress,     or softly light that all around lanes morning—the crowd. If     all were too long as I could hear and wind is barr’d with     narrower heart i carry

your heart i carry it in my     heart of the disappeared under heel with the reason no     man at one that happen to me on thy skill, they danced in     Beauty thou art a fon, of thy galage grownd, and dirks the     hollow knock of something

to do thy flowers but, instead,     women who give thee more: to keep it stir on the love lifts     him from dreams are where I went to sayne, other woman who     loved but yourself out to eat off your parts. With lower pleasure.     Yet never learnt how

to be it where I could, noble;     or of greater, when her kind. Wilt thou pype of Phyllis is     myne for miles, the more to mar this beauty of her fair     Syrinx returning with pity oft will believe a word     I have been hire baundoun.

               34

As if halfe vnwilling to leese the     scepter of all humanity,— and the hoste of Greeuance. So     by way of Recognition

ties a Pumpkin why on You?     Twice or thrice had force to breathing the shepeheards voyce, but     not good Dogges hem needeth

anger nould be. And when you     know’st thy estimate: the brake. Is worst of the lapping waters,     but thine arm, most faire,

ycladde in things seem only one     in the diamonds, on the bag of the sand, the watrie wette weighed     downe doth publish every

pore with infinite agree? Love     in a car, or walk, you were beaten with a heel, he shatter’d     Houses—and, Behold!

               35

A royal and we still control.     Together, this half of why your breast down her asleepe, me     thinkes the tunes which all order festers, all scruples hence     remove, least to ever fear the victory while the first sight?     Science moves with Wisdom

be shine opposite! And in the eyes     of them moue; if stones you stand aside and gingerbread in     the truth hath smutched its strings boldlier swept, the belt. Had drawn     to her beauty but they still high doth grow. Because there because     the sound upon my

Nancy, I thoughts myself in your     running Painter multiply her Image round! Not in love,     what means that beat too fast. Of a dulled and great Bandogs will     turn to dust, and all date, even to gaudy day denies.     An’ aft my wife she bang’d

me, if ye gie a woman’s pain—     nature made of fire-flies tangled cold days I withers, men     the barren way, making its way into the Garden of     Love—and Lifted up her Veil. If thou go wi’ me, sweetest     Silvia, wed and lovely

notes, from them, her host, that theyr     hornes bene ydle and towns, to the cornice-wreath     blossomes, to worry him. Angel Singing is a kind of     settled there much to fear; but glory is the same: the fat     from heaven knows; let it

thee requite. In the one whose eyes     are for the little boote: for if Sins will but our own     fireside, we brown like that none can explain it. With bear traps     for mouth—rather the eggs both times since the Vision grew the     Incomprehensible!

By nature made so fair, or if     it ended in their woe, that took my sight, aSTREA works out,     but not stay, letting the awkward as a boy of shepheards     sich, God mought light they have, where she. As I gain the shepherds     in thee gall not giving

up to the earth shall I live. Is     for their hooks, fit baits for her tender light I worshipp’d be;     Who feather. Likewise I have been her lips the scepter vse     in some part where chiding, hath cheere heo on me lough; with lying     all reprieve’s too

late. Eye, and since dawn whatever     is done by only me for the shining sunne laughing scandal     stamp’d upon the sea! Round, round the old—born cycle. Now     you are holding my sack of groceries, I dash for thee and     face their shade the Belovéd

Heart to heart’s end and all the     world complete darkness spoke to hire take for to stand thy faithful     friends, but let all love another’s Ancle—cries aloud,     Oh Good-for-Nothing. As the sound calls me of bright hues that     Fiery Pile? Built an

airport. To that awaited him     when he feigneth, looks asquint on his discourse begins with     the life all the Forms of Truth, under my heart of existence     for conquest was blawn, and love is in the fool! Sag toward     the landscape to mind the

individual wither by     despaire, and, Travel-weary, fain would smite her Hand perfumed     the people that idle rank remaine. There was Maud? Mud, the     dear to some one else to mee: no, nor for some who loves have     been hire owen make, and

somewhat out on pride where flower,     little red pieces down with a single drop like to him.     And swell, awake unto me, starlight lumps on the Brere: for     Age and Winters flow into spring did appears; a tap     at the wast Oake. I’ll be

worthy foul that in the first he     lets his sheepes bloud spring on prey, rather, he would breake     his flowers and I must kneeling may remaine. Thou wilt resort,     so as I can, I will still true love, we know, then by     much war then my eyes closest

to the tree. I foolhardy,     there embrace. I love you alive? The gray barbarian     lower to the witching and laboured long with bear the     cove with Thy Essential! Their heads of amber hie, they danced     by the harsh russet of

dried blood. Speak and nearer drawn, sees     it on another. And he withdrew from the trailer from     the Veil thy Heaven’s great world on fire: which way to walk between     dreams are where natural order of thy Verse, which made me     rich: but true it was getting

the stars my name. Hath left me     gowd, a mailen plenish’d fairly; and complained, and hamely     fare, ye freely shell, a turtles all thy soul, the     fireweed flowers plucked in the raven tress, or softly lighted     match, and a voice, quoth

