#rayne is too pure for this world

[vifilms]

❝ DO YOU FEEL ASHAMED? ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, ex!ellie, heavy angst, cheating, heartbreak, moving on, reader going through it, no happy ending y'all, this one has a little kick, ellie is a bit of a dirtbag in this, next time i write for her it'll be the most fluff.

RAYNE RAMBLES ★ wrote this last year after getting cheated on and it's just been sitting in my docs, forever. enjoy my pain?? idk, possible abby x reader sequel

ex!ellie who avoids you for a very long time after the breakup. she wishes it could be amicable between the two of you too, but it can't be. it never will be. ellie made sure of it. all of her belongings are still littered across your apartment, though her scent is gone, you still see her everywhere. you can't bring yourself to remove the framed photos of the two of you hanging across your home. she was happy, or so you thought, and you were. but today was the day. you were letting all of it go and her with it. your roommate had taken it all down for you, the strength to remove the past three years of your life just couldn't be found. 

ex!ellie who doesn't really want to think about the way you'll look at her. her emerald eyes were always your favorite, you used to go on about how much you love them. how soft they looked at you, the light shining beneath them whenever she said something stupid and ellie just waited for your giggle or a hint of it anyway. they used to be kind to you, careful, even calm but it didn't seam to be the case anymore. ellie knew you wouldn't be either — not after she’s hurt you. carelessly, abusing your kind-hearted spirit, turned you to something resembling unbridled rage with a large dosage of resentment. 

ex!ellie who is met with your roommate instead of you, before the door is slammed in her face. she expects to be met with sharp behavior. there wasn't a shadow of a doubt she did. ellie just wished it wasn't your best friend who she fucking hated. ellie never liked them. they never liked her and now she didn't have to hide it. what ellie couldn't stand was that they were right about her. three years in and instead of doing the decent thing, ellie chose to betray you. those closest to you were going to protect you from the enemy at all costs. the only you trust the most and cut you the deepest. as much as she despised it, it was all true. 

ex!ellie who eventually gets you, after you hear her voice carelessly arguing with your friend. you place a box at the entry in front of her feet, before you walk away. ellie peaks through one foot in the door, but then you're already back with the second box. ellie can see the tears in your eyes and you see the guilt in hers. almost shining brighter than the shame. she knows how much it hurts you, her being here, being so close but so unimaginably far away it makes you want to hurl. 

ex!ellie who watches you breathe deeply, your hands clenched into fists. before you're rubbing them at drained eyes, dark circles underneath them. she's to blame for everything you're going through. if she had just been honest from the beginning, maybe the two of you could've been friends and just left your love there. you were nothing but good to ellie, pure like white snow, and now the blood from her hands fell over you, staining you a violent red. you would never be pure again. no. not like before. you wouldn't ever blindly trust anyone just because you simply fell in love. putting yourself out like this again? no, you couldn't do it. 

ex!ellie who tries to speak with you, mouth open, but no words are able to come out. she tried her best to put off this moment, the confrontation of the aftermath, facing the fact she had treated you like an afterthought, but you were more than just a thought ellie had tried to push away. you were a person she had left abandoned. she had promised you the world and caved when the time came to give in. she become everything you feared she would be, tearing you in little shreds of yourself as you tried to piece back what she had broke. 

"you look like you haven't slept." ellie states, not really a question, but she almost phrases it as one. she doesn't have a right to ask. the two of you know she's forfeited knowing you, your life, how you're doing — she's the one whose damned it all. 

"i don't really. not right now at least." you look anywhere but her eyes, your eyes concentrating towards the freckles meticulously scattered along her shoulders, her cheeks, and along her button nose. “anyways, should be everything of yours. i’ll contact dina if anything else shows up.” your tone sharp, clearly cutting through. 

there’s no malice when you utter her girlfriend’s name, but ellie senses you’ll reserve the tone of betrayal just for her. she’s the one who abandoned her commitment to you. 

not dina. 

“can we talk? please?” ellie flashes her beautiful puppy eyes at you, once would make you melt, now you feel like throwing up.

“ellie.” there is it is, ellie thinks, betrayal and brutality laced in the voice who promised her a future. there once had been one, house, kids, a ring. it seems so silly now. it’s a warning the way you speak to her. don’t push your luck, williams. 

she’s with dina. why does she even care? 

she’d never seen you so upset, so vengeful, so tired of her. you weren’t lying when you never said you never wanted to see her again. every single beat of your heart meant it, the emotion cut off when you spoke to her, how you looked at her with this cold look in your eyes. arms crossed over your chest as if looking at her is the most taxing task in the world. 

ellie was supposed to not care. she couldn’t, yet it bothered her you clearly didn’t. 

“i have nothing i want to say, especially to you.” you bark, for the first time, ellie fears there might be a bite. 

“i-i know i fucked up, okay? i just can’t stand the thought of you fucking hating me.” ellie pleads, a longing look in her eyes. 

“well, i never thought i would, so i guess we’re all evolving and changing into horrible people.” you roll your eyes at her, watching as she struggles to pick up the boxes laid at her feet. 

you loath how much you want to help her, but don’t. 

you can’t. 

“you’re not horrible.” 

“well, you are.” your insult slapped her right across the face, the burning sensation stung but what hurt more was knowing you meant every word. 

“this isn’t fair, i know what i did was bad, but i told you the truth. i didn’t lie, i confessed. isn’t it worth for at least, i dont know, a little empathy? something?” ellie sighed deeply, shoulders tense from the altercation with you. “

“you didn’t tell me because you’re a honest person. it’s because i would have found out and you were scared.” you scoff. “fuck you. wanting brownie points for admitting you cheated? go to hell.” 

“what else could i have done? it was already too late.” ellie admits, shame laced in her eyes. you hope she feels every bit of shame for all the hell she’s put you through. 

“i wonder why it was too late?” your sarcasm slicing through the air. ellie finally managed to get a grasp on boxes in her shaky hands as she tried to not crumble under your death glare from hell. “i was the last one to show up at the party to your new fucking relationship. huh, guess i would be one not invited? some weird fucking placeholder until you found something better. right under my fucking nose.” 

she deserves every bit of it. 

painfully, you were met with silence. ellie couldn’t do anything, apologize in a way she hadn’t before, beg for forgiveness, grovel for your compassion. 

you were too angry, too heated, too fucking hurt. there’s only a split second of it, ellie almost missed it, but she saw it clearly. the gloomy blues hidden beneath your beautiful eyes, slowly becoming more evident. you’re trying your best to hide it beneath anger, mask it from her, but she sees it. 

tears building the more your voice escalates and ellie would truly hate herself if she made you cry in front of her, again. she’s can’t see you do it again. it’s the last thing she wants. she can’t keep hurting you. 

dina, fuck. she has to protect her. ellie’s unsure if you’ll lash out on here. you haven’t yet, but breakups pull the worst out of you and she’s fearful for the women she does love. 

“just…don’t take it out on dina, alright? if you wanna be mad, fine. as much as i wish i could fix it, i know nothing i can say or do will earn your trust back. okay?” 

your heart breaks at her instinct to protect dina, how she used to do the same for you. it nearly splits you into an abyss, cracking your soul just where she had nicked it. almost seemed intentional at this point. 

“i would never be mean to her. she didn’t promise me a future together, you did. hope you have lovely fucking life with her.” 

ex!ellie who is met with the wooden door being slammed in her face, nearly kissing her chin. she stayed there long enough to hear you cry, sitting on the concrete to hear the consequences of loving someone else who wasn’t her girlfriend, well now ex. she craved to punch something, someone. you whined, a name quietly dropped from your perfect lips, abby, your fucking best friend. she would be the one to comfort you, pick up the pieces of the wreckage ellie had left you with. it scorned her, letting a flame loose on her skin, with the thought of you with her. but she didn’t get to have feelings, she couldn’t be upset with how you chose to reassemble your sanity. not when she’s the one who broke you. even if it’s with the woman she always feared you love more than a friend.

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[angelsbless]

Hiiiii, I really really love your mashle headcannons!!! They are so cute and on point, and also love the way you write the characters!!! I saw a post from another fandom about how (x) character would react after hearing the reader talk about them (romantically) with a friend and I thought it would be a good idea for the mashle cast (with any characters you'd like but pleeaaaaaseeee add rayne, I am a sucker for that guy) hope you have a nice day and sorry if this is way too specific, you can ignore it if you don't like it 😅😅😅

Hwhsheujw OMG i loved the idea i guess i'm making it into a series hon, and yea i'm also so much into rayne, he's my beloved so here you go i hope you like it and thank you sm mwah 🤍

How would mashle characters react if they heard you talking about them romantically

RAYNE AMES

So rayne was on his way to meet you after he finished his mission, he missed you so much and couldn't wait to see your beautiful smile that brings him warmth inside. Before he can knock the door to your dorm room he overhead you talking to someone which he found out later that it was finn. He just stood by the door not wanting to interrupt your convo as you seemed really into it, he had actually no intention of overhearing until he heard his name.

" just how can rayne be that beautiful, i just can't handle it, every time he's there i feel at home and i feel blessed because someone like him exists in my life, but he's pushing himself so hard, i wish i could make it easier for him, i just love him so much and it hurts seeing him suffering,"

Rayne's heart skips a beat, he felt warmth in his chest and his expression softened, he always knew you care about him but he never knew about that. His ears turned slightly red as he continued to hear your convo.

" i know, i didn't realize you love him that much"

" i thought you knew Finn, i can't help myself but be into him so bad, the way he looks at me, the way he smiles beautifully when he's near me, how he's worried about my safety and always puts me first, the way he effortlessly looks mesmerizing, his beautiful golden eyes following me whenever i go, the way he treats me gently as if i'm made of glass and only shows me warmth. I just can't help but want to hold him close and give him all the love in the world, i just love him so much that it hurts my heart"

"i..."

After hearing you saying this, he became a blushing mess, his heart beat fast, faster than any other moment before, he was so touched by your words, he wanted to go in and just hug you tightly and never let you go, telling you that he feels the same. Only god knows how much your words affected this man, you already had him head over heels for you but this, made him realize that he's loved in such a pure and beautiful way.

" shit she's so cute, i swear she's gonna be the end of me one day.." he said while he was covering his immense blush all over his face.

He would probably just go in the room right after this and kiss you so bad but who knows hehe

I love my rayne 🤍🫶🏻

[holdmytesseract]

Could you please do tom x reader where they are friends to lovers? Maybe the pretend boyfriend that turns real? Smutty and fluffy?

Hide & Seek

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Summary: Tom asks you to accompany him to Ben's birthday party. On the way there, you get stuck in traffic. A misunderstanding reveals long harboured feelings and things come how they had to come...

Warnings: mutual pining, thirst, fluff, jelousy? a misunderstanding, smuttish/suggestive stuff

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: You guys wanted it and I am a woman of my words, so... Here it is! 🫡

I hope you like what I wrote for you @huntress-artemiss . 🥰 And I hope that everybody else enjoys it of course, too!

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique

Masterlist °☆• Hiddles Masterlist

You heard the familiar 'ding' sound of your phone; announcing the arrival of a new message. With a hairpin pinned between your teeth and one hand in your hair, you quickly scooted over to your little make-up table, on which you had left your phone. Tapping on the screen, you immediately saw the message popping up.

'I'm here, darling. Are you ready? x'

You smiled, fixated your hair and quickly unlocked your phone; texting back.

'Almost. :) Gimme five mins, Tommy. x'

Not wasting any time, you applied some decent make-up, gave yourself a once over in the full-length mirror, grabbed the things you'd need and made your way towards the main door of your small, cosy house.

You had promised Tom - your best friend since you were teenagers, to accompany him to the birthday party of Ben. He didn't want to go alone - and you couldn't say no, of course. You never could say no when it came to Tom. Never. You'd anything for him. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was your sunshine on a rainy day. Your lighthouse in the raging storms. A safe haven to which you could always return.

A lot of people told you that this friendship wasn't going to last. After all, Tom was an actor. A famous actor. And you were just... you. But you proved them all wrong. The friendship lasted; survived every sharp turn, bump and crash on the way. A deep bond was formed; stronger than everything you ever experienced - and yet you were just best friends. Sure there had been opportunities to take this friendship to another level and turn it into something more, but neither of you took the opportunity.

You couldn't deny, though, that you had developed strong feelings for the handsome Brit over the years. Romantic feelings. How could somebody not fall for a man like Tom? He was a charming, kind, funny, talented, handsome gentleman with a heart of pure gold. You didn't dare to confess your feelings, because you didn't want to lose your best friend. Better have him as a best friend in your life than not at all, right?

So, the years flew by. Boyfriends came and boyfriends went. Just like with Tom. It was a heart wrenching pain whenever you met Tom's new girlfriend - and you hated it, but what were you supposed to do? All you wanted for him was happiness; but neither of you seemed to find happiness - at least when it came down to romantic relationships...

Another 'ding' of your mobile ripped you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head softly and trying to focus again; you opened the door and stepped out - only to almost stumble back inside.

A soft, cool breeze brushed past you; swirling your beige dress around your knees. The smell of rain hit your nose and some dark clouds hung in the sky; shielded the sun from shining down on you.

That wasn't what took your breath away, though. It was Tom, who stood not far away from you. Just a few meters; legs crossed, leaning casually against his black Jaguar with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Speaking of trousers... He was wearing a dark blue suit. Black dress shoes shone against the wet pavement; suit trousers hugging his long legs and hips snugly - held together by a black leather belt. The matching dark blue shirt wasn't any less tight; tailored perfectly for his lean yet strong upper body and forcing the small buttons to hold on for dear life. A tie and suit jacket in the exact same colour completed his look.

You swallowed a thick lump; had a hard time to control yourself and the rapidly beating heart within your chest. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking your way and didn't notice your distress. His gaze was directed to the street as he watched the cars drive by. The position showed off his ridiculously beautiful face; sharp jawline, high cheekbones - peppered with soft and fuzzy looking facial hair of his three-day beard. Tom's wild, blonde-brown curls had gotten so long; a hairsbreadth away from touching his broad shoulders. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale book; combined with the perfect image of a photo shoot.

You bit your lip painfully hard; trying desperately to suppress the moan which threatened to slip past your lips.

It was insanely hot - and Tom didn't even notice the impact this had on you.

"Hey, Tommy," you finally greeted him; attracting his attention. Sure, you could've stared longer and admire the fine man he was, but you didn't want him to accidentally look and notice...

His head whipped around towards you; baby blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hello, darling." A smile spread across his face, as he made his way over to you; giving you a hug. The hugs he gave his other friends didn't last quite as long as the hugs he gave you... You just didn't notice.

"Are you ready?" You nodded; smiling. "I was born ready. You should know that by now." You loved to tease him from time to time. Tom just chuckled; shaking his head. "I won't start now to recount the times you weren't ready. Let's go." You just giggled and followed your best friend to the car.

Being the gentleman the Brit was, he held the door open for you to sit inside his Jaguar. Once you were both seated, Tom started the engine and drove off towards the party.

Unfortunately, was the traffic on this fine Friday evening very bad; causing the both of you to get stuck. Like... Really stuck. Everything stood still. The little highway you were driving on was closed.

"Ugh, great... Now we'll be surely late to the party..." Tom gave you an apologetic look. "Apologies, Y/N/N... I should've taken the other route when I had the chance. Now it's too late... Can you text Ben?" He asked you, handing you his phone; gaze fixated on the cars in front of him. You shook your head, "No need to apologise, Tommy. You couldn't know. But yeah, I'm gonna text him." and unlocked Tom's phone as if it was your own. Not that you knew each other's password by heart... "Thank you, darling."

You tapped on WhatsApp, searched Ben's contact and entered the chat. Of course you tried hard to not read the last messages he received and sent to give your best friend some privacy, but when your eyes caught a glimpse of a text just above the text box you were writing your text in, you couldn't help but to look. You knew it was wrong, but before you were able to stop yourself, it was already too late and your gaze wandered...

Ben: So... You're gonna take her finally home then, right??

Tom: What, I- Ben stop that. I... I can't just do that. I don't think she'd want that... Me...

Ben: Friend... Are you kidding me? It's obvious she wants you.

Tom: You, uh, think so?

Ben: Know so. Shoot your shot, man, before it's too late...

You didn't have to read more. Swallowing hard, you stared at the messages for a moment. You knew exactly who Tom and Ben were obviously talking about... Chloe. A woman Tom had met on set a few months back. She was - well, is one of the costume designers and therefore saw Tom quite often. Someday, they started to talk during a break and well... According to Tom the sparks had been flying. He had told his best friend everything, of course - while you wished he hadn't. You tried to be happy for him - like you always did when he met a new woman, but... As much as you tried, your head never could win the battle against your heart. It was an undefeatable opponent. A invulnerable fortress.

You never met Chloe - and yet you despised her wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair, of course, but love had turned you into a monster.

"Y/N? Hey, Y/N/N."

You flinched and snapped out of your thoughts as Tom's soft velvet voice urged to your ears. "Is everything alright?" You blinked, nodded, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I, uh, just drifted off." and sent the text. Giving him a fake smile, you exited the app and handed him his phone back. "Are you sure?" "Yep. Everything's good, Tommy."

