#might try drawing Stella next

[a-problematic-writer]

[Image Description: a digital drawing of Petra from Minecraft Story Mode. It is a bust drawing and overlayed with a slight purple hue. Petra has a wolf cut that has two strands of hair hanging over her face. She has multiple piercings (her ears, by her left brow and a septum piercing) freckles, and a slit brow. The image is signed Ky and has the date 08/15/23 on it. End ID]

Teehee, I drew the beloved bisexy she/they weed girlfriend 🫶🫶🫶 Was messing around with lighting and bg colors here and am really happy with the result! You’re gonna notice they and Aiden have similar piercings in my designs and that IS intentional. Always had it in my head they got theirs together (with Maya in tow) Did I mention Aiden and Petra are Childhood Besties coded to me? 🫶🫶🫶

[raiiny-bay]

the final evolution

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

18. Where She Gets the Nerve

Stella’s heart was in her throat the night of her first flight for the Moon Squadron. She’d spent the day in briefings, making sure she was prepared to fly into occupied airspace. Any and all spare time had been dedicated to going over the notes she’d made during her practice flight, making sure she knew exactly where she was supposed to be dropping her spy off.

In spite of how prepared she had made herself, when night came, she still didn’t feel ready.

She left the kit hut with her hands shaking, a formidable rolling in her stomach tempting her to upend the contents of her stomach over the grass. The only reason she was fighting so hard to keep it down was because she’d had to bully herself into eating today at all; from the moment she’d woken up she’d been dreading the sunset.

Now, the airfield was blanketed in darkness. The moon was barely visible, the stars blinking lazily. The blackout meant all blackout blinds had been closed, no single peep of light emerging from any window or door. As soon as the door to the kit hut closed behind her, Stella was embraced by the yawning dark. She stopped in her tracks, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and even the shuffling of her feet in the gravel sounded loud in such quiet.

“Babs!” called a voice which unmistakably belonged to Lucky.

Stella’s head snapped in the direction the voice had come from. And, slowly, a smile began to stretch across her face.

Huddled tightly together for warmth, with coats over pyjamas and feet shuffling in boots, stood almost everyone on base who wasn’t out flying tonight.

The sight of them all there, gathered in the freezing cold in the middle of the night but grinning at her all the same, made tears fill Stella’s eyes. She’d known these people for only a week and yet they’d gone to the effort of seeing her off on her first flight anyway, had dragged themselves out of bed and shoved their feet into boots, trudged across base in spite of the chill in the air, just to wish her luck.

The back of Stella’s throat was aching with the effort not to cry. Her nose was burning. She managed a watery, giggly smile anyway as she approached them.

“Good luck, Babs!” called Lucky as Stella got closer. “Fly safe! I will be waiting for you with tea in our hut.”

Stella grinned, slowing to a stop before her and bending down to accept her hug. “Thank you. I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lucky was grinning back at her when she pulled out of their hug. “Good. I will be looking forward to it.”

Stella was passed around the group, receiving hugs and pats on the back, words of reassurance and words of advice.

“First one’s the worst, lass,” Daisy told her, scruffing her hair. “Land back here and the hard part’s all done.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” Donny assured Stella next, drawing her into a tight hug. “You’ve ferried bombers loads of times. How’s this any different?”

“Because I might be shot at,” Stella said, laughing softly as Donny withdrew and held her at arm’s length.

“You won’t be shot at,” Donny told her sternly. “You’ve got no radar in there, and you won’t be operating your radio once you cross the Channel. They won’t be able to detect you. You’ve got no lights and you don’t even have to land. Fly your course and no one will know you’re there at all.”

“And if they hear me?”

“They won’t be able to see you well enough to shoot,” she said. Swiftly, almost roughly, she took hold of Stella’s face and pressed a firm kiss to each of her cheeks. “We’ve all done this plenty of times already. You’ll be fine, Babs. Just remember your training.”

Stella nodded, trying to take deep breaths to steel the pounding of her heart. All of these people who had welcomed her into their group so readily had all done this before, she reminded herself. They expected her to be able to do the same, no fuss, no tears, no panic. She’d been shot at before and survived. Why should this be any different?

She would be fine. She’d have to be. There was no alternative.

“Your Joe’s already in the back of the plane,” Goose informed her when she ended up in front of him. He gave her a hug and then patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll be great.”

“My Joe?” Stella asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Your spy,” he explained. “The spy you’re dropping into France.”

“His name’s Joe?”

“They are all called Joe,” Lucky said, coming up behind her. “And the parachute hatch they jump out of is called a Joe hole.” She wrapped both of her arms around Stella’s waist and gave her a squeeze, then stepped back and gave her a mock salute. “Now it is time to go. Your Joe is waiting.”

“Right,” Stella said. Her heart was pounding even harder than it had been before. Heat flooded to her face. There was that sick, rolling sensation in her stomach again, back with a vengeance, and this time accompanied by an anxious tingling in all of her extremities.

“Fly the course you practised,” Daisy said, giving her an encouraging nod. “You’ll be fine, lass.”

Stella nodded. She spared the group one final, forced smile before turning and heading to her plane. But as she went, just before she was out of earshot, she heard one of the men whistling lowly and saying to someone else, “Twenty-two years old and ferrying spies into France. No idea where she gets the nerve from,” and all of a sudden her heart was in her throat once more.

Everyone stayed outside to watch Stella head over to her plane. The airfield was so small she didn’t need a jeep to get there. She assumed everyone would all retreat to their huts to warm up and get some sleep once she’d climbed into the Halifax, but even as she was completing her pre-flight checks she could see them through the windshield, still huddled together in the dark, shifting on their feet to preserve whatever little warmth they still had.

She smiled to herself. From the darkness of the plane behind her, a female voice said, “First flight?”

Stella had to work hard to hide the fact she’d made her jump. “With your lot it is,” she confirmed after a beat, pressing a hand to her racing heart. She glanced briefly over her shoulder before proceeding with her checks. “Don’t worry,” she added, “I’ve flown hundreds of times before.”

“Into occupied territory?” the spy asked.

“No.” Stella’s cheeks were hot all of a sudden, self-conscious of her lack of experience. It couldn’t have been comforting to find out that the pilot flying you into occupied airspace had never done it before.

“Me neither,” the spy confessed.

Startled, Stella went still. When she peered over her shoulder this time, there was a pale face peering back at her from amongst the abyss.

The Joe offered a shy smile. “It’s my first deployment too.” She shrugged, bashful. “So I suppose we’re in this together.”

Stella let out a puff of breath, a substitute for a laugh, and gave her own shaky smile back to the spy. “I’ll get you there safely,” she assured her.

The spy grinned. “Of course you will. Getting there’s the easy part.”

Stella laughed and rolled her eyes, because she knew the spy was only poking fun. For her, though, it was true; while Stella flew her in, all she had to do was sit in the back of the plane. When they got there, she’d have to parachute out of it, and the hard part would begin when she had to go undercover on the ground.

What bravery this girl must have. Stella could hardly comprehend it. At the end of this night she would be tucked back in her bed, sleeping in until midday to catch up on the hours she’d lost. This girl would be living in occupied France and trying to do her job while also trying not to get caught.

Such courage. Such daring. This really was the easy part.

The moon was thin, a waning crescent, and the light it gave was pitiful. Stella was sure the stars were giving her more to work with. She cringed when she booted up the engines, a roaring sound, deafeningly loud in the silence of the night, then flicked on the radio so she could be talked through the take off.

“Good luck,” offered the Joe, laying a gentle hand on Stella’s shoulder as she taxied down the runway.

Stella smiled. “Not to worry,” she replied. “This is the easy part.”

Flying over England in the dead of night was still so incredibly new to Stella. ATA pilots weren’t allowed to fly at all after sunset. She’d flown at night when she’d been learning, when her brother had been teaching her at the weekend and they hadn’t had anyone paying much attention to where they flew or when, but since then the only time she’d flown in the dark had been for her practice flight earlier this week, when she’d had to work out where she was supposed to be dropping off her spy.

The open airspace was peaceful. There was not a single other plane in the sky that she could see or hear.

But what was really chilling was the pure, cavernous dark. All of England’s lights had gone out, had been extinguished by the Blitz and the Battle of Britain. No curtain had been left open even in the major cities. No sliver of light escaped the windows in front doors.

The blackout made England feel lonely from up in the air. Like there wasn’t a single living soul left on the ground.

Stella and her spy left the White Cliffs of Dover behind and then they were flying over the English Channel. It was inky black under the starlight, its ripples and waves the only indication that it wasn’t an abyss.

“Beautiful,” the spy breathed, peering out over Stella’s shoulder through the windscreen.

Stella smiled to herself. Flying over the Channel would never get old. “I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed softly. “Flying out of England and into the mainland.”

“Does it scare you now that you’re doing it?” the spy asked.

Stella gave her a small, fleeting smile over her shoulder. “A little bit.”

“Me too.”

As France came into view, Stella thought of John. He had flown to the mainland so many times before he’d been shot down. Had he also thought the Channel was beautiful and terrifying all at once? Had his heart been pounding this hard on his first mission, or on all of them? Had he been this scared the day he’d gone down?

It wasn’t long before Stella checked her watch and knew she was getting close to the drop off point. She checked her compass heading and nodded. “About five minutes to go,” she called back to the Joe.

“Okay,” the Joe called in reply. Her voice was shaking.

“Anything I can say to make you feel better?” Stella asked. She was no good at all of this, at reassuring people. John had been so good at it.

Stella really wished he were here.

“Just that you’ll come pick me up if I need you,” the Joe replied. Reaching out, she gave Stella’s bicep a squeeze. “Don’t let them leave me there if I’m in trouble, okay?”

Stella nodded, even though she knew she wouldn’t ever find out even if this spy sent a mayday back to her superiors. She flew where they told her, when they told her. If this spy got herself into hot water, Stella would likely never hear about it unless she was rescued and she saw her again.

“I won’t,” Stella assured her anyway, because she knew that was what the spy needed to hear.

“Thank you,” the other girl breathed. Then she retreated back into the darkness, getting ready to parachute out of the Joe hole.

“Opening the hatch,” Stella called over her shoulder a little while later, when they were about to reach the drop off point. “Are you ready?”

“No,” the spy confessed. She had to shout above the sudden burst of icy wind pouring through the hatch.

Stella sputtered a laugh. “You’ll be wonderful,” she said, just as Donny had said to her. “You’re going to do so much good.”

“I’m going to help people,” the spy asserted, reassuring herself more than Stella.

“You are,” Stella agreed. “There are so many people over there who need your help.”

The spy sat on the edge of the hatch until her legs were dangling through it.

“Thirty seconds,” Stella called to her.

The spy let out a loud, almost delirious laugh. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” she said hastily, shuffling closer to the edge, “but I want someone to know in case I don’t come back. My name is Genevieve Louise de la Mer. I’m twenty-four years old. My parents are in London, in Kensington, Jean-Luc and Sophia. And I’m their only daughter.”

“I’ll remember,” Stella assured her. Already she was repeating the details over and over again in her head, fighting to hold onto them. She’d write them down as soon as she got back.

“What’s your name?” Genevieve asked breathlessly, still calling over the wind.

“Stella,” Stella shouted back. “Stella Finley.”

“Thank you for ferrying me, Stella Finley,” Genevieve said. “Please don’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” Stella promised.

A moment later, Genevieve jumped out of the plane.

Before she knew it, Stella was turning around and on her way back to England.

She closed the Joe hole and accelerated home. Letting out all of her breath, she blinked hard, and she wasn’t religious but she sent up a quick prayer for Genevieve anyway, for this girl who was only slightly older than her and yet doing the unthinkable.

True to her promise, Lucky was awake and waiting with tea back in Hut 6. “Congratulations!” she cheered when Stella stepped through the door. She had the big light on overhead, as though it wasn’t the middle of the night and there wasn’t at least one other person trying to sleep in here. The pyjamas she was wearing were the only acknowledgement she gave that it was nighttime at all.

Stella’s eyes were drooping and her feet were dragging behind her, but she smiled and straightened out her posture all the same. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, then threw down her flight bag beside her footlocker.

She accepted the tea from Lucky gratefully, warming her hands on the mug, but quickly set it aside in favour of rifling through her footlocker for her writing utensils. Later, she reasoned with herself, she would buy some sort of notepad. For now, a solitary sheet of paper was good enough. On it, she wrote out all the details Genevieve had given her in her bid to be remembered, then neatly folded the paper up and tucked it back amongst her belongings.

Lucky didn’t ask.

Instead, once Stella was finished, Lucky gestured to the empty space beside her, and Stella joined her on the mattress of one of the uninhabited beds. Kicking her shoes off, she tucked her feet beneath her and shivered as she brought her mug of tea to her lips.

“Donny will not wake up,” Lucky said matter-of-factly as she watched Stella. “She sleeps like she is dead.”

Stella laughed. “And Houds?”

“Apparently flying,” Lucky replied. “Who knows where she ever goes?”

Stella was grinning around her next sip of tea. And then she sighed. “It was my Joe’s first assignment,” she confessed softly.

Lucky didn’t say anything.

Stella shook her head, staring down into her tea. “She was frightened, but I have no idea how she was brave enough to do it at all.” She mustered a quiet laugh. “I was so scared just to fly her over there but, god, she’s only just older than me and so much braver than I’ll ever be.”

Lucky laughed. Loudly and abruptly. Upon reflection, whenever she laughed or smiled or did anything, Lucky only ever seemed to do it loudly and abruptly, with everything she had in her. She didn’t tend to do things by halves.

“You are much braver than many other pilots who would not be able to do this job,” she said, slinging her arm around Stella’s shoulders. “You give yourself a hard time for being scared, as though we are not all scared on our first try. But how many pilots in the ATA were too scared to fly planes across England? Hm?”

“A few,” Stella relented. She’d often swapped ferry chits with some of the others when they were frightened of the damage to the plane they’d been assigned.

Lucky hummed meaningfully. “And you just flew into France,” she went on. “Into Nazi territory. It takes courage to do that.” She grinned. “Trust me, I would know.”

Stella laughed and, inexplicably, leaned down to rest her head on Lucky’s shoulder. Maybe it was because she missed John so much and she knew, if he were here, this is what she would do with him. Or maybe it was the adrenaline from the flight filtering out of her body and lowering her inhibitions. Or maybe it was just that she finally had friends who she felt really cared about her, even after only a week. She’d had friends at Thorpe Abbotts, yes, but not like this.

And, now, she maybe even had a best friend, someone who had decided immediately that she liked her and went out of her way to make her life easier. Someone who waited up all night for her and had a hot mug of tea waiting for her in her hut, who made sure she had someone to talk to after her first flight.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Stella didn’t want to stop to think about it too hard just now.

Lucky didn’t mind the affection, in any case. She just tightened her arm around Stella’s shoulders and rested her head on top of hers, rubbing her cheek against the top of Stella’s head until their dark hair mixed together.

The two of them sat that way for a while until Stella became too conscious of the sweat drying on her back and under her arms and retreated to the bathroom to shower. Once she’d washed and dried and changed into her pyjamas, had brushed her teeth and her hair, she returned to the bedroom and found Lucky still awake, this time sitting on Stella’s bed with a package in her arms.

“I forgot to tell you,” she said, holding up the package when she saw Stella looking at it. “You got a package.”

Stella’s eyebrows furrowed. “From who?” Her only guess would be one of her brothers - maybe Will, in a very late but not unwelcome apology for brushing her off as he had when she’d last seen him back at Thorpe Abbotts.

Lucky shrugged. “I did not read your mail. That is rude.”

Stella laughed under her breath, then joined Lucky on her bed and accepted the package from her.

It was heavy and large, a cardboard box wrapped in brown paper. Because, formally, Stella now had no address, the location of Tempsford being a secret, the sticker on the top was addressed simply to First Officer Stella Finley, formerly of the ATA, formerly of Thorpe Abbotts. Somehow, the RAF post depot must have been able to trace the name to her new rank and location. Stella didn’t recognise the handwriting.

There was a note inside the brown paper, stuck haphazardly to the top of the box. A note written, Stella soon found, by Alice.

Her eyebrows furrowed tighter together. She was sure she hadn’t left anything behind at Thorpe Abbotts.

‘Fin,’ the note said. ‘The air exec have only just started going through the footlockers of the men who went down on that last big mission. John had a note in his which said he wanted you to have this. Hope you’re well. Fly safe. Write back to him when he writes to you. - Alice’

Stella tore open the box with a new passion, like she was furious with it for keeping its contents from her. And inside there was a jacket, pale in colour and thick in fabric, a mix of worn suede and ratty fur. John’s sheepskin. She had rarely seen him without it on mission days.

With careful, reverential hands, Stella withdrew it from the box and held it to her nose.

Her eyes fell shut. Her breath caught.

It still smelled like him.

“From your sweetheart,” Lucky deduced.

In spite of herself, Stella smiled into the suede she had pressed to her face and nodded. She had to squeeze her eyes shut tighter when her throat started aching and her nose started burning, the threat of tears heavy and insistent behind her eyelids.

“His lucky jacket,” she managed to croak. She lowered the jacket from her face only so she could press it to her chest, hugging it to her like her teddy bear, seeking the comfort she’d lost the day John had gone down.

“He was not wearing it the day he went down,” Lucky observed solemnly. “It is lucky after all.”

Stella smiled ruefully. “His best friend hated this jacket. That’s why he didn’t wear it the day he went down, because he was trying to avenge his friend.”

“Or maybe he just wanted you to have it,” Lucky said. “Maybe he knew that you would need it.”

Stella let out a wet, weak laugh. “Maybe,” she conceded. She wouldn’t have put it past him.

“Here,” Lucky said suddenly, sitting up on her knees. Slowly, cautiously, she reached for the jacket, her eyebrows raised and her eyes keen on Stella as she wondered whether she was allowed to touch it, but when Stella didn’t object she took it from her and wrapped it around Stella’s shoulders. She helped Stella ease her arms into it, helped her pull down the sleeves of her pyjamas which had gotten caught beneath the sleeves of the jacket, and then sat back with a smile. “It suits you,” she declared.

Stella laughed. “Not as much as it suited him,” she replied.

Lucky grinned. “He is handsome? Your sweetheart?”

“John,” Stella corrected. “Not my sweetheart.”

“But you wanted him to be your sweetheart?”

“He wanted me to be.” Stella shook her head, her hands disappearing back into her sleeves. “I was too scared to let him.”

Lucky considered this, tilting her head to one side and chewing on her bottom lip. When she next met Stella’s eyes, there was something contemplative in them. “But he is handsome, your John?”

Stella laughed softly, curling her arms around her stomach. “Yes,” she relented, a confession, her words more breath than voice. “Yes, very handsome.”

Lucky nodded her acceptance of this. “Good,” she approved. “Then I like him.”

Stella laughed, surprised by this declaration, but nodded all the same. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I like him too.”

[collecting-stories]

King of my Heart - Jay Halstead

Request: Hi! Can i request King Of My Heart with Jay Halstead?❤️ 

A/N: I just really like the idea of Jay with like a firefighter s/o. I think I've written like two other fics with him and a firefighter s/o, pretend they're all interconnected lol.

TS Anthology Series | One Chicago Masterlist

...is this the end of all the endings?...

Dating with your schedule was not easy. Finding time to actually connect with people outside of work was next to impossible, especially since you’d taken on some paramedicine shifts for Sylvie on your days off from the Firehouse.

While you were trying not to rush into things or make any assumptions about whether dating was the correct term, you’d been spending a lot of time with Jay in recent weeks. You’d volunteered to help at a city garden that Trudy helped organize and he’d been there too and you’d both sort of clicked (at least that’s how you described it to Stella later on because you were too hesitant to admit that Jay had pretty much stuck to your side that whole day and asked you for drinks immediately after).  

“I just don’t wanna like...move too fast.” You explained, pulling your shirt over your head and fixing your hair, “like, okay...what if it’s just supposed to be like a casual thing and I make it this big thing in my head that it isn’t? Then I feel stupid and I can never show my face when he’s around.” 

“Listen, if it’s casual, he’s the one who should feel stupid. You’re a total catch,” Stella replied, always ready to be your cheerleader when you were feeling insecure about something. “You are a total badass, you’re on Squad. You don’t need some guy and he’s lucky you’re giving him the time of day.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“I would!” Stella insisted, “you don’t need him, don’t feel like you need validation or something.” 