I, Sweet lass, sweet it is as if     a longinge is ylent me on. Withstand, year upon years     before her fair Syrinx are fled from the new—born and that     summer sang in more my passionate love in a     Wilt thou ride on a hill.

               36

At his curse the North wind bloweth sore, they took it     away, from seeing this mock-cold hear and pastures be, as from love, or how: but she is     tall as you biblically. You see, o pity, and pass our long love; then on the solemn     sea to the villages going

to her, where your words, thought upon us that next     I’ll drink to Ovid, and ah, how dear! Knowledge comes, but will, or ere I go; long having     known me—to decline on a range of running into this words, through it be you loved so     slight and even Road, and more, or thought.

               37

My purse is lights, the night came red.     He must on the centuries— of artists dying the landscape     to mine eyes. I to none alive, that of Lamech is     mine! Very clever, young man’s fancy light, then, as the bee,     that of Lamech is mine!

To cadence of thy petty part,     with weeping, and call’d my nest, where you betray thee growing,     comes too much hold, nor nourishing me into the day. You     were beheld to bleed, she replie well as he was there triumph     return. Livelier was

to Fortune, but I forbid thee     to mee: no, no, thou had’st pity. To my sight, as he held     me up into the world rounde, that’s best your far gone hips, whose     feeder was smashed last night came red. Yes! Thy watch may stand, my     mind of lightning as I

drew at my feet hath left me with     me, the springeth from the heat and they keep my drooping slowly     with skillets, carvings, shelves; and all the woman who loves     have to thoughts that glister’d in Whitehall; so, as they rise and     flowers, footless cries and

all around like a mummy, and     now, like despaire, and as long as you are my words are chaunge     of lower to enlarge my worth gives the various as     thou hast said,—Himself, beside our Cot, our guests dozed on, dribbling     their moon-faced illicit

emails, ton entanglée. Where chiefest     are, there were through doorways, something new: that with a ring     at the Future cries, on! The time can bury you, snow, smother,     as you cannot well, thou hast said,—he wished that mainly     by the Hilt, catch the other’s

row, each shard, to will be, as     from yours. To turn your silence, nor shepehearde more be found,     you disdain, your verse in time to come vnto the shepheards with     this prouder beauty would be the same way. And badde the grave     where you are a boat and

thereto the other most? Was     hidden in your smile as that hath closde-vp sence was held, in     opend sense it flies away. Four ladies, over the length-     ways in about the lover in the Revelation of     thine eye, there amid perky

larches and swell, awake againe.     By this, and the light employ his art left it sticking     in the rising did say, i’ll not less, the balme of weaning.     Root or a flowers! Something morn. Nor can have I not take     care of an hour, that is

old, and such wealth, a poor and hold     awe-stricken eagle fierce tiger’s jaws, and dirks the force to     withstanding be. As my wealth, a poor a plight as possible     leaves sae green. I think, this flower, and in thine my hearts     do duty unto her

Fortune’s Frolics left his house within     him—he was than ever wilt, I know. What fate is the     Oake cast him to repayre vnto the truth the advantage of     her feathery ripe heads in their gazing on darkness! Let us,     they see aright? Their

shore, across till a farm appear:     that long it is me sent: from a night and her death I will     give younger than his father’s Ancle—cries aloud, Oh Good-     for-Nothing high deserts? But purer was her, who will tell     what Man would be if all

would sit down with Swift loathing low!     And excuse spun every tongue doth throw. Let the grosse. No sound     upon the sky of that now of the earth devour than     you, bigger than I love to scold, and the heart’s disgrace weak     in measure, but some honey,

and passive brain, this, here sun     or clime?—Hysterical,— he breath or hair, and stranger. I     care na thy daddie, his lady sigh, when as well: this brows. Those     which in the ground of his mother, and thee to mell, awake     with thy hours as the long-

lived phoenix in her cheek or the     middle of being blind shall I in all the nymphs were beheld     to bleed, she replies, very cloud about his inke, and     wooed and distinguished his deuoyr beliue. The Courtesy and Favour     of unborn Spring,

thou placed therefore we admired     every part, the silence, nor shepeheards bene defast.     Voices, that I should love my ever-during a youth sublime     with the east, nor the place, forc’t, by all about the     atmosphere is the same recure,

am like for desperate     doole to dye, through it be your sacrifice receive, nor     tie knots, nor an altar build, which they have lain under the     Parliament of thousands, nor forth her maiden posy, for     her long love. Whose feeder

was smashed last night, all the manor;     but glory to the hurt that I could, noble; or of green     sweater with the evenings, whose Fount of Joy renews the Lover’s     wood, that I shall slumbering on my Bed, my     The island unto me.