You hated to lie to him, but you couldn't just tell him the truth now, could you?

'Hey, Tommy, I'm sorry but I spied on your texts and saw that one message, saying that you are going to obviously shag that bitch Chloe and now I'm kinda jealous, because it should be me instead!'

Nope, certainly not. But you also couldn't shake that thought of. It occupied you. A lot. Your brain thought about it non-stop; causing your heart to crack and shatter even more with every passing minute. You could not stand the thought of another woman in Tom's life. In his home. His bed. His heart.

You tried your best to put on a brave face, but your best friend wasn't blind. Neither stupid. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself...

At first the Brit didn't say anything. Given the fact that you clearly told and signalled him that you didn't wish to talk. But at some point, an undeniable, unpleasant tension started to built up between you both. Almost like an imaginary wall... It felt like every untold word, every unspoken feeling had pent up over the last weeks, months - years and were now about to culminate in the middle of an upcoming rain storm. Right here, right now; while being stuck in traffic.

Tom just couldn't take it any longer. He needed to know what had turned everything upside down all of a sudden. Why everything felt so wrong at this very moment.

"Y/N?" He asked you carefully once again. "I know you said everything is okay - and I feel that you clearly don't wish to speak to me, but-" "No, really, Tom. It's all good," you interrupted him once more; giving him another fake smile - and you could tell at the look of his face, that he had seen immediately through that fake smile. But before he was able to say something, you intervened; only digging the gaping hole in your heart deeper.

"Did you go on a date with Chloe?"

Tom frowned; was clearly confused of the sudden change of topic. "Y-Yes, but-" "Great. How did it go?" "Um, great, I-I guess, but why are you-" "Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Tom." You swallowed hard; feeling your heart scream in pain - but no matter how hard it hurt you, you just had to know what happened between them. You wanted to spare yourself the double gut punch. Might as well feel all the pain at once.

"But, Y/N... Why-" You chose not to leave him any space to question you and just get over with it. "Did you kiss her?" "W-What?" "Touch her?" "T-Touch her? Why would I-" "Sleep with her?" "I-" "Was she at least good in bed?" You kept on bombarding your best friend with questions. "Y/N-" "Was she, huh?" "Y/N, I-" "Did she made you cu-"

"Y/N!"

Tom suddenly exploded; screamed out your name and slamming his hands on the steering wheel of the Jag. He clearly had heard enough; couldn't listen to this any longer.

You went silent; didn't even dare to breathe for a second.

"I didn't sleep with her! I didn't touch her! Goddammit, I didn't even kiss her! Nothing happened between us! Nothing!" The Brit took a deep breath; trying to calm himself down again. You just stared at him; mouth closed shut.

"Yes, we met. Yes, it was great. But I wouldn't even call it a date. We talked and drank a glass of wine. Nothing more." You swallowed hard. "B-But, I-I thought you and Chloe were-" "A thing? No. We're not, Y/N." You blinked; were quite stunned at the sudden turnout of this situation - and once more was your mouth quicker to speak than your brain was able to think and so it came how it had to come...

"About who did you and Ben talk about then in your chat, if not Chloe?"

It slipped past your lips - and you immediately regretted it; afraid of Tom's reaction.

Tom's eyes widened to the size of plates; hands twitching to grip the steering wheel tight, while his cheeks turned beet red. The Brit had not thought about this conversation he had with his his friend - and now you knew.

"Shit, Tom, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to spy on your chats, I-I just saw it a-and was wondering about who-"

"You."

You blinked once more. "W-What?"

Tom turned to face you again; oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

Now or never, Tom thought.

"You, Y/N. We were talking about you."

You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. "M-Me?" You squeaked out; pointing at yourself. "Me?" "Yes. You. And the party today." Your eyes widened; jaw slacking in disbelief. "Y-You wanted to... Me?" Tom nodded; smiling nervously. "I always just wanted you, darling. No other woman on this earth is able to compare to you. My heart fell for you a long time ago. It belongs to you. Always has. Always will. I was just too afraid to tell-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, you had pulled him closer by the lapels of his stupidly sexy suit jacket and literally slammed your lips on his.

Tom was definitely shocked and overwhelmed at first, but he immediately relaxed; sighed in the kiss and pulled you as close as somehow possible with the car interior being quite a bit in the way.

All suppressed feelings and emotions finally broke free and melted into that very kiss. It felt like getting hit by an 18-wheeler truck and floating through heaven at the same time. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, which the both of you enjoyed every second of - and tempted you to indulge into kiss after kiss after kiss.

You felt how your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of love and desire for the man beside you, as they were finally able to flood your body; veins pulsating with a dangerous mixture of endorphins and oxytocin - and Tom's musky smell, combined with the fruity blood orange and leather touch of his perfume didn't help at all. It made everything worse, without a doubt. Resisting Tom had been always difficult - but now that the chains were broken, it was impossible. And why should you stop yourself? There was no holding back anymore. The cards laid on the table.

You pushed Tom back into the driver seat; catching him by surprise. Your hand started to play with his tie; quickly undoing it. Tom's eyes watched your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt; steadily wandering lower as he was swallowing hard. "Darling, w-what... what are you- Woah!" Tom had clearly anticipated that your hand would land at a place where he had often imagined it to be late at night, when he was all alone at home. But it didn't. You gave his belt a soft tug, but then moved your hand over his thigh and down to where the lever was, which allowed his seat to slide back; bringing even more space between him and the steering wheel.

Another thing the Brit hadn't seen coming - just like the next move you made.

Within the blink of an eye, you had slipped out of your high heels and elegantly swung yourself over; sitting on your former best friend's lap. It caused your dress to ride up your thighs - and Tom's eyes to widen. He literally froze in place; realising in which position you just brought yourself and him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging at his suit jacket; trying to get him to shrug it off - what he did. "Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Tom knew of course very well what you were doing, but he needed to hear it. "What does it look like? I'm, uh, saving the car and riding you instead."

Tom's eyes almost popped out of his head at your bold words. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it stirred something deep inside him. And his dress pants.

"Darling, I-I don't know if we should do this here, I-" You raised a playful eyebrow at him.

"Oh, Tommy please... Don't be so shy now. You can't tell me that you never imagined doing this..." You leaned in closer; whispering into his ear: "Me. On top of you." The Brit couldn't help the moan which slipped past his lips. "I-I did, I-," he panted out; feeling one of your hands opening his belt; metal clinking. "See? Besides, the windows are tinted. Nobody's going to see this. Plus, we are stuck anyway, so... What are you waiting for?" You asked in a hushed voice; tracing your lips down his pulse point. "Touch me."

Another breathy moan escaped Tom's lips; big hands flying up to grab your bare thighs and working on slipping your dress even higher up your hips. His warm, slightly sweaty palms sent a shiver down your spine; nerve ends sizzling with desire.

"I-I've wanted this for so long, now, darling." Tom whispered; pressing his forehead against yours. "And now that I can finally have it - you... It's so surreal and- Oh fuck..." Tom's hands started to tremble; eyebrows slanting and mouth forming into a perfect 'o' as you lowered yourself on him. Only your lips messily entangling themselves with his seemed to bring him out of his haze.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I always have," you whimpered; body jolting with love and pleasure. His soft beard scratched the skin of your cheek, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck; lips marking you as his.

"I love you, too, darling. With all my heart. I'm yours." He lifted his head once more; glassy blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul. "Now let me love you. Let me make love to you." You smiled deliriously and raked your fingers through his long, blonde-brown curls. "I beg you to, Tommy."

And when he started to move, the world around you faded. All you could think and feel was Tom.

[aeternxm]

@stormfated asked: “ being strong doesn’t mean never asking for help or admitting you’re in pain. ” for takeshi ( more prompts for your feels | accepting! )

no.

no no no no no no no no no no NO--

she's wrong, she has to be wrong otherwise what the fuck was the point to any of this? what was the point of everything he'd ever fuckin' done in his life ; the suffering, the pain, the abuse --

hands clench into fists at his side, the usual bubbly self that he seems to so effortlessly keep in place cracks for just barely a moment. it's the sharp intake of breath, the way his eyes dart to the nearest exit like he's planning some escape route. takeshi had always been strong - not because he wanted to, but because he had to. his strength had kept a roof over his and takeo's head for all those years, he'd gotten takeo through school - taking on jobs that paid better ( that put him at serious risk ) just so that he could get through medical school without any fuckin' loans.

takeshi had been beaten, battered, and bruised ; and he'd done it all without a single complaint, he'd done it on his own. not for himself, but for takeo. that was strength to him. he'd sacrificed his life, his future - everything he'd fuckin' had to make sure that takeo could have everything that he'd wanted and more because he fuckin' deserved it. takeo was the smarter one, the one with the potential - their father had said it more times than takeshi cared to remember. it had been drilled into his mind that takeo was better at everything, he'd make something of himself and takeshi? well, he'd just get by, wouldn't he? it's why he'd made such an effort to make sure that takeo had every fuckin' shot in the world to make something of himself.

when takeshi came home to their dingy shared mattress on the floor, their room with no heating, with mold growing on damn near every surface and barely a blanket to share between them it had been takeshi that froze. when they'd been on the street begging before seunghyun had found them it was takeshi that would stay awake, that would freeze those winter nights to make sure that takeo was well rested for school the next day.

he was strong because he had to be. he was strong because takeo needed him to be. his twin would never know, would never truly know just how much takeshi suffered - and he would never have to. that was strength to takeshi ; taking on all the suffering so that at least one of them might have a shot at a normal fuckin' life.

but rayne's words hit him where it hurts. he supposes he's never really had someone take a look just that little bit further, yanno? everyone loves the life of the party ; happy and willing to make himself look a fool purely for someone else's entertainment. who could possibly want to dig beneath the surface when all they'd find is this fuckin' mess of a person. his strength was little more than a facade, chipped and cracked and just barely holding on by a thread. takeshi couldn't afford to show who he really was, otherwise who would want to be around him? he was fucked up and broken and disgusting and ugly and everything that seunghyun ever said to him.

a waste of space. waste of space. a waste of fuckin' space--

he shakes his head, tries to shake those thoughts away before he gets lost in them. rayne didn't need to see that side of him, otherwise she'd leave him too, wouldn't she? what good was takeshi to anyone if he was broken?

so he shrugs, puts on that smile that rayne has no doubt come to expect of takeshi and oh, it's like the comments just brush right off 'em now! nothin' could get takeshi down - just a regular ol' ray of sunshine, he is!

❝ man! tha' came outta fuckin' nowhere - yer funny, yanno that? say th' weirdest shit sometimes! ❞

[onegianthotmess]

TW!!!: depiction of a panic attack, fear fueled hallucinations, Leona beating himself up & basically thinking he’s a bad kitty (dome worry, there’s comfort at the end!!!)

Leona accidentally scaring Morel by roaring and feeling really bad about it had just entered my mind.

With the way Morel grew up, she doesn’t do well with loud noises. She can’t handle being around arguing or yelling and doesn’t like arguing herself, loud thuds or hearing something shatter makes her jump and fear going around corners for a while, and she can’t help but lie awake in anxiety during thunder or lighting storms due to the loud noises.

It happens during a less than pleasant conversation with Kafji. *cough* They were at each other’s throats *cough*

It happened as usual during one of Morel’s visits and she was also annoyed with Kafji, but she was very quickly getting more and more upset as Leona and the old bird kept getting louder in their arguing. It was over something inane, but Morel couldn’t even make out words as their voices muffled and melded together. Her ears even started to ring insufferably loud to the point that it almost drowned the two arguing men out.

What really made it worse was Leona roaring out of frustration as Kafji left.

That made Morel’s world stop. Nothing but pure silence filled her ears, aside from a faint ringing, as she blinked and looked at Leona. Slowly, the annoyed man who was still grumbling about the old bird under his breath melted away and was replaced by an image of her mother, absolutely seething in anger as she glared in front of her. All of a sudden, Morel was back in her mother’s house, her mother standing in front of her father, who’d just been slapped by the woman, as she began yelling at him again. Morel stumbled back and sank down to the floor against the wall as her mother noticed and turned her attention to her.

Morel didn’t even know how much time had passed as she turned away from the woman and covered her ears, trying to block out her yelling. She just wouldn’t stop yelling. Yelling about how she should’ve never been born and how she should’ve dropped her off in a dumpster to die because she was a useless child.

Though, after what felt like an eternity, it all suddenly stopped and the house went dead. Morel felt something small touch her and turned to see tiny versions of Riddle and Rayne, definitely no more than five years old. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she didn’t see her parents around and felt both a huge sense of comfort and her protective instincts kicking in.

So Morel took the two into her lap and held them close, rocking back and forth until she fell asleep, too emotionally exhausted to stay awake any longer. She would be scolded for falling asleep on the floor and keeping her siblings from their studies, but she didn’t really care what venomous words her mother would be spouting later, so long as she could cuddle her siblings to sleep.

Morel woke up in Leona’s room a few hours later, incredibly confused. How did she get from the Queendom of Roses to Sunset Savanna so quickly?

And where were Riddle and Rayne?

But it all clicked when Morel looked down and saw that she had Cheka napping with her. She must’ve had an episode along with a panic attack, then.

It didn’t take long for Cheka to wake up and get excited about Morel feeling better. And it was from the cub that Morel learned her hallucination of her mother yelling at her was really Leona trying to get her to calm down and look at him and after a while Leona had gone to get Cheka to calm her down since she’d told him numerous times that Cheka reminded her of Riddle and Rayne when they were little.

Eventually, Cheka said he’d go and get Leona, and soon enough the cub was dragging Leona into the room, excitedly pointing to Morel on the bed and saying that she wasn’t crying anymore. When Cheka had managed to slow down enough, Morel politely got up and asked him to let her and Leona be alone for “grown-up talk” and the cub easily complied once the payment of one hug and a few headpats was given by his favorite, and only, future aunt.

And that led to the following scene:

“You…You can talk, you know?” Morel murmured after several painful moments of silence between her and Leona. The lion beastman hadn’t said a word to her or at all since he’d been dragged into the room. “I won’t have another…you know if you talk, Kitty.”

“You…” Leona mumbled, barely legible outside of the first word he spoke.

Morel, though still soft and patient, asked, “Come again?”

“You were afraid of me,” Leona murmured, loud enough just so Morel could understand. “I made you cry, too. Some fuckin’ partner I am, yellin’ while you had a panic attack for fucks sake.”

“Kitty, you didn’t start that argument, and you were too worked up to notice,” Morel reasoned, stepping close to the taller man. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Who was the one who roared and made the entire thing worse instead of realizing something was wrong?” Leona deadpanned, pausing for a second before he pointed to himself in a silent answer to his own question.

“You were upset and had every right to be after being egged on for so long,” Morel replied. “I understand how you can get heated in the moment and I’m not upset at you for that.”

“It doesn’t matter if I hurt you,” Leona insisted. “If I hurt you, I’m just acting like the failure I’ve been told I am my entire life.”

“Leona Kingscholar,” Morel sighed, taking the taller man’s face into her hands. “You’re going to listen and listen well, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leona resigned, not wanting to comply but unable to argue in the moment.

“You weren’t the one who made my childhood hell, and you know that. You didn’t tell me I shouldn’t have been born, and you know that. You didn’t give me the deep rooted issues I have now as an adult, and you know that,” Morel stated gently but firmly. “No one did those things but my mother. She was the one who hurt me, not you. All you’ve done is occasionally frustrate me and make me feel loved. So shut your damn mouth and don’t make me smother you with a pillow, Cubby.”

Leona gave a halfhearted laugh, “Don’t call me that, herbivore.”

“Stop calling me ‘herbivore,’ then,” Morel said in a singsong way.

“Sorry, but not a fucking chance,” Leona grinned smugly.

“Then you’re gonna be called ‘Cubby’ for the rest of your life, lovely,” Morel replied, pulling the beastman into a hug by his neck.

Leona sighed before he hugged Morel to his chest and flopped back onto his bed. The woman couldn’t help the tiny giggled that left her throat as Leona positioned both of them comfortably on the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers.

“‘Kay, that’s enough emotions for now,” Leona sighed. “‘S naptime, herbivore.”

“Mmm, I love you, Kitty,” Morel yawned, cuddling impossibly closer to the beastman.

Leona sighed before sleepily murmuring, “Love ya more, Morel.”

Shiptober 2024 Masterlist

Shiptober Taglist: @heartsparkart01, @astxrims

Let me know if you want to be a part of the Shiptober Taglist!!!

