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kittievampire · 2 years ago

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hi hi ! so can i request OM brothers reacting MC self harming/attempting suicide (whichever one you think fits the brothers most) ? if that’s okay with you of course ? thanks lovie <3 !!

I'll only be doing cutting and other such unhealthy habits that fit the brothers here, if that's okay!

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Warnings: Angst, Self-Harm, Depression, Insomnia, Anxiety, Social Anxiety, Stress Eating, Anger Management Issues, Physical Insecurities, Workaholic Tendancies, Hurt/Comfort, GN! MC

Enjoy.

You'd struggled with depression long before you were sent to the Devildom. While the brothers had managed to keep you busy, to the point where your mind didn't have the time nor the energy to think about the things that made you feel so down, there were still plenty of times when you found yourself breaking down or even resorting back to the bad habits you'd thought you'd "grown out of." Life isn't easy, you know this. But you hated to make it someone else's problem. Whenever you'd tell someone about your issues, you always felt like a burden, so you kept it to yourself. When the brothers entered your life, you didn't want them finding out about it at all. That's when you tried to better yourself, get rid of those habits that kept you down in that place. But, unfortunately, life isn't easy, old habits are hard to kill, and secrets won't always be kept hidden.

Lucifer

You struggled with accepting the reality of life's cruelty.

You wanted to keep your mind busy so that you could have some form of escape, even if that meant pulling all-nighters just so you didn't have to fear the things that'd appear in your head once the area around you gets quiet and your mind is free to wander. This meant that you'd be doing a majority of your RAD schoolwork at night, weeks before the due date just so you could distract yourself.

You could still see the scars that littered over your arms, mainly those from your more recent assaults upon yourself, though you were always careful to hide them.

When you were in your room one night, however, you were wearing a tank top and shorts, ready to call it a night until your anxiety spiked and you were suddenly sitting at your desk, scribbling notes of random, possibly useless, information that you recalled from your lessons.

You managed to fall asleep like this.

Lucifer had only walked into your room to check on you, as he could see the faintest light seeping from beneath your door. He was just about ready to scold you for staying up so late, but when he entered the room and walked toward you, he noticed two things.

One being that you were very much asleep, your cheek pressed against an open textbook, and small scribble lines not going unnoticed as signs of your drowsiness before you passed out.

Two being that your arms were almost covered in scars.

His eyes widened, reaching a gloved hand out gently to twist your arm toward him, getting a better look.

There were scabs and old wounds that littered your arms, all the way up to your upper forearm.

His true surprise though, was when he saw one that was different from the others. It was still red, not bleeding, but it was more recent than the ones that had healed over.

Were you unhappy here? Why did you feel the need to do such a thing?

Lucifer couldn't begin to comprehend the complexity of human emotion, it wasn't his best suit in general. But this? He had no idea what he should do. Wake you up? Pretend like he didn't see anything?

He carefully carried you to your bed and tucked you in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, and softly wishing you sweet dreams.

After that, Lucifer would definitely check up on you more often. "How was your day, MC?", "Not too overworked, I hope?", "Perhaps your efforts should be rewarded. How about dinner? On me."

He never spoke to you directly about it. Even if he did, there wasn't much he knew to do. Despite this, he wants to be your rock, your shoulder to cry on. Every opportunity he gets, he holds his hand out to you, allowing you to rant about the shitty day you've had or how much you hate something/someone.

And every time, when he'd comfort you with a warm and tight embrace and soft strokes to your hair, he'd press a kiss to the top of your head, and whisper to you,

"I'm always here for you, whenever you need me."

Mammon

You struggled with talking about your emotions to other people.

Whenever you did, you just felt like a burden, so you often would bottle up everything you felt and let it all out at once when you're in the privacy of your own room, crying, and cutting.

Mammon walked in on you in the act, actually. His shades fell to the ground at the same time your small blade did.

"O-Oi! Whaddya think yer doin', huh?!" He asked, closing the door and rushing to your side. "Bandages," He muttered