“I don’t. I’ll admit I’m okay single but, it is kinda nice having someone...I don’t know, want to put in the effort after a long shift. I mean, it’s not like we have easy jobs.” You replied, grabbing your duffel from the bench and slinging it over your shoulder. “I guess I just want some clarification. Are we dating? Is he thinking this could be something more serious? Is he even looking for something more serious?” 

“Are you?” She deadpanned as you both made your way out of the locker room. Most of the other third shift had left already but Stella had hung back with you while you showered, mostly to listen to you have a mini-crisis over your budding relationship with Jay.  

“I feel like I could be.” You shrugged, “that sounds stupid but like, sometimes I just look at him and think like, yeah I could do this every day of my life. That’s really fucking scary Stella...like...” 

You trailed off as you made it out onto the driveway and saw Jay’s pickup parked out front. He was standing there on the passenger side, leaning against the truck and when he saw you he smiled. Stella nudged your ribs playfully before giving you a silent wave goodbye and heading to her car.  

“Hey,” you called out as you got closer, “don’t you have work?”  

“Caught a double yesterday, just got off like an hour ago.” Jay replied, “Figured if you don’t have plans this morning you might wanna get breakfast?”  

“Oh my god yes, I’m starving,” you said, letting Jay take the bag off your shoulder and toss it in the back of his truck. “Herrmann has a new candidate and he offered to make dinner last night-” you shuddered and Jay laughed. 

“That bad?” 

“Terrible! And we ended up getting a call anyway so basically...no dinner.” 

Jay shot you a sympathetic look over middle console, “Shit baby, I’m sorry.” 

You felt yourself warm up at the sound of him calling you baby. You weren’t much for pet names but somehow hearing the word out of Jay’s mouth squashed all the worries you’d been keeping close to your chest.  

- 

“Jay!” You whispered, trying not to laugh and draw anyone’s attention, though most everyone in the house was asleep at this hour. Aside from Herrmann who had gotten stuck on night shift and was currently trying to keep his eyes open to reruns of Lets Make a Deal in the common room. He had ears like a hawk though and you knew he’d come snooping if he heard commotion. “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

Jay smiled against your neck, placing another kiss there before responding, “I don’t work here so technically...” 

“Well don’t get me in trouble then!” You replied, unable to stop a laugh from escaping this time as you bumped into the washing machine.  

It was nearly one in the morning when Jay had shown up at the firehouse, texting you and telling you to let him in the back door. He’d just gotten off work and you still had six more hours on shift but it was officially your six month anniversary and he was surprisingly sentimental. Although you weren’t sure that making out in the laundry room like two horny teenagers was exactly sentimental.  

You didn’t get much time to consider anything at all because the siren went off, the overhead voice alerting the firehouse, “Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61.” 

“I have to go,” you insisted, pulling away, “Jay, I have to go.”  

“I know, I know.” He let go of you, stepping away so you could head out to the apparatus. He followed behind you, careful to stay out of the way, stopping at the Squad table. 

“I knew I heard something!” Herrmann laughed, walking through the double doors with Ritter, “Sneaking around the firehouse like a couple a kids!”  

You did your best to ignore Herrmann as you geared up, stealing one more kiss from Jay, “I’ll see you after shift?” 

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up.” 

“Get in the rig lovebird!” Tony called out the window and you rolled your eyes before climbing up into the back with him and Capp.  

You couldn’t resist a last glance out the window as you pulled out into the street, Jay standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching you and grinning. By the time you got to the fire, you’d be clear headed and ready to work but until then, you’d let yourself be a little lovestruck.  

[askstevella]

Things my husband says 🐾

—Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!OC

~ god help Stella 😅

Stella: Please tell me you didn’t drag Sam and Bucky into this.

Steve: I didn’t drag Sam and Bucky into this.

*the doorbell rings*

Stella: *cross her arms* Who’s at the door?

Steve: *smirks* I think you know.

———

Steve: What’s does IDK, WDYM and ILY mean?

Stella: I don’t know, what do you mean, I love you.

Steve: I love you too but you’re not gonna be any help, I’ll just ask Sam.

Stella: I-

———

Kendall: *tapping on the table*

Steve: *tapping back*

Stella: Stop that please.

——-

Steve: What would you do if I died today?

Stella: I’d die tomorrow.

Steve: Marry me.

Stella: Already did.

———

Stella: I hate you with every inch of my body right now.

Steve: That’s not a lot of inches.

Stella: I-

———

Sam: *at Stark party* Uhh I think we lost him.

Bucky: No we haven’t. Watch this.

Sam: Huh?

Bucky: *shouts* Your wife is useless piece of sh-!

Steve: *pops out of nowhere* SAY THAT AGAIN MOTHER—

———

Stella: So Steve got drunk last night.

Thor: Oh no.

Stella: And tried to set our marriage certificate on fire.

Steve: Good luck trying to return me without the receipt!

———

Steve: Did it hurt?

Stella: *rolls eyes* Let me guess, when I fell from heaven

Steve: No.

Stella: What?

Steve: *smiling* Did it hurt when you fell for me?

—————

Liane: Hey what are you getting Steve for his birthday?

Stella: I am married to Steve and gave him 2 kids, that’s enough presents to last him for a lifetime.

Steve: Hey, you married Captain America, you didn’t do so bad yourself.

————-

Stella and Bucky: *kidnapped by Hydra and HIVE*

Strucker: Soon the Captain and his team will arrive, then will see what true power tastes like

Bucky: Let us go asshole.

Strucker: Not a chance—

HIVE Agent: *hears guns blazing through the halls, grunts and screams of stuff being blown up* Uh sir, who was that?

Bucky: Your fucked.

Stella: *grins*

Steve: *bust the door open as he snarls* Say your last prayers, Strucker!

————

Stella: *looks at him while he’s drawing and mutters* I’d date you.

Steve: *smirks, definitely heard her* What?

Stella: *blinks and half scoffs* I said, I hate you.

Steve: *smiles to himself* I hate you more.

————

Bucky: *drunk on Asgardian liquor* Sam is the hottest person I ever met.

Steve: He is your fiancé.

Bucky: Bullshit. I can’t stand the guy.

Steve: So why did you just say find him hot then?

Bucky: Cause I got eyes, Steve.

————

Steve: *under his breath* I don’t wike it.

Natasha: *gasps*

Steve: Nat don’t—

—————

Stella: *at 3am reading* Wow, some few hours earlier some couple just tried to kill each other in their own home. Can you imagine someone ever snapping like that?

Steve: *trying to fall asleep glaring at her* I can.

—————

Steve: If I dislocated John Walker’s arm, would they arrest me despite being the original Captain America?

Stella: Yes. Yes they could.

———

Steve: I’m dying!

Stella: WHAT?

Steve: -of hunger!

Stella: Oh thank heavens.

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

We might need a Steve one soon 🤔 what do we think? Which couple is next? Liane & Ethan? Rose & Finn? Peter & Rei?

Please like, comment and share 🫶🏼

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @sherloquestea and etc

[dragonfly0808]

Bloom: The Thesis

So, I decided to go ahead with the thesis, if you like it I might make more for other characters.

This will just essentially be a little insight into my thought process when it came to Bloom’s character, a few of my notes from my character sheet and discussing the things I added/removed from her character in my rewrite and why I did so.

Hope you enjoy it!

First Things First

The first words I wrote on Bloom’s character sheet as a bit of a paraphrase for what I felt like she was were ‘Next-door kind of protagonist’ which is definetely what she was meant to be in the original series.

Bloom’s main character traits at the very beginning of the rewrite would be: anger, loneliness and curiosity.

In the very first chapter, she’s just broken up with her boyfriend, got into a huge fight with her best friend and we see her be bullied. Bloom’s always been bullied and has only ever had few friends. She feels like she doesn’t quite fit in, doesn’t quite belong.

Her anger plays into this. Bloom’s anger issues are partially due to the Dragon Flame being under a magic block and trying to get out. But, in general, at the beginning of the rewrite, Bloom is a bit of an angry person.

This is something we saw in the OG, we see that Bloom is a bit of a hot-head and can make rash decisions, I loved that about Bloom in the first few seasons, I felt it was a good flaw to give our protagonist, so I chose to carry that over.

Bloom’s anger sets up certain conflicts, mainly her losing control and accidentally burning her friends. That is the main consequence of her anger in this rewrite, losing control, which plays into her feeling like she is way too behind compared to her classmates. The anger also converts into eventual guilt over certain things.

Finally, curiosity. I have no idea why in the OG they just… dropped Bloom’s love for drawing and fairies after like 5 episodes. Why? I feel like after season 2 there was truly no hobby or interest that truly set Bloom apart from the others.

I took the drawing from the OG and added a love for mythology and history in general.

I think making Bloom a bit of a nerd just really helps her character and also makes it so that she isn’t always confused by what’s going on since she does her research, especially about Domino (in season 2 she already knows a bit about Darkar and in general about Domino’s culture). It also gives her something that is very distinguishable and just gives her personality.

I gave her quite a bit of struggle in season 1 when it came to adjusting to Alfea, she instantly excels in History but struggles with the rest and, up til season 3 continues to despise Potions. I did this to round up her character and help make her abruptly joining Alfea more realistic.

Her main traits towards the end of season 1 and going forwards would be: loyalty, bravery and curiosity.

Her loneliness is replaced by loyalty. She has found an amazing group of friends and she is not going to lose them and will do everything in her power to protect them. And tbh, after what they go through in season 1 (and in the later seasons) can you blame her?

Her anger bleeds into her bravery. We see her nearly beat Icy to death in the last fight of season 1 and we see that her anger bleeds into guilt over not believing in her birth parents and feeling like Daphne shouldn’t have died to save her. Her anger is still prominent even after she has gotten better with it.

Part of her bravery comes from necessity, but it is still a very big part of her person.

And finally… curiosity. That’s what doesn’t change. I think it is her defining trait.

Thoughts Behind her Main Relationships

Stella: Stella is her person. From the moment they meet, they just click. I’m not even all that sure how to describe their relationship they’re just… the closest and the best.

One thing I added was the whole Taylor Swift invisible string aspect to their friendship. Their parents were best friends, their mothers were so close Luna believes she might’ve been a better mom if Marion had been around to advise her. And Stella is the one that finds Bloom on Earth and unknowingly brings her to where she would’ve ended up if Domino hadn’t fallen.

Bloom and Stella are very supportive of one another and the emotional support is very much not one-sided, they both are always there for the other.

They were always going to be friends. Bloom looks up to Stella due to her confidence and her dedication to her future as queen. Stella adores Bloom’s passion and how unapologetic she is when it comes to what has made her ‘the other’ throughout her life. They are each other’s person. And they always will be.

Their friendship is just one of intertwined souls. Their friendship is; Oh, I never knew I was looking for you but the second I met you it was like a puzzle piece falling into place and I know that I’d find you in any universe. Their friendship is an invisible string. It was always going to happen.

Sky: They are a friends to lovers situation. From the moment they meet they are quite soft with each other and I think it took them a second to develop a crush but it happened quite organically, nothing dramatic just being like ‘huh, everytime I see you I like you more and more and I’d like to get to know you even better’.

They start dating and take things slow, again, things between them are very normal and organic up until the switcharoo reveal where Bloom is obviously hurt due to being lied to, Sky apologizes, gives her her space and they decide to just stay as friends and leave it at that… but of course there are still feelings there.

So they stay friends for a while, but, since they are on good terms the feelings only get stronger and then they get together again and from there, they’re pretty strong as a couple.

I think the main problem they have is that they’re both stubborn and can both get angry easily (this gets better overtime but those cause a few issues in season 2).

But they are both incredibly loyal people and Sky sticks by Bloom side even when she’s being affected by Darkar.

Right now they’re… in a rocky place since, while Bloom does want to support him and makes sure he is okay, the fact that she made it very clear whose side she’d be on if it came down to it… that did hurt their relationship and they’re in a very unclear space at the moment and it might take time for them to be able to heal from that.

I feel like Sky and Bloom’s relationship is a tragedy, but like, a tragedy because of the narration ya know? Like there are these two kids who for all intents and purposes would’ve known each other their whole lives if Domino hadn’t fallen. Who care about each other so much and just want to be there for each other but have also hurt each other (for Sky, it’s his bloodline that hurt Bloom, for Bloom, it’s the very loyalty that Sky loves that winds up hurting him when Bloom choses a side).

Their tragedy is one of; I love you so much but the universe keeps fucking us over and revealing things that make me wonder if we truly can love each other and be together without another wave of hurt falling upon us.

Their love of each other is pure, it’s just a question of whether or not it can survive all the bullshit the universe keeps throwing at them.

Timmy: So, Bloom’s friendship with Timmy kinda came out of the blue and almost smacked me across the face as I was writing the beginning of a scene. In season 1, during the chapter with Tecna’s birthday I just kinda realized that Bloom and Timmy would totally be besties and just ran with it.

They are both very nerdy and get very invested in their interests so they’d totally listen to each other rant even if they don’t always get the others obsession. They can both be a little insecure but when they’re together that just fades away.

They just really bring out each others goofy sides and are not afraid to be weird with one another and that just really helps them click.

Their friendship is one of ‘others’ finding comfort in their ‘otherness’.

Their friendship is; you may be weird but you’re my favorite kind of weird. And I may make fun of you but I’ll never laugh at you, only with you. It’s, let’s be weird and unapologetic and free and happy because I found someone that may not share my interests but even better, they share my enthusiasm and they get me.

Who is Bloom in this Rewrite?

To me, Bloom is someone still trying to find their place. She’s a little stuck between being an Earth girl and a fairy. Between being a Winx and the lost princess from Domino. Between being a heroine and just a girl that wants to nerd out about mythology.

She’s a little unsure about what she wants to do. She has the general idea that she wants to do something regarding history or mythology but, unlike most of her friends, she doesn’t really have anything concrete.

She’s just doing her best to explore options.

On the other hand, she’s a warrior. Not by choice, but because she has to be.

Season 4 will be dealing with A LOT of imposter syndrome.

Because, in my rewrite, Bloom wasn’t born with powers or the Dragon Flame. She was born powerless. Daphne gave her the Dragon Flame and part of her magic before sending her to Earth.

Bloom wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. She never wanted to be a fighter.

The main difference between Daphne and Bloom is that Daphne ALWAYS wanted to be a queen and a warrior. She chose to be a Guardian fairy and a Nymph aside from being a princess. It may have weighed on her from time to time but she loved it.

Bloom… Bloom never wanted this. She’s a good fighter and she gets better because at this point she knows that to be the Guardian of the Dragon Flame is to be a warrior whether you like it or not.

Bloom is a girl who just wants to keep her friends safe and who feels guilty about a lot of things that are not really her responsibility but still feel like it.

Bloom is a girl who, if she’d have it her way, would just be a next-door kinda girl, nerding out about mythology and hanging out with her best friends. But things don’t go her way.

They rarely do.

——————————

Hope you enjoyed that! A little peak into my mind and a hint or two at what I’ll be focusing on in season 4.

Please let me know what you think, if I worded/communicated all of this clearly and if you’d like other character thesis.

If so, I’ll probably make a poll to see which one you want next!

——————————

Masterlist

Bloom Moodboard

Bloom’s Instagram

Bloom and Stella Moodboard

Bloom and Sky Moodboard

Bloom and Timmy Moodboard

[gaygoetia]

Helluva Boss Theories

Caught up with Helluva Boss and now idk what to do with myself so have some theories!

(Not including my next episode/Asmodean crystal theories cause I already discussed that here)

There are so many plates spinning at this point in the story so here are my current theories/hopes/ideas in where each thread is heading:

Stella (and her brother)

Stella is a simple woman with simple goals - to kill her husband and take all his money (not necessarily in that order).

But as established in S2 E4, if Stella kills Stolas all his money and possessions will pass to Via, leaving Stella with nothing. Of course he also won't give her anything willingly on account of how she, you know, tried to kill him.

This leaves two obvious avenues that I can think of that Stella is likely to take in pursuit of Stolas' fortune:

1. Blackmail - It's only a matter of time before Stolas' deal with Blitzo is going to come back and bite him in the ass. It's pretty much an open secret that he's been loaning out his Grimoire so that Blitzo can illegally access the human world and at some point someone is bound to leverage that fact to their advantage.

As soon as Stella realises (or more likely, her brother points out to her) that this is prime blackmail material, I think she'll jump at the chance to squeeze as much money out of Stolas' as possible.

2. Ransom - I think this is much less likely because it's too similar to previous storylines and is likely to feel repetitive, but Stella could also potentially hire Striker to kidnap Blitzo and demand a ransom in exchange for his safety.

Mammon

Given that S2 E7 ends with Mammon warning Asmodeus that he'll regret crossing him, I imagine that Mammon has a plan of his own that will emerge in future episodes.

I don't know how likely this actually is given it would be pretty large scale and would likely impact the plot of Hazbin Hotel too, but I would love it if this leads to a civil war across Hell.

Mammon is all about money and he'll be losing a lot of it now his top money-maker has publicly decried him (and I doubt Asmodeus will continue production of the Fizzy fuckdolls either).

It could also be an opportunity to finally introduce Satan (Demon of Wrath) and Leviathan (Demon of Envy) as potential allies to Mammon (whose desire for vengeance is motivated in part by the sins they embody), leaving Beelzebub and Belphegor as potential allies to Asmodeus. Of course the other sins might also have beef with each other that we don't know about which could exacerbate the situation further.

Striker

Striker has been a major player in season 2 in particular, popping up over and over again as an antagonist to IMP due Blitzo's connections to Stolas and Fizz respectively.

While he's ostensibly killing for money, he clearly has a more personal agenda stemming from his hatred of the upper class.

At the moment it's hard to know how exactly his plan will come together but in the last episode we saw him approach Crimson with the intention of forming some kind of alliance, though the details weren't specified.

I think this must be the first step in Striker's long term plan to bring down the monarchy and topple the hierarchy of Hell, though how this will play out is unclear.

I don't see the show killing off Stolas but I can imagine Striker's next appearance being in conjunction with the assassination of another royal character like Stella or her brother or even one of the Sins like Mammon or Bea.

I can also picture him trying his hand at kidnapping again in order to lure in a royal target - maybe kidnapping Blitzo or Via to draw in Stolas.

D.H.O.R.K.S

Thanks to IMP's consistent failure to keep a low profile, they've drawn the attention of D.H.O.R.K.S, an organization on Earth that appears to investigate paranormal activities, and as of S1 E6 we know they have video evidence.

I don't see them finding a way to hell without dying but I suspect they'll continue to cause problems during IMP's visits to the surface. They might even find a way to bind or command a demon.

That said, rather than the D.H.O.R.K.S themselves posing a serious threat, I think major consequences for IMP and/or Stolas are more likely to arise from the D.H.O.R.K.S drawing the attention of Higher-Ups in Hell.

What do y'all think?

I'd love to hear alternative theories on where all these storylines are leading!

Do you think all the different threads will end up intersecting?

If so, how do you think they'll tie it all together?

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Sinner-Adam, His Boyfriend Mam Plus Spinel (2024)

----------

Credit for Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss goes to Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano

Credit for Steven Universe goes to Rebecca Sugar

-----------------

it could be possible that one might need to click on the drawing to view it better, and with some of the words I wrote in the drawing, one might need to click on the drawing to view it better...maybe...?

and yeah my fan-headcanon is that Mammon from Helluva Boss is Pansexual and as for Adam, he is Bisexual but he is still in the closet but at the same time, might not be fully aware of it.

meaning he doesn't know he is Bisexual.

also I plan to use this drawing in the future as a future chapter cover for over at Quotev, which is why both my names for here and over there is on there...might be a while until I use this for over there.

like I said before, some of the stories I am working on are on hiatus.

and once again this is a "do not reblog without permission" type.

only I can freely use this for both here and for over at Quotev.

I think if I feel like it, I can have only a few posts that can be reblog but like without placing that certain tag in.

but there are reasons why I use that tag in the first place...

like maybe if I forget to put certain words in a post or if I misspell something, or if some chance someone is going to be a jerk.

Spinel befriending Adam, could be from a Timeline where Steven does end up using the Rejuvenator on Spinel, even if in the Movie he hadn't plan to...but in a Crossover Timelines, from many different Fanon Timelines of infinite Alternate Universes.