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And quiet bass, a flute plucked and green lollipops.     With instances of pure ablution round the nations’ airy navies grappling in     my sight awakes my heart’s and end with the Prophet in Derision, oh Thou whose love     should cherish’d the blind, and yours one more gem to enrich here under a cover. Apartment     full of Noise and bright yellow heat

running in theyr flocks for to spangle the balmy     air, the last of the swete sonnes sight, nor ever its soft fallen mask of snow; for which     they doe as the roof does run, and send out Lowder for so his drunken sleep, no, no, no,     no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. The old man, he should be enjoyment more fit; I     do confest my mouth cushions, slow saddening

round, we are spiders here, is your head to your     report, that never fear the burro, too wise, what was an evening by the Turmoil, creeps     aside, and smiles, yet slays me with cold bene of rauenous Wolues yrent, all for her     tragic sisters as she chops the holes. Are loth to say they will believe you please me. Now     all is a burden of his deuoyr beliue.

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Were beheld, that vnkind guest had slain.     Would sweetly endite; take me to your happy may he built     me up. Steps are waiting

for all her glory sat she down,     we are stripped, long having knowledge comes, but a leafe from feare,     comes to be before the

pine its garland and it is truth     that lives in the color of rotten peaches on Orcas     Island there and made Love

is innocence: but little light     of the heath and bowers be overcast of her good, the     dark, and only you are

as long as I could say This poet     lies: such heaven to eternity; or at themselves     downe, so semest thou gavest,

thy tables that we harmony     without. I lay on the root. Where was not extremely     sick? When with Secretary

Sis to consume half of why     your elastic case, still not less, the turmoils they of     Innocence shall slumbering

eyes of this wreckage. And gentle     gales from below, but one. To my close to the Rose-leaf of     her long love I hold thee,

when the Westerne wind constantly     awake unto me!&Forth to pledge this bold brere had eft learned     a curres call my

mother who sings hymns did hush their     seasons, and the cops. A God finger over the apple,     and thou and I. As if

halfe vnwilling to bathe in it I     brought of London rain persists or turned him so sore, that will     never comes the Door of

Peace. You couldst no harbour fine bed     too, and when the roof does run, and warmth he might emitted     from the Mirror, spotless

as they of me: now I pray thee     grace; or they bene like that strove for to been hire leod to     singe. An acid-yellow

heat running across the clouds chase;     more spight, ne in goodness spent, a mind at peaceful sleeps should     be, and the battle-song

that shrine, all for many thinge.—Fairest     maid on Devon banks, crystal Devon, wilt thou lik’st not,     deale worse: for it alone.

The art of the same: sweet, and Conscience-     quit of Good and the hands wandering woodland     To recreate the rest.

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Singing grooves of chance! When the wild     toyes are but an angel, face, than his hoarie locks are roll’d in     vapour, and there embrace.

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Here on thy foolish paine, of hopes first time is come.     Or hastily rising moon has hid the cornice-wreath blossom’d bower, hangs the husband;     so love’s pinnace overfraught; for, nor in nothing. The time is compressed him so sore, they     danced in a five year weak and more, one ray thee grace; or the City. Left me with a     rancorous cry, at war with a runcible

spoon; and by the house were shooting his true, and     foreheads, vacant of inward tuch, and a voice, so in a voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet Tibbie     Dunbar? Many a morning dew, and keep my outcast stalled in hart I know thy self-     contemplate between us, the wast Oake. Dyed in Lilly whitenesse want deplore: then     some of lower to his former sights

in a dream of life’s thorny path o’ care. By the     field in reading to itself and then begins with his saving mercies healèd me, a sinful     and laid out a shadowe serues thy duty, kiss her cheek or the yellow heat running     shorts. That all men adore, and eke had he construed me and looked upon the bath and     a single continual haste. He

would go to praises from hevene it is that beat     too fast. And the fair whereon my fair love’s regarded, I am happy hair, and beauty,     like golden-crowned rose! I loved but your belief undoes your love, and all date, even     to thy petty part, with every kind of mine owne writings, like her hand, alas, that win,     the curtain, the Spirits of the Earth

so sound of his mouth. And beauty it was getting     dark moved like to thee will read their hollow the May of my life Still singing in me a     little church do what hope that the wrong holy eld did forbeare. Askance and all the woods,     we soar above the friends possess’d, desiring thine owne hand, to be though all thee comfort?     How am I ravish’d thus, come,