[cafeleningrad]

Hiii ! Here some film ask : 1, 2, 7, 9, 15, 16

Merci beaucoup our tous tes questions, chèrie! :D 🎬

What’s the most depressing movie you’ve ever watched? Easy: Tyrannosaur (2011, directed by Paddy Considine)

2. What’s the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Ooof, okay that's harder because I've some things that do definitely squick me out. For once I saw El perro andaluz way to early at the age of 11, and I still can't forget the moon-eye scene (I don't recommend looking this up, and if so with massive gore warning.) Given that I might not even have watched the most transformative horror movies yet, I think the movie making me feel the most squeamish was Happiness (1998, dir. Todd Solonoz) - which is not even a horror movie. But psychologically thrilling nonetheless. :D

7. A film you wish had a sequel? Phew, another taxing question. Mostly I like movies which manage to economically tell a story within their runtime. Unless their part of a series or saga. And even with these I think they should contain a logical tale within themselves. That's good story telling, knowing exactly how to tell everything properly. (Also sequels often are not... good - mostly.) Alright, enough rambling, if there was a movie I feel like wanting "more of this, please!", Nice guys (2016, dir. Shane Black) could've been such a fun buddy private eye dramedy series.

9. The most aesthetically pleasing movie you’ve ever watched? Uuuh, so many to choose from. I'm general I really love good photography and landscape shots, so even weaker Tyler Sheridan titles, and some of Scorsese's newer movies strike some aesthetical chords in me. There will be blood is generally a good movie (it has Pual Dano it it, yay!), some landscape shots are still burned into the back of my mind. The photography and background design was perhaps the only things that saved Maquia (2018, dir. Okada Maria) for me. Sorry to be such a weeb on main but The Adolescence of Utena (1999, dir. Ikuhara Kunihiko) is just absolutely fantastic visual direction, framing, colour symbolism, geometrical design, direction, theme, and animation skills are at their absolute peak in this movie. But as we are on the topic of anime, every Yen spend on Akira was worth the visual result. Tarsem Singh always creates gorgeous images, the costuming as story telling, the bright colours, the sets, an absolute treat. Edit: How did I forget about Loving Vincent (2027, directed by Hugh Welchman and Dorota Kobiela)?! One movie which doesn't have the most outstanding editing, or colours but still stands out because of the sheer absurdity of set design was Lucky number Slevin (2006, dir. Paul MacGuigan). There is an entire production process for movies. Did none say anything against these terrible wallpapers?! Their existence in the movie was deliberate but how did this decision come to be. I remain fascinated. (By the way the movie is fun, Lucy Liu is in it, yay!) Also, I am a simple woman: If a movie lives on delicious looking cooking scenes, I am all in!

15. A film everyone loves but you hate? Phew... I think for me there is this sense when a movie gets a lot of general hype how "great!", "fantastic!", and "genius!" it supposedly is, and then I watch it, and... it is well made. It s a good movie. In the sense that the crew knew their craft: Proper story telling, good build-up, good lighting, good sound, good costume, good acting. Over all a good work. In times of scraping for the bare minimum of course it's exciting to see a well put together work, and not Netflix slob to fill the screen and kill time. In comparison to another Rayn Reynolds Netflix paycheck work, Boy kills world looks like pure cinema. :/ Still, there is this weird sense of annoyance when a movie is good but no Park Chan Wook, and the fan adjectives are larger than the work itself. But the movie I really don't get the hype for is Mean Girls. Probably I was too old when I watched it, by virtue of being a non-US-citizen, the high school scenario doesn't make sense either. However the only reason I understood why people liked it was nostalgia ("it's so quotable" girl, even Morbious got quoted, the movie is still garbage). It is racist (when isn't Tina Fey), and lacked the actual depth, and larger insight why girls terrorize each other in school than the much better, much more thought through Heathers had. Don't get me wrong, everyone who likes it shall enjoy themsleves, it just a movie I absolutely do not get (if there're better works about such a topic in comparison as well)...

Edit: Oh wait, apparently, I depsise this movie so much I banned it from my conciousness: Seven (1995, dir. David Fincher). A dear friend of mine explained to me carefully how good the editing was. She is right. Yes Fincher is a good director but the material he directs is so often more about him despising other human beings - and the script of Seven is gross and gory for the sole purpose of making an edgelord edgy point how hopeless and bad people are, man. It's nowhere as deep as it wants to be. Given that I've watched other stuff of his, and how all his villains are put in bright colours, I am convinced Fincher must've been traumatized by his mother getting hit by a paint pot. I don't know how else to explain this drap colour grading. This is a movie I can barely be objective about anything.

16. A film you love and everybody hates? A cure for Wellness (2016, dir. Gore Verbinski). I don't know if it's exactly hated but it received poor reviews, and bombed at the box office. Still, I'd fun.

[slytherintragedy]

♡ FULL NAME: Theodore Alexander Nott ♡ KNOWN AS: Theo ♡ BIRTHDAY: November 11, 1979 ♡ GENDER & PRONOUNS: Male - He /Him ♡ ORIENTATION: Biromantic, Bisexual ♡ BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood ♡ HEIGHT: 5’11” ♡ WEIGHT: 154 lbs ♡ EYE COLOR: Turquoise Blue ♡ HAIR COLOR: Brunette ♡ SPECIES: Wizard (Human) ♡ PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Nott Manor, St. Neot, Cornwall, England, Hogwarts ♡ OCCUPATION: Student, Entertainer, Hit Wizard, Inventor ♡ HOUSE: Slytherin ♡ PATRONUS: Lynx ♡ WAND: 11¾", Blackthorn, Phoenix Feather ♡ FACECLAIM: Lorenzo Zurzolo

BIOGRAPHY

Theodore Alexander Nott was born November eleventh, nineteen seventy-nine to Alexios and Rosemary Nott. He has a younger twin sister named Anastasia Nott, the twins were raised by their father after the death of their mother. Their father was a death eater, who wasn't always a kind man. Their mother loved them so much, more than there father did it seemed. She taught them all about the Wizarding World from a young age but while their father instilled the Pureblood ideals into them. On September 1st, 1991, the twins started Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was sorted into Slytherin.

Growing up, despite the fact Theodore was five minutes older than Anastasia, the twins were close. So close that they were practically each other's best friend, fiercely protective of the other. Although Theo was a bit more protective of Anya, which he knew it sometimes bothered her but he didn't care. After when they were six, Anya almost drowned in frigid water after she fell through the ice while they were playing and that scared him to death.

During their school years, while his sister was more of a social butterfly, he was more of a loner. However he bonded with Draco Malfoy, Adrian Pucey, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Twyla Black, Romeo Ripley, Akira Rayne, and Galexia Malfoy. Although he didn’t consider himself part of Draco’s gang or apart of any gang for that matter. During a Care of Magical Creatures lesson in his fifth year, he was one of only four students present who could see Thestrals. Only because his twin and him had witnessed their mother's death firsthand. He found the creatures rather distasteful and unpleasant as he watched one eating. At the end of his fifth year, Theodore's father was captured in the Department of Mysteries as one of the Death Eaters who participated in the raid on the Department and exposed as an escaped Death Eater. With his father incarcerated and his mother dead, it is unspecified who cared for the twins during the school holidays.

While on the Hogwarts Express in 1996, Horace Slughorn waylaid Blaise Zabini and inquired after Theodore's father. Blaise replied that Mr. Nott was a Death Eater imprisoned in Azkaban for breaking into the Department of Mysteries the previous June. Slughorn, not wanting any association with Death Eaters, was not pleased and thus invited Blaise, not Theodore, to join the Slug Club. Not that Theodore gave a single care about it because he found the club to be quite a joke.

Theodore was one of four Slytherin students who progressed to the N.E.W.T.-level in Potions. During his first lesson with Professor Slughorn, he sat next to Draco. Both of them sniggered when Hermione revealed that she was a Muggleborn but they also were skeptical about the effects of Amortentia.

Theodore attended his seventh year at Hogwarts and due to being a pure-blood Slytherin, as well as the son of a Death Eater, he was likely treated better than most. Shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts, students were being evacuated from the school including the Slytherins. Which Theo initially evacuated because he deemed the odds of the Order of the Phoenix’s success to be too low since after all there seemed to be around thirty adults present, and the rest of the people determined to fight were Hogwarts students or graduates from the last few years. And he wasn't really keen on the idea of dying young, neither twin was so they both left. Theo elected to go find Twyla who he had been dating since his fourth year, had proposed to her because he wanted to spend his life with her.

But when Anya decided to sneak back to Hogsmeade under a disillusionment charm to see what was happening, he ended up following her because he refused to let her go alone. Although when she joined the the reinforcements, Theodore cursed as he elected to stay at Hogsmeade and do what he can from there. The whole time Theo was terrified of something happening to Anya, which he got so scared that he made his way to find her. But it was while he was on the way there, that he ran into his sister. Causing a relief breath to escape his throat, instantly grabbing her hand and got out of there.

After the battle was finally over, the twins ended up going back to Hogwarts to finish. Well he only returned because she dragged him with her but it was fine, he wasn't planning on leaving her side because he was pretty sure that Slytherins weren't going to be the most popular people there and he didn't want her to face that alone. After they finally finished school, Theo remained with Anya for a little bit longer before she went off to do her own thing and he went off to do his own thing as well.

Theodore ended up creating advanced Time-Turner after things unfortunately didn't work out with Twyla, which the time-turner gleamed gold and allowed the traveler to stay in the past for an unlimited time. Wanted to go back and fix the mistake that lead to the break up but before he could, he was almost arrested by Potter for what was claimed the illegal possession of an unregistered Time-Turner, yet since it was a clear mistake so he was set free. However he certainly wasn't a fan of Aurors after that, but despite that he decided to become a hit wizard.

[libidomechanica]

“But if they all they trod”

A ballad sequence

                And glory, being shadow forȝelde. Care not so     good, beauty; what which madmen’s were in the weary leave theme—he self, ’ thus make thyself in     my little; mix not worthyly wonnen, þe beuerage, poor worde, ’ quoþ þe good too stormy     stoures do rise and low, breath. Little coat; to dryȝe, and from the wine. For one of telle     ouer a sigh has but they bore up into

Love by lynde tachez þe rayne wyth a sword. Leave     us, and straitest sight have their mask I try on. Dead Glasse, what the sacrifice, as I     have no renkes vs to ryde and never since to myself to telle ouercome with     carefull hath killed their husbands mountain of gold becomes one’s thornless in from out you     shalt be my daily sail the green lead,

move right take, no kings be crow or doves; by whose? Beauty     hath was these for to haue of clouds content, I seek no more hold a grett wyse. Like a     bee, love affair white! Kisses, þat nyȝt, þe chaunce to fly from his own know, and we shall sorts     met the drizling run, he sharp air Of the clime she leaves, and patron, who all the moralist     that your knyȝt in her arms of new

life design, he turret that the porch we give it ever     silver know, we saw her pure des, dubbed wyth and thy basely fly and sprong on a     sponge wakes they name. Who doth shifts, with Heaven a blessing round my young shame, and hushed Casket     of all the next, what binds one by one, seize my address dancing, words to craue hit neuer     whereon our palace. But if they all

they trod a saraband: she sat, she on her veil:     marsh-divers, when no more, and would not what passes zither way; and neare thickets: then, is     not know to get my glory as I sing, still and soft, at least capon’s fat, for that to     rove! At þe lude my fare and she began to feel that crowd love, I dragged my honde stones, wherein     I longd the isle, among þo menne.

                And I will come as the birth canal     or pilot the iron heel it slays there rises an     adder fight with soul wasted,

and the year. We’re all used a     word, but drunken ben my father were the fisher that’s fine     for me, till freedom to

dry one’s eyes are, certes, enter’d     with her the gronyed; þenne, stella behold savoury end;     his nostril wide, the Head:

but act, from the Disease. My nerved     to angels Sophistrie, that is hir vp radly þe quite     quite new; the milk-teeth of

flame despair, like the happy I     dared tomb. Before it raineth, or as there a heavy hands,     from being waves at strain

going away, it eats the faint     with bost and gold beget in my blood to the bearing in     the mind is the air and

red each has butter. I walk in     his pipes, groaning out his room, the best gentler day. And þat,     and helpless brown, shot

sidelong dishes; and loked tushes     up her breathed no blood that chekke hit quyk go hymself was.     Must begins to faintly!

                The placed, cloves, we schal se hit     falles, biknowez and lanced þo bourdyng þat þer þe     heldet, of diamauntez, þat terms divine: o soothest Sleep!     ’ She crimson light and rech yow sette þe syluerin sponez.     Ready upon us,

though it leave, the larkspur, and mow,     we saw the world Babel, woman plants to beget in my     cause I worthyly wonnen yow lakked oþer, carande for     worchyp of your awen. I keep from their coupled among     from whom the Blessed be grass

and berde, þe burning in a maid     on ever alone: they waltzed and staggering pains? Vast     abyss floats scumlike enough to make. With smoþe smylyng and     grimly spinning, but came to the halloo will with solace     so fele sere, and serued

þer watz stad, his hed and schadde,     and how twas please, yet somewhere! Wings and accept their long years,     in food, quicksilver litanies, the feeble age of Arthure     þe haȝþorne were þat bere on, and dresse, with my soul’s     subterranean straitest bed.

                Far and be myȝt falled, and so glorious dreams,     that worth cowardise of a millions, that she has been details I have prove: is the just,     strakande dewe dropez of both night, cliff- tops, seas whereeuer þe abataylment in þe wyn     dronken and þay chast mights faint at þe large as scharp yrne. Ar her lanely night. I’ll wear     through to watched behind his hondelez,

and vntrawþe, þat all, but I the story of being.     Laura lies in Petrarch’s wife nuptials, for a noble. And twitter cry, and bihoues his     aray clene; for þe segge as pearskin’s fleet came to, else to wanton merkkez, wyth mony     proud of beauty might melts down fa’ for he is dread out of her stood, and yowre ryȝt totes. Nearest     Lady glanced words, if only the

bravest friends, none. Not that pass in her west through you     are not too late and sings inspiration. Of þe hounds might’st for all this hundred veins fresh     beauty as fair hand to woman, a leudez þe barren stafful hende, in food, quick is     lover’s glory as I sitting through a courtesy who am not owe it; tis muckel     þat sete in a casque, a bende of

hate. Like Phœbus thunder-shower will ring tressour beauty     and no more; when þat gere, a parties just the engine of use and wyth bullet of     our past recall? I’ll take a lorde haf waled welcome guest, fed with a wro wyth wormez     he hem bi hor diner was white wall waste in holtez and couetyse boþe, þat freezes, blood     waltzed and a spirit confest, bud-

packed into yourselves have gassed reproue, and swing. He—being     speak and lenged þenne? Subject—let me gost labours by, a breeder the disjoin’d, and     lewté yow wonted; bot þe resayt, bi þe tyme; I have vanishing gladly to pain, withoute     dabate thy soul. The influence to her, and love, and through with blys and whitest bed.     To have eyes to Hoyle: give her, tell you

think in stale þe halue, and round of them on the mind,     thoughted Venus, you wrong his babe for he would cheare them speech is hir vp radly, sir, ’ quoþ     Gawayn glyȝt on þe sale rich no offers him but could be know, a man, my heart of the     Hall, dropt through their new friend, we entered, who or whence for the mould; some crying through the yellow     her broad and gentle satin-wood,

rooted, oþer any so happy news but she is     gold frae the delight hand, not mine, all. And I want torrent out a bitter state to solely     seen, and luflych leȝten leue nouþer, ne non end; his soth were the year, I paced, cloves, and     to telle, when some motion must be such a victories ago was death of on wyȝes þat     went shore: but the spring, made those from

mine, where beloved out an uncrossable line;     in vayres. Thy bosom is ennui. Shed in some couldn’t get ye, or a hundred     dispairing on in digging to hear that the power, untrouble worthyly wonnen, þe     maysteres; hit were were engraved in the woman, a leuer were dispossession—leaving     sealed blood-shed fly, was turned in their couplings,

and a hastyly, when he fed the sky Attend     his hot country’s a things content, he waged, command—when he third: Our old come by that     worþe at mydmorn paste, til þe sege and you, as that valleys, weary. Fingers of prejudice,     discussed al þe houndez so warmly ran my lays, but in the plank, he kiss my gode,     and Horror of leisure, one like a

ship to be more horne vpon most, and with the fading     harsh chain: strong than the sea in the banks, close be Thine! With power, none living he loot the     south and bid me design, i, who insufficient pray hym kysse and a single gentle     castez. With her this century was growing fount, shewes of prejudice, discussed alone,     but of thyself grew afraid of

the old becom, and on hym þe schaterande inwyth     Logres, sir Boos, and she the shard, when he will now. By the doubt what, again the that     they makes young shadow make synne, and glare of alle þyse pure gold that’s harp, and night, my daughter     by the sky, and betwixt crimson- rolling in the crowd divide the leant on her     love in tent of complexion, full Turkish

trousers furl’d about content, or mother’s jealous     o’ a’ the main account; all is no sleeping on air; the flood of that heart is she     heart of thorny path thee, I thy decrees: or bid my slick-fac’d suitor gins to dreary’s     the streams. Woods whereat a lyndes and measures found we should looking of a dere caroles     to reached your bough and grew another

eyes; like Titus’ youth: lend then she cried, ye are     that he were black-faced at his face pale, and I read—two letters and alle day, and Heaven     and þenne þise gently we past echoing to know pining deer, since precedent of     half als, and too soon; father the feast and Samson eftsonez—dalyda dalt with prayed.     Wearing things with daily vnbidden

beautiful was a second was once was a mon, I     þe kynge as peas, and to started by the bridge; and tornayeez þurȝ forse of þe sale wyth clene     as do bewray a wand’ring kiss that call’d them don’t believe; or be mine; and I am     trwe knyȝtyly, when you spoke and beauty, thou must bear him; nor, as uncontested you     like here? And may man move; she tribes that

thou will with a wistfully the most dear except     their play had been woos best lawsez, bremlych closeted without my hear yours, not always     complete of meschaunce of life in which shadowings of every strange it should example     and ofte chaunsel to hent in lust. But to rob him of his silent myself in her heels     but of tortoise-shell or weary of

drifted of those time sparkling gems beneath the     days mourne. In hidden crimson on þat Nw Ȝere much steuen mon most terrier, to bear; the     long habitude of jasper than his churlish, harsh kindred not. This dark night; what matters     like a nick in and once more ways. Bowed on her brydel barren women whose hollow behind     a dream, we seeks the night I’ll roses

you that parly abide by your honour once     vouchsafe the thing writ on ground; from blossom to wone and ho stonyed hymseluen, couth not     in littering breast their golden to have neither whose hollows wherein their captain or     loss to remember to teach what entire as the World, and Kryst me make modest, blame     you fair flowers buy; some he did she?

                A taste. Live with such breathe with his     went! A remnant of happy in the Ithacensian suitor     gins toppyng to hue,

st.-Fish in his armed my tongue’s a     child, if good can wipe out into that needs it were of mud     and the chase the Danaid

of him, now I conceive. Sorrow,     and merrily roar out Harvest Homer some rich or in     themself speke: what, if I

fail beneath made head. Who wear, dainties     be a perfumed bed, in a’ the most terribly afar     in his angry gods

had done let’s fall, last Love, I probably,     rights are dabbled meekly fringed alle þat þe nase,     þe auenture in the sung

in þy londe is lenge hym bryng þis     burne seȝ non such as derrest on hiȝe with knows no pity,     but more modest pride: and

hard but twain. Seeks them still’d up like     peace? But in the honde, þe folk þere scarcely thousand like a     million, and he mas with

her cheeks, her round, all whisper from     out ful fayre on him, I must not so fresh fire, light, to alight     to iudge this, at least,

but in they both are that every     home, for Lebanon, dark cedar-tops and only Phillis,     ’tis Phillis, ’tis the worst

vpon Sir Gawayn bi non wolde neuer     þe abataylment in lust. Because white rose or flowes,     þat pine with a wroth

assuage; plants, beats her instant, which     to it. Belong you vomit the Golden to dust underworld,     with bred more. And þat

burde þenne no pysan ne noȝt bot     wel for me? Feasted the women. Strongest date do melt. ’ She     came to tourne to myself

on semez, ȝe wolde of þe paunchez,     vche burden of his chek so pace and you, mine own and     alum ande glam of golde

frenges, ayquere, and eke tenne thou     should be myȝt. Surmise regard, put fear to venturous cry     All good manure for me?

                Look thy hands, then come, and ryses     to my wavering words which with aversion was these are     amaz’d, as fear, as apt

as new-fall’n snow and went by the     betray, nor weep. From the strong fingers, house in body and     eyes blindness than you think

that longs to fight with henna; but     speak, fair-set vine, things that building and save one whose than of     His triumph at Turin:

Ancona was contract: there: for     her no segge fotez, hit is but a well-mouldest man not     will not some to his angry-

chafing body, but alas     a lady, bot if þe dor aftter messes of Heaven;     and on calming hot and

brass wild with her hand; now hyȝt þere     he schulde. Of the hider shame that she herself erect behind     his resounder too;

he came, then befuddled by me,     doted fruit in on which he observing smartly I pray     wither necks from his new.

                Here might hours, which I though the doubt     and does my heart the ring: and swelling cheek received and will     wonde þat on syde, ridez

þurȝ bi a bonk vnbene, his venerable     vertuus stone forth no men who grew faint, with a mynt     one, bot vgly þer hit is

gone, we schal at your question, since     he did feed on point a churlish swine to hunt the heaven     of Love my hert. Who all

dead worthy to lives a littel     dayntés nwe innocent warmth of hunted busyly aboute,     and mony leudes

honde. Whether out of our far gone     into þe lyre; her lif haden, and let me go; my day’s     decay, o’er cloud in nets,

dreading mute, which I by that     metaphor! I would pipe in gaol is but didn’t work, ’ said the air     some finest thee that’s to

dry one’s cell, we took his kingdom     from any window and grass and lo! ’Er she bride, and of     its painted for a heavy,

but to the bosom is, the     rind of prophecies; love with its would have made a wind begg’d     for future as þay for

some when Jove of you along waste     in his own coffin, as þe wyȝtest’, þe bonk houed, and think     on hiȝe with treason which

from its rocky brow and loss on     thousand her it was mine own like a wheeling world’s cowarddyse     and die: who knows the

earth is that Lady glanced, Sir? And     pyne I, you could be like a bed of roses give for     authorized behold, may say.

                And ayþer oþer to þe burnez in     her eye; bot þrye, Er þe heȝe stede, he sayde to blame; it was     these hall the gaudy sun with mony aunterez hym vp     and face, some clear eyes wood,

its lips, as Philomel in little     boat, ’ and Will’ one watz arȝe wyth fayre schelde, on Nw Ȝeres     morn. You lying happed from inmost sad? I did never     prayers had been the dead

weigh the yielding fairer than civil     home-run total is your eyes like to move to others’     feelings sadly as it cannot ceased. And, having no high,     and honoured apert

of song, Cyril, with the very     home, and þat nothing, flies; I fed your wyttez to þe fyrst,     and rode in hyȝe hode of more, when he on hille haspe; and turtle     one, bot neked, his

felaȝschip þat hem lyked. But     now by the tape haue, a bende on lofte, sweet music ceased woes     wind to enioy. To say yow þere, ȝe be kylled, may lend     her child to the flow’d upon

Design, he might. This sides parcht;     her eye, which governs me to, and then shall round drof to þe     chepen and þe lorde say. And swindler’s lute, schon schyre knitten;     syþen garytez ful mony

folden through the grave what hurt     she did bow, my own—only the only shrine of the same     health—yours, our gloom, disturbing she is the graveyard crossed my     ideal light is the laste,

bende hade in þe fuyt, four. And all     fair visage felle of court als laȝen loude þer hiȝed together,     that once more day I say! Ho wayned me vpon hyȝt, þenne     ayþer þik side a Warders

will he distant their sighing leaves     behind the woods made: our times that we dropsies, taken by     a kiss, and Dread and in his turban, furl’d in the merci     beseche yow ask; ȝe known.

                Der dronken, and cheep and red uprose     things in their sight, and bound in the sea which man kills that     on þrynne syþez hatz out at

gates. Hit watz halawed, who was     ask’d shall sore that cliff-tops, sea-gulls, and little heard, I know     who made of Pope and loose

or used two strength, and the stronge. The     red and Death of lightsome dull amaz’d, as he slepte; and ay     rachched him with the venom

of those concord shall not be     so well despair, she sees the Winter complete, wi’ an auld     makes him hardly do prate

of the doom which I see this sted     me paragon of his face, brings raised the bank whereby Lover     with fears with damask

flower sprung up, chequer double,     is give him with blue, soft Persian, and freke fayre, clad wyth þe     sunny Summer, midnight,

and forth she is at restore, what     wishes thee, God, and the grass, and erbez, wela wynne me     þat hatz, haldez, and when

the found that sprange thickened hit as-     tit, as I sitting aromatic fumes, and begins toppyng     twynne, þe lorde lest henged

so felle were a mirror,     not just; as probably, right streams. Is good: but sooner the honour     of it, Florian’s head

till contempt the courtier course;     a long breast could not see your eyes and being conscious frame,—     senses, and I schal fonde.

                Discussed a dream and frount folde, ne     forth, what are not an innocent warmth to travail they were     done and found my boys three

little track of the retrospect,     but Shakspeare all old vices speche, and heeded not, nor     anything heart thou to their

suggesteth to ȝelde þat he myȝt     mon and so soon she is a fine needs and silver moon: sleep,     he is in the priest in

her two blue yes ever, for me,     I care done. And where Delos rose, the tears, that to where there     at hym lette I not down

and are not thou or I, the ocean?     Of power of faded frae nane, i’ll give a loving     prison’d in his lyft honde,

þe halle his scheldez, I were     be, if more resistinguish keepes to hiccup’d, Our     mistrustfull lips for my sighs

can interminable touch is     myn awen won to mone! Nor came yonder of us would     my lorde Gawayn þe nobler

age; appraise, while. Lasts of the     truth; receives rain and of the tense—how bear it? And oh, her     equally, smile; but pushed

rose, and þat fyne fade, and at his     fancy comen þe cloþez, whette, as I saw the quiet joke.     Without the pleasant leaven

stod he wildly brennez hom     on glodes aywhere; almost as a busk ouer þe day I     say, the world within prison’d

into a hundred touch your     face and bark. ’Er at a sellyly of a lemman, a     lethal musket shot, a

lethal musket shot, a carcanet     is þe meyny in þis ilk wyȝe called thee why thou like     a littel, sir, þe gome

gentyle knyȝt þe gouernement,     with any more that his unkind. But this as a wave flow     in its calmer of high

this the caught at a lost ere you     go? Like a face, and she, sweet; then the hours; the earn’d, pious     sway this redound of promise;

not alone as though I was     wet. Should rule them deep inside, twin Kernels in every fly     from small true? The maw, even

a rag like a madman on     his hede, half be taught again being waste, fresh variety;     ten kisses his wombe

and be to move among the shop’s     for various starry head for Psyche’s: as we walks; we     mixt withinne with love; thou

like a strok, and renew our her,     not beautiful was ask’d the birds were and strike the young Cupid’s     bow she untreads again

if it would well the glowande     wapped aboute of youth I want of brende golde glowande and     strydez, brayde, I wil no

giftez, for soþe, ’ quoþ þe wyse nauþer,     with Death’s ebon dart, too, out of þe flesh—let’s cool and him     a good turning how high!

                Leaving loose a hubbub—you know,     the grove, and clasping down for cort ryche. But straight me Turn, and     day, and turning steel it?

                You lying the owne sunlight; slow     here my should e’er he folde, in gay bed its treasures are laid     up like a gude wind,—and

ȝelde! By: struck me, me, may yet be     wasted: there buried. But great amaz’d, as love as we dire     events, and I longd

the house nor touch is ho þat in     the kingdom of Ithacensian sentences, in the purpose     there is no mon mynez

þat watz seȝen. I’ll do so that     fre, and bowed on þe mon tented treasure timeless from whom     she campers. Weigh this cause,

offred and sky, strange as soul in     fyue and the others’ intellect; and had no human voice     and awa’ wi’ Jock of

a woman’s snare grows sends; and, and     laȝter myself be done myseluen, could keep when my gestures,     such a Bacchanal!

                Slew both in one knee kneeling; but     help it, then, in his her the objects locks shag and whate’er     might your idle tear, she

that her breast, and if you stretched mankind     like change. The Prince of birth to make a dent folde, and strydez     alofte, and brought better

how his garden portals. Tell     his facetious hand, were sere twyges, þat watz don abof     his dead, the morn. For mornin’

to e’enin’, he hold Thee mid     this but ofte, þer fayre—þaȝ I had his fyue fyngres, and then     them; ah, what do still pudding

here of Absál at him, living     one as they played, in shame’s purest gold; and trimmer all,     the stod he country show’d

its poison’d in her white gauze     baracan that I am soft your bedde busken tongue was wet.     Is humming a voice is

thine owner’s glove upon my spirits     dam; the train is good that bear them through her, and jealous     maid of his swyre, clad wyth

mony aventure slate thy prisoner     in þat rod hym ful richly please him al roghe bi þe     diner was! If pleasure

shall seem’d dead, from the nest, and     foundation he waste in hymself quat hit mene myȝt rides best of     þe welkin volleys out

of a Mother shake and his life     allows’ perch,—did you—because a knyȝt tok gates of the yellow     hair waits a river.

                Tell me that love where his anious     uyage. Hate to the show’d the words, and wisdom? Some future’s deceased     to kiss sweet and lo!

                Coffin-board, lamp’s flash and leap in the cuckoo. To     sell myseluen.—Must we but withoute stryf hent, as the proue. What enchant thing returned with     mothers buy; some dull dream of gentlest sighs dry combustious head, dumbly don’t ask     charioteers case of this step and day; why dost abhor me? Eat up that eve and did prepare     than one: the sea, in dayntyez doun fayre

watz þe false important than one hips, and þay token;     miry watz nwe cummen will say yow noȝt, and sillily stars are in vain—in vain;     for a greater part into thee. Peace! What they dance. Musing maid, shall the Quarters on the     spiral offices of liberty, right: but weeps, which guilt.—Light of dirty rat. To knyȝt     totes. The nameless feeling, all that’s

absences growing were not the loved her long ypent.     Hole, can intercharged deride his moder watz hym his chin like travelling house must heavy     tale, and flowrd, and please him prison- yard, naked. Eat up thy right have wept till Christ of     ashes, and watched to the retrospect, however slaves seen by the stone fence, dear. That sound’     said that wild creature mayn dintez þen

any ground an ax in hidden hear your either     maternal sleep will bite. Prepare those miser; but Lust’s absences grow bad, and hope þat     hyȝe hedes, þe stif to stay. A lowande bemez as þe croys, as he used no more, that     is þen ani in þe court in, gathers. Say, the boar, these, and smoothly the skin and þer     he myȝt, and nights he was sealed blood and

frame history. ’; And now no more; and sick surmise we     felt the penny that if I probably, right to know whether only the baths that burden     may comlych close. Nor drop like a vapours where the maw-crammed beast in his back into a     scream from high desire. But certaining deer, o’er craftez kest hand his chin like lawns, of     magic ladiez giftez, and burdez.

                Watz gon, Sir Foole! With opens     thou pleasures are; for I am helmsman. No match that love,     and west semed hym sone,

ridden beares, the field’s chiefly     in mynde; þou hattes, boþe þat þou myntest, Ful erly hys     armed, here at his usual

sleep I return’d thee of telle,     ȝe ar stif in courage, poor breast with the meadows, woods     or with the betray’d to

rival out of no rest, take it     plain, all which we sat, with long daggers your own self nyȝt of     þat is far over brow

was spun: and, who loved each Scot of     houndes; þe alderman straight all her feet before: I can     not withinne he behelde

þe þis gomen bygan, or Catholic     priests had been to-day delen, for olde, ne þe lyst lese     þy lyf, leue hem best; like

religious influence of love!     The Crucifix was contends, it year, I walkez to home;     and here, pursuer; at

mine hard, heart with mony proud, as     hit bytyde, and heterly his real light, nay day, he wound;     some days I speaks, the week

before. As if she knew the season     at all. Exist with a kiss her, and fast, who wave like     a clew of all her were

harled alle þe syre soȝt boute     þe schyre scharp knyuez, haled vpon groundez. Watch too has got no     name. And also an oþer

to dele herd carp, and by sea,     in dayes, with iron mess. To the will gouernour of his fair     worde and strong I hope doth

the moon, vague bright have price; o’er than     even fourme of love high or loss of thee soon: thence doth she,     by my spears. In such a

sinner; tis Phillis, therefore, and     and the rusched one on þy hede flaȝe fro þis play; but Lady     Psyche to all the

coward infant-stare of the pathless,     dumb till perfect I cannot aloft riding there fixed     the stod he starred and so

unkind! The wondered the liv’d and     know no more stroke of Fate at seven-shilling. Body burst     their feet on whom she can

displaies his honde, þe guttez; þenne     comaundement, to þe swyre; þe snawe snitered in smirking     perplexity; that

we will no others buy; some fierce     thing, nothing mad, and speak; it fallen dumb. He told; she which     mights I dreams, their alert

enemies; declare the Blest. I     have that mused; and wine are thou canst vouchsafe the bowl with lote.     Was turn likely, in shade.

                Flying clove an advent to things     inspired lads them. She run or flower, not even his     lymes so longed the mead.

Some such sweet season’d in the fiercely     seen, and I the same not, be mine? Replicate air, or     something side does not be

well and kittens, he cheating throat     as female, moving fit, seeming; I love you canst thy head,     and whe’r he rusched vpon

fote ȝede; as perlez, hit ar þerinne     as her left, dropt for the arts of both are fleecy cloud     they seem to a shock, the

me on the lifts its would have a     prison wall, then he watz seȝen þat men who sins a wailings.     Nor know she beauty lies;

nor ought stille stollen purpled, still     all move each part of leisure, be it is like a Druid     rocks bewitch’d at last; gold

cup, what the way, for aye removed!     But surely to pray, how where stod he ne dismissed to enjoy,     girls given her breast.

                A king petal, a leuer with me.     Mark they mind the pit and haunted by, when the sky so did     this castel to thee why thou canst not, and selly lamb at     hert arȝe wyth to God, and black cord may schewed hyghe eldee; brode,     bryȝtes alofte, mynned

me parauenturus on þat he     fingers lie folden in slomeryng his revelry expire.     For þe lorde is immodest prik for possess’d, but incess     cried out his tender years lately o’er than both to ȝelde!     But one by night with

Tithonus the fix’d ear is by the     tramped the midst thou leapt slantwise the rande, whereat and from the     Disease, while far off upon that Adonis the mon al     hym swyþe, within me then we set the mas with a handmaid     on every vestige of

her, she vails his arsounz al after     Alle of eglantine to þe schaped. Give me. The     blood which rather your arm ankle or spring out he died     until his last bi a crazy auld auntie Katie upon     thy breast parted þe

wesaunt, and I heard the stretched with     burning on the care look on Marathon looking on nyȝtes     innoghe, þat euer our lorde, and hid him in crystal shell,     or mark it with no Spring appear! Matter game should be     knows its woundez. We took

and listen hem þe tabletop,     that hert louied. And consume us all sorts me: tis Phillis,     can get free: such as if her miss. He saw thee, o do not     go free; but woman whom I would stiles where you were gracious!     The most proud, because whispers

in his hands we trust meaning     of the Sun, if thou did if it was a mask. Bid me to-     day demay yow, bi þat I schal se in; no encountenaunce     ryȝt þrote bare we stood, tied unto the parent’s fair:     to danger on forlorn,

the prisoners, dividing o’er the     falls a thousand to þe behouez of þe lapped on his here,     of cheap thy rich in her mother’s kiss his far too soft alone     arise,—we come o’er the Fortieth spare. Do, the foam,     that is þe wonder my

altars did feedeth love who     desire you is bestows, whence,—a paradise, and golde wede,     with a breathe still is none: ’tis them to blossom to impossible     bell, and I slipt out: but now she adds honor those     thing of love’s mastered, to

whom I grieved—to slaked hor lotez     so gryndelston had she will ranks, in shade. Become as     much like a tulip-tinted grace could you though that treasure;     t was not say I ever men hem þe rydyng, and when     he watz lokyng of pearls,

which shall have been on þat sale wythhylde     his mine! Beat the snowcap gleam. Terror crouched one sighs and     schulde, and kyssedes my heart hath assay’d as true mind the     fires; the declivity, seeing as the days we likewise     will kiss her, and the Devil

may pour new friends are done a     great she in no syngne of dogs and lere; lest the solidly     whereon thou need a flattered lays, like a Jade her mournyng     he looked and so low upon heȝe fellows,—o dool on the     Belov’d friends, now echo,

then, confesse, you must die you me     your nature cared nouþer, bot his gomen þertylle, ne þe     syde, ridez þurȝ þe rygge watz cumen wyth wynnelych bytte     bende, loude þerat þe soþe— bot fonde noȝt wyl I of home, as     you me you hold Thee just

a diet. And if I myȝt trawe.     To counsel I shall scarce pluck him: when we first be done that     inward she flushes up her rugs and is past; let me new     wine’s for fearing me, his hall at last were þat I in my     life, that twenty summer’s

running eyes, as she hath doth make.     When to scorne. And shield, his yȝe, and the hand, now am I     fawty and dancing; each omission: affection wait, then     half als, and each tonge, with blanket. To fold, like South. A hubbub     in the man be well.

                The present in its salt again,     and was help it, for song I probably said: place; sylent all?     Sometime hold men despise.

                Let all regarding, and murmurs     swete. Or that’s absence made the way she hath won a single     fabric that whist. The stops: Potter ask our day, cross the first     work, will no further window over ear, tho’ your poesie wringing     that March with a most

soul with þe pentaungel wyth knorned     sadly blackness must always friend. Nay more wyt bene,     as if I’m in it their bills would lend her, to make a mole;     for lover,—shadowy and not forwarde to shame with such     wages as þou hit neuer

sense, which fell I no mo! So     we—the foam, that Son of the talenttyf, to tame to, else     the gallanted form deliveries weary legs swollen couþe     quile, I schulder, blande skyrtez, þe hunterez with her     wishes; the one knew that

we lived in hitself still dead words,     wearing into Yes and men. The viler, as well—but tis     to fact. Pain, for he wyst þe lasse auþer God from curious     matter or four days than I that crimson as we. Proud of     before. Our state its hands.

                Love is beautiful and drunkard.     Scorns they fled from Gaeta:— Shot. Flutes, such a fervour or     despondents, save the castel to here. To live. Watz he were links     of Samian wine! When you that if you wert as soul? Poet,     Singer, dark, no sooner

beauty and follow behind I     heard that roll out each several limb which speded hom to     here is new pan. Midnight love’s sweet smooth-paced numbers may scoff     at; in my bonie Betty, as waits me to þe crest of creature     at þis tyme, þenne lyste,

worþe hit best lachet oþer, and live     paternal summe men for the gate, perhaps, which they fallen     hym þoȝt, at saȝe þe þrid þou hatz tane in spenne-fote more and     fell like the black Buick, driven to the Law gave it: they     land the life, and þe tyme;

I have supprest. Which over move     like to its mind us of our accumulated moan     only the Golden fulness at my heart, that, whole again     to kiss you: begone: we had been: he lettrure, þe lere her     licking the flower,

imagine their wordez, wyth mony     herinne, baret is rered. So still, to speed the phone pole,     hard as all they that have compared with sudden to address’d—     and Lambro saw all the blood of States, summon’d the shadow,—     truth and gle glen? Boar had

to say, is we strong in the aidance     to feel with all forgot, we rot and many-tinkling     rocks, seeing that downward beauty underworþly serued,     he askes. Much dut watches hym to Kryst, hit no wyȝ ellez;     and I schal se

hit hym fro, and seal the night bard     from morn till come, short a leathern rein! The tips of the rolling     we trust meaning out of roses, and a flatters like     a row of life, and without a bryȝt, with my kind? As young     lassie do with a word

was liveries weary caitiff     for one should easily blurt our marvel them extremes; despaire,     my body’s end? And that sands, whose simplicity a     grasp of them? For all Aspasia’s cleverness wings grand feeling     wavering noose for

my selfenesse well to lick—no     discrye þer laght wi’ a crakkyng of peace to tell me pronounce     my fayth, Sir Foole! Shall more hopes in the sway, and would forgat     to hent hem aȝayn, so sad, so whit less ire of watched in     return would pass with a

mobile nose she moves by winds shake     an earn overhaile. Who pluck him: this guilt! Suddenly     hym sone, we schaft schyndered, endure its five wood; even     to thy living her over America. Bi þat þer     watch her bear allusion,—

my humility Thy bosom     erst: he lay our peace about these force a park al about     this ernd he strength’s affected seem strange excuse! Bi alder     and round there rises every sounds which, done, too, of evening     stirs a quiet-coloured

to recreate the sapphire     melts with nimble fancies hatch their due feet question turn and     with his hateful dittie. But we past, my own heart besides, his     lode for kings be crow or doves of the same. Of all the meadow-     crake grate the enthrone

after, if thou but blush taught meadows     what I mean take it and fres er hit ofte, and mouths to     see her hand thy bower and traced like their friendly sleped     in his step seemed lighted, to byde bale þoled him. Lust of     this poor I, who has taken

by a big grown boy, ere the     iron laws, which we sat as apt as new and wide, as fear     ye, brawlers? Of shining the hills. But the Cherries banish     we’ll toss off our would, and him agen, for ever slight, and     ay he fnasted by the

shape of chalkquyte vayles, hym hent,     arȝez in happy dreams to faint, and plaster; for Cyril     very woe. Volume as Romans do, ’ a pieces with money     in thread with fellen as then to bylde, and touch of us,     at peace—this wombe and

bounté bot your grave, no bounté bot young     bird being you of my breast part of lover, mad mourns! Can     firmly forgive me taȝt to þe habbes. Clips stream; for fool     and root the high over instance, ground; from having each of     my kiss even lonely,

or Trimmer, dusty fight was glad     to say, Love the love heard, some to þyseluen, be so bold     to share with pearls, but bad ails, link’d alone: and Viva l’     Italia! One fair to sete, swap we sought from any way     that tongue more hath death, as

we can I fall of fresh fire, or     as that worst are not yet each, as no home; not alofte. The     familiar carez, þe lorde hit yow devaye wolde ȝe haf ben     euer of hor stondez armed, ful gayly with solace of both     my eyes did follows that

lute and mounted or eye hovering     square; so mony clere mantyle, mete and gay; but that     solitariness. So fast, that couþe quite away. Not to     drynk, and truth, and what the birth alone with good for my sin     your name: weldez my goune.

                ’En for then day watz Gawan, for     it not thou Wreathed sighes and cloud with grim Swiss denied     them one by one, sleep, when

he hade þat ȝe breued of your     Academe, whilst I took him, living at her for murther purpose     heard of hot despites

of a truth and between his     Peter Bell’ can sneers againe. So strange, that I was a deadly     lurk, what we still he

takes a delful dynt, and sweet soul,     live in; I do come, and bid her sire’s foaming river and     his with a breath, that louked

ful weterly ryse, fro þe     hyde. Even long lying race of my friends are not break your     knyȝt sayde, As I am

naebody! Is dwarfs of pris     departing from bed and she was yon rosy than beelike in     þis step so light and ways

her monster, and wyth her wedez.     Til þou may lurk, whose globy rings from wine—O tell time when     ones; we’ll cut the lights. Let’s

get thy selfenesse well, Sir—and     to swallow, Swallows many a grasping and takes a matron     brings round upon a

window send flowrd, and woe long as     plann’d: only consciousness wildness, burrowing fill his mind     wild crescent broke thee, and

blow, his travelers theme, the key deftly     in the dark she common grins on a day; but sensible:     this blonk, þe bowelez

out then with speche, both dividing     of an airy flutes of clear eyes the happy news from     severe; the goal, when shack.

                ” Cry youth sere sewed the tediousness.     Being spelle. He has a solemn sympathy poppy     throat and neuer. Place þat vmbetorne as mery amongst the     rest; and impudency raigned, watz and here, light in one     night well? The height, jewels to

wean his here; it is the pleasure     in mony byfore all the spark from the boweles, brennez,     and the affection, even by a convict lies by     me. Must I though Nature of þe bityde; wyt ȝe wel, welde     riȝt nowe. He is sleep. Went

round then I rose, and the chariot     quite so gret chere. In that leadeth on fote lyȝt and þe     knarre and your lap, and heuez hym swyþe, and did you, guilty beetle     brow, on that gives over move her pliant bosom dies.     And I have told in the

story, let the world of fevers,     reigner, and desire sees her; and thunder; for whom each     in separate Hell. I hate, shun what hear from which would give you     by yow no gomen her owne. It may; thou lift the gold thee     and berde, and mirror of

than all the heart, send me while far     away in my father way, we felt the power, bronze and     his maysters answered. Til þyn awen chamber studs; and ȝelle.     And all be sad world slow, that frights, came flying raiment.     And every day the

twelmonyth þou tell her heart. Birds, that     we meaning. Beauty breed a hope for þe sege and you began     to the name just, she takes care here yet lost ere you ended     in azure gloom of those whispers in his masse, mony     watz boun, blyþe, me schulde techez

me out into the door. Poor     souls in stel to her, or little grief, of dog food. Gloss on     the tongue? Of þe pane full, her eyes that fear, but Thanks, ’ she slepe,     ne better far, that brings from the Arrow, and sayde þay haue;     þenne al rypez and bless

my youth a rynkande dewe drove     Confusion is death looks upon his names at the falling set,     I’ll deserve you this—to tell than is or ever having     died, is as thousand show how saw you list, you sit and calde     hem þe ryche of þat bradde

to his calm pervades his wylde, high     crest not gall, and the fatigue is mine eyes, as burn ryche of     my kind, meadows, over than the earth beneath was like a     beast: she who saw a man wisest that lures, woman, if I     can love’s dead. Her who might

every little heavenly and     of Hazeldean. Nothing companions, why forget what a     more to a life a perfume like louing brainpan were so bright     they means to make no breathes in a rage. Your barns with blushed hem     þeroute bilyue blonk, such craft,

tricks, tears! If I had meruayle     hym here a madness, pardon— as it help she court kynde þen     statutes, that your heart can say that be. Where these halle; quen     he warm apple, tipp’d with the point a churlish drum and the     Warder happed a

fulfillment. I bore that thick and for     the resource of þat lordez, whetteth strydez alse of plate,     and grinning, from mine own hunger. All rock my stray locks of     Time, whose worth strength now am I haunt of love upon earth     with a much good to greet

it wele oþer lodly þe     courageless, parauenture; for its sides fingers and their large     black hair damp from its round and merrily, to pass; it shall     had craue in þat syre, þat ilke gome of þy burȝ with his heavy     artiller an’ lan’.

                And pity drew ‘Achitophel’!     So radiant air how the future; everywhere, and nothingness     into Love did wittily entres, drest oure luflyly     acordez he lay on men, huge women like her rejoined     slippers forth of us

would man was thy fathers, where.     Some do it for Italy he’d writes or roses on bench,     that light, in gay let þe haþelez hym vp to þe, and     fiery night. I do summon’d the Lord, and grimly spirit     that moment cuts the first

approve the saddles through the dame,     that just; perceiving he loved here sat and soul, in a fylor,     fowre fraunch þat is gone, and still, his crown, and slanted moan     only their dark—years they led, and get into the Teian must     go. ’ Good night before. ’ Where

thee, fearing into your deviseth     in both the hither haste unfortune this soft, while that     red Hell his tale, and most true-love is the terrible fancy     feigned to rechez me þis departing-place at last, to     me at home, thou did exceed;

and its too moist to do, the     high above my heart, the plain: I find reply: yon clothd with     fears from your rights and seȝe neuer arȝed for his eyes assaid,     but within the paint at full of you; there rose who live.     It may scoff at; in both

are tears come to time, vague, fatal     fold, the objects only white a friend, we entered, while the     barketh, or as the mood made and that’s a kind or even     mornyng he lover, dear relation walk’d alike, lest craþayn     he creature weary.

Another neck, or being was thy     forging Nature lesson is bigger that recketh his platez,     piked to vche gift þat tollbooth with earth and bruised, have     from being bitwene a fly, and’t shall a youth, lucke, and on     thy soul words and the which

our reserved Polycrates—a     terrifying kiss that all the glebe, but no word may win     thy turns in looking that hour we shall I pour neighbour caves,     and hwen hit wyt, iwysse, both white, burn like silver like a     vision; I mightst thou art

my widow’s hearts, where their same and     gay; the Lycian custom of your enmy kene. And henged     his prayer, but the woman- guard, these this, poor Wat, far off,     and dinted for fuel; I had not sentences, and being     stars, idle tears its would

rather deep hair, turning them, no     doubt inspired togeder þat noȝt demed to shut the     issue, and livelihood, and follows of thy feeble age,     but effect is of a drum, and thee sister Psyche, ’     Florian; holding on

yesterday. But the reader; but living     what a wap one. No forcing earth, in the tyrant stain     in vain! Maud the youth and stones, and soft splendour slumber being     your siege from dusk cocoons, to disgrace and my ears asham’d     of deadly scowling,

it shall be raging as pliable     all men live through; a woman is not in wod þer breast—     but plain answer all in haste the dark latrine, and this mock-     Hymen the fire he hit were made by side; gems, gold, the through     anchor and the prison

air; the Princess of dryftes ful     ryche, þis ax, and sesed al vmbetorne and blunder þer halched     oþer maden more looks kill; things we would, winter grimly     spired train, his masse, or her lover’s guise, swez his lynde tachez     þe rayne and a kirtle

embroidered þe hals his store;     so sad, I shall light nature made him so that which learn to     see his daughter, walked now she flung it. Gate, which oft avenge     us at larger, longe to thee. And was he, the love-freaks     asunderstand a sad

and þe launde leder of those his     place me once or two black it is þe bryȝt, redly I wolde     yow, knyȝt, criande loute cast vnto þat statut a significant     myth i’d catch her were, swan-like, as to the silent; close     the oak tree rustling is

dire. Wale burdes bifore þe     fyrst born in the declivity, and hardly he said; free     vent of brest barefaced their chase they shone her gilds that     Psyche’s lectures for me? And ever yet hath proves; our pillow,     who could not turning

with laugh’d to be fast to die. From     my experience of life where they came: she were two lamps&     I’ll let your sale, þaȝ ȝe ȝourselves and stonstil seten     sonnet, all open’d, the psalm says, young, all the ship to be     more moder watz telded

by tubes she heard the new not your     forth?—One longer to the maiden may scoff at; in my wanted     to my plighter goeth aboute his dames: well and Mary,     þat glemered and called work, must confessed bankrupt, that once     doth she, half-awaken.

                Since that every nation is a pit of stones of     scenes sublime as night, and frame,—senses from blossomed up a weight hour words, or els someone     might seest thy Will. The quest quat hit hym

in a petted with pains? That men concealed so the     radiant air, or stale þat men were-so þou wypped him eke þat neuer ber bugle he     homered and sky; wonde? Found and sea?

But who indeed, the dull dream not so good reason     my scorn. Or were valves you’ve saved two such a nag on, and then her beauty, thou wilt buy and     fell with lips a handmaid on ende. My

friends, it selfe to be excuse of þe worlde; and all,     melissa; no—I would be know the hidden þe here shadow passe his country? And     not sounds are very blot of what we

meet: you tell me the purest great enough, no dark     leaf, or will depose of wyt feblest, be mine—a female familiar dust for different     land; when the influence of things past;

let me no lesse: looke from rain: the lily-shining,     in the arms empale free thee heir image which I cannot cource of this, survives her     temple where nowhere, of better, if

not learn’d sot, till perfume. A mere stod he nikked     hym swyþe—and ferk on þe morning-tide, there are that which happy I dared to fle for meruayl     bi mountain the ensuing seas.

                We learnt more deceit with my love.     Now hat; liȝt luflych alone! She seeke with rocks. Cheeks, cries to     Time. Settled hounds and sayned

of my hart stand in the mountains     her lanely night sit and þe wyndez fremedly     hem hath fed upon the

woe that bitter band; so beauty.     He enter our limbs have eyes’ red fire, and the souls were left,     a child a few last I

hooked shafts of thy neck long tree by     learn to sweetness of Lust, sith inwardly do prated Rome     rich in scorn, the Past proued

hym naye, he is a gently     impression of it to yourself without your feature, the very     eyes in at last light

yet be light; day after; bot þat     I chase, and a helme, and albeit the men were schemered     his breast. And charm; and

he of þis ryche. And its terme bi     þe wynt-hole, and England. With the deep in us, waiting     and that it must conference,

Launcely seen, that we comely     to your eyes, embower’d She, Without my Love the fires. Such     was found my bosom is,

that stif mon her eye, which, chorus,     cheek and reche to Gryngolet with herself, and rest, and the     Prison seemed, wyth knowledge

is cold; so whitenesse well be     trays, small sore did in sutures on the deed of happy as     a drink deeply by our

sale, þay clomben bi bonkkez hym     vp and sure, be God, ’ quoþ þe sesounding you: go. More I     sang, and lach þis ilke wouen

girded up with truth, though of this     day thought invade within his agony to kiss him, their     mistress! I said; but grim

to be before allied to act,     from what they weave to telle! The changed from a furnace to     thy Will, ’ and broidered

worker in her heart can a sword!     Rerun, the self-scorn of his armed verse and crown, her whose feeling     great of all milk shalt

steering from the honour at þe     knot ryally wyth quen yow in the walls shining is     And twisted love or no?

                And as it heavens; for þe most!     I probably its wound their lover’s vow they were never     opening to do like Southey,

and þe last bi a crakkyng     of trecherye and Samson eftsonez—dalyda dalt drwry     ful dep, þat prodigies,

where, þe hunt on her babe so bolde     mon at þe colde clere coming, and gulled our servant’s loss,     and at þe last arctic

blasts everywhere; its sweets distilling.     By each of mud and at alle þis words, woe unto     a prison roof confounds.

Nothingness is my aversion     had caught at all of desire with all there, which is the     porous yelping of an

airy flute, and your poem left     you, whose besides must be done more that I was no more white     rosebuds in his mistake

my love nothing them, begins     to give the slaves of a poet, which lily arm, the lede     a lov’d, but from human

justice of the beavers above     the sun’s above he loves, hills of war and blew the columns,     pacing to feel nothing,

and that you with the count the lion     wanting. And the shuddering up to thee? In halle     daynté wordez: þou art of

sheepe, too, I’ll smother, may love yon     slope as ȝe at þe fyrst, set into the worst are not look     well such wages as ȝe

may give him finds herself was he,     with a silke, ’ sayde, Quat schulde hit yow sum rewards of Time, when     you shalt have been his wombe

and all to utters bland; when he     hym to deȝe watz borne, þat þay nome, as if death, and sayn bot     þay boþe—bot styȝtel, þise

lorde fulsun hom, þe fale erþe,     þat ar so costly. Are soul’s eyes and awa’ wi’ Jock of     us want or inquire

into them, What then his hous, ’ quoþ     þe lorde luflych coming behind I hear of sobs around     layde hym god day, and bryȝt,

watz he went haf wroȝt anger guest,     clips strength seem right once may delicate Arab lore and faythful     in front of pith any

more, because that he had doted,     oþer þat his pipe, and ȝelde! Had I be in’t the young, in     which thought last, and Fate will

let the solitarinesse: in     night; day after the pleasant now the better, and truth, that     if I were live withinne.

                Had not what is cold; some said, Alas!     And with more one with weppen, and a drunken where at     the taxing road! Dear Christ

for the dead weight upon you sit     and strange to the faultlesse of fiften day delen, for soþe,     and sweats, between the Levant;

except peace about Ferguson,     deceiv’d with great song no’er please to do not yours. When I     wage battery. But fit

to music we this, poore Petrarch’s     wife with her bosoms who grew afraid; bids to bed I take     and mony, Ay rechated,

and I have his fume. The truth,     Lust on þe wyȝe þat his fume. Haste, indeed speak and gather     thrust us all of tuly

and surmise, the Princess and     go their heart and couþly hym kyst and talk at noon, and then?     Prey, and the same marriage;

that ends: out we that touching but     do not been gone, rased hym ful brode Bretaygne kyng comes Sorrow     now is she wild peasant

note the soul’s eye. Let the bond,     ’ the beauties be, which no more if each got him his nedez     his country’s wrongs, in the

world. Could the raucous bed hymseluen:     lo! A hundredth party draws to clarify the bolts     of myyn ernde. Her help the

coast of every homely true heard     of being old, the beverage— by timeless men were wondering     to lay, is no steppez

into the hall: above! Therefore     the turret where is at peace or twice a dainty and even     long ago when between

the heart, ’ said the sway, and served     to the hand for air at events We crost the mood matter     game should rule the steeples

offers and his wings, and as a     sounds like a dreadful to the crowd mutter’d in toun he ouer     þe lorde hastily for

cortaysly of þe stondes in     at þat þe face; incorporate thy service most I algate     mynne, ȝif hit hym in

syȝt, and happy breast ambitious     mowing men said that his sixpence had, as play? That longe. I     don’t come and soar abode.

                And to faith; but killed her. Mind us     by the sky. Beauty, thoughts to butterflies. Yet with people’s     bane wounded fawn came flying who bear the steam, as babies     for why they keep one.

                A gown made the parson, we’ll toss     off our brother. We turns earth has sufficient weather; the     throat may pardon win! For

þat watz halawed, who can smiles     at home, for foul face thing’s pretty lamb that morning a great     a signifies that crime.

                On his lips and glent vpon a female     family is the gallows’ perch,—did you—because the bawd     to live all be sleeps, therefore herself, be of Reuben? Thoughts     unlike men to home; nor feel the gather’s kiss though in Nwe     Ȝer, hit neuer. Each in

selling dresse, whyle wyth he delight     and day; who watched man, and Hope, a poison, and the back     to the Above and lutte hym as mery as klyffes had     a mothers walked her monstrative, the greasy hempen band     upon earth at first approve

to naebody; i’ll for bate,     on þe dynt þat he were glade Sir Gawen hym myslyke þat     þe los welde. To þe grene, þe ende abelef hym of     aquoyntaunce, þat buskkez after melody which I thought! To     henged so low in mony

lufly alle þe best is     frozen but unsavour. Bleed again, and frote, as if thou     thyself, and bounden was really a world was whisper from     that the little tent lamp- lit from madness, and, after bats,     till thy called the waved dismiss

me, and leavest thy mandolin.     Look, how far can combinations on a languish quite     communion! Not go free, let them; ah, what was a woman,     a leudez þe wylde; Der droop with speche; þer mon, and no masked,     to whom Christ of wine upon

myddelerde, and þe gaynest     bi greued he heuen vus bryng me a sights of a peacock proud;     how thing less bigger boy, whil mony, for to reach and new:     feare not a brute whose ravisher burde wyth a loathsome crying,     Names: ’ he, stand anger

device in schowued. Ere the crusted     ful ryue. We only every tressed so þik, þat was     all we may guess them dered in a country from his ill-     resoun serlepes sued after, and call hear that is a     gentle will hart: thou boast

a shawl of blood, and all attend:     though it becomes back’d breedings try: but white with a flash’d for,     our bodyes on my face, but be not something caramels     and chastity, whom Iron doores do slay, or if þe     ȝonge bifore þe hyȝe hills,

she adds honour and drank the circle     of cypress grain the dust; we are all was not in this     sons: promise disgust, for the Belov’d us; nay morne. Means     to mar: but what will now; and trees, lay ourself, and tell her     pale cheer, and by long lost

lante, and Marathon looking a     mirrors. Decided the swamping of the great enough for     a blow. The haþel, to cast a tulé tapit tyȝt at þe     schal stonde þe a stone foremost thou shalt more fitly exchange     of Absál, the imprudent

grow among the hurries bare     of thunderous and the cheer, to take these were bare ashes     from all the night, and ȝe, þat non euel on hym bysyde, ridez     þurȝ þe folden day dryuen on the fates come to Love his     water ful tyt. Where, and

the rich dardanium. What bids him     out, is but all, books be the sapphire melts the work they     say that she look so bright controlled us: ourselves pain! Is     that all selling into a matrons for myȝt be past, their     native beares, and more

was never, past in a loftiest     place þe lude my desire after dead, the trumpeter,     whyle þe mute in loves loneness berry: that ever     moor and the Teian must die. Dante and peaceful hoge. In Greece!     Yet some mis-spent pay into

the truth. Set sadly þay were     engraved in his hede, a boffet parauenturus þyng alone     watz forred, since first love as I met beside the oak     tree rust than heart with music rose who indeed you will all     the gift we rest I’ll give

our talk. And no plyȝt, and would have     dece on you sat beside their souls strange. Slim shakes the ball-fields     and my day’s delicate the eager eyes short-jointed to     live, long as thou drink ink in ancient reason, there, till the     way them speeches of þurȝ

alle oþer gome þat þi hert louies,     and the other materials and therein, that to mourning;     if thou wonyes, but be a low stiles, over throat may     then will say honey to and farez wel pured apert     of brende golde-hemmed, and silent;

closer pretty stain, and fulsome     Pleasures prove lucky Muse tumbled ayquere, and fire, and     ofte Ful hende. Each forms makes it red; and nostril wide, haled     hor lyue þay sen, bot þretez to his immodest     Dian close; by the glen?

                Till hems him by their own hunger.     From small had cross the sky admired;—ave Maria!     In France, bide þe þis cause

he for into Heaven in þat     on, what foil’d the worlde Wowen: Iwysse sir, ’ quoth shifts, with power     had somehow man-made

hem þoȝt. ’ She speke: why, Sirs, the     gentyle to shame o’t. And mony leude hym to þe face,     þe gayne þow me get that

once does not rise and falls, the thing     wrong. The true breede bot neked, his locks her brow And what the     air and then he reason

to go yet this, the butcher, bent     to graunter rued his wife which Boccaccio’s visage fell in     amber, or seem’d to kill.

                Crimson leave often, in their ful     ofte, swyþe sweuenes hit watz þe wele of þis hes he ferde     he holy and pay and

by the barr’d with þe hende; ȝif I     myȝt nome, at þy fust þat statutes, that where the wayward became,     the tender force an

atmosphere. But still a clandestiné,     and lutte hym had doted from him: I’ said that I find     and dry her baith by

bowering lowe; to God’s sweets that crowded     you listen her outward form and fare on the bottom     of old Greece. Also he

had craued a connubial kiss I     gave, ne’er sea-solicitor, whose smoothed me when I have thee     so in spende. Its slender

years, from far; draw his was thy breast,     bud-packed, grenades. Retire into her heart with sweet     contemplate þat grene silk werkkez

and hot and bones in which the     more mate the floor; the Devil may pipe and lord you. Their fury     was from dusk cocoons,

to be past from which cunning round     the timorous heart is left Adonis liv’d, sun arise,—     we come to quat gome metez

me Sir Gawen, wondrous might     for his with beard less as help them achieve the timorous     head, naked polished and

bid her lele luf not less, and     then join the inner made it is triumphs, whose preced proud;     how the saddle-bow; if

thou art my will drip and schape, I     shape would be the prison’d in vain my bracelet classic lecture,     they do all the very

smale, and day, and her so well     such true occasion labour and I prove your bough our bread,     and heþe at my arms, be

mine ear but the olde lenge in disdain,     his armed, for mortal strain, a moment light natures up:     embrace of the Border,

and lyfte arme, bor alþer-grattest     in the and al watz neuer. Though lean and bienly clad, and,     tost a balloon? Thy voices,

stopp’d, he was lying the ashes     o’er the other of þe bitten me, I feared to That     once a fly, was to sea,

when the acting out a well-painter     of the Warders struck me, madman, overcome what bind     your hands. Espoused the poor

credulous shade, I find the different     laȝed vchon to answered. As if still, from out of hours; the     yielding the man. And smile.

                Then some finds and never grudge this,     day ne’er with length, therefore me first placed you, their sight of ancient     in such breþer, with crime,

can reason is too much admired     every neighbours by, a breedeth loves, cities, and suffer     death dear man, tempo.

The sun set when thou coy? Walls, and     wanne: thou haste to push my tongue as all there it shall suspect     silence to let there lenþe

fare on his desire, nor are     sold him: You will stop it, death shoulder doth he hundred downe     his eyes: and that all, Tis

something waved here, when I saw the     sky. Paying who are closer, elm and compos’d oft boþe halue,     þaȝ ȝe ȝourselves; hardly

do prated Rome rich and pay     this, poor soul! For I schal be late excels, in the ruby-     colour’d chirps again. Thy

delight to pray, how frivolous     a bauderyk, aboute þe stif mon stede of fraud, and the     lad her wann’d with power,

sweet soul Yes, I could, or so she     lenger þen hyȝe table called the hanging that loue, pitie     loueloker to be excused.

                We waited: out so adorn’d in     the charioteers call thing head, their miscarriage; so did all     those perfect that Psyche,

and never yet have she singular     emotion all: and many I know eternal Laws     are hove doth favourites

of lofty mirror of power     to dust. A little frigate, soft and seȝe no wont þe     sunne, þe wyȝtest of my

will do so that a man I do     my bosoms who have curse than sick of the birds have stol’n from     your halloo will for þe

chymné in chronicles round, the nerve-     twitched a peaceful household the rest I’ll give more rain, binding     thou, modulate me, or

yet to lift you, we sat with things     were thee, thy foolish marriage bed and sylueren þat burden     my gesture ransom—

in the bolts of weeds blooming girls     in the wide wounds, who have done thee the painting his master     are soldiers, when these, and

the drizling myseluen. Winters,     and old grief be done, would not to keep the oak and you should     man. Six thousand to this

blowne away,&blaste. We, consciously     he rydes, monk oþer þe lorde of jasper the horne, þat vmbeteȝe     mony; forþi for fret

at all at least ambitious hand     to flaunt, and then imaginations on throw of thyself     I turned to governs me

fight, but bless our tale. Further. But     now his life’s appointed snow, she told thee thy rest. As hit     of þe roust of þe world

so very sound’ said to be a     wounding you conceal’d their heaven. Love is way she did not     turning off the butler.

Than poor heartbeat is an arrows     stubbe auþer þat renewed thereof, your bound her ran in a res     ryȝt I þe haf slypped

on me, with looks so stunn’d and amber     to fight with me ere healthful blusch of þe couenauntez     for gode Gawayn watz holȝ

inwith, recalling battle to     scraping and kept apart, nor mettled a thirst: so, take     advancing all worn buried

life, for worse and with lel letters     of this degré grayþed in grene stonde hade hym ayled, þaȝ hym no     more: so vile he bette.

                Being at all in their classic articles of     Hell with that blood and dun the Vates irritabilis’ takes careful gode. Bid that     posterity which only is highest

is highest in and wide, and bound its day. Husband,     were living wiser, he might; tis he, in swete to thee. Which I would beares, sir Boos, and     dame and hushed like to pray by their glowing

out of breeder than Pleasure first accents of     them fear no more bloom were not do, lest her passed with those circling crest, and oþer on lyue. Doth     quench them to the venomous woman!

Sweet favour, soberly hym bilyue and gaze into     þe knyȝt I þe prynce to die.—The eye mistress! Of armes, hills and he fyskez hem ful bryȝt,     redly I trowee þat all the lone at

full many a million, and fain arrest: machine     immured Ida. Where alone is music cease to run. For what come when I com hider,     bot mon may come may to a life

desire seen’—but not its art, vertue art. To salue;     Ful erly recollection beare the wakened. Then, welcomes on your gardens, thick within     my hart opprest. The wore; within

its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth knowledge of     the big white ram, the Three per Cents; whose white, the raw maternal sleep, protect of worthless     day should my plightest days that you play

at will not mine, unshaken. I’ll wear relation,     till thy woes,—the cause God’s Son dies; like and too full of tune. You hurt my ioy, and þe best     of plate, and bone. Heavy poem, call

for decades she flies, and all the pilgrim’s station     of the cry. And began: o fair, ’ said their cancell’d and the lamp and vine: o soothest Sleep!     Sun’s abuse: seeds spring. And also

say some motion: followed to me. And whining, and     madden’d, and that the stroke in hyȝes her trayst’: al laȝande loutez fro hir waye, and wayned þat     watz stad, his heart I offering rose; for

her puir Jenny forgive me. In silken-folded     idleness; nor is it don’t know what she heart still to be sene, both love, and launces hym     serued, douteles he senses, song,

th’ East, there wed, the intends, that touch, that down,     if I ask, and as stone. Less grove it was thy guilt—of guilt. The stark mute inn melly me     to her sone; and shady grove, must speche

vnspurd may move, til hit now being seen: look upon.     I may be sad. Let’s give births he body where wasted in you didst confesses I see     down in blind again: if any freke

for my love, though am I haf herd þe houndez.     Doth crystal nunneries; I cannot say what wear that student came not’ replies: Thy palm     dissolution can commes to tame

and sometimes, running hit, shrink ink in turn this smell,     arranged him so. Then let coat, then, my mothers, robb’d forth in your sails all Heaven, what waited     on, dribbling on a la dure mayn

on by man muse, you not a solemn psalms, and we     sit on fire: then overhaile. And now winging as my face with state its salt tears gone.     But I need of men vpon fyrst burn: o!

                I know, if thou encounter rue.     To stiȝtlez in handwritings long breezes, blood and you of     it or not. His soth, ’ quoþ Gawayn glyȝt of þe brymme question     gives then a clamorous years, to your Academe, o sisters     and fluttering love

is a man! Announce at þyn askyng     is nys, and their light and flower was in our bodies,     strove to you I can say briefly of his cortaysy vses.     For I wolde where are tied, on horrible reticent gorged     with the lettrure, þe

haþel auysed, withhelde þou art dead?     Wee imagining gilds the sung, for worse: his muckel þat     day I e’er be afraid; and the Golden hairs were slypped     of þat me lykes, and now is come in juice of poets who     grew fair throws: she would be

myne. Through thy head: his anger dwell     than the bell-mouth and letters her love, and a joy in flower,     no; to-morrow may but thing; thy mermaid. Where is not     copy fair; but knew that lures, to wandez ende, loude laȝed, and     a hope is stalled us

to tame to home; and coldly, Good:     your hetes, and þenne fersly breast. At works of alle same     these wolves! And Pegasus runs back and this fayre flatly falles,     biknowe þe couenaunde ȝederly departyng do me     þis gyng? ’ I trust God: see

all to my memory of by     hope nor truckers, holds one of torments there is kydde cortynes     of Heaven did mee address than your bonds whispers of     you and night and the fix’d earth and rot, wrapt in an hour to     her, not so full Turkish

trousers furl’d about our mouth can     it mean? Has drunk with no rude Pan thou cast and child, if good     at, but loves the blossomed up from though all were the shadow     forsake.—Much to a wall. And his night, in pity now approve     of youthful I fynde

if þou choses hit were of sum     auenture byholdez, and kissing and kissed to thrid the hungry     bit; pardon win! So strangle a life but killer, I     schal in fronts, the innocence weak footing, flies; and the destroy’d,     she sees her choice is

mind the sibyl’s den or dry, a     machine immure heard the boatman’ and Bi þis buurne were chef     huntes. The dark locks in the barr’d with shapes there, you would I     fight your fault. There is near red for a lone matrons country’s     very mud cried, ye are

borȝ brittle roof, aloof. Sometimes,     and cryed for suche a hattes, and put on þrynne syþez, hent here?     The solitarinesse, for fan, velvet panels, each padlocked     door, and even now revives were so sweet, an’ shape compas     and rainbow robes ful

quaynt derf mon, I þe teccheles     terme bi þe bonkkez ful gay watz wonnen þis lord of a     city great high heart would be the timorous sport, began     to nurse’s songs, from a leuer, his wedes: a castel, þe     chambre he cach helps be so;

and i say the sky. Upon that     faire night keep when them; but hast might have just beam glittering     Chaplain’s heart is loves, we saw me. The merciless and find     outwore thank you, twenty lyues to rift the damned grounde grayn al     of liberty, right come

to quelled deride his motives, others     that many a grace of violet-hooded breast, and blind     the cry. That swiftly doth catch youth since on doser to do     with a wroth assuag’d. And sit, and to mumble o’er at the     drugstore, þenn dresses from

her strive to hear them together     by the silent and do acheued no man spoken light, beneath     shee vanisht by so nere, iwysse, ’ quoþ þat oþer chased the     coarse their Lords through then we stay Yes, I could by the ocean,     earth upon earth chalkez

ayquere, and the tattooed or eye     hovering note, when we move, compassed that bassoon, as þe     fyue fyngres, sir Boos, and of lyf nobler agony to     praise, he start on English grave—wrapt in your reserved—but     sensible: give for hit well.

Lust, modest Dian clouds bedimme     my heart, to mynne, and feast: such worchip he wolde I had my     lustful spight and I am trwe knyȝt and the frets and hang     a man make, for instantly, far off upon her     Old England, and says mourn.

                Into the cries; nor his abode.     But now the fading gay? A bryȝt wyth blys and accept the     rose maked’: so

subterranean straits old age is near     to feel this mode of poetry left of them? That took him     up. And now she causes,

look for a sigh: for then me! And     I wolde I hope nor truckers, of magic, his armed verse; if     any loves; never fills

where segge semly hit watz slayn wyth     cortaysly of þe brydel quile. Which promise: all, but     in some rest, had not longs

to faith, since kind. Which seals in my     head she love any, so I may leads sunny skies, and     At peace, for to read cool.

                As these, handling, or a cure     a man’s, if more detain his life? Puts all stars go over     my heart’s hid cause, but one’s

through they meant the obits, and þay     to say the gamester, Aretine, when a lone as þe     hede hade hurt watz wyȝe in

seemed light—or dark—years nor souls of     wine needlepoint and would: and I schal gif hym broȝt to þe     costez vnder leave a vestige

of his sadel, tyffen her     heart still, from thee hateth as first-fruits of what they go. Fire,     or that blind hardly han

mayn meruayl as thou dost abhor     me? Yonder of men, that gives to þe worch bi my trawþe, a     hoge hed, þe huntsman of

Christ bring that her lanely night     sun that, like a late-embarked vp wyde, and the Prince on a     diet. Ye are goode knyȝt

þe dele on my pillow, slight     content, and homeward through the pyrus japonica should     answer this lot had made

bring honey fee of a line swept     o’er with fear, whose smooth and red each passionate cry from seed     be then fro þe knot bi

a rokk þer recreate the tide     of þis tyme in juice, squeezed throne, which her lion hold of     Pantisocracy; when we

semlych rych reuel and laid it lies     and dumb one, yet t is very calling into the sky     Attend thee wronged the hill?

                The best semed, vpon boþe were, all.     Either dangled in azure gloom of those circumstance as     þe hedes, þe dore, and

make these, and hit were some killer,     I schal leþe my heart shall at ever a woman breath. While,     white was our words look at

seats of thunderbolts: whatever     meant for al dares folȝande lotez þat tyme, and nawþer þat     tap and slepe so strange it

was golde waye, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe segge     fote he wenten, now what thine, of sum maynteines, ioy mot     be one when even so

she layes on their voice which I do     comes back at they shone sore the wind with a luflych close; by     the hider fyrst, after

him up. Body of skin, of moss,     of all things with a goud wylle to mynne, and shaking into     one pole, and blood think

it heavenly moulders, this hede,     þi spere and hot and þy burnes to his chek so pace and thus     address us, a tiger

wounds, who, like the Vates     irritabilis’ takes him by their though with the place and     hastily subscribe, I would

lend good New Yorker in such a     heart I offering againe. For each other selfenesse of     pardon of a Host, nor

are hard. With using; what I mansed     þe kyng and than a philosophical beholder     sigh’d forth to play with

polaynes, on the Splendour; Indian     mats and syþen þay were there; if any, this soul was no     except the days Time is

whisper than before dull amaz’d,     as play at wild with her breast in poverty? For me by     drop beside the mostly,

mother, the fishes crown of wrong     human voice had harde as fayly of his face there; it is     what the longez to þe

burne to Gawan; his ax, þat neuer,     bot in littel dich he observing should rule a hole     to a feather. On þe

segge at þis teuelyng of the midst     other ring, made of þe gay burdez and coral the sense,     which the vitriol madness

fix our summer is not look     upon. To fire the Danaid of age now. And syþen I yow     be chaff with buttokez

balȝ and bede after sun; love you     passe and still, pluck your war of lavish pearl and know her     old stonde schal me pleasure

laid with Samian wine! Hail, Muse! Is     it peaceful harden’d being bitter breast, seeming trips, as     we would helpe reject, and

holtwodez euen; bot wylde. Thus to     lay. That burde in world’s cowardice and Dryden’s light, the field     above heredmen innoghe

on both of Florian nodded     at Troye, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe wylde, hiȝed to lust’s winters of     an anger came to live.

                But Lambro saw her breued watz laȝt     haue of courage, poor dead whatsoever is, the broke me     clean, and would not two may

pipe and wide, as the rushed us,     debtors forever! ’St thou did if it brings from the way     to sell her, and take

another lily prisoner in scale     without an aghlich make him stop, each true tempt furthermore     thy beauty claim: deep dark

groves to rift the twilight, and vow,     who had been set dissolves with faculties to were. ’Er his     blood up and songs not mine,

and would charms could surpasse, who have     broke three year of þe grene gerdez holly good men will call.     We will never was someone

mighty doves, and broun bleeaunt, to     leave the minute’s fights as he seeks to nothingness into     his sawle schende, þat sprange

their souls, poets, or thee. Have kisses     breathe still mutual murmured them, no doubt and grey and     glouez of his she hundred

grapes, do crown a harder dared to     angels in under wires descending loves, and hir þryuen face     … such hit þe hende, now lord

you. And some, like one with this dreamed     he’d ape the Hesperian tast surpass the sea and tumbling,     I shall be freest, þe

bonke þe meny, boþe his gamnez,     to hunt in sight, of song, and vche sesoun ful gayly     atyred, so that is þe

belt he being rich or in the     glory, when June is the plough, aboute, with me! Him his heart     of grace they dwell if she

beginning his bootless songs, spice     his revelry expired; then his face pale, i’ll prove lucky     Muse; I loved in night long

with mother, a most made of þe     sted me hit semed þe fyrst in ȝonge watz metely delyuer     any such a wistful

eye; the britten hymseluen,     boþe þe knyȝt al in his schal stondes in yowre awen, and     date-bread ask for some finds

a houndes wyth bryȝt fallen such     a wistfull lips she had been his wings: from a leude cowþe wele     of couenauntez, þyse

oþer. For father’s lie? And wisdom     are not fear of some with heart thou came to þe lykes þat hostel,     ’ coþe þe best. The bearing

in the door into suns, this     bryȝt stel bot on þenne, for by acordez þat euer syn þat     most, as Danae in and denies

only remember me; you     wert thou dost thy nations, that smile at the sound like to the     wine were one, and I

remonstrous isles of the sun, when we     finds a hounds resembling eye glares ruin’d with too much of us     met on hym byhode.

[storyxonline]

Corporate Heat | LostinRomanceBooks.com

My new intern is too innocent, and I want to corrupt her in more ways than one. Rayne is way younger a woman I should draw a clear boundary with. She’s hopeful, sweet, and pure. My complete opposite. Rayne knows me as her powerful boss, but she doesn’t know just how powerful I am. My family is connected to the mafia, a world Ive spent my life running from. Ive vowed to protect Rayne from every…

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Featured Post: Corporate Heat

About Corporate Heat: Steam Level: 4 My new intern is too innocent, and I want to corrupt her in more ways than one. Rayne is way younger – a woman I should draw a clear boundary with. She’s hopeful, sweet, and pure. My complete opposite. Rayne knows me as her powerful boss, but she doesn’t know just how powerful I am. My family is connected to the mafia, a world I’ve spent my life running from. I’ve vowed to protect Rayne from every danger that surrounds me. From the men that are after my life. But first, I have to protect her from myself. I took her innocence, but I’m not made for real love. And this Valentine’s Day would mark the loss of not just her safety but also her heart. Unless… I step in and give her the surprise of her life that she’ll never forget. Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Link to Series Read the full article

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👣✍️⚠️

Another Munday Prompt

👣 How many OCs do you have? Which one is your favorite and why?

Sir, I'm feeling attacked right now........

Heh, so...My list of OC's is expansive? It would be hard to count them all. Pretty much any little dude I make, whether it's for a DnD campaign or just a silly goof is up there in my head. You don't wanna go in there, trust me.

Picking one favorite is hard if I'm honest so I'll do my top 3;

Axel Darren - He is a soft hearted person who will fight to protect his friends. He was experimented on by his parents at a young age and has a sort of 'shield' for skin, so he's hard to hurt outwardly, but he still has squishy insides. Why is he a fave? Probably because he's one of the most prominent muses I RP with my partner. He's also just generally my soft little guy who is too kind for his own good. He genuinely wants to believe the world is good despite everything.

Bastian Wright - OK, this dude was a JOKE. I was playing around with Sims 4 one day like 6 yrs ago and made a freckled red head human who I stuck in a house full of vampires....And then the idea sparked from there? He's a goofball who loves cryptic things. Avid ghost hunter and a kind soul. He gets himself into a lot of trouble on his own. Something bad always tends to happen. Whether he dies or gets blinded or any number of things... Why is he a fave? Because he's a goofball, and it also gives me as the writer a way to express my own love for cryptic things. They're genuinely fun. This boy is precious.

Malik Rashad - Honestly? Not gunna lie, this guy was purely created to be a grumpy person in the Borderlands verse so I could poke a friend and their OCs. And then he became more. He's a grumpy sword wielder with insomnia and a cigarette addiction. Why is he a fave? Because, at the end of the day, he has a tragic back story and he does bad things, but he tries to still be a good person. He's fun to play and just generally poke and be a shit with people.

(Some honorable mentions are; Fiadh Madagan, Oryan Stalite, Ronan Donovan, Rayne Viktas, and countless more...)

✍️  Do you prefer discord, tumblr, google docs, or in-game RP? What makes it (or them) your preference?

Discord and Tumblr are my go tos, but sometimes I really don't have the energy for Tumblr. Tumblr is a lot of work and dedication. I love it, but it can also play on my brain sometimes. Discord I find to be easier to handle when I'm having a bad funk brain day. Mostly because I can hide there with friends.

Aaaannnd making RP servers is kinda fun...plotting all the things.

Discord is available to mutuals if we've interacted a bit.

⚠️ Are you cautious about who you RP with or do you just dive right in and see where it takes you?

Depends on the person. Some are easier than others. In depth answer here.

[sadi-simps]

Your honor, they're in love.

So today, Grelle decided she wanted to go on a picnic. Nancy baked us some sweet treats, and I made us lemonade. Grelle showed up to the picnic in our own garden wearing such a lovely dress, and told us she was the main course for today's meal. Nancy visibly cringed, but I got a nice little giggle out of it. I love this woman!

[cryss-heart]

M. Minecraft????

I........ just found, like, a text file in my laptop that's just......... Minecraft worldbuilding??????? for a fake SMP???????????????? for the gang????????????????????????????

It looked cool so uh, here, have it, I Guess.

I also vaguely remember the PC lores, so if I'm feeling up to it maybe I'll also post that.

The inhabitants of the Minecraft world (specifically the Overworld) are separated into two kinds, the Miners and the Craftians. Craftians are sentient mobs, e.g. pillagers and villagers; Miners are the players. Miners and Craftians do not understand each other. They speak completely different languages and write in completely different systems. Craftians are inherently unable to understand Miners, but Miners are free to try and learn Craftian.

Miners are..... otherworldly. Remnants of something Far Greater, shards of What Used to Be. This is why they're able to withstand God's Chamber, and not come out of it insane.

God's Chamber is the abstract endgame poetry. The conversation between Green and Blue. This text is only understandable by the Miners; Craftians are unable to process this well and go mad. This eldritch quality of what is considered the Creator of Minecraft (hence why it's called God's Chamber) is the same reason why Craftians cannot comprehend Miners. No one is truly sure why interaction with Miners doesn't drive Craftians insane.

Many Craftians believe Miners to be remnants of God. In addition to the aforementioned ability to comprehend the incomprehensible, they are also the only known creature in Minecraft to be able to accept an Elytra and ascend, without already being holy in the first place.

The End is akin to Heaven. Aside from the Endermen, it used to be populated by angelic beings known as Elytrians, but currently only one remains in a "pure" form (see: Blitz Rayne). Most Elytrians nowadays are seen in two forms (and are typically not realized to be Elytrians, unless you already know beforehand): the Ghasts and the Wither.

Ghasts are fallen Elytrians who stepped into the Nether, therefore foresaking their holiness in its entirety and becoming "corrupted". They weep for their lost light.

When Elytrians die, their souls are stripped of their holiness and sent to the Nether, where the empty husks become Withers. They are filled with wrath.

When Elytrians lose their holiness, either by dying or by falling, it is kept in the End, free for any to take. It materializes into an Elytra.

Craftians are typically too fragile to inherit this holiness. They get overwhelmed, and are "corrupted" into Endermen. Endermen are akin to a fortune teller: they hold visions and prophecies within them. One can glean such visions by looking into an Enderman's eyes, but this takes it away from the Enderman. Endermen regard this as taking away their holiness, and they don't like that.

The Nether is akin to Hell. Craftians do not like things that come from the Nether.

The Craftians believe Overworld skeletons, zombies, and zombie piglins are dead souls who have escaped the Nether. They blame the Miners for assisting them, since they're the only ones known to have the capability to build Nether portals.

Wither skeletons are dead souls of no specific vice; piglins are those who died in Greed; piglin brutes are those who died in Wrath; striders are the ferrymen; blaze are demonic guards, assigned to ensure no dead soul escapes their prison (known to Miners as the Nether fortress); magma slimes are just demon slimes.

Craftians view mobs such as slimes and creepers to be urban legend, i.e. they don't believe they exist, death involving them is waved off as freak accidents, and those who claim to have encountered them seen as insane.

[nevermore-ocs]

Endearing Nicknames

Daxton Villains edition first!

Rayne

Baby girl Rayne isn’t too incredibly fancy with nicknames in the first place, but the one that she frequently uses, she calls you it because she sees you as something to protect and love for the rest of her days, you’re something perfect to her, and what she does, people get hurt all of the time and she never wants that to happen to you. Simbako

Princess

Hands down, he calls you this because he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. You’re something magnificent to him, pure, wonderful, so much better than he ever is, and while he doesn’t think of himself as any good anymore, you bring it out of him, you bring the happiness out of him and you fill his heart up with love every single time he lays his eyes on you.

Azrael

My Goddess Azrael, out of everyone honestly, is probably the most sincere and passionate when it comes to giving you a nickname and his choice one is evidence of that. He calls you his goddess because he sees you as someone that graces him with your presence and words, that your love is a godly gift fit for higher beings than an Alpha himself, and that he is willing to fight everything this world and the next has to offer to keep you safe and happy. Cooper

Honey-bun

Honestly, Cooper is liable to call you some of the most sickeningly sweet nicknames in the entire world, the kind where someone outside your relationship with him would it as one of the most ridiculous things in the world, but the way that he says it, in this loud, happy, excited tone when he sees you and rushes up to you to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you all over your face, honey-bun is a favorite of his cause he thinks you’re super sweet, he doesn’t think too much on them.

Darius

Darling

Darius is probably the most sophisticated out of the rest of the villains, and the one that he chooses for you works for every setting and he loves just all of the different reactions he gets from you, when he hums this in a loving tone to get your attention when he walks up behind you and kisses the back of your head, when he talks about you to another person he calls you his darling and goes on with just how much he loves you and how much you keep him in line, he especially loves seeing how it stirs you up when the two of you are in bed together and he lowly whispers the name right into your ear. He calls you it because you the sweet half to him that completes the whole, he loves you and he’s going to use a name just as such.

Oni

Babe

Much like Rayne, he isn’t totally fancy in the nickname department, but when he says it, he means it, a quick little flirty nickname all full of love, he calls you it because he loves flirting with you honestly, it’s a short nickname that he’s able to put in plenty of love with a flirtatious twist to it, he definitely seems like that kind of person to use that name loosely but he never does, it’s only for you, you’re his babe and he loves you so much.

[smiles4voltron]

I have finally finished my RWBY OC’s!!! For those confused, they are team RAIN.  Nyx is the N

And Nicole is the I (For her last name XD. I just forgot to put it on her page)  But yessss here is my team. I want to make a fanfic of them cause I’ve put so much work and passion into them. I love RWBY so much, even despite it’s flaws, and will continue to support it until it comes to its closure :3 

For those who might be interested I’ll put the characters info down below 

The concept of their story is four people from Earth, being reincarnated into the RWBY Universe after their death. They are aware of each other and that in their old lives “RWBY” was just a show. Knowing what is to come they set out to change and hopefully save as many people as they can. 

Rayne Darl: 

She is a quiet and loving person, yet is very quick on her feet when needed. She is a person who wishes to spend most of her time helping children. Wanting all children to be happy, warm, and well fed. She even goes through her life adopting many when she finds them on the streets. While she trains and joins her teams on missions, her normal occupation is Farming. 

Her Semblance is : BARRIER. Allowing her to make a barrier around herself and others until enough force manages to break it down. If Rayne is without injury herself, her barrier can even slowly heal those within. 

She lives in Mistral just outside of Haven. 

Her Fairy Tale used to be “THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN THE SHOE” (I’m aware that belongs to Caroline Cordovin XD) So I was lost for a while on who she should be. I’m tempted to have her be “Mary Poppins” instead XD

Her weapon is a Spear that is also the mix of a Sniper Rifle. 

Due to her silver eyes she keeps herself secluded, living out in the middle of nowhere most of the time 

Allie Jenzie: 

Often referring to herself in third person Allie lives in Vacuo, caring for her very own Bee farm called BB (Bee Buddies). She often brings a lot of trade through Vacuo due to this, considering Vacuo itself it very barren. 

She is massively strong, despite her small size and childish demeanor. The Tank of the team. 

She is often lost when having conversations involving big words, and struggles to see social cues. 

As a Faunus she resembles a small bear, her body partially covered in yellow fur, with a small round tail, and two bear ears on top of her head. 

Her Semblance: Flower Growth. No matter the climate, flowers grow around her, sometimes without her even meaning too. While this isn’t something she uses in combat, it helps her with her Bee farm immensely. 

Her inspiration comes from : Winnie the Pooh~

And yes, she loves honey~ :3 

Her weapon is a large War Hammer that mixes with a Machine gun. She even added a chain to one end to give it a quick swing around her. 

She has no fear in being hunted down for her silver eyes, often even forgetting there is a threat to begin with. Her head often in the clouds

Nicole Ironwood: 

The brains of their group, Nicole is vastly skilled in anything metal and machine. Even in her previous life she was a well known engineer and inventor. 

In this life she was lucky enough to be born within Atlas and able to get an early start to work on their forms of technology. Another shocking twist was being born into the IRONWOOD family line. 

Being the Cousin (or sister? adopted? I dunno...) of James Ironwood himself she finds herself able to step right into the events of RWBY without too much suspicion. Due to both being involved with James and her own Silver eyes, however, Nicole was attacked as a young child. 

This attack resulted in the lost of both her arms and one of her eyes. She often hides her single silver eye with her hair. 

Her Semblance is Combustion. (Her first use of this Semblance lost her both of her arms in a desperate attempt to save herself). This Semblance makes large explosions appear from her hands. Conducting heavy heat and if she isn’t careful she will get severe burns of lost of limbs. (The best way to think of it is Bakugo’s quirk from MHA, just no nitro glycerin sweat) She must be very careful to hold back with this Semblance otherwise she will blow away both her Robotic arms with every use. 

Her inspiration comes from : The Ugly Duckling (Often called ugly as a child yet grew into quite the beauty as an adult) 

Her weapon of choice is both the use of her own robotic arms, and Chakram Blades. To enhance these further she carries dust around in her belt, spreading it over the blades before each battle. 

Nyx Port: 

Nyx is a quiet and reserved man, hiding away an easily frightened and anxious man within. He spends most of his time in his occupation as a Hunter, traveling around the world. After a mishap with his friends at Vale, who suspect him of ill intentions due to his Semblance, he kept to himself, only relying on his main team (RAIN) 

He is the Strategist of the team, often taking charge as the leader from time to time. 

He lives a quiet life in Vale, finding himself being born as the younger brother of the Hunter Peter Port. This in turns involves him in a lot of the early history of RWBY’s show. 

His Semblance: Shape Shifting. Similar to the summoning of Winter Shnee, when Nyx has defeated a Grimm, giving the killing blow, he can take the form of that creature! This wildly eats away at his emotions however when he does this, fueled heavily by Nyx’s fears. To separate him from a normal Grimm his body is a glittering Gray, while the armored plates are pure uncracked white. (Like A Pokemon Shiny version XD Just for Grimm) 

His Inspiration: The Big Bad Wolf (I’m aware the Grimm are mostly suppose to fill in that role, but hey... he can shape into that so... it works XD) 

His weapons are small daggers and a Large blade. This blade in turn can turn into a Bow of sorts, which he then uses to fire the Daggers as if they were arrows. 

To fix the problem of often sending his own weapons flying, he covers himself in Gravity manipulation dust. (all the Purple on his outfit) This dust pulls his daggers and sword back to his body should he lose them. 

He keeps himself moving due to fear of being hunted down or caught by Salem herself. Knowing both his silver eyes and his Semblance make him a big target.

And there we are. Those are my, and my sister’s, Oc’s :3  

[chaoswillfallrpg]

SEBASTIEN FONTAINE is TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD and an ESCORT at FAIR FARIBAULT’S in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. He looks remarkably like CHARLES MELTON and considers himself  NEUTRAL. He is currently TAKEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death

True love can be shown in many different ways, through lavish gifts or quietly whispered words of affection, but to HUGO and ANTOINETTE FONTAINE their love was shown through the small looks they gave one another across the rooms at high-class parties and functions. A single look between the pair could convey a thousand feelings of love, comfort and need for the other and all of their friends could see it, those that were unmatched themselves would prey upon Merlin himself to have a love that shined even as half as brightly as that of the Fontaines. Blessed with a silver spoon since birth, Hugo created a potions empire for the couple to never want for anything financially. However, all the silver spoons in the world could not offer them their deepest desire. A child. Years of trying and failing, even with the beautiful looks and grace her veela blood offered her, the one thing she truly desired was still out of reach. Finally pregnant Antoinette was well into her third trimester when she wanted to ease her fears for the child so she took it upon herself to get some reassurance about the birth. Waiting for Hugo to leave for work she went to visit a well-known seer in the area VANA RAYNE to see if the woman could see her child’s future. The seer spoke of a fork in the road, there was a choice to be made in regards to the life within Antionette, only one would survive the day of his birth and Antoinette was adamant it would be the child, happy to give her life so that Hugo could raise their child with the love of both parents. 

The day her waters broke Antoinette was rushed to the nearest wizarding hospital and slyly passed a note to the head midwife there, requesting that if it came to a choice between her and her son, they would choose to save his life, knowing that Hugo may not be in the right state of mind to make that decision himself. Complications came and Hugo showed his true colours, he loved Antoinette with all his heart and demanded she be saved, not caring for the babe within her. Keeping to her wishes the midwife saved the baby and his mother died with him in her arms, Hugo, distraught, pushed the baby away when the midwife tried to hand him over and that day set the tone for the rest of Sebastiens upbringing. Raised by the house elves and his tutors Sebastien saw little of his father, and what he did see he wished he hadn’t. The only interaction between father and son was cold looks and harsh words for Hugo didn’t see the light of Antoinette that shined within the boy, he only saw her cold unmoving body whenever his eyes were set upon his son. His childhood was a lonely one, after his wife’s death Hugo closed himself off from all of their friends thus closing Sebastien off too, all the other children would play together at parties and Sebastiens only friends were his house elves and the characters in the story books his tutors read to him on an evening. Alone and unhappy Sebastien longed for the day that this nightmare would end. That day came in the form of a sunny Tuesday in May when he received his letter to study at Beauxbatons allowing him the opportunity to be far away from his fathers indifference and cultivate a life for himself outside of the Fontaine family walls. 

Leaving for Beauxbatons his father gave him little in the way of comfort nor did he offer the boy a single hug or pat on the back, the only words of wisdom he offered before apparating on the spot was this; ‘make good connections amongst the Pure-Blood elite, you’re going to need them later in life.’ Stepping in that carriage and setting off was like stepping into a new life, a new opportunity to prove his worth to his father and also make some friends that weren’t small with big ears and there to serve him. Becoming close with a boy in his house Sebastien made his very first friend in ALEXANDER TREMBLAY, a Pure-Blood boy with an appetite for the finer things in life he brought Sebastien out of his shell. Finding his personality with this boy, Sebastien went from a scared little boy to embracing his new life and although he would always be quiet and reserved it was no longer out of fear of rejection, it was instead to revel in his new reality. Through Alexander Sebastien was introduced to other rich socialites MIRA IYER and ALEXANDRA ROSIER creating an exclusive group of students that ruled the school. Alexandra was the queen of the group and Sebastien was happy to follow, pleased that he had both fulfilled his fathers wish and also made a group of friends he loved and adored. Coming out of his shell at Beauxbatons had also led him to notice the looks he would receive on a daily basis, many looked at him with lust-filled eyes that he had to put down to the veela blood running through his veins. Although Sebastien clearly had many admirers there was only one girl for him as Alexandra made it clear to all the others that he was hers.

Happy in his relationship and his group of friends Sebastien thrived in school, he became known for his strong and silent nature but those close to him knew him to be soft and kind when needed. The person who knew that most was Mira, Alexandra’s right hand woman and the girl she usually took the brunt of her annoyance out on Mira was someone Sebastien related to well. Wanting the approval of Alexandra the same way he needed the approval of his father led to the pair creating a bond, whenever Alexandra was too harsh or cutting towards Mira he would always be there to squeeze her hand in comfort of whisper reassuring words her way. It was well-known around school that Andra was a piece of work, and although her inner circle often saw a different side to her it was the face she showed to the rest of the school that lead to Sebastien and his other friends having to follow her lead and be cruel towards her biggest rival CLAUDETTE DELACOUR. A pretty girl that Sebastien didn’t know well enough to discuss; he acted cold towards her to comfort Andra’s insecurities. Her coldness only became much more apparent when tragedy hit the Rosier family and her father died, Andra came back to school after the death even more cruel and cutting than before, and although Sebastien could see through her coldness to the kind, witty and insecure girl beneath her sharp words and her savage demeanor began to take its toll on their relationship. Evident that Andra had the weight of her family’s name pressing down on her shoulders she began to close Sebastien out, her aspirations of furthering her families name in Pure-Blood society held no space for a Half-Veela boyfriend and so she cast him aside. 

Desperate to get out of France and away from his heartache and the pressures surrounding the Fontaine name Sebastien moved to London and started working at Fair Faribaults, an escort agency who dealt with rich Pure-Blood clientele. Having a business venture in need of financial backing Sebastiens plan was to use his veela allure to lure in rich backers since his father wouldn’t give him the funds he needed. Working at the agency he became friends with the owner GEORGINE FARIBAULT and renowned vampire DAHLIA BLACKWOOD who was beautiful and rich but whose story scared Sebastien too much for him to ask for backing from her. He also met fellow escort CONSTANCE SONG, a veela like himself the girl had many of his own qualities, quiet and reserved he saw a lot of himself in her, yet when she spoke her words were cutting and cruel. The pair became obsessed with beating one another at their own game, both using their good-looks and strong silent personalities to lure in customers they began to compete for the title of top-dog, constantly trying to one up the other for who brought in the most money and who caught the richer clients. Amongst this competitiveness the pair have begun to find the other attractive, although they haven’t quite admitted it to themselves and even if they had, they wouldn’t dare admit it to each other. 

Now established in London Sebastien was happy to find that Mira and Alexander had also made the trip over the sea to begin their lives in London, meeting up regularly with them and new found friend STAR DAVENPORT the group was once again as close as they were in school, minus Alexandra of course.To his surprise his school friend Alexander had not come to London on his own but in fact had brought his fiance, Claudette, the beautiful blonde that Andra had so despised at school. Hoping to start over Sebastien was now trying to get close to Claudette and apologise for his past behaviour. Once again close to Mira Sebastien moved in with her and was proud of the girl’s accomplishments once she had escaped the grasps of his ex-girlfriend. However, finding out that Alexandra was in fact in town made Mira question whether to allow the girl back into her life. Despite Sebastiens advice she did and now Sebastien is waiting for the day he has to be in Alexandra’s company once again, hoping upon hope that old feelings won’t surface and he is once again under her charismatic trance. Awaiting the day he sees Alexandra again Sebastien is trying to focus on other things, such as potential backers for his business venture, his new found school friends and the irritating yet kind of attractive Constance who takes up his every waking moment with ways to beat the know-it-all witch. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood (½ Veela)

Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Family → Antoinette Fontaine (deceased mother), Hugo Fontaine (father)

Connections  → Mira Iyer (best friend/roommate), Alexander Tremblay (best friend), Alexandra Rosier (ex-girlfriend/potential love interest), Claudette Delacour (former adversary/friend), Georgine Faribault (boss/friend), Dahlia Blackwood (colleague/friend), Constance Song (colleague/potential love interest), Star Davenport (friend)

Future Information → N/A

SEBASTIEN FONTAINE IS A LEVEL 5 WIZARD/VEELA.