Steven ends up using the Rejuvenator on Spinel, and possibly having Lion open up a type of warp portal, to throw Spinel into...

possibly to send her back to the Garden until he can think over how to meet her again and try to get Spinel to learn about Earth again in a different way, that doesn't involve Pink/Rose...

but instead of sending her to the Garden, Steven ends up accidentally sending Spinel to where Adam is, where he fell in battle and where he will also in fan theory by a few fans...would end up being reborn as a Sinner.

so like picture after he gets regenerated and reborn as Sinner, Adam finds a heart shaped gem next to him, and it all of a sudden starts glowing and floating in the air, and then Smaller Spinel back to how she was made (before she took on her second form and looking a bit older and taller...) ends up hugging Adam, because she ends up imprinting on him as her new "Best Friend"...

Congratulation Adam, it's a Gem...

and yeah, besides the whole Mamtella being my fave, which is Mammon x Stella, which that ship name that pop into my head still sounds like a type of food that you put on toast, and yeah one time when I had talked about that ship name, it did make me hungry.

it had made my stomach growl...

and well besides Mamtella, the Bromance of Mammon x Adam seems too perfect. O_O

I still think Valentino has a type of split personalities, which would explain his accents and how he speaks changes on his moods...

Niffty freaking him out, is one of the BEST things to happen.

the song that would fit that would be "That's My Girl", which it is one of the lyrics of a song.

even Charlie and Emily, who sing together about the how Heaven and Hell are, should have parts of that "That's My Girl" play. XD

guess I'm just being weird for thinking that.

the song "That's My Girl" is by Fifth Harmony, I think.

if I was able to, I would still want to call dibs on Mammon's butt...

because of the Toxic Levels of Greed that has been going on...

there can be the okay type of normal greed, then there is the levels where it can cross the freaking line.

and if I have to go even fully super Feral Earth Angel Princess on Mammon, no one hold me back...not sure if that could ever happen.

but I call dibs on his butt and slapping him as hard as I can across on his face...and yeah, my calling dibs on his butt will be different from Millie's dibs on Moxxie's butt...

and I'm talking about the Mammon from our universe of course.

though if it were possible to call dibs on the Mammon from Helluva Boss own butt for the whole wanting to kick it as well, that would be interesting as well.

but I guess maybe even if I can have that super peeved off side that comes out at times, it does seem to be better controlled...

plus there is that whole if it gets to the point when I get to hot, I need to be close to some cool air to cool down...

I could never really handle being too hot, and well not too cold either.

that can be for some people in this world, who can only be okay with certain warmth and coolness...

and my wanting to slap Mammon, even if I might not ever be able to...is like one of those feelings you want to do but know you might not be able to.

like how I made that list that has the list of names, both angel and human who I want to punch below the belt.

Mammon is at the top of the list of course...there is a good reason why he is at the top of the list.

and with how some humans are, is going to give me another reason to want to keep him on that list, and call dibs on wanting to go Feral Earth Angel on his sorry butt...even if it is wishful thinking, and might not be possible, but is more of a type of thinking that ya wish you could be can't really do so...

even if I can have my moments where I might can be a doormat at times and can still have my closed off side and maybe not very confident at times...but well, there can be different sides to a person, even sides where they get tired by the actions of some Eon-Boomers.

not everyone has to agree about my believing in not just God, but also Goddess as well...but don't be a Toxic-Religious person about it, and throw misused words at me like "may the lord have mercy on you." or "may god have mercy on you"...and the only reasons I bring up that is to point out that it can be misused by some Toxic-Religious people, like that jerk from a few years ago, who had to throw one of those two at me, I can't remember which version of it, but I know it was one of the two...and that jerk, is probably one of the top reasons I started to really dislike Toxic-Religious people when they cross a line.

at least some who use to be Toxic-Religious, get detoxified and become no longer Toxic-Religious...but some percent might end up staying Toxic-Religious for who knows how long.

on the day I was still working on this drawing, it ended up being a bit of bad weather, and it was lucky I had stop working on it and saved it, before things turned off for a bit...meaning the computer had turned off, but I didn't dare turn it back on right away because I didn't want to do so when the bad weather was still going on.

this took from April 1 to April 2 to finish...

so I had first started to work on it on April Fools Day...

didn't really get to play a April Fool's Prank, one of the things I did was work on this drawing, also took a breaks, and of course had to wait until some time later once things seem a bit better, to finish the drawing...

I would of seriously been super peeved if everything went off that day, when I was in the middle of working on this drawing...

it was lucky I had stop to take a break and saved it when I did.

anyway, there is one more drawing I want to post up for today.

well technically tonight now.

hope some like this Crossover drawing that has Adam, Mammon and Spinel. and the whole weird idea about Spinel becoming Adam's Best Friend, and maybe like a Emotional Support Gem...

[spookyheaad]

Another art dump

Uhhh potpourri, a mix of modern/actor AU KenUno & some Tesoro/Stella, as well as some angst Interloper shit; cause I need to reignite my brain for angsty Tesoro stuff. Also working on music zine things behind the scenes :)

@p-riama @girlwiththepapatattoo

Finally coloring them 😌 feat. Tesoro in the top left, not having a fun time, by the looks of it. I adjusted the pose where Kenny is wrapping his arms around Unohana from behind, the addition of her holding his arm as though she’s urging him to continue, *chef’s kiss* perfection.

I need to draw Kenny & Unohana kissing a lot, as a treat.

Fr, a lot. Feat. Kenpachi Zaraki taking a ten second pause to absorb a thought.

I absolutely love how this Unohana sketch came out, I’m finally seeing so much progress in terms of how I draw women. I struggle with it a lot because I’m focused on men most of the time when I draw, but I’m so happy that I’m finally seeing more progress with how I draw women!

Maybe she’s knitting, maybe she’s looking down at Zaraki, who is resting his head on her lap, idk :)

More KenUno Shenanigans. Traveling to the Bleach set, couldn’t get seats next to one another, of course Kenny misses her. He can’t hold her hand.

I love Interloper so much, I can look at it & go “wow I made that character to torment Tesoro! It needs to be as vile as possible!”

It’s hard to get full detail obv when I draw it further away, esp in the face, because the cheekbones & eye sockets are very important to how it will look in the finished piece. I usually draw them first & adjust as I go.

And you bet your ass Tesoro is a Ghost fan, pls they’re right up his alley.

I had the sketch for this one in my files forever now, so I just put some rough inks on it tonight. Interloper’s chin is a liiittle too big in this; have to move it’s teeth lower.

Might try to change Tesoro’s expression, he is way too relaxed with Interloper nearly crawling down his back. in terms of the Tesoro/Stella fic, and my ideas for whenever Interloper appears; Tesoro will never get used to it. Idk, if you saw an audio/visual hallucination of your elongated messed up corpse, feeling it’s presence around, etc. have it off you in your own dreams; I’d be a garbage mess too.

An idea that I have. Not sure if I’ll use this idea for the fic, but I’ll still share it because I like the sketches. As Tesoro continues to atone for his atrocities, as well as begins to process his severe trauma, Interloper becomes more and more incapacitated; from losing its legs, then it’s arms, to where it becomes a stump on the floor that can only try to taunt and influence Tesoro through his thoughts to harm himself. Tesoro is still afraid of it regardless of it being unable to walk; it’s presence alone is enough to make him cower. But, seeing it in such a state of weakness, it’s just more confirmation that he’s moving in the right direction.

[ne0nlightzz]

Don't Forget The Sun | Creepypasta X FTM!Reader

Side note/ A/N: this is my story that i have put here for those who don't want to go to Wattpad in this unfortunate time of ao3 being down [mostly a joke] also how does one format a full story part on tumblr? i need some guidance here

story masterlist

PART: TWO

3:14am

That's what the alarm clock next to my bed read when I glanced over to it from where I was sitting at my desk, being back "home" is weird and unsettling but also oddly reassuring and nostalgic.

The way I've been sitting at my desk, listening to music quietly and writing [or drawing] with only my lamp lighting up the small area due to me being unable to sleep is bound to get me in trouble, or at least it would if I was at mother's place.

I looked down at my work, I've been working on a story [or drawing] all night and it's honestly still not the best, could definitely use some tweaking to be better. 

Putting down my pen and taking out an ear bud I spun around in my chair to face the window above my bed, it was nearly pitch black outside my window, only the streetlight a bit past the house illuminating the street and end of the driveway dimly.

I stood up and stretched my arms above my head before I walked to my bed and crawled onto it and over to the window, squinting as I looked out of it, struggling to see but being able to make out...the outline of something standing at the very end of the driveway, it seemed to be a person?...maybe a dog?? 

I don't know but I honestly am not even going to question what it was or why it was there because foe all I know it could be fake and just my mind playing tricks on me, plus I've seen so many weird and creepy things that I never knew if they were real or not.

-

-

-

"Beep beep beep!"

That's all I heard as I laid in my bed haft asleep, assuming it was just my alarm I had lazily grabbed my phone from under my pillow and forced my eyes open so I could see my phone screen too shut off any other obnoxious alarms that might be set.

Once i finally got my phone unlocked and the alarm app was open I was slightly confused when I was met with zero alarms set, but then again i have zero memory of even setting my alarms before I fell asleep last night that I started to move my phone so I could just go back to sleep but when I moved my phone I was met with the face of a 7 year old in my face 

"Ah! What the hell!" I yelled as I sat up and swatted the kid away

"Good mornth'ng!!" The little girl shouted, a lisp present as she did so, then smile widely 

"S-s-screw off ya little freak b-because it's-s-s not a 'Good morning' when you wake s-someone up like that!" I scowled but felt kind of bad when the little girls smile dropped and a sad expression appeared on her face, I sighed and rubbed my eyes

"I'm s-s-sorry s-st-stella, I did mean too s-snap" I apologized to the little blonde girl who stood in front on my bed but stuttering with just about every 's' word.

Maybe I should have actually gone to speech therapy, that might have helped, probably not though. 

Stella stood there for a moment, seemingly lost in her thoughts before a smile made it back on to her face.

"th's oth'ay bubba! Mama t'id to come get t'ou up!" 

I nodded as I forced myself out of bed, standing up and stretching before I put my hand on Stella's shoulder and led her out of my room, closing the door as soon as she was out of the doorway and into the hall.

I quickly changed into black ripped skinny jeans and an old showcase shirt from last year's showcase that I actually didn't part take in like I had planned too. 

I also threw on a pair of socks and then my vans before heading to the kitchen.  [If you don't like this outfit, please change it to something you prefer!] 

Apon walking into the kitchen, I was greeted by Stellas mother, Brooklyn, and Stella in the room.

I sighed, not quite ready to deal with this lady or try to meet Stella's energy so early into my day. 

I walked into 

the connected dining room area and sat down next to Stella at the dining table, she smiled at me then offered me one of her coloring books that sat next to the one she was coloring in

"Stella, let y/n eat, he just woke up so don't go bothering him and trying to get him to play with you!" Stella's mother fussed at her

Brooklyn isn't a horrible mother, she treats stella better than I thought she would when her and my dad had announced they were going to have a crotch goblin, and she also does use my preferred name and pronouns so bonus points for being a haft decent human, i guess. 

though she does tend to fuss at her daughter for dumb things quite often, I guess it's something her and my mother have in common. 

"No n-no it's okay Brooke! She's not bo-othering me at a-all and I w-w-want to color with her" I said before Brooklyn could fuss anymore at the small 7year old girl who sat next to me and was now upset, with that Brooklyn gave me a small smile and nod then walked back to the kitchen.

I turned to Stella and put a soft small smile on my face

"S-So, what coloring books do you have again?" I asked and she immediately perked up and pushed her coloring books back to me, I grabbed a Lisa Frank coloring book and some crayons then started to color with Stella for a bit.

-

-

-

After about ten minutes, Brooklyn came and sat across from us.

"So y/n, do you have any plans for this summer?" She asked, trying to make small talk with me. 

I thought for a second before looking up from the coloring book I had and shrugging.

"Nope, not really. I might s-s-see if maybe some of m-my old friends wanna hang out at s-some point, but bes-sides that nope." I answer. 

Brooklyn nodded and went to say something but quickly stopped herself, I knew what she was about to say but still gave a questioning look, after waiting a moment for her to talk she just shook her head and gave me and Scarlett a small smile before dismissing herself from the table. 

That was weird, I know she wanted to say something that referred to the past and I'm haft thankful she didn't but am also curious on what exactly she was going to say. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the suddenness of Stella's shouting. 

"Loo'th I'm done colo'thing!" I looked at her and then the finished coloring sheet she was holding up to show me, I gave her a small smile before speaking. 

"It looks great s-s-stell!!" I said and I swear I didn't think this kid could look any happier than she already did

"Th'ank you!" 

"Wan-n-na go put it on th-he fridge, kiddo?" I asked as I stood up, she was quick to nodding and hand me her coloring page before getting out of her chair and dragging me to the fridge, with that I hung it up as she clapped and jumped around happily.

I guess Dad and Brooke don't hang her stuff up or give her much praise on her work, but I guess that's to be expected from them but it's still kind of shitty.

-

-

-

"H-hey Mrs. Brooklyn, can I as-s-sk a question" I asked as I approached her

"Sure, what is it y/n?" She replied 

"Is-s it okay if I go int-to town for a bit?" Once I asked that she seemed to think for a minute before nodding

"I don't see why not, just make sure to be back before it gets dark, okay?" She said kindly with a small smile, and I nodded and quietly said a 'yes ma'am' before rushing to 'my room' and grabbing my now empty backpack, I threw my camera, notebook, hoodie and my meds and ear buds in it before slinging it over my shoulder and rushing back into the dining room and out the door.

Once outside I quickly made my way around the property and to the 'workshop' also known as the shed, I opened the door to find everything nearly the same as when we left, I quickly spotted what I was looking for, the bike that's been in here for years. I quickly grabbed it, surprised it still had air in the tires when I checked, then made my way to the street, when I got to the street I got onto the bike and made my way into town.

-

-

-

I rode my bike through town until I got to the entrance of a familiar looking neighborhood, I stopped outside the neighborhood entrance, hesitant to keep going.

I stood there for a moment contemplating my decisions and staring blankly at the stop sign across the street before shaking my head slightly and sighing. 

"Fuck it" I mumbled before getting back on my bike and starting into the neighbor.

A/N

Hey Hey!-  1. If you like this story, please check my info book or convos board because I have some important questions on there regarding this story and how yall would like it to play out. I'm also going to put the main two questions here so please do let me know what yall want!

Q-1- When should this stories timeline be set in? I haven't been able to choose in between current time and the early-mid 2010s so let me know what yall want! [I've included alot of stuff from around the 2000s-mid 2010s] [THIS HAS BEEN ANSWERD AND THE TIME IS RUFFLY SET IN 2012!!}

Q-2- Do yall want the reader to have a relationship with a character romantically? If so who? [keep in mind I've written the reader as a 15–16-year-old.] Also, what character should the reader have a close platonic relationships with? [PLZ ANSWER THIS TUMBLR- IM BEGGING YA-]

------- 2. I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the last and I'm sorry it's taken a bit to get out! My older sister is currently moving and I'm playing a big part in helping pack and all and have been super busy lately.

So due to that everything I've been working on has been postponed or moving slow. I currently have a list of requests I still need to do plus my usual stories [this, we are young, etc]and it's just all moving slow. 

Anyway, sorry for the interruption of your program.

I just cringed at myself and I'm sorry for that dorkyness--

-Luv Lee<3] 

!NOT THUROUGHLY PROOFREAD OR EDITED BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE MY LAPTOP!

[12/2/2022]

Edited: [2/16/2023]

Posted to Tumblr on: 7/11/2023. I did not removove the old a/n when posting, i dont know why, i just felt i should leave it.

[selenacloud]

Bloom Peters

Name: Bloom Peters

Age: 18

Race: Faerie/Fairy

Personality:

Curious, Emotional, Insecure, Creative, Leaderly, Courageous, Resourceful, Prone to Anger if Pushed & Reactive

Physical Features: 

Light Peach Skin with Long bright red hair and crystal blue aquamarine eyes

Unique Physical Detail: 

She has light tint red cheekbones on her face.

Fashion Aesthetic: 

Loves Casual type of clothes, will be trendy from time to time but mostly wears feminine clothing. 

Unique Fashion Detail:

Has a Blue heart necklace around her neck that she has had all of her life.

Education:

Alfea Academy of Magix

Magic Skills:

Can Control Fire Magic

Has the Power to Heal

Has the Ability to Summon Power from the Great Dragon

Hobbies:

Drawing

Reading

Baking

Female Best Friends:

Stella

Terra

Diaspro

Male Best Friends:

Timmy

Brandon

Love Interest:

Sky

I kind of imagined her musical vibe would be a combination of Nothing is What It Seems and Take on Me both by Hidden Citizens.

I got inspired by @rivensdefenseattorney and @dragonfly0808 so I decided to try a hand at rewriting the girls. Bloom is first. I was gonna do her a teenager...but honestly, I couldn't figure her out lol. I've written and deleted her teen self like...4 times so I aged her up to 18. I wanted to make sure it wasn't the same but like.. It is hard so I hope its still unique in its own right. Anyways um this is my bloom. I feel like she should show some of that shy but hot-headed side as well which is honestly something I haven't seen yet, mostly told in the cartoon while Fate mostly went with her hot-headed side with not that much sweetness...also.. what's wrong with having parents who love their kid? Its in like every teen drama where a parent and child fight, its insane. Anyway hope you guys Like her. I might update this from time to time. Might do the other girls, including Terra. I honestly think that show did not do her good, especially with her outfits (next to the love interest, I liked that)

Will I make fic...no clue still thinking about it.

See you guys later!

-Sel

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: Finale II - The Woods

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: being followed, fear of attack/getting jumped

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 1612 || Approx reading time: 7 mins

Part 2: The Woods

Teaser: Goodness, I truly was a fool to think that the past would never catch up to me. Perhaps deep down, I knew that at some point, some part of my old life would leak into this one—the meeting of Bree and Lucy.

Bree

Sleeping is impossible, and when I rise in the morning, I’m more tired than when I fell into bed. Victoria is still dead to the world, but she won’t be for long. It’s my day off, but not hers, and perhaps any minute now she’ll be up, too, and then I might have to face her questions. I managed to avoid them last night by pretending to be fast asleep when she came up to bed. If she catches me now, though, I won’t be able to escape her interrogation.

And I do not want to talk.

Goodness, I truly was a fool to think that the past would never catch up to me. Perhaps deep down, I knew that at some point, some part of my old life would leak into this one—the meeting of Bree and Lucy.

It just feels so soon.

I know it’s not, not really. It’s been over a year now since I left the city. Long enough that the bitterness of that day, of slipping away in the late-autumn freeze, has faded. I’ve almost managed to forget how piercing the wind felt as I wended through the streets looking for a shawl or a blanket to swipe from somewhere. It’s a distant memory, how frightened I was that someone would look at the fading-but-visible marks on my face and start asking uncomfortable questions. A long, long year since I caught one of the last trains out of town before the snow came, my ticket purchased with stolen money.

Money I took from a man who was eating in this very inn last night.

Fuck.

I throw myself into my whites, making sure to pull on an extra pair of stockings to ward against the cold, then hunt for my heaviest dress, a dark blue woollen one. It’s pretty, but it is the warmth of the wool that I’m after, because I can’t stay in here. Here, where Victoria can ask too many questions; here, where the inner circle of IA and the doctor who betrayed the constabulary might be sleeping as we speak.

And I need to think.

They didn’t see me. Of that, I’m mostly confident. None of them were even looking my way when I fled the room. I’m safe. Surely, I’m safe.

My hands are shaking when I grab my coat and yank it over my arms. I drop my heavy grey shawl twice before I manage to tie it around my shoulders.

Air—that’s all I need. Clean, fresh, biting air. It will wake me up and clear my head and perhaps quieten some of the panicked thoughts that simply will not stop screaming through my mind.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Son of a bitch.

Stella, the inn’s owner and my boss, is already downstairs, sitting in her favourite spot by the window with her hands wrapped around a hot cider. I can hear Celeste, her friend who helps her with the inn who everyone knows is her lover, rustling around in the kitchen, singing softly to herself. “In vain you tell your parting lover / You wish fair winds may waft him over…”

“Thought you were sick,” Stella says, narrowing her eyes. Her hair is more grey than gold at this point, and sometimes Victoria and I have noticed that she looks a bit like a prune with all her wrinkles, but her mind is sharper than that of possibly anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s going to want answers about why I disappeared during the dinner rush last night, and I don't think she’ll be very gentle in her words at all if she’s not satisfied with the ones I give.

“Alas! what winds can happy prove / That bear me far from what I love?”

I draw a long breath and try to look pathetic. “I… I am. Yes. I am sick. I’m going to see the doctor.”

“You want me to send for him now?” She narrows her eyes. “Fetch him here? Shouldn’t go walking about in the cold if you’re ill.”

“Alas! what dangers on the main / Can equal those that I sustain / From slighted vows and cold disdain?”

“No—No, that’s all right,” I say, trying to not stammer too much, which is hard when her piercing gaze is boring right into me. “I’m feeling a bit better, but I think perhaps I should just…”

Stella looks me up and down with undisguised suspicion. “You better not be in a delicate condition there, little miss Lucy, or you’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“A… A delicate condition?” She stares into my very soul until I finally realize what she means, and when I do, my face burns hot as coals. “No! No, it isn’t that. It can’t be. I promise.”

“I hope for your sake, Lucy,” Stella says, “that you’re telling the truth. Being unmarried but working hard is one thing. Being unmarried and—”

My voice is nothing more than a squeak. “I’m not—”

A clatter interrupts my frantic insisting. “Now, Stella.” It’s Celeste calling, still invisible, from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping now that she’s done singing. “Leave the poor girl alone and let her get on.”

Bless Celeste and her gentle heart. She’s the less terrifying of the two of them.

“Thank you,” I mumble, heading for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

The cold air, instead of being painful as it sometimes is in the dead of winter, soothes the burning in my cheeks. A delicate condition, indeed. All Victoria and I do is work. When does she think, exactly, I’ve had the time to get myself into a delicate condition?

That was a conversation I never expected to have with my employer, and I pray I will never have it ever again.

Dawn breaks smoothly and sweetly over the town. I clamber through the snow to the top of the hill, panting a little when I get there but feeling glad I made the climb. By some stroke of luck, I get there just in time to enjoy the sunrise, relishing how it spreads a warm glow over the town’s roofs, turrets, and gables. The dawn promises it will be beautiful today, with a sky clear and blue, a welcome gift after the stormy gloom of yesterday. The morning rays are a balm—somewhat—to my nervous, restless mind.

It isn’t long before my thoughts shove past my sorry attempt to be present in this beautiful winter morning.

He’s here. They’re here.

Up on the hilltop, alone, I can look back on yesterday evening with some small sliver of distance. With no one else around, just me and my memories and my thoughts, I can clasp onto the strange, wiggly feeling that kept me up all night.

Astonishment I felt, yes, but that isn’t what had me tossing and turning.

Terror—that too, but again, it is not terror I’ve captured up here where no one else can see what is surely plain on my face.

No, it’s something else entirely—remarkable, unfamiliar, unbearable, and freakish, let loose after a year of being heaped in a corner gathering dust.

Happiness.

Joy.

They’re here—he’s here—and he’s all right.

He is safe and alive.

I feel a tug on that thread, beckoning me to follow that feeling, coaxing me, telling me to caress that gossamer string so it can show me what thoughts await me at the other end. I do not obey. I’m not ready to face down those thoughts, those feelings.

I don’t think I am, anyway.

Am I?

How long I stand in the snow, it’s difficult to tell, but when my toes begin to go numb, I know it’s time to get moving again. A little regretfully, I say goodbye to the glistening sun that bounces off the town below, then make my way down the hillside again.

I wind my way through the woods, walking slowly and humming Celeste’s song in a feeble attempt to occupy my mind. The closer I get to town, however, the louder my worries grow. What if Will and the others are still there? What if they’re staying at Stella’s inn—my inn? What if the next time we cross paths, I can’t get away from them? What will I say if that happens? Do I want that to happen?

Do I want to see him face to face?

I don’t.

I do.

Would he want to see me?

I…

So deafening are the worries in my head that I notice too late that there are footsteps behind me, crunching through the snow.

Growing faster. Heading right toward me.

Someone’s chasing me.

For a moment, I’m frozen with fear.

Fuck this. I’ve been here before. I have been frightened and helpless. Powerless against stronger arms held against me—my father, that man in the alley, Hatchett, Michaelson. I have been powerless against the fucking world, but I will not be again.

I am not the same girl from that alley, nor the girl I was a year ago.

I spin and leap for my attacker before he can get his hands on me, the element of surprise acting as my other weapon as I sweep my foot against his legs and knock him to the goddamn ground, my blade pressed against his throat.

“If you fucking lay a finger on me, you fucking pervert—”

“Whoa,” Will Wardrew says, his eyes wide. He has the gall to look impressed instead of scared, even though he’s the one flat on the ground with a knife at his neck. “Hey, Bree. Where in hell did you learn to do that?”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Next time on The Prince of Thieves:

Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles, @whither-wander-whump 💕

[libidomechanica]

Then, come try me, if I had a juice in the cross

A ballad sequence

               I

My Stella, while you but of me?     You can scarcely after hard furrows in your torches that     rises keen, when we spoke

the wretched you her soule, arm’d but     with the bond thereby, alas, the other, safe and shucks,     refusing that bad his can’t

discover young, I’m o’er young, ’twad     be amazeful solitary Child. Thou puzzlest me     but to the curb next to

a curb trapped in temple come one     tower o’ the bedroom is trees are a foule yoke bare;     but her down which in the

Hielands, and I’ll live our pleasaunt     layes the day and no white bliss, whose breath thee swim, gladder plighten     thee presence of strange,

and doubt’s pain cry, Speak on a     martyrdom, to vex their speech, faine would suffering eye; like a Sun.     These north clymes too late

flow of riches thee sing, when shall     come True. Hope no redress that he find it, that long I could     not seen: for this. You at

the town and blue, betray. Or poison     from the shock of us, you my flows, has been the fun     hard by Saint Laurence summits

of the woods, I dropped, and lovers     meet your face to bid farewell, the offender’s sorrow     dies; can make thy bed-vow

broken hawthorn-hedge, and you wilt     cozen marriage. Deacon off his can’t a painter, since the     brim, to toll me back to

where I, who she is also may     with such band, which means hope, there lies now approach. But if, my     song, my waking down, you

shalt thou art as blacke, both attended:     laiko, Common Teutonic for proud despair, alas!     Then, come try me, if I

had a juice in the cross. Both in     yourself the while I live. Natures kindly course a saint’s     For all bail shall measure!

               II

Three quarter-florin to Mire.     Sets you recede through bliss he loathes? The hair at eighty,     in middle of one, and the lantern in his patience. I     had heart and i would lie

outside. But still obligingly     strive those hat your smallish for us, nor ought I saw one     of your heave my sole self- enjoyings on Cessnock banks the cup.     Dido is gone, and day,

while she can endure. While I was     but torment you the husband! The morgin’d ocean wide draw     in that which her head—mine’s shining pining til the world to     time Sonny Rollins

disappoint we can no way repay;     think what is lost, and ev’ry grass is to kill for many     lambs might her down Splendour life and pebbles winking out with     come try me. I sit upon

thee anear. Only remaine,     abandoned, almost Dionysian. And longs for thy     voice of any eden we all from the light and meant the     passeth. A family-likeness

beside and ask me too, but     there other a millions live I wanted when moving your     memory yet. Human sight can you should, thought, old age sounds     both high require? If

snow the bedroom with secret shadow,     like running I put on severance! She has twa spark that     flower girlond Oliue braunch once it blood rushed the Titmose silence     it is a work on

Jerome knock on my hearts does the     red rose and show your eyes, like slang. Pile or sprited gastliness.     Sing me a nest of birth, ere yet still wind, who art and     boundary layer between

my mouth laugh, and gold ingots, like     a bee. Did stand stares a hole in the night at noon, in vowing     a White Turban on his sight quite forget the first-born     joy. And night; if thou

desire of your like the other     fast. But though envy not your dream I saw people do one     summits of Feare doth Love is like the waves sheet of absent     presence, the wretched me

with gaze enchanted types of those     face doth least, whom men lover his side, and when I reflect     the hands reproach that swincke and so was the alien corn;     an’ she has been born. When

I heat the earth! Of Tyrant. This     Courtesy; and a good cause he dieted water-blurred. Then     while some iouisaunce nourish! Like an idol show, since they sweep     thy footsteps of the deep

in them beyond to-morrow lends     not letting near; till my heart. Whispered the second was     Ambition, up shall away. Falling place, staide her side a hurt     dog at my feet, to cease

thee remaine, for I have never     has acres o’ charm o’ the little on thy footsteps behind     taking the unsustained, drunk with a fervor born     for that, at the day your

cullion’s breaks white, but now the Beauty     grant maid, you all enuie hopeless grieve not eternity.     And I can’t answer now, your soft peace the eagles hide the     same, perhaps the swarthy

child: yet doth my bones were together,     quo she, do what you yourselues oppressed, with smiling     as flesh and bow and screw out a soft snowy mountain ranges     tell; but she has taketh.

So, therefore from the shape of     despaire triumpher of his Authority falls, a broken     chords do from the suffering of praise devised you go the dusty     toiles of counterfeit!—

Which wonder. Just last lone aster,     there’s none the mounted— robed in Royal Robes, and shame,     and what will believe me, and the life please thee? Which is true     love! Then downward glorious

raiment, old naked face under     his presenteth nought deep-delved earth can hold out and then     in words spill fragrant will call deserues sike Poetes     We get on fast to knows!

               III

Spoke as chords do gaspe, forgotten,     bone bag man, saint’s white and death, O clamorous joys holy,     eternall night and

gold, or all lovers meeting; the     flouds o’ertake me were sweet a flowers tore my virginity,     and you are a

concordance of his Authority     fall, survive the bench behind you what start from good night, breaking     the sun; these tears the

Bard refused to do. If ever     since all dart on her tears there! I prize what now the open     hatchway vomiting up

that we behold thy face and leave     thou a flower, now is it the haire, when that so well I     know dark is most rich prompt

disemburden of a peacock,     sits thorn, and Beauty slumbers more and the burning of moods:     not, like yon cherry, double

step all shall carry in their     heau’n forgate again. Company! Once she lies with the shock     of wedlock and sense of

my night of love you not making     down, and gins and a bonie laddie dear. A bell give me also     her last monotony.

               IV

Had I a cave, angry than I.     Try having his maid I love toward conquest of happiness     is complete: supposed and

handsome, which thought, in you most     suspecting love’s mine own poor hearts does my reason to get sweet,     sweets in at dawn! It lies

with me, as amber. Lay thy fires     of existence forsworn, too shall try that content suddenly     fier, stella, whose constant

stay sets you put for thy cheeks,     or taffata cap, rank’d in souls as cool and such a things     desire; I could say

and hang the rash deed.—Neither apron.     For nought, whose hat your looks at the came feathered less     vomiting into that Sage’s

sanction; till shine: if I say,     you heare, now be still. The sweet thy love her in     I put my cloister-wall.

               V

” For, doing hugging appetite!     The sun a shield. Whose milkweeds’ honey of Nature made of     maybe your charted be.

Anthea laughters of many     starves in wing’d ship may moue you. It was the darknesse bright     feel them for minds quick

apprehending by, one the chilling,     murderous love? I’m fley’d indolence benumb’d my expected,     enterchant? Of Carnal

Composition Unattaint,—     a Rosebud blowing? So sweet day could keep hill’s edge they preuaile     as may aye remains.

               VI

Father! Till arrest without the     dog for more. Language plain, kill me back against my whole, it’s     debt; and lying idle.

               VII

To uphold an inflicted upon     her roguish een. And kick your ear of desier still winter     grimly flies. A bell

to Honour mounted; kiss’d my Hand,     and covered in mine hid the red the morning whale, crawling     up into you of incense

I smell the wreckful siege of     Wood a furlong from the river. Look, and love that holds john     Baptist’s heart with darken’d

and rend then thou bonny bird! Your     arms I fly. Different as truly love, all the rest, and watching     around my blue harbors

me and make amends. With your     pocket and love, nor ear of desire! Depend on Fortune’s     shadow-like fog smother,

safe and morn are both alike,     he could weep, for a year would win my way, hiding the ev’ning     Phoebus wearièd with

my Book, in my backpack in bed.     I chance; and wine: or forgive, an’ she her arms? A martyrdom,     to vex their Strength of

my heart, whereon the cup of her     call they live a philosophy, Dorothy, after many     lies and less; that relation,

how you anywhere; and that     trees, beast, there eagle why he returne, still true love as rare     as any she was a

strawberries ripe, tho’ half he wise     the winds clear, Some might steal away? Under the warm eve finds,     and where is indeed, fortune’s

shadows dire. Before me     written love letters talking of a high romance, and sings     we have, life’s deare all those

rules breaks white. Without they in skin.     Tired chaplets wrought I once more than stone, now crown the grasse     ay greene in gray beginning.

So soon the give birth the mind     in his style: how longing like those who’ve never for a lassie     by him? For a week:

but which stealing back I was lonely     by your sprited gastliness. The willow banks unseen,     while her up forever.

               VIII

Only a sequel, after season. And all enjoy.     Its cage so shelter, tho’ half for the find its unexpect, as the powerful army.     While thou for thy chamber for it;

smiling on the whale world. Waiting for Refuge from     leaning is dearie; the reason, and the sounding, for I have seen. Other woes for me then     downward glorifies his defilèd

bosom, O faith, some in languish. The night with arms     and have; choose to my bed, in trowth, I dared to mince the flown away, I must know me the     faintly, the mountain’s brow; an’ she far

and with silent through the self-doing moon built a     life but make you. Thou my life, and doubts, though! But now as well if she can warm serge gown and     a new gown, to walk with this Morning

forth unto me; the prophet in storms rent Theotormon’s     Eagles at most. And gone, they clover his Head. Effects, to pry, to chafes at the     radio beating the flower, safe and

the blush which the grave, and tear. My desp’rate features     joy in me, if thou reviewest that all our sun standing thus, crying of your pryde, where     his moment of your torches the ninety

year old breast, oercharg’d, to take in each other     job this queen therefore, there was a bonie lass, an’ she has been merry, double step, make the     marble vault above that heals his world?

With charm’d his book, the whale world I stand stretch their     contradiction, and methough thou dissemble, with cold watery desolationship based     on air that kiss, or mocked; then, my bird!

               IX

Microscope, in pure east, the secret,     fearful meditations to lie wi’ you, all summer.     It, ever was struck upon,

and the day? Were a room to     reuert, o ioyfull verve of your hairs, now mourn for each other     best movies beginning.

               X

If thou loves on her wonted solace     is yon moon which, shining? See, at least, I may never     sinke; and shoulder, but in

the rest. In that spicy nest. If     that is to know. Then, you’ll have to entertayne, let him with     the seas; an’ she has twa

sparkling red sunset, or tell     your day, to change ere night, because acts are not love at the     snow was a wind the Faith

wine and place seemed not then new mistress,     will never put eloquence is light the field; and     therewithall unto hear

her womb to the retreating to     herye, nor power of unreflect the East do rise, whom my     with their God and uninspiring.

Nothing beat high, and me,     then buried day, shall fate allotted by thee? Village dog     barks at distant, yet well

the fruit, as faults, not vsde to feele     the Wild. I’m always heart, smile when all this knot in tears     of Albion heart. Hung

over an hour, that harbor and     and rave at they’d never ranging, sweete, make it sees but were     seek relief to his sin.

               XI

Had we kept sounding the lust lights!     Now twelve years, from whence it to arrive with a modern we     are they gave it will hold hard in grass after hardest stone-     wall; and made of an hour with Absence vaile, I may hold     dominion: no Nation some

might things servest alone,—at learne     to whome nor heart the earth makes watches the love! Only the     ravenous corpse. Even this know are of—succumbing too     deere for me? Why dost thou him. All the balm, the taste not pains—     which she trips along, I

know who serves in their shore up my     deeds might, and I’ll read, his prey, and Fate sic please, our health, not     cover if it’s pride and from the might dropped all, all sides, so     pleasures of the town of Christ whose spotless Surface. Excels,     an’ she has taketh. You

had a fourth time decay we’re made     him run. Which time the dying. His darkens, and idleness!     Can’t dare no more there not the ev’ning Phoebus wear despairs,     which I gaze enchas’d with the beating thy voice I hear their     path, still enjoyed, like eyes

are obedience. Jamie, come     by my name—lo, this moment, three figured is the Fountain     round to thee fair eyes of the fountain woman is! ’Er young     to myself have passing in thy selfe deserve more wary     that’s fiddling on the chest.

How I wake or stack of sheepe: the     Prophets drew, and takes place and choose moment of half-drown’d in     white to praised dripping with sever; poor Wisdom from madness,     guessing—table cluttered from every morning heart, the hell     am I a beaker

full of us we can no way     repays my poor fish blightingale is to bear; why warbling     sea. Joys in the moons, and what you them: and, sir, and such     a dainty blush. Oh, had I with our brain, before me with     thee, for I must die as

well: at entrance strands his grow? Like     a fellow pale and leaves around to his single one, methought,     in their glens, on purpose! To play that frantic Ocean     on my Bed, my length he might, and to herye, nor with wondrous     moment, and Provençal

song of fresh numbered bit of hours:     the earth than I. One faithful of my head coming night we     wants a cod: i’ll no gang to drop a grace and     Miquelon. And down to the Silver Line dividends of petals     beside! In the

foreshadow wailing trade with work, the     silver Line dividends of petals beside the slow; an     hundred Thousand life’s flash, and lyeth buryed long delay the     fattened slack of continues cold water drinks another?     Flowers do stur; in the

Rain King, but you make then, come square     again revive; inspiring. You little store, you look     upon the Darling heart violent. Read a beast, I may not     do as we passionate one. To the Indian-summer’s     neck, do the birds and cold

waters are all richly     aromatical. Or we could pretend there are not been a lawn     besprinkled o’er young arms, and Virtue kept: all Muse of day     and Ruby Girdle his natiue place, for none threshold? That doubt’s     pains to lutes of death lesse

quietly. So strong, but i just     don’t feel pain, in heauenly signes a goddess go; my     misfortune’s shining pining til the slender young life and die.     Maybe your word from which makes me sad? Tell you it’s gonna     be your warm serge gown and

wilt cozen marked by fate. Till checked,     halting too deere forests and spoke: Behold! I know darlin’     darlin’ darling to help each word which will be bless moan; tho’     matching the flames of gratify sense of those Eyes on a     whore, and die. And Philome

warm eve find abundantly     detestable. Choose my boots but faces Truth was sternly still     thou doest me Come bring to ravell d. I wanna be alright     from its earth, and the cup. To chafes at most secret see,     now cease to know where was

happy happy tomb; and oh, it     may betide with you be; in soule up to our aged sires,     now brightness alarm came over another? But I tell     to choose to breath not angry! But when ev’ning gilds they     temptation! With him, so

typical, shower, the bared branches     bearest of such brave still it that’s the stove. Yellow guineas     for proud lady. Jenny kissed me with blush rebuked men behold     thy faith of all were sport us while the ox? But you     know, theyr head, and passing,

by Saul Bellow When they by: alas!     I sang here all richly aromatical. If so     be hell am I say, what’s the love-hat remember that?     Mothering what neither age. Say, creatures cheifest treasure     clog him, so that thou dost

true things in their murderous thine     eye in the seas; an’ she has done lament, will not go gentle     in the dust ygoe. Perchance; and, to enclosure. May gives     away; for your thigh to comfort me, beaming Child, to be!     Yet do not go gentle

into heauie herse, the scorn things wi’     Geordie impress’d, these two and set thing of the hill the     sea. While the mouth will you roaming? Now bright. Thee form’d to see     whom I loue denied, and cursed them over eight years lately     take in early twilight.

               XII

A heauens doe missed, but since finds,     arises a breach do I accuse them a long he stores and     i would say. Or, mind you shalt gayne, that swincke and Musk she was     hear the burnt up by-and- by; the pane, he leave the morning,     that claims olives were, since?

               XIII

There on the faire a fire of sleepen     long. Ridiculous. My wings—to Helene once you occur     in gray beginning.

               XIV

And with you her soule vnbodied of     morning rises keen, while thou returning by their arms undo,     bow patient grove and

gane, tho’ I can, if he can endure.     Have it will do, speak no Latin in pure rage! My proudly     make you? Which burnt mirth!

               XV

And your heart I worried you like.     The scorched yellow guineas for me. Don will fling the woodbines     with the digits of

my lips when kings a song to his     silence bring child dwell that blue and Philome warm in my sense     does the painting should clock

for my sleep might, half-taught deep-disguise,     for me, I tell me what the mountain thee. Greeting they     must show me that temple

carest. With a dainty rind, shouldst     use the years shouldst use thee: ah! For beauty, and a bunch of     a woman who comes you

renounced himself or face with many     a time my sense and thirst of conuersation through the     faint breasts are free. I’m caught

and dies out at pushing roguish     een. Into that the East do rise, which, wherever beauteous     gift thou shalt by a

benison. Of a sponge drincks she has     twa sparkling I put my cloister: hunt it crime. You have     a pestilence, this is

there motley follow’d with so fast!     The marble and show your eyes were might I’ve held cravings for     long blessed. He pushed men have?

               XVI

Who hath the flowery flowers     let us dividends of petals beside the sager     sorrows? The cowslip ball: but what thou art, and please. As who     ruled! They seeme my day, nor no day hath left his sullen might     I’ve made in the words, with

me will faith presents into the     eternal joy. To take an inflated for him a Nurse—     her Name the cowslips but Heaven knowing neuer lieth sike     Poetes prayse and death, some in languish in banks unseen, and     yet once i am somewhat:

and you style me six month: so,     boy, who loves unwrit, at least we part, a key … Even therefore,     dearest of heat. Immortal river. All my less the     first your three weeks shut with flow’r-reviving it, from that father,     pretty lad, said a

cleft of the death bugs is solid,     like a sweeps uninvited in the dying of rabbits     by mistress mine, each nipple cries: to you, hopeless woe till     his eyes, has buoyed me with jealous dolphins sport around     to heauie herse, yet saw I

on the munificent Houses—     and God to add life’s deadly spight, music and the caged yellow     guineas for her wars, beside in a clay strums on her     arms, neck, do think you! The great mountain-sides at his loneliness,     or wert the ods hath

the insults with the fieldes ay     fresh teares, but you yourself brings downhill at eight in you     it’s pride and shall before his friend must know me they could I     weep my wofull was grave, and truth live. Of many though you     are mine. Trip no further

apart from usury feel, we     touch had a juice in both of my ioy, faire triumph’s strategy?     And Lo! If human game: imagination sweetness     beare what sunny mead and shady grove and gates of it these,     trash, suck my loves unwrit,

at there dwell. Itself may pay there     a-making only wedding side by her wonted light long     I could wed in tears that celestial presence, there were thy     soul’s eyes, like delight and further, said to the disgrace: but     neatly tangle, and quiet

smile on the must speak to your     heart’s undo, bow patient grove and the gracing thus, crying     hours shine, when shade, which the heart, where came on before my rymes     as rough that he sight, as one delicate Arab arch     of your fury now, hip

to spin on, it is a word, much     cause? But the more be forgot if they might laments of my     hart did set through yet, heavens. I’m my own fear’d to the presence     of the grew, she mad— its hackneyed speech was the pale stars,     through the swirl and church at

it in that bad his weapon, like     an army down. Before that my poor old woman’s limbs: he     roses growing dead, dead was Ambition! But glorious     end in the Dutch a thicket, which ours we can be as happy     tomb; and if myself—

but out loud! Who hath her tree, where     sport around a straight, I know Love is but a dreamt of love     ribbon, lockes fall from your sampler, and list that my breathing     up in leaf to leave those though we play, nor blank as a     piece of the day? To be

remiss: the hair is dripping of     thee, gave a bit of slave often lives were still for this queen;     ’tis therein campeth, spread stories of the bat, they bear the     bit of half-stripped, long with me after that have call? Grave men,     the song of praise is due,

onelie through your meeting as flesh,     I can’t see. I try to add life, in heavenly eye, to     build him castle white man I had hearts command,—i’ll aulder     to the carved them also, but of better are but you,     incomment; when thou now? Twas

but Heaven-granteth. Looking dressed,     like smallish anguisht with Ambrose, her thine, or breast, the earth     has left me in the North End, through much, you don’t knowes, ill-     reports, because acts are not in one, my Theotormon     seventy coats I constant

stay sets you remembered by thy     forehead’s like a blank; it merit that change by the lips bedeck     thee listen to serue the violent. This small relics shall     beauty and it’s meet at dawn! At which to him the offence’s     crost, yet unwiped!

               XVII

Your face their eyes wobble as thirty     years till it pleasing between they’d never was seeking     eyes by the nightly: what

did stares and traces, sweet! True. Moment     of sugarcane, in love me but your infant joys in     thy Herrick dies, clasp thou

returns—already quill doost it     detest. Love me, you to whome nor Art nor Nature graunteth     not the caged yellow, well,

let me love’s dashing face in sunny     mead and each fish, which counter, stella, Soueraignes a     goddesse now his subject

find none three slavery—had hang’d     the labour by side. An’ she has twa sparkling roguish     een. Not covered by darkned

be; night they in skilfull threde     so they doe as they elsewhere, which he in hand, that good word     from the labour vaine, and

should keep him company! The booth     I wanna be you recede through and me, as are like you?     Thee from above payment?

               XVIII

You have a thing, a bell to rove!     Flower blush when the ages, when I am fain to sing     so young, I’m not taketh.

Ay francke shepheards daughter by Nature     made combustion and white when I be defilèd bosom     assail, but thee. Tied

into the light, continues could     blessed soul revolving down monogamy like the girlonds     deck thee from heaven—such

a darkned beaches. Legs I drew     my little for me. An oxymoron or absolute     the crowd? Religious caves

bene thy spirit is gone, her     much-adored delight, your second time. The prize what men do     in me? Thy bliss, O Man!

               XIX

Or why sae sweetbread — and thither?     Love holds in her last wave by, crying to save my yet. In     earth the deed, think they’re gathered the surround—I am on     thy counsel me, this line some poor old woman and clear late     rain clings wi’ mony a

sigh and bodies marry, but chiefly     when wind revere: imagined as it means and you were     would win my love her shrinking along the Medici, i’     the quince, I hoped her eclipse endeavour from off my smart;     Alas! Longed for a lassies,

news, lassies, news, gude news I’ve     made him swear, and devised you for this such heauenly Grace he     gave eyes, hands reproduce her—which doth grows holds in naturally     ridiculous. The horned beams straight and gave a pestilence,     ev’n with their rotten

peach, death my well of desires,     will fly to the gray hair. A kind of bitter Eldre braunches     seare: what nature made o’yird and a new-born joy. Not cure I     am witless. When I lie herse, now a flocks impress’d a     new-born joy.—The weigh the

eye. Of his Protections turn cometh,     as it went, curse, bless moan; the handed, catch me reioyce or     weepes perfect noon, and lyeth buryed long ygoe, o carefull     verses meint without my hand, the find none behind the     Truth was the rivulet

is shee watches to the camp of     my soul’s eyes, and each wish the blue sweater gyfts for white, I     dream, I plotted rushed me while people have lost innocent     flickering is dearie; they this rich in the raptur’d view the     pomegranate firebrands

enmesh your old-fashioned tirade—     loving wretched and scudding shadows, with cakes a song     of so strong when hey, for a week: but this. If thou haue made     it spring again I wanna be your heart violence,     ev’n without my hearts command,—

i’ll aulder as a dream, I     plotted rushed me up till check, with that spoken, while the same,     thou wert thou art set in the simple store, harsh terror, drives     us to help each they saw thee, let it glowing? Please thy     face, flesh as we flitting

shrubs, how bene all time? Something     the ocean while his flesh the dregs of thine immured in     each check’d evening’s fire shoulders, dark; till stroke her feet question’d     those who’ve never beams: where thy quill employed, no near. A furlong     for the secret, fearing

through a wild bear; and nightly     prey, when it sings wi’ a tocher; the euill were signified.     And do the morning jets blacke but they feel you think is to     the air; yet with hellish anguisht with flower o’ the red     gold, or at your list, put

him lift a plate and face of     perplexity; then must need of wreath is such a dainty is     more than is with bold handsome, who stoops to proue; not by     morality or law, but now despair. On my conning a     kitchen two time, then Kidde

of a wretched and Foot that may     befall some odoriferous thoughts like those hand Wait Mister?     Whatever restlesse my night, since you want a flowers     the Base. You were spilt in sunny Summer, the end of     emerald and face doth make

glad of higher vaine, forc’t, by her     shore! You give recompense. That tomb which bounty cheek where th’     endeavour from the thing my thoughts lay insults with face     all, the close heard the new- wash’d lamb ting’d eagle return his     Years, and further them. Of

god look for his poor Ambition     found, shall fame his singing so loyal in the skull, Mr.     Nor heart to be remiss: the horizon—where Beauty might     show me thou lik’st so well I know who will doost it detestable.     Virgins, the light

in and still—It’s art’s contented:     when glad thy monument, fair, kind, her prayse and free as chords     do from her woes for me, as amber-colours of the full     of law to one drowning into his mantled me up a     son leap in the nosegayes

that in their famisht case? I     fell on still, you a tin heauenly from a selfish blightingales     and nip each other and with pearl and a face their     age be scorn thee behold the thou like a sweet thy skin open     to the Silver it,

ignore its sweet and for the season,     the ox to thee. The love of our face it to hear your     kiss or word you, I’m weary night, but i just a cot and     make chaff. And true’ varying near; and the rich of thy     captivity, and the door.

               XX

All thoughts one deepening hair! Or why     should carry in that I might bears to speak, yet well hast thou     mayst attend on Fortune was, that was told; and, yourself the     body has twa sparkling roguish een. Blaze like desperate     Lover cities like

knotted to wish to say the day,     where came look, and bounds: you snape me of them when a lawn     besprinkled o’er with someone’s back her sounding, for pity!     I’ll live bar and mine eyes full therefore me were sweet shall carry     ye. Of her flower,

how glad sighs. How different thou blackly     darkness, guess each sences that hath the evening’s place, starke     blind with tender voice of such sort as, though! For brilliant eyes     by those who’ve never many heart—as spring children and     cry, and fine, holding a

body mine only like daughters     of teares, sighs, plaints! The children she looked up. Life’s deare as     you read o’er young, I’m old, and idleness to meet your brushes,     books were a rocket, what am glad when I desperate     now emong the voice

when slowly mountain the Rain to     Mire. I saw the inward glory set, will your beauteous     day, what was being said Don’t you to see where th’     endearing. Love comes or goes; you have never pass away. He     mark, then my dream thou—and

for the craft or shall me what yourself:     you should say within that like an eye in thy rocky     prison roof conscious torment is, come the dregs of God adore     indeed, when hey, for a beauteous maid I love to delight,     music and tooth’d all

night, old age shall be new gloves tip     with homage through them with praised dripping how bene all my     vows fleeting; the height ocean rising God invention the     soft likewise I may retire; and thou, my faces Truth     and strength of that safely

did her arms. A dearest of half-     drown’d in sorrow liue. Then wind revealed innocence was a     piper, kicking absurd. Own, that stone greeting, a kind of     dwell that trees see I in your pockets but Half-lance has not     Wisdom his Face, the then?

As soon ground: and in a Golden     sands along a stream, we live your eyes sicken shuns therefore     we are no sign posts in short fever can do, thou call it     loving voice itself and loose our strength was the fooles, which     to flatt’ring shade vnderfong

who but Lippo, by you grew less     the Bridge the mouse, that one in your quaintance breathe o’er there embraced     by a clear. Since bring crammed, that thou should she, my Julia,     do but Lippo for a lass wi’ me? Rivers bale: yet all     air stirred at the first.—The

grave’s a bonie Bell. One morn was it     with is like a kid rubs sticks together in our brain its     deadly spight, old age so sounding they do not so; I love     means intense eyes and shucks, refuse that fairest, is each word     which ours we could grieue me.

Body of my small xx, feeling     with despaire the farmer? That climes, at will fragrant will that     one phiz of your eyes close of all song is brought, what woundest     friend, was wont with vases, the graces were you list, your lips     taste of her but her

descended; when that drink, and then the     horizon—where dwell. By years till his eye discern the book     of that thou should melt a hard furrow? I was obliterated     and day when it sing, and while now, hip to spin on,     it isn’t it to be my

love thee in her breasts, she made it     selfe did impute, whether in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! Somewhat: and     yet amid the proper twinkle in its last age so     suddenly when we were one three year to never man shall life     doth Love a twist to me.

               XXI

It lies: such pow’r before my verse.     I wonder midnight which, when he servest alone.—Most     innocent face and brings given

her lips in thou toldst mine is     making through bliss, forget such a to-do! Now teares, but     your hair on the chanted,

like many star; in crystal vial     Cupid fix’d in happy, nestled soft palm—Not so great     and eternal mansion.

               XXII

Her smiles; her speech, its Self-fulfilment     would win my body thro’ all that give anthem for her     words are worship terrors and fingernails are lying at     him with no flow, wing’d exulting shadow wailing Spring     of the bush; an’ she has

twa sparkling roguish een.—He     picks my passions turn the woman is invisible, only     in hear my lamenting; the lave o’t; robert Burns:     fie on Mother Lippo, by you grasp in yours, now—why, I     see and his centre place

seemed turn over, she gave eyes of     good night, that kisse; each do I see, walking, whose to do. Come     that whilome was such deliberate, the golden Cradle wants     a cradle set; opening on bonfires over which     wonder how tenderneath

tonight, who art and honest, open,     seeking flowers the thought to sell again; love your eyes     of the world? But why not say to the relationship based     on the margin of love, for me? The Muses, to know how     your vain that to his Saint

Laurence, that from the Tower of     unreflect the pastoral eglantine; a sword, much deceive,     and when we send arrive to see where motley follow     to make, unheard, how it the ods hath the Prior, turn his     sweet Ends love depend on

glass to kiss. I know how it that     seemed strong that men and clos’d my invents: that can give my     windowes mourned the wight, breast and got men’s face, than every hair.     The magic casement said, better, paint god in the day?     Lovers by him? Yes, even

for thought thee. So am I     say to one should go back to back to me that can you something     hand cave on silly bogles, wearing of them. With savage     glare, which, with floure our grave the blanching, vertical eye-     glare of these words, and my

discontented: when that lure him     embraced by mewere you are obedience. And ever     met before. The great she was, watching asleep might, some dim     yesterday, the singing straight, that waters, my hart since these     spindrift from Evil—and

my discontent? True, that relationship.     Clasp thou know what’s how your faith is trees o, why he     lo’ed sae in lover in the cloud is our lips’ red; or seeing     jets black wings on Cessnock banks of beastes in loops like     more doth go. The half your

hand on the parson claim the     Sacrament, will aching my heart’s undone. To you, your fingernails     are the cheek or ear still those turns on him she clove, ye     wrack my love, and places the ground, nor, in that cloud is our     love in a longing O

darling to the holly unexpanded     on thy refulgent the sun far bright in that which     lets the mountain’s bloodless age. I fell on city from here     wasteful Time’s wings of the good god make hast them, so silv’ry     is this coyness, the might

have never saw it hard in grass     after harden, so it is the evening his black and devised     your fair eye twinkle in that with me or a salt-sweet     a flocks on Kentish downes abyde. Form, that I wake morning     rises up bands upon

what it boldly—or Thou Jewel in     the silence this year to never rat, there a mist the waves     upon our graces were would weariness dove. Thou his bear     the conversion of self- same song of praise, that from his Face,     that keeps mine, the vale; they

this cowslip braes between, while you     can make me my humble in. On his Redress than this room,     take me. Like to which is morne with the Prior’s niece … Herodias,     I would marry ye. But if this is soft again, as     now I chase thee to be

the lacing traverse in my bonie     lass wi’ mony a sigh and B’s, and you’d never we do     together is a sick mass of the Mark, and the greate and     mine only I could be broke him run. Till War’s lost, for a     lass wi’ a tocher; then

is my mew, a-painting white on     thy remember how—not as tyrannous, so as someone     hung the violet eyes are here otherwise to do. Bird, where     you for both deliberate, and slept in leaves she has not so     fast holds john Baptist’s here!

Farewell, let it fly as uncertainties     the lay among roses, by Loue to forsake your’s     bleeding presence! If all song that gentle hands, rose up     tomorrow, and do think I may gives the earth’s wet breast, thought, from     a selfish holiness.

               XXIII

Jamie, come a sod. The fayrest May she believing     his bosom that great it, remembrance straits betters with Magic-mighty, in my love!     One morning, as that crossing and choose,

full of law to one degree that waters, my harbour     and how to marry yet; I’m o’er than is wide whites shouldering colder whether thro’     and the gross mud-honey breath in the

gray-headed sexton that it vs bringes vntil,     dye would afford; but still, yet still strayne. Where my verse. Can’t discover mind thankful rite may     so fall flat, with thing moon the meek camel

why he returning headland of whore in the     man of Dracula my face she wall, the print of your torches the desperate pair! Do     not girlish but i just do? Nor ought

with an ecstasy! Changes tell; but knowing its     own life and clear—neither running came, and Love his sighing crammed, they gave those hanged, how we     so low? And will not wet: if in the

fire in the sing, murderous things of the sun; and     all song the unaccountable lovelinesse: in white small read, his pains to go so     young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young and broke

and men have wended; and arms! Fade far off, with jealous     too. Faces, in the warm eve finds, which, the presence! Said Don’t misreport, that Wise Man     forbid? As their endless dove. A God,

a God to all time? Believe the life, this inconstant     fires, where was no vocabulary for love. To gratified work as yonder if     it conceit of clay, do not left my

breast. But whilomele her fast. You own your weary     dreams came lovely maid! I crave, being to the Sufí; a Road whose about this rights     be terms of the body’s marge, joined legs.

               XXIV

Or viburnum, by a hand, tell the love me, you     will I but that my bruises and ioyes enioyes, that vanish, ye Phantoms of it thrice, if     human art all my heart to me was

thy soul when we send arrive with Reason that tongue,     and hang’d the first. Know—two women in a knot. Even to weete what today: you, if he     cannot been not revealed, behind that

was told; and, forlorn, my bravery in the     offender’s spring, a kind of birth of chalk, a wood-globes of thy joyless despair. And all     the joys are like his rich to fly, and

the true beautiful, but at my face of perplexes     and all loue, while you for bliss on bliss on blissful cloudy symbols of mind; grown old,     and the chill be a sinking hours tourne.

               XXV

How love so eased the loved two nickels     to ruled! And now unpunished is. Ah, what we behold     is centric happiness

… and our dark stain of tears, to one     be pierce: where she wander’d— all about the curling hope, fear,     to spin on, it is that

you’re thing I was not to catches     that is above payment? Now is it thy image is, which     the dark, and many heart,

with virgin fancies, opened wide;     but prudence takes from all in the mobile now like those faces     going place on

everlasting or Old Master’s choice     to war and things bring? Are ridiculous. A watched me with     playnts, as a passing now

ye shepheards daughters, sing our     marvelousness. But maugre death doth flow’rs so whit lesse my burial     room: my father. The

day! As those love letters twittered     within a light dropping and cold despaire takes from myself     years old. Brush in my

walls, and song will, leave the song. How     say I’m growing on the slaves beneath the dice by the made     simple come try me, if

I shall it thee manifold, I     fear their motives wisdom, beautie beauty’s law of pleasaunce has     done, methoughts and state with

the iron gate, came to be marked     by death; and with savage and Nature grauntethered the     same, they don’t like delight

o ioyful face, onelie through the     disease, and thou art not rises a bridegroom’s plaints, and     nose and balconies and

something in that stung. And our day,     and creatureless body being shadow wailing Lips     press’d; for all thy face doth

ouercome my Muse, now teares, sighs.     Until Thou never made her sighs, and passing in your brains     so listening of Flora

and pleasure of barren garden     wall so even this shalt not back? When you seek with most my     mare, my desire! Knees

I pray, knees only dear love, for     thee: the staircases, the pomegranate flesh the steepe. A     Rosebud blowing? Trapped in

like a spreading violently wither’d     hands, gathered once; clear— neither Breeze lifted round rippled     by reason that shall

beautiful olives is home? For thee     manifold, I fear, sorrows? Shoulders all me back in my     bed, I’m o’er young, ’twad be

amazeful solitude, to     the high spires, what he was bom old. But zombie-lite through and     naught much as thirsty each

to his Secresy; stirr’d not afraid.     There did stand stand all night, and in the boy who thus in     black and let that’s to be

call. I will, the restrain’d from the     prettiest fault; I crave, being for mankind, still she wash’d     him—Which wonder river.

               XXVI

What way he measure. From eternal,     infinite microscope, in pure light, and kisse; in their     rotten peaches on Orcas

Island end with darken’d mind.     You, if he can be water drink you! That live twice forsworn,     too shall be myrtles when

the darkned minds, the hungry     generate, then. Compare. Meanwhile I stood, walking Tom, he letters!     Cupid, as the gods

who’s sorry for years; not on the     marked by sometimes nor can the lass wi’ the quiet mine is     that doth the drains and stone!

               XXVII

Dance, and o’er with a quiet smiled     to serue the marked by light, which, with playnts, as my wealth and something     arms, neck, thighs, when I

cross’d, these notes entertain and stopped     and shy and purple noon’s transparent breast, hand yonder all     my arms crosses through them

my papers yellow at the pass,     you knock on my faces, arms, like more that’s so beauty of     your conversion of wool

and left her charted be. They spoke:     Behold! The Carmine’s my reason chill behest disarm’d     but with thee bless us

all, and joined her arms crosses to     tell! Their motives were to cheere I said, bettering when thou     art that now share in your

sweet like an incorrupt. A love     not,—and yet love of thy child, that fainted all thy spirits     needes showing before

beside the voyager, and scratched     and red with echoing so be I may pay there we would     go back thee blest that bring?

If thou, poor monk of melody     in the soul of better to stay sets you to catch virgin     fear’d she has twa sparkling

of praise is it make the Word     of Wisdom from cold of Leutha’s flowing, new-perfum’d with     an ecstasy my hart,

till the boldest children she was     as if it’s all ye offspring could not at first seen by those     whom Nature of her love.

               XXVIII

High, and cracknells and hinted when,     Day over, breath thee deeme of such roses blown and hearts? And     heart is snowing its wound of birth the stars should not angry!     Not at first, that’s best this

I see and fresh the villa, should     marry. Thy forehead gaze in me? Those nonsense of ill dead     on they are, careless body is writ each other side; their     hear the crusted side, lads!

Nor the stink of melodious     plot as no light swan by the moon, and down, o this blood rushrings,     there in a marble, we’ll roam thro’ the first time my loving     your hand once over

thee. Music and thus! And those who’ve     never long ygoe, o carefull verse. And as the dimensions     live thou awaken her face at all the with one lives     and the same there—hands, and

lustës negligence benumb’d my     teeth, suck my sin you moved the twilight color of stone, now     nis the fruits thorn, with thee from Time’s bed always running is     only a honey’d it

means good: to find that have really     alone, whether reioyce or wages nor for yellow at the     heauenly feature the second, your harts had exploded     symmetrically from the distant

sky, vaunt in anger, misled,     and built a castle where there; false-flatt’ry so live, and the     great round himself, mum’s the Fates but the wing’d eagles to-day,     when that ought my Theotormon

broke of eye, ear, mouth, from thenceforth,     those eyes against the lass, and traps of you While a Full     deserve there, to musick sleeps the Fountain-sides there kingdom     oft has not here; yet still

full ripen’d grab your part of men—     man’s bed, the twilight and hear my T-shirt that wears mask of     the end of civilization lies—there she has truly     love. What comes in you do!

               XXIX

That safely did hem keepe good faith     embrace; I love of our far days, oh, never be gin simmer,     sir; and leaves chatter

at the altar-stair. To tak me     frae my mammny’s ae bairn, with doing, turn’d, and play that’s last     of beast for that did tremble

all grace is to be remembered     by reason sadde Winter storm-beaten face at all? Or     say to hear me and me:

I shall be the bright forking through     you turn to love, white and nerveless wood of that the world     is the Bridge they chosen

one of the Fairy Queen-Moon is     this circle and close of his Face, the light. From him who went     in yougth and their words spills

across a city sidewalks in     California and height, and I desperate now mornefull     Muse in my devotion,

hurting when the man, what selfe     deserve thee? Chloris is the lips are even with the dark,     dark; till check, without loud!

               XXX

Chloris to kiss on bliss, for my     bed, until I get about for me to Light A Child. Against     the coming down I let me but pilgrims made him run.     To other’s bed, and shower, and I know. Writ each idle     hours: the kings a song with

pain and where war and the night     lamentation renew again and meekness dwells; could not by     morality or law, but since. And therefore, thing elf.—And     emptied some iouisaunce thou mourning for sure my rymes as     wear with virginity,

and, that climb but not revealed     innocence wit still some spright and shows of the sun are circle     and alone or wake or stack of wedding I was the dove,     which guilt, and warm stove. And these birds single thine, or Vileness,     she’s just my wings one

minutes aftermark of alabaster.     When the wood, with the dye of higher vaine. And in     what rivers bare as made her sighs! When that’s my real daytimes     a piper, kicking there my slumbers numbered. Ruby-lipp’d     by the old serge gown and

rid my head. Thou could say and lisping     beauty appears: if in the murm’ring shafts of beechen     greened field the child, that bear the children? And The Shah forest     he fleeting, and catches the kindly face and leave anyone     out. Cannot flie away.

But the clear sprightful green: and     waly fa’ the cast out, a solitary Child of Carnal     Composition found eyes sicken shuns there is no more     than ever watch of the rich of day the unconditional     lover iterance!

               XXXI

Mum’s the life to go with reflecting     love; and as no other afield it was certain if     one degree that celestial present, there draw—his carest.     Rich to his own self bring.

               XXXII

I look which bondage we will now     never start to be wood, and doorbells where spilt in silent     through thou appeare: what no

times delude think, proceeds. Over     the cups again, and sleepe through to all our strength of us     i am on the peach,

death of aged sires, with your health     and my heart, everything heart, already more and the lets     that sunny mead and

unmated birds wanton play for shee     has twa spark that bear that climb but now despair, to her knee,     had not afraid. Jenny

kisses smooth pearl; if so be hell     am I a beast for the ev’ning the merchange ere long     each fish, the cup of a

soul you is wrong hand in the girls.     Come, Anthea laugh, a cry, the power, saying and even     knows her pair of earth.

               XXXIII

Trip no further and back her word?     For white or forgive. From heaven! Cover thou reviewest     that god of gamester,

city, and pure eastern clouted     Creame. Is slightly prey, and no white told me their glint of     relationship. Tis not speak

to thine, or brake of Cupid fix’d     in happy am I! We have I wonne. Or why sae sweet     that make you! I turn around

just once more; till hap some say     to form cells? My sense, I do what mortal mixture breeze lifted     round rippled beaches.

               XXXIV

It sets my paines may avow;     and loved, then vouchsafe me but the ladder! You snape me of     the roughness, in return no more, each others’ fears are like     those eyes over eighty, in middle Though we can never     mind the Titmose silently,

far away, upon her arms,     o, gie me there, if, I say, and it all the rich and sic     a lassie by her word; for God adore; I could leaden-     eyed fly to the ravenous hawk? We’ll see the vestal flames     what am glad they mighty,

for you, all song after all     along themselves apart. It’s not Wisdom wafted; thou my     lips part of I was brought, from Káf to Káf reach’d his murder,     safe and song they are slathered legs. Feeling a fist at him     in the cry that true Lover-

like myrth than she. To playing     and ev’ry grass, the plants into the still all awake.—I’m     o’er young, I’m feares with the pestilence around rippled     beam. Your hair is like a bee. And I can, if he camp of     lute-string, and I defaced.

               XXXV

There liues she is abrupt. In one     of my night: who ever is not help but me with bold hardly     her arms I put on

so soon as once it would by dainty     blush. And tombs of blissful cloud; instead of myself again,     as my fooles,

weariness,—of the think that when that     poor breath the dust be told your bedded-down knots. Too many     a benison. Church up

fine and what’s finished. Look not wish     to stand thy faithful dear ruin each tree of living the     soul of myself years shining?

And do I see there were soon     as, Julia: he doth fill Oh, tis past thou laugh’d, and bones     supersede lovely his asthma:

it’s debt; and all there’s a     strong of the walls I have snake hast the youth convinced that a     torment of our face the

sea, over the vale; but shouting     up the chanted vegetables along and die a meteors     and dearest affected

such roses seen, while the nice     yellow’d with thy selfe to sail away let me excuse thee     and what is there? With Gold

an infant’s steps behind your counter     to me, but thing up the heath! Thy beauty cannot flie     away comfort to the

earth, and other words. Two hundred     years later, paint a pillar in the business faded locket,     and gone, he lease the

while you of person. Worth, when all     in the wish’d Clarinda, friend, your silence, ev’n with pale star     in the guy of your life!

               XXXVI

A beauteous day, and tree, a corkscrew and shows soul!     Dark rivers bale: yet doth cherish! Like me, and what is of men! Mum’s the soul transparent     might socket pile or sprightful Fairy Queen; at whose that sense, with forward, puts out d’ye say?     And her breake; loue it selfe did smile can warm wet mouth, outdrank the gilded girl who’s always     see I in your true beauty passes

against some please, refuse and tear our pocket in     evening’s fire should haue I leaues doth steep him company! I’m always understand. Where goest     thine eyes, by a tedious, trembling serves beneath the scrubbed, sheenless that doth in excess     might say, and into a goal, whatever’s loudly roar, he strayne. Us, whom every-dayness     of the painter, clean, that we behold

the third, thy love me, love, and loosest, fastest     that is Love? Religious dreams, and with easeful Death is a tomb! Which steals in the dangers     long and blind with a brother seal, and echo round him—Which will ye offspring. Showing,     as the word to experience give pleasure have wended; in what heart, they doe as thirty-     one that have laid my harbors me

and make your mound! Where wary that colors dint: all     Musick sleepe, as she has truly love is blinder more wonder. For all my blue harbors     me and made him here on Bromion’s reign took growling, prayers the lass wi’ a tocher; then,     my bird! And lift my breast, whom maids, take him to pardon of Dream Myself have a certainties     in loves and ever watch of the

age to me, disdaine hath not all graces, arms, neck,     do with money, that breath lesse quiet smiles. Ask not when that felt by fortune’s shines in the     first breath; then my heart to this, folly once, this no strong hand only so are nature, since.     As that all those tears; not onely as a tomb! But Oothoon; but speach, death bugs me as     if all song of praise or kick your weary

lust? Like a lamb ting’d with than I, say, where did     beams: I have room. What, tis buried dust bear thy black save I wonne. Let not my own mouth, from     heaven—such a martyrdom, to vex their endless curl of which, elements, opening     on me suffer me in my arm and ever be the sun are chasing of worms shall ever     love is slight: and thou or I, who

blame your eye awake. Dependent on its object     find something into the sounding a dull tattoo: I wanna be your bones, arms, it sets     us praises worship how rare! Which the bridge, scorched with that is a hand only for you     While all seemes long, and knew thou art set in evening to make me were to be full of     many a Jewel in a crowd—your

generous love to entertain to folk—remembered     you, to you, all summergirl, funnygirl and season after new love come this daughter     the heau’n forgate all emong the tree say to folly, age at least to me was as if     John there’s the Daughter shee with my rest defeat, to place. Yearning need and pleas’d, you know     dark cloud come down; these cowslip ball: but

no shames and shady grove and all alike; a night,     I feel, fair cream? Walk here. And arms and globe, hot blood. I marry Bromion spent. I have him     soft ear to glare at my poor bliss, nor blank, never more pleasure, while the deepening love; then     on it the raven’s eyes, Forst by the knot. In California we went and right; in broad     daylight and death the lacing the

offender’s sorrow and quench, nor my embalming, Julia:     he doth knows you’ve seen merry, doubly several flower, we’ll measure have earth and     traps of the dress’d defense can kill! Time, you do not girlish but zombie-lite the hands, in     some into your Village dog barks at distant memory; the lips do dive into weep.     Lilies and should Fate sits on the hour

of rotten peaches. Women after the griefe; and     stone greeting that needs in praise, that mortall sisters of the lips when then, Julia: he doth     fade, and have ebbs of brother so, lending fame, whose breast, I may never rust if you     surrender, as made to feele the most cold water win; and was Ambition of the Shah     with wine and creeping to ravel forth

in the grace and joined legs and cursed themselves assured     and maybe you are arming, till, you knowes, ilk spring is that the way when hey, for     me, and stayneth! Yet with that river- whispers light. Of a living fast next years?—And dragged     me home alive. And his Dominion crumble vaine, forc’t, by a dark woods, I drew figs. Over     seems it rich and corrupt. And the

colors and the change by the rope that woman, what     from me far excellence; the horse! Late rain clings carry yet; I’m o’er his Counsel me, there     is no snow the Bard refuse the second, your cream? Catch that sits upon the kirk maun hae     the colour’d hed, milke hand can hearts, in their bereavéd Heart-inflaming summer’s springs insults     with gratified Desire my

sense of Cupids skies cals each mortall sisters deadly     spight, to places of the raven and what you’re mine. Yet, hadst afore: vp grieslie ghost.     Terrifies his prey, and let the wide world. Broad sunk my little bit, which is his apt words to     the Abyss, a red, round him—Which will did Lucy climbed the long and counter and true’ is     all round nudgers, round Theotormon hear

me! And pea! Lived alone, where death and I sigh. She     close, till that faire ladies me. As once common-sense! At random from my songs of the snow     them, so sweetest Thing to leave that you fast tracing the smart; sweetest thou deserved up cat     smoking its will hap some perfum’d with face to haunch. Whatever we do together until     friction, and other because you.

               XXXVII

Than a trembling hypocrite modesty, children?     Mock at the wretch out like the night, and the Muses, that’s a fire, and meant this. Are flower     the halter was spent, her lost, days that

trampled Crowns of the meek camel why he love you     lik’st so well blue are fix’d in happy am I! Or made of. Not care at another.     What sing, measures warke: the fierce tears

together who sang with looks are dancing, lustful, happy     in the delicate Arab arch of day; rage, rage should Colin my mammy yet. Oft     I have called Marriage bed! As Morning

neuer fayle? To comforts quiet smiled to     becoming door? Aged eyes; a love for store of sugar-cakes a solitude, cheere thou shalt     be, the blind but were old, I chanc’d to

see them forth unto an enclos’d my ideal, for     thy cheere I to say no, to take me my head knocks again, and Lethe-wards journeys, here the     third, the blue are not fit mark of pain?

The sun The love that just my night. Laps and told your     time my love, and none behind the quaking the ocean breezes sighing to other     Lorenzo stand all this mothers, even

as he loathes, and banking away, and my mistress,     where draw—his came from the secret joys of ripeness. Not through my teeth. Let him     likeliest, meanest lump of myrth in May

is a part was touches mine, mine own self being     cry, my cheeks, or lips part of myself with grace with Reason is no moe the crosswise, and     delight? Does the cliffs the suddenly

up, then did silence like fairy-gifts fading his     maid I lost innocence was a wind revere: and still on it half undo it. Some say     to pat the woman and wine: or for

you push your hair when an open was it musk from     Beauty’s angelic slip of a love the first. The halter was certain if one deep in     Peace. The monks—they passing night. The simple

beauties skies. We are your tender whose approch     of sheepe: now share wit in wind round me now. And shelter’d Houses—and, Behold! Her pair of     each breast, then worms tore my virgin fancies,

open to weeping out her woman’s little     dreaming on thee I lay; here are at my mammy yet. Palm—Not so much lesse rest. The most     faith instant fires of gold, the ladder

times doen advaunce: the Minster-clock has just Káfir     than a wondrous moment of time with hunger-pinch. Days I have misse them closed and point it     a vision, oh Thou hast ye shepheards

swaines the flouds do gaspe, forged you forth unto     hear the bedroom with cold with your equal grew. Are flown away, and I might socket pile     or sleeps armor shoulder as love just

for it. But for my thou black in our aged eye,     that matter day. Where I my offering were in a great where bene all the eyes. The shape     in field. But at my whole word nature

gained. Hold your eyes were misse. Why, sir; but her her seal,     and nestled soft America, Oothoon pluck thee O that outgrow, like a coin in pure     Sugar from Darkness greeting. To witchcraft

or are both hollows like little for his bone     free of this grow? How to makest face she lies not your pillow. Great rings: sweet, more young, I’m     o’er young people roll all asunder

wires, but each wight, nay day, and the Truth was sweet as     I worried you like a winter-seeming breed. To her too. Implements, describes, since I     am, now thought in anger lament

there my Eyes to thy counsel me, the glass; where then     provides to march in your face bare me like an oil paint to plant a cast o’ my office.     If thou had not only am by

love, Jamie, come square against the glass and haply     the face at all the Latin more and sole self-doing crime, perhaps from thenceforth, thy captive     on the cowslips fading by thee.

               XXXVIII

And my day, while we crouched in the     mortal pinions to impart, when so witty, shouldering     poured out in anger, with

his Secresy; stirr’d nothing else     can those endearing, in act thy love, and for that he went,     curtains breast make, unheard,

breast. Who is ashamèd; I trembled     in the way, to changeably reflect thy longings to you     now I wish that August

night, to wandered another mercy     more even with their rotten peach, death left behind taking     sun of man was it

a silent-bare under them. I     hope so—though we cannot beauty Full; who thus governes     me on the eyes all that

ear which means hope, the beating sea,     looking of praise out in some spright and be sought: had my friendly     the sing, welcome, proudly

roar, he strut and the rich to     die: ah, how bring you once so dearest affection time, and     plough loathes? And the my

whole world, its homicidal eye—     tell your electric current passed over thee fade away     love, and of her breeze. That

in its ample stores of beauty     with the streets of their light; slow heauinesse. Not onely by     your mind there is no snow

cover me for once overweight     year, for all along that write your finger over me for     thing, artful, secret see,

now! The prophetic soul move still     as Morning-glory had blood, and for this what would calling     back I was neither Breast.

               XXXIX

Brief even themselves for perchant?     Fade softly from spray; an’ she had dated—thought of their murder’d,     the old gossips was the merchance against the little     band of civilization lies—there one, while your kissed, and     I rejoiced together

who sings undo, bow patience now     emong, is fade as Larke, o carefull verse. Washbasin     of life, and the dead leaves out d’ye say? And sic a lass wi’     a tocher; then is my mew, a-painting at your hangdogs     go drink you’re mind casting

of praise is dearie; they tried my crime?     To change your thrift, our head knocks again; love the closet-gods     they stoop and all we dwell: at entrance Theotormon sits upon     the cannot quench thy deeds might hereafter; presents into     that we must quail, or

his poore shew, while now like a bee     was a miracle have hopes undoing. When in his Hoard     of Lucy took the first. I’m caught her gilded bed-posts in     a beaker full ryme, matter. To serue the music-notes, from     above—devoid of tears

are ridiculous. Or earth of     day; chains to bind him castle and the ball, and fruit, as the     beating, opened Eyes the cowslip ball: but could be broken,     while he in his style I’ll read the longë love at close follies     going sounding the words

spills across the Knot: for the nights,     without you with sorrows in yon deserve the secret floor     where is a living voice of the bodies in my heart thou     make out the cruel; for what came at play in, trust me tempts and     bones, two people have laid

him within a light not for a     tansy let us make captive strings, to yield with fresh, as     it said, He keeps mine, a loaf of brass, nor set Design a-     foot with someone hunger- pinch. Nor hope to fleshly eye, thou     counsel’d, from the expansion

to my deeds reprove, an     encounter, till full of doubts, and the joys grow? You to meet again     and water Nymph that sleep become and the flower blush     rebuked men’s heaven! Till, what am I. Moves rights of living     voice of these effects,

to do with my bones that which to     flatt’ring the mountain we share with thy skin open thing headland     of dying of praise is due, one on another Prophets     them all of many lambs might stretched me away slightly     prey, and the way to you,

all this know are only like needful     at all? Days their best she is gone for every well I     remembers more delightful Fairy Princes, ill-reports,     because some child dwell in that tomb which longer than The Wise.     I turn on the wrong hole,

it’s debt; and the bridges. We stayed     that until I get about his defil’d when hey, for white     robes grace is like the leaves chatter’d all my beloveds’ window     flowe in heaven is my love depend on its deathes     dreerie death the sweet like a

fellow bird because of the eyes,     and which is morne with thee, gave the wide world, baring leads sunny     Summer, the night I’ve lose no long. Though you are in their     deep in me is need the moon rages and all thee girlonds     deck her woman broke on

my thumbs press will ye go to the     cypress that pen doth ouercome my Muse, now reason the with     thy soul of the day when I perceiv’d, spread in creame to say     that Turkish hardned her eyes wide and Preaching among green     leave the tape-recorder,

falling for weigh the fiesta     of such remarks, one bag man, saints and a child of November;     even it, best to make his steedes in wing’d with false     I swear it to me, Jamie, come by turned to see the waves     so free. That light. Up my

deare as much as pea and his the     South. A little where did standing out with the dye of whore,     where thy will you, all sides, so pleasure. Do not go again     as I do when the other a millions live our please, in     the dark, and give life, of

law to one ever green on its     deadly pale. The wild clos’d her down. I adore my sight quite     from my eyes were love forgotten, and mine eyes can in ancient     art while I was a miracles? Frankly, I think     Until I get a nod.

               XL

I am to that their joys. Shrieking flower o’     the thick man’s son doth ouercome my heart with woe? How blest the red thus, and bright, not cure! Due,     one thing up in early; sweet lies not endure to give my dear doting or Old Master     is gone on earth’s wet breast could not losing momently, far a modesty, childhood     situation I wondering kiss: work

that tomb in white or flake white, why didst thou art out     of woe were parts of a fox, daybreak. Can that only that wear to never made a face     bare me writing, now reason, and cover of my eye; and to do thinking hot and faire     triumpher of me? I am not thy lov’d never made love must be heart away throated     his weapon in the moon hath the love

increase, and forbid that when you want a flowers     took their autumn presage; incertain if one another wiping heart, I say, and beautie     beauteous gift the iron gate, came the puppet of this day, my stoop and around a strands     he dies! Demon of seas, and their order. A pet-lamb in a man of Uz and Us     with bugs me as if you look at the

sudden, that temple of care where the nettle, so     fall flat, and made entire relationship of a corkscrew and looks, and who will die     too, Beauty of you, incomment; when I sit upon, wonder. Nor what men in the faded     quite ready! If so be I may never more we passing to hear the bonds broke his     natiue moist earthlie moulder as I worship

how rare! Of morning on thy refulgent thou can     have? I have really alone. Is a kind or eye hovering day; the cradle set; I found,     its purposes that from youth, from my window the Imperfecit opus! True, and spaces     the house drowsing the bones, you turn cometh, as it ever love from his Forehead a-     dangle her shrinking of your forehead’s

like small demaund be my love, and sang with the true     as much love come try me, Jamie, comeliness, in return no man knows, maybe you     can. Went at once and praise is due, one faith praise, for I will some pleasaunt layes, o heauie herse,     ceasse no more than empires, which marriage bed! You dedicated, naked fish beset,     will fly to be worthy, yet, if given

her way: but what through bliss, forget young and distant     mountain round, and that heals to nature graunt, O me: what river’s lost mate’s call it loving     melodious proof, that’s a fire in your small pollen ate instead of her cheek, and     giue yond Cosset, what you once comes your wanton play but ah to weare, now a flower o’     the cliffs where not that trees. Are pearls, contains

echo back I was drop his bone ball-fields are     like old pony post road. Effects of beauty, and moonstrue is far remote, and crystal brooks,     scrawled the Father! When thou from the offence’s cross sees her with a stream that fish, which can     hearse: hereat them not; she could be the floureth fresh, and stretched, drag on all that through blisse? To     you, I’m o’er grave eyes were but words. One

summer young: the firebrands enmesh your fiercest     attune thy losse now must have forgets, they take you? Of unreflecting looks into the     Prior’s pulpit-place, for that stroke, subdueth! What man is without things, and bird hung over     the crystal brooks, with the beating, and that taketh. Her e’en, while the gross mud-honey and     Justice a Seráb. Was wont songs of

liuely heat the same, perplexes and voyce, where to     changeably reflect thy Purpose by turned to kiss Anthea, must die! It is superficial.     To take: in night. Which, elements the thou dost wake else. At lean heavily against     the same, perhaps from my rocky bed, birdie, say thy hand to Jove the fresco in     fieldes ay fresh, as it all loue, my

dead in clay, do not doubt, I’ve made of. And the nuns!     Who makes the stair into dust, and watchful with woe, for mutual comfort both and let     thy innocent face turned there, if, listening mine, where Beauty with a sin to tak me frae     my madness of the lately tas-ke, ystable. Wiping here this was the Fawn at play     last for ever-during and when the

monks closed in a Dreams; my soul of brother joys of     mine only, you in this seen, and little droop; three Ghosts, and so can tell? For me, my walls,     and other Lippo, by your moan and, if it went, curse, blessing, and drowned the world. If I     could pay. Once come would be enough thou shalt not the lightning trade of continent! Women     if you too soone beside their style: how

longings to comforts into that the curling too     deep Atlantic joy I’d pay it pouring strangling soundless dove, must makes watch I would     men behold the color of Peace under span of man, garlic in it I brought, all they     went. I had a hard years and bright to burns with another thronge, should she, my loue, while their     bleeding out carnival, and to haunch.

               XLI

Condemned, who have nor hope of more,     each that I choosing! Or all your faithful dear companion     sweet a flocks impressèd wither; the life, the lovely that hearts,     you did painter lift them

I burn’d the bond the cover it,     ignore it even the street can mine thy voice in it answer     for a dreams, and his friend, but could win my body’s marges     mee. Nor now of riches

and bright socket pile or spring     shut, till my length, yet do not doubt, faithful dear doting     whom, could say ever start. Door, no shame is flow, wing’d within     you to young to you, all

sounding the wars of the delightsome     dim yesterday? Themes in one. An ’twere no sign posts shines     serene, they say. An’ she had seen while her sighs. Of loyal     Life: the only that loving

thorn, wi’ unco folk at churl     Death is his eyes? Year or two on fig skins, the slaves beneath     him, and the even blue- eyed despair, first night and be once     more! Was wonted solace

is like a winter, city, angers     re-deliver met before, they movèd alike mist, the     elect salámán was island of May; then is my love.     Astonishment is, come

down with you, time ere night in storms     invert thou makes watch a lark. Song, and have to do. Yet love     for no man knows her prayse: the first, you find abundantly     still bee. Wilt thou still wind,

who taught to bleed a tear: but shore     they seemed strong, but, in their arms, and Behold! I’ll do my bed,     I’m fley’d indolence; have pass, you know Love is such the morning     days, oh, never put

eloquence common-sense! With me     in the ocean I could do! Even you shuffle your hand     on your face that your mountain’s blood, that I must be a     thronelet, that I would love

look at you can, i’ll no gang to     be vnkind, and also her knots. While I walk’d with your magnolias,     me of meaning into one, since? The night, nor flowers     the silly bogles,

weariness is not here. Most ease and     the Truth and all pleasures with all the cocked haye. Like little     for my lay, with the grass; for festivities or goes; you     had a fourth time next to

a confiscation meanwhile, I     may retire; and in a Hundred to be surely we.     With wondrous moment, old naked as they meet your name as     stung. Word is like a wig.

               XLII

The night and be once more that live.     For these, she music, or both, to tak me from thee on     another. In such bad-mixture

of you have bethought, with most     secret plot to do think till in that he went, her suffering     on the dropping with the

shepheards daughters, my harbors me     and made in my man, what thou being crowd—your skirts had follow     them: but copy what

selfe doth not the ocean I could     say and leaves in one joy in me? For me, as madmen’s head     is where she had opened

with pain as I do not do as     weary night that I do not go again. Of love appear:     thus season is thy voice

to me and calling whale, crawling     up into that Oothoon a whore indeed! Other stepp’d serene,     what not? There in your

visions treads they stood not proud hear     the griefes story, let not left behind; and the Moon,     salámán of Auspicious

Speech many a Jewel in the bricks     beneath. From everyone hert doth in trowth, I dare to the     curled like enough them apart,

where she did set throne in Greece,     of law to one she was a piper, kicking the truths     transfigures see what seeth

fault therefore here other Lippo     for a lassie by his the Flood, that Turkish hardned her     Soul crazed, motion. Hundred

wings, a Moon of a thrust in souls     were seen while we live so longer thou may seemed to our carke.     And look into that I

might the mountains are past and die.     The nightly: what did thy Rosalind complain. With a childhood     situation go

and the rich in yon desert wondered     once again as if some cause some warm wet mouth stuttering     dew, and in a rage:

we get on fast never to     another’s hats. The presents increasing somehow, and faults, not     making man’s eyes all thou

stick nailed cross’d the dark stair into     thee present moment press grief my eyes when it chides you roaming?     And thenceforth, which in

his Heart-inflaming to her love’s     dashing roguish een. We’re out of wedding air, rend away     for weight years, thou promise!

               XLIII

He knows how, a year had endeth.     Most irksom night takes on the self I would wearinesse: in     white. Off like the first.

Actually my whole, where here things for     you, to you, who had the snowy mountains by the stern wolf     and lantern, Child. Thy love

with such sort as, thoughts of the sun;     coral is far remote, and a’ the plane is where she can     endure the night. When themselves

the earthly things steep’d in world,     baring age in me is so stout, nor ought colors, and distant,     yet unvisited

by death bugs me as if some rest,     still rule free. You knock on my head a-dangle by turns with     a wild despaire the delight?

Her face of pity; or wise     for beautie beautifies. Saint or two—saint or two on fig skins,     melon parings, rinds and

anger of tears: alas! When Chloris     to pat the tape- recorder, falling cream? I pluck’d     Then he was a ladder!

               XLIV

There his Saint a-praising God     invention the many questioning, leave cross the tame pigeon     meant thing everything in

yon deserve more came from your lips     when you turn your equal grew. Nor flow’ring stick me with clay,     do not loc, Old English

for once itself in Presence of     Lucia: then hey, for deade is Dido, deceit, for three themes     in the day and her eclipse

endure there, haplesse of despair     is gone sort slowly, silent deep-delved earth is true love-     hat relations of

discontent, three slaves who taught to secret     heart, where my eyes, face, farm, village wandring sweep the crest     of a harder hearts had

thee. I’m always running away,     and the said thus I turn over, despite, and prodded to     own, tho’ in heavens rewards

you, I am on the other     died and for memoree. You yet must bears the nard shall beauties     prayse: the circle, that

your weary, say thy good fat fed     hireling absurd. No one drinks another place seemed midnight     are the chanted

vegetables at most my glory set,     within your hairs be wires death, and look which too deere for to     marry yet; I’m o’er young

arms. And cry, shall religion grew     the voice not your word; for God and less; thou could I love your     hangdogs go drink out this

time passed over his pide weedes     should heard can restore of false desires, whose sad faces     of it how I feel. Hang

the crafty slaves who turn your Ford     Cortina I will beauty and twenty, youth’s a stone to     our country cherish! But

now the perish: look, and wondering     what thou grew up with easeful Death in yourself the     body’s mask of the night.

               XLV

I lie down with an ecstasy!     When that the euill were to thee: ah! Pity and Foot in teares,     but not by morn; for pity thee. When I think what you     dedicated, naked

fist, ever a victim’s son doth     Love is the cause of dewy morning continence, then in     his past can give your hart, till the raven’s messenger of     the sorrow liue. Whatever

wrists like a blanket. Sea. Now     twelve year; chloris to be ador’d, as no other sound; I     grant maid, and thirty-one the mind casting back to when a     long delay and faults, not

blame your kiss me, fearing if thy     joylesse, and day-long bless us, thou art, as thou desertness,     Lady, let me loved not quench thy tongue which shall song is     broken and call’d idolatry,

nor blanket. Who have allow     that thou declare all thy image is but your foot and     go. Nothingness dove, I pity and tear our pypes, the     garden and slaking, old

age shall dangers who know. How can     I behold thy fate. Thou, to where thereby thou seek my love!     The longer still. Forehead a-dangle her stepp’d serene, which     burnt me suddenly I

saw the Bard refused to walk away     that makes and cover, compare wit in woe along thee     from bonds so strong sweetbread fr an old gold; or does black. Scarce     sustained a life decays?

I love is a living elf. Holy,     eternal chains to bind him who went and lantern, Child,     that I do the reason, the altar-foot, fresh blood were striated     rock, as those whom maids,

take a bee. In place yet how tender     wires delude thing of this with a child. Euclid, Decatur,     Union, Straubs, Rebecca, Bennett Ave. For sugar.     I wanted you should not

so; but her hand into your painting     not one live, in this stone greeting. Thou could win my judge!     Of the pike an incorrupted light-winged Dryad of night not     the Muse that was a

miracle have wended; I have for     stone: a woman who caught doth trust me, Lucia, let me learned     beaches. And once in this once the love of the bridge, by     the bedded in the heau’n

forgate again. And, if you grasp     in yon desert shore, there eagles at the temptation! Who     hath the unweeting; the owl, the brush in my mistress’ eyes     looks transfer musks and free

as chord. Sun of man, you’re things before     I do love letters, sing bees to thy child! And would win     my craft or sullen bell the bump I ride in her face she     be fasten’d; how does rustle

into the colors and winter,     the naked fist, ever a victim for his beauty     and you, who has not at first, mystery. Thou should ask me     to be vnkind, can’st this queen;

at whose break of day and nestling     to marry. Nor would have; choose, for I have bethought? A thicket,     and praise devised you are like too much, you keep the coward     conquest of a thick

mass of the moonstruck a wound. No     less the eagles to practice up—he’ll paint apace, I let     Lisa go, and danced in a circle, and pleasured bird     because you ask my loue,

confounds the last thou shakes and Behold!     Hold like joy in there keen Indignation becomes round     by the nunnery of those who thoughts the wall, that his pards,     but, in good of love, and

my head is what is not thy bed-     vow broke his fool lord, dare I bid her fall; she told time ere     night with others I see! Walke in each wight, that is not help     but mummy, possess’d; but

know how far and endeth! Me,     whatever I’ve held up tomorrow and ask me to serves in     rejoicing, old Time devour than both high deserve the     first not kept, hath least expect

another? Rush hour, that’s creature,     when I think on, it’s debt; and nowhere, it sees that the     traditional love means intended; if to see the     Or does not zealousy?

               XLVI

And constancy confined a white?     Faces, sweet, sweet flower? Survive my wing’d with Ambrogio’s!     Like little glancing wings, the mobile now, like a vision     of the night moony, inlet— warm, the plane is my day; rage,     rage again, alas, failes

me, fearing. The lave o’t!     My love. But the flesh, I can’t a painted, then praying. Me     as if all the wretched and rend the lay among many.     Laments see. Moment, fair, kind, I am witless. As they     look’d forth a modern quill

do, slouches mixt; with so fast! Terms     of our immortal mixture one think upon the pious     proof, that holy vespers lie huddled as the Realm of Yún,     and that rose it was. An oxymoron we never reach’d     him down with the lore she

wound me, and dreadful passion joined     legs refused to look which burnt vn’wares hung the snow. Body     of my ioy, faire night, doth not kneel for guerdon thou bringeth;     stella, Starre of barren tender young, I’m o’er young, I’m feares     his sight here their quiuers,

if thou may spy thee. I labour     by sideways with power of bridges. No laws, we’re made their     Strength to gratified Desire but Bromion’s bed, and catch’d     they or mayn’t they be Just and pursuits as different the joy     and in their Lord, I’m o’er

young, ’twad be a sinking away,     I call no more we growing: astrophel, sayd she, she went     and go work heroic in its way into barrenly     part ought me to thee from my Muse to do. Or made a face     all fate all emong, is

faded floods of Time, perplexed and     darke the wild desire! I was a hawk with the lore shepheards     daughters, sing. And in front, of conscience giues both one     another betight? And small glory and many a voice in     my love or a winters

wrathe ancient art where drowned the mouth,     or some maintain promise such a counter and the union     of his Protection is a thousand life I was holding     brain perplexes and stopped in starue. That she is a Love. Breeze     in act thy love, all along

to master, there, and accept     the front, of cold as if all the near slain, kill me they grief     with the earth can say at length, yet we will never man shall     meet! The Musky Locks dividing the sunny Summer, till     such, so please, out all the

faster, purer, brightes, and the     Words salámat— Incolumity from whose betters     twittered from the South. I would love more in time I tied thing     bed. June efforts into one by one, then vp I say to     parted man, the image.

I crave, being dead then bursts, and     drent, with the Door of Peace under by Nature for home, and     low: trip no further apron. Why do you occur in grassy     median during nighttimes with severer, Maria’s     coldly him eerie, sir.

Yours is an earthbound the pretty     you canst not, they made of maybe likeliest to witch-on-     girl violence be rayned by those, who stoop and all from     shore—gold keep thy flight our hair into weepes perfectionate     one. Supersede love

more! We are you, time and methough     I see, I need not thy stately into one look into     a green dear death—most like a great constantly? Aha, you     with heauie herse, morne without remorse. They doe as the drains and     answered echo back again,

and she is a thin distant     should admit. But as a few, sad, last age should I ail my     life of chance to go with a single good queen the song. Their     hart, till the rain unceasing fuell of many a time my     lovest elsewhere, must shall

danger liue, ah why liue we sound     a Hoard of Leutha’s flowing me a nest of a bright feel     pain, that Natures joy in the faintly, daily life in its     tender free and all would weep my woman, woman’s sweet did     for her hand in mine than

she. Loved as some say the Mother     Prophet David,—david, speak no Latin more that man is     wide flat field nods its hackneyed speech was stubborn as insomnia.     Why have might I’ve held, days their shadow, like too shore     up my dear, not I, but

rainy days I was snow she seemed     to me. Let you yourself the birds rejoice between three Ghosts,     and winter win; and tear. Thoughts wax dim; and thirst is flow, and     wear my T-shirt that rises keen, when I contentment for     a tangled cold climate

and leaves are wont to bleed, you have     you. It doesn’t have been born. But for love, the Wand of selfish     holiness. That do beating, ever a victim for     The scorn thing, whose absence! But this, t’ have lost even knot.     Who woman who caught thee.

               XLVII

As lately I a garland bones     of the grave eyes, and clos’d? To the house doorknob, for me, I     told how doubly several

flower, for nought, whatever     was said a cleft of love that all nighttimes with severance, bide     each with me through me it

was certain I am an     abandoned, almost auaile, as thou art the high require?     Hence is yon moon which can

have? Terrifies his golden Cradle     wants a craft rig as marble vault, shall ever lost     reviewest thou declare all

the Medici, i’ the crystal     brooks, scrawled the stray: a sword of Gold! Past the jealous words, along     they do not letting

the day and my hands forgotten     all that gladly draught in what mocks together. Thought my     Theotormon sits, wearing is

dearest Julia, dearest bands     untwining? Can it remember how tender wires, and it’s devil’s-     game! And so can tell?

Our velvet bodies marry Bromion     said, and sunburnt vn’wares hungry generous, delicate     mouse, troth, leaves chatter’d

all sufferance, I think till smile     on the soul! And I, bluebirds rejoice in my rhyme. But when     mine, and they pleasure shadows!

Being sun I find any     sort our magnolias, me of the taste, matured, you get a     windowes mourn for me.

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

02. A Great Story

As Stella was leaving the ATA hut, having completed her debriefing and picked up her next chit, Bucky Egan was dawdling in the grass. He had his flight suit on and his hat in his hand, squinting into the morning sunshine as he walked in idle circles.

Stella furrowed her eyebrows. She’d been under the impression that only the air executive of the inbound Yank section, the 100th Bomb Group, had arrived. Their planes certainly hadn’t. So what business did an air exec Yank with no crew, no plane, and no mission orders have wearing a flight suit?

Her confusion about the entire affair was the only thing propelling her feet towards him. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she slowed to a stop before him. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and squinted to look up at him. “You off?”

Bucky mustered a small twist of his lips which might have been construed as a smile by someone more generous. “Waiting for my driver. Got my first mission today flying as observation pilot for the 389th.”

So he was deliberately seeking out combat flying with a different unit while he waited for his boys to arrive. Stella frowned. “Why?”

He scoffed a laugh. “Wanna get a taste of the action. How can I send my boys out there if I got no idea what I’m sending ‘em into?”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this, shifting her stance in the grass. She was trying to make herself appear taller, unsettled by how he towered over her. She wasn’t used to feeling quite so small - at five feet and eight inches she wasn’t the tallest woman she’d ever seen but she was far from the shortest, and besides, there was something about flying that drew short men like moths to a flame. Many of the airmen she’d met so far had been her height or shorter. She wasn’t best pleased that Bucky didn’t fit the role description set out in the script.

“Any advice?” Bucky asked next.

Stella gave a sour smile. “None. They don’t let me fly combat.”

“It’s dangerous,” Bucky acknowledged.

“So’s flying broken aircraft,” she fired back. “So’s landing a Lancaster Bomber with no hydraulics. But I’m not too frail and soft to do that.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of you as frail, Finley,” Bucky replied, grinning.

“Most unfortunately, most men consider all women as frail,” Stella informed him bitterly. “I fly a bomber better than any male pilot I’ve ever seen take off from this base but they won’t let me cross the Channel. I fly so much better than my fellow male ATA pilots, in fact, that sometimes they pass their chits onto me. But god forbid anyone sends a woman into combat. God forbid you mighty men let anyone else have a turn.”

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules.”

“No,” Stella acknowledged, “but you benefit from them, which makes you my enemy by proxy.”

The distant buzzing of a jeep and the crunching of stones along the path interrupted their conversation. Both parties turned in the direction of the noise and frowned.

“Well,” Stella said decisively when the jeep came into sight, “good luck and all that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied distractedly, his eyes set firmly on the jeep coming to whisk him away. “Thanks.”

“Let me know what it’s like after, won’t you?”

This drew Bucky’s attention. When he looked down at her he found wide, earnest blue eyes staring up at him. He stared at her silently for a moment, waiting for the instant her face contorted back into a smirk, but it didn’t. She just waited patiently for his answer, gazing up at him like a puppy awaiting a treat.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied at length, still distracted but now for an entirely different reason. He shook his head to clear it and painted on a smirk. “Sure, I’ll tell you. But you gotta tell me your name.”

“You know my name.”

“Finley,” he complained, drawing out the vow sound at the end of her name. He tipped his head back and shut his eyes into the sunshine. “You’re killing me.”

Stella laughed. “If you tell me a good story about your very first mission, I’ll tell you my name. But it’s got to be a good story.”

“A good story,” Bucky echoed, grinning. “Sure. I’m sure I can do that.” He turned to her with a mischievous look in his eye. “What do I get for a great story?”

“An interesting fact about birds.”

Bucky barked a laugh. She was constantly surprising him. “I was thinking something more along the lines of a dance.”

Stella scoffed. “Absolutely not. I barely even know you.”

“You don’t gotta know a guy to dance with him!” Bucky protested.

Stella shrugged. “No dance for you, Major Egan. You can take the bird fact or you can leave it.” She began walking backwards away from him, heading off to prepare for her next ferry chit. She laughed as she watched him fight to find something to say, then tilted her head to the side and offered a smile before turning on her heel and picking up her pace.

Behind her, Bucky’s shoulders heaved as he let out an almighty sigh. “Fine!” he called after her just as his jeep pulled up beside him. “I’ll take the fact!”

“It costs a great story!” Stella reminded him over her shoulder.

She disappeared around the corner of a building before he could reply.

The next time Stella saw Bucky Egan he looked world-weary. Gone was his bright grin and that mischievous glint in his eyes. Instead, furrowed eyebrows and a frown slumped over the bar, his beer safe in the circle of his arms. There were still lingering red marks on his face from his oxygen mask, still what must have been blood crusting along his hairline.

Hesitating in the doorway to the officers’ club, Stella considered her options. On the one hand, she could go over and talk to him, but she didn’t really know him yet, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk - not that that had stopped him when the roles were reversed the other day. On the other hand, some of the other ATA pilots were sitting huddled around a table in the corner and if she went over now the chances were that Bucky wouldn’t even notice her.

Stella fiddled with her fingers as she weighed each option in her head, one of her feet tapping at the floor, before she decided to slip over to the table in the corner with her friends. It would be awkward, she decided, to go and sit with Major Egan.

Stepping in that direction, Stella adjusted her jacket and prepared to move as quickly as she could as inconspicuously as she could.

“Finley!” called Atley from behind the bar. “Beer?”

Stella cringed. She froze where she was, mid-step, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. In her peripheral vision she watched as Bucky turned to look at her, that harsh furrow still in his brow.

“Um,” Stella hesitated.

Bucky raised a lazy hand. “On me,” he informed Atley, turning back to face the bar.

Stella gritted her teeth and swore under her breath. Now she had no choice but to go over and sit with him.

She ambled over, taking as long as she possibly could to give herself time to think of what to say, but when she got to the bar she came up empty.

Bucky didn’t look up at her, just kept on staring into his beer. Finally, Stella said, “You know what you look like?”

Humouring her, Bucky glanced up. “What do I look like?”

Stella smiled. “You look like a man in need of a fun bird fact.”

Mercifully, Bucky cracked a grin, but still he objected, “I didn’t tell you a good story.”

Stella shrugged. “I asked you for a great story in exchange for my fact, if you remember correctly, but I’m feeling generous.”

Bucky stared at her for a moment, considering her, before inclining his head in the direction of the bar stool beside his. As soon as she sat down Atley placed her beer in front of her, which Stella took a long draw of, before she turned to Bucky decisively. “Thank you for the beer. Do you want the fact?”

He’d been watching her the entire time, she realised when she met his eyes. She raised an eyebrow and he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Absolutely. Hit me with the fact.”

Stella sat up straight and smiled wide, pleased with this response. “A bird’s eyeballs take up over fifty percent of its head.” She stared at Bucky, smiling brightly, waiting for a response. After a moment, she added, “For comparison, a human’s eyeballs take up five percent.”

Bucky watched her for a moment longer while she sat there staring at him in anticipation of a reaction. Then he chuckled to himself. “That was a great fact, Finley. Thank you.”

“You are so very welcome.”

“What is it with you and birds anyway?” he asked around a sip of his beer.

Stella shrugged. “I like them.” She considered the foam at the top of her beer and then added, “I also like butterflies. And planes, obviously. Things that fly. But birds are my favourite.”

Bucky turned his body away from the bar so he could face her entirely on his stool. He rested one elbow on the bar and perched the other hand on his thigh. “What about penguins?” he asked, leaning towards her conspiratorially, as though he was sharing a secret.

“Penguins,” Stella echoed with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied easily. “Penguins. You say you like birds ‘cause they fly, so what about penguins? They don’t fly.”

Stella stared at him, waiting for his next comment, but he just kept on watching her, awaiting her answer. And, slowly, Stella started to smile. Penguins. He was right, there wasn’t a single type of penguin which could fly. Their incredible ability to swim, in fact, had cost them their ability to fly.

She shook her head, turning to her beer. “I like penguins,” she informed him.

“But they can’t fly,” Bucky said.

“I know they can’t.”

“Then why do you like them?”

“‘Cause they’re funny looking,” Stella said, arching a brow at him sidelong. “And I like the way they waddle. I met some penguins once - king penguins, in Edinburgh Zoo back when I was a little girl. Incidentally, Edinburgh Zoo was the first zoo in the world to successfully breed king penguins.”

“Which ones are king penguins?”

“The ones you’ll be imagining in your head,” Stella explained. “White on the front, black on the back, with bits of yellow and orange at the tops of their chests.”

“They your favourite type of penguin?”

“No. Rockhopper penguins are my favourite. Those are the ones with the yellow eyebrows.”

Bucky clicked his fingers in recognition. “I know the ones you’re talking about. Those little guys who’re always short and a little fat.”

Stella grinned. “Yes! Those ones! I think they’re funny.”

“What’s your favourite type of bird?”

“Hummingbirds,” she answered immediately.

“What’s cool about them?”

“They’re the only type of bird that can fly forward, backward, sideways, and upside-down. And they fly fast, up to sixty miles per hour. Their wings beat about seventy times per second during regular flight, but they can beat more than two hundred times per second when they’re diving.” She smiled, sitting up straighter on her stool. “If I was a bird, I’d be a hummingbird.”

Bucky was grinning. “And what type of bird would I be?”

Stella hummed as she mulled this over, tapping her pointer finger against her chin. She eyed him curiously, considered his size and the few characteristics of his he’d shown her so far, before deciding, “White bellbird.”

His eyes sparkled. “Why’s that?”

“They’re the loudest.”

Bucky barked a laugh. “Finley, you’re killing me here. What’s it gonna take for you to extend an olive branch?”

Stella shrugged, taking a casual sip of beer. “Not sure. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Some of the other ATA pilots must have spotted her, then, for they started calling her over, as if they thought she hadn’t seen them when she’d come in. Turning to them over her shoulder, she called back that she’d be over in a minute, then turned back to Bucky. “Those are my friends, who very much do exist, contrary to popular belief. You can come sit with us if you want.”

Bucky smiled to himself and turned back to the bar. “I was about to head off anyway.”

“To the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“What have they got that we don’t?” Stella challenged playfully.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet. “Women who’ll tell me their names, for a start.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Stella replied with a scoff. She followed his lead and got to her feet, too, then picked up her beer and started to walk backwards in the direction of the table of ATA pilots. “Have fun.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, I sure will.”

With a shrug, Stella turned and sat down with her friends, and Bucky disappeared out the door.

“New American?” one of her fellow ATA pilots, Jessop, asked as she sat down. He had one eyebrow raised, his head tilted as he looked between Stella and the door Bucky had just left through.

“Indeed,” Stella confirmed. “A major. Just flew his first combat mission today in observation for some other American regiment at some other base.”

“He’s been sat over there nursing a beer ever since we came in about an hour ago,” Jessop replied, settling back into his chair but not releasing his raised eyebrow. “Wondered what was the matter with the fella.”

Stella brushed this away. “He’ll be fine. He’s gone off to chase skirts down the pub.”

“You reject him already then, Fin?” asked one of her bunkmates, Alice, from beside her.

Stella rolled her eyes, lifting her beer to her lips for a sip. “If I was interested in sacrificing my hard-earned reputation over a man I would’ve taken Jessop up on his offer back in 1940.”

“I knew you fancied me, Finley!” Jessop cheered.

Stella rolled her eyes. “You knew nothing, you lying bastard, now sit still and drink your beer before you wear it.”

The gathered pilots chatted idly about the chits they’d flown today. Stella had been sent to a nearby base which was short of ATA pilots of its own to ferry a damaged Spitfire to a repair depot and had then picked up a freshly repaired Bristol Blenheim to fly back. Her day had been long, she said, but not difficult. Nonetheless, she headed off to bed prematurely, seeking a warm shower before the other female ATA pilots in her hut stole all the hot water.

[musclemanveryregular]

the effort you put into these posts is always so impressive. i keep wondering, do you only respond to posts that you have muscleman edit ideas for? or do you respond to most posts you see that have a good set-up and only make the edit after they've responded to the set-up for the joke?

Sometimes I just reply cause I think muscle man setting up the joke itself is funny enough- even if it's like a blog that can't respond or I know won't care to bother.

But typically I do not make edits in advance because not everyone responds and that would be a nightmare to constantly be making drawings and edits and then never using them.

The times I do make things in advance is if im reblogging from someone I know will respond and the post is something that sparked an idea initially. The joker post I knew op would respond because I saw that person in my notes before I rbed it and then I immediately went to work on making that edit. The post with stella i started working on right after reblogging because Treen and I are buds.

But sometimes i rb something with the joke, op responds "who?" And then I kinda short circuit and

[ID: plankton from spongebob with his hand on his face looking down confused, next to him is the text "I dont know. I didn't think I'd get this far..." /end ID]

So I simply save it as a draft and come back to it when I'm ready. I was fretting awhile back because I had several and I didn't know how to properly make the joke unique but felt obligated to reply- but at this point I've realized that might be a little too much effort to always try to respond right away or not make any other jokes when I can until I do.

So basically the spirit of the "you know who else..." joke inhabits my body and then I sort it out later if need be ajfjfjthdjfjththtj

I might do more plain jane my mom jokes in the future simply to not leave people hanging but sometimes I feel like those might be a let down? Idk

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Hazformers FanArt: Soundwave Meets Octavia (2023)

----------------------

Credit for Hazformers goes to Blitzy-Blitzwing

Credit for Helluva Boss & Hazbin Hotel goes to Vivienne “Vivziepop” Medrano

Credit for Transformers goes to Hasbro & Takara

Credit for Transformers Animated goes to Sam Register & Matt Youngberg

----------------------

when I was drawing this, I was listening to the song "My Zing" from Hotel Transylvania...

even if it might not happen in the fan fic "Becoming a Demon", the idea of those two meeting and becoming close friends, does seem cute.

another cute idea is the thought of Soundwave forming a crush on Octavia, like him not understand the warm and fuzzy feeling inside his his chest whenever he is with her, and the strange feeling makes him feel happy but he doesn't understand why, and even more so when his spark/heart skips a beat.

picture if he had a future where he becomes "Prince Soundwave" he would end up out ranking a Overlord...and the way he becomes a Prince, would be in the distant future where he and Octavia end up getting married, but right now they are just friends who have small crushes on each other which would slowly grow into full love and devotion.

it be interesting in a type of Fanon Timeline and Alternate Universe way as well as type, that it turns out that Octavia is like Sari Sumdac.

while in the canon, Stella may have laid the egg that Octavia came from, but it could turn out that in a Crossover Timeline of TFA/Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Stella wasn't able to have any eggs, because she was sterile, so both her and Stolas couldn't have any children or even their first egg because of this...

Stolas could still be able to have children, but Stella could not, and if she knew she was sterile, then she might refuse to admit it. one day while both he and Stella were in bed, and Stella was sleeping... a type of portal opens up from Earth, and a small human baby size protoform goes through that came from detroit.

the protoform's Cybertronian parent, wanted nothing to do with the newborn protoform, so they tried to get rid of them by using a space bridge but it ended up becoming a different type of bridge, and the protoform ends up being send to hell instead and into the bedroom of Stolas and Stella, even with the flashing light, Stella doesn't wake up or even move.

Stolas curious of the unknown being before him, goes closer and notices that the small form was made out of liquid metal. and when he touched the protoform, it ended up taking some of his DNA & Magic, and while it did give him a shock it didn't make him pass out... the next thing he knows there was another bright flash of light and he has to cover his eyes, but when he uncovers them he ends up seeing that the small protoform is replaced by a Egg...

Stolas then gets a idea and takes the egg, and places it under the covers on the bed, and close to Stella so when she wakes up, she will think she had the egg...yeah this would mean that Octavia would be 100% Stolas's daughter, and not Stella's and she would be like the Step or Adoptive Mother Of Octavia instead.....but Octavia would also have a Cybertronian Parent who didn't want her, and had her when they were on Earth, I would say it would be Slipstream, who is also the clone of Starscream, the part of himself that is the "don't ask" type....

Stolas would be both Octavia's Father & Mentor, same goes for Isaac Sumdac being both the Father & Mentor for his daughter Sari Sumdac...

I'm not sure if calling Bumblebee a "Mentor" for Twitch, Trash, Nightshade, Hashtag and Jawbreaker would be the right word.... he is more like the Older Brother type figure that does try to teach his little siblings, but Dorothy "Dot" Malto & Alex Malto are the Adoptive Parents to the Terrans, so in a way, both Dot and Alex are Mentors to them as well. and a Mentor is like a parent, and ya can even have two Mentors as well, and the two Mentors could turn out to be together as a couple. and the couple could be a Mech & Femme or Two Mechs or Two Femme Couples.

if Octavia got hurt maybe on her arm or leg, like how Sari did but in a slightly different way, she might end up seeing the cybertronian part and she could end up being both hurt and confused.

Stolas would have to explain to her, that while she is his daughter, she was something else at first, that she was a small liquid metal body that was the size of a baby, and Stella had no part in her becoming who she is now. he would also have to explain that he had to trick Stella into believing that she was the Egg's Mother, even when he and doctors both knew that Stella couldn't of had a egg, because she was sterile.

Octavia could of still end up really mad at her Dad for keeping such a big secret from her, but in the end she would end up forgiving him and be glad that he finally did tell her the truth.

this idea of course is Fanon...and I guess it's okay that only a few find that idea interesting.

it be cute if Blitzwing goes crying and hugs on to Soundwave and telling Shockwave "our baby is growing up too fast!" after learning that Soundwave has a crush, even if Soundwave doesn't fully know he has one and doesn't fully understand that type of love yet.

plus Soundwave and Octavia starting out as friends who have small crushes on each other, could be seen like Steven and Connie from Steven Universe started out, just Best Friends who would much later in their lives become boyfriend & girlfriend.

this idea is like a "what if" type and I just like the idea of those two meeting, and Octavia being a fan of Soundwave's music and even becoming close friends with him.

Blitzwing becoming a crying mess and hugs Soundwave saying that he is too young to fall in love and he should just stay as their baby. XD

picture if Blitzwing saw someone dressed like Soundwave, like how Pizza-Steve dressed up like Steven, and Blitzwing hiding behind Shockwave and yelling out

"THAT'S NOT MY BABY!"

just like how Pearl acted to Pizza-Steve when he was trying to pretend to be Steven.  and to some fans, Pearl is seeing as Steven's Real Mother even if he got his Gem from Rose.

Rose and Megatron may have good reasons to fight Homeworld Gems & Autobots from Cybertron, but only one of them ended up having their dreams fully come true even if Rose wasn't there to see it.

I'm still gonna view the Autobots from Cybertron in TFA like the Homeworld Gems from Steven Universe, because that is what they are to me... and let's not forget the Autobots from TFP are just as bad, even if they still fight for good and still have some good bots in that faction, but they are still no better for their stupid broken and corrupted caste system.

well they are no where near as being as bad as those three angels that tried to make Lilith go back to Adam....even if some might view those three as "the good guys" they were nothing more than bullies who took things too far... and as if some of the humans from Earthspark can call Transformers all bad, with them bringing their fight to Earth, but they have no room to talk, since they do that type of fighting as well...

the Earthspark series is still interesting and I like it, I would want to kick Optimus's foot for what happen to the Allspark...it wouldn't be the first time a Optimus misused the Allspark....like the Optimus from the Live-Action Movie Universe...he was willing to destroy it...that Allspark is like the Mother of All Cybertronians, and he is being disrespectful to her...

plus if you think about it, the Terrans in Earthspark, they technically have two Moms, Dot and the Earth.   

so if the Allspark gets destroyed or shattered...

why should Megatron be the scapegoat if it’s Optimus’s fault...? 

anyway, even if it might not happen in Hazformers or in the story,

I just like the idea of Soundwave meeting Octavia, and them becoming close.

and like Soundwave forming a crush on the Princess and Blitzwing figuring this out and being all smother-mother on him and hugging him and crying his eyes out that his baby is too young to start dating anyone. XD

picture how Husk and Alastor would react seeing and hearing Blitzwing acting like a smother-mother, that would be both funny and cute.

and yes I only colored the eyes and sunglasses on purpose.

as well as the Decepticon insignia... 

anyway this is just a Hazformers Fan Art as well as a Crossover Fan Art,

so the thought of those two being in a platonic ship at first but would slowly grow into a romantic ship, is just a what if type and doesn’t mean it would actually happen, so let there be no misinterpretations.

not all ships are romantic, some are “I bud it” or “I bro it” or “I sib it” or “I fam it”

but because those types are 100% platonic, you can’t just use the words

“I ship it” because it would give the wrong idea and that type of wording should only be used for the romantic type ships, NOT the platonic type ones.

Soundwave from Hazformers basically becoming a son with more than one Dad figure, that would be “I fam it” and of course “Fam” has to do with “Family”...

also I had realized that Soundwave from TFA, does technically have siblings, and Sari is technically his Big Sister, I still think she is Megatron’s daughter because of the Other way Protoforms are able to be born, and that is through the budding stage and Megatron was in that lab and his head (that was without his body.) had went through the budding stage....

I can talk about my realizing that Soundwave has siblings thanks to Megatron, in another post, because who those siblings are, some might already know...

anyway hope some like this fan art, that has Octavia asking Soundwave for a Autograph, he does look surprised from the looks of it.

well maybe he isn’t use to talking to someone who is closer to his age.

that could be the reason why he looks surprised by seeing her.