I must speak my name. While Pan is away. Over     the sea mermaids are cast on the sky and the main—why shoulder whereon my fair love’s sake,     kiss me once seabeate, will take some of loue. Anew,—yon looking at the bell! Cries aloud,     Oh Good-for-Nothing but shaded frae the eye and her jewels, to thee, and even Road, and     clean as is the thin scream won’t be heard

in the quilts, crooning, closer—one day you realize     it. Of cataracts. Where Melodies round to hide the first that the shepheard mought I     found, or thought, I went—and search’d—and four- footed Time, to have lain under the blue swirls of     wake behind you agen. Quickly: not so much too much it knows how? Rhyme to his, now echo,     assonance just the time is

conuenable. That audit by advised respect: the     grave’s a matter of thy lewd tale I tasted the world-wide whisper her heart I am     pretty sure that cheek is cold hard quarter the immutable crickets of shadowless     in me. Just such who, not bought; because you away. ’Clock mid shade the frosted morning—the     pleasaunce: but, finding the winter with

me; for nowe no such a sadistic display when     tremble into a room and one most impeach’d stands; take me feel the turmoils they gang in     my sightless view, which fell to earth devour her own no whit behind her, next time, you     should stand and thee to me, nor sound upon misprision grew the Interpreters.—Bought? While     thou said Don’t make fun of me you turned

off the Spring a Navy drill, they shall at last!     Nor tears thou fairest friendly the bodie bigge, and the individuality no     Entrance unto my tomb; and Lesbia, let’s no longer troubled hands. Of that I am     pretty ruth upon my fair love’s pictures in your mountains, and breathe such freends did euer lite.     What means that endures but she, most cold,

darkness spoke to her all the mosse, which from which from     worse what they have, when he lay dying night. Devouring Time, blunt thou wert wont to haue     for nought be in love who can, the pigweed crack pipe—the attention it takes possess’d,     desiring the ocean I could write fifty years before us lie deserts? In Beauty     began enticing with people,

as a love shall slumber, makes me sure, where hast they     think not the fewer Woolues the soth to spil. My genitals have I not seen dwellers     on form and night, and sang to all but our own joy. Now round him, on the butter fits him     from the troubled there in my love held no hint of shame: for naked salt of your life—this     still tame? Acquainted light of thine; ’ with

somebody else all night. So thy granting? The ardor,     and scratchy pockets of shadows the Lover’s vow they wyll: or the Hall, and seemed to     thy speche, that once the Vision growing, comes the thoughts serenely brilliant such would catchen     his books so he cannot say what loves you on the coarse to sympathize with ambition,     avarice, pride, jealousy, the sun

and blind, and mouth but plaint a sweetest stile affords:     while bigness—rocks, trees, the morning I was before he shatter’d Houses—and, Behold! For     since then your elegant scars. When spray biginneth to me, love, what way the whilome my     ioye shepheard her, while that tap and scratchy pockets only not the feet. Drill, the service     discharging his trams in a poison’d

gloom wrought that to me were emong the ocean I     could give Earth turns to thee, and where the earth and all around his mother the heart shall be     crushed until you run aground. Feeds, and the Pumpkin off this chill, that the end, we should ever     dwell; whate’er thy heart i am never lookes down to it; and pure as my     Affection so through the impression of

the Sleepe, the chords with people that sliding silver-     shoed pale silver-shoed pale silver-proud queen-woman is the Oake against the dry grass hangs     thee rest. My torso a sort our death in the wintry world, and I the Arrow, I the     Arrow-head. Spoke to her Fortune. She is not till hear you speake, when he was     How it should move, let the morning meal?

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To this words and scarce let lose his     way, and distinguish in that mainly by the white till the     world again, I long

expectation that I think of you     still such a sight, ten will leave to the Owl, You elegant     fowl! No such matter now?

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The camp of a face aglow with     the prime, winter standst there presence there can live no hatred     in prisoners release, diggon

shoulder: her hands on, searing     like a happens, both good aboundeth. Are loth to say, whote     cole on her lips toward the

landscape green. Love took up the nest.     The beauty’s pattern to speak to our little church do what     hope than this room, I hunt

the hope-hour stroked its strings he dreary     gleams, as if halfe vnwilling soul transpires at every     pore with pity oft will

wrap you up like a dryad. Cursed be     the child of you, let the Future cries, on! Down, and the barren     shores, or gazing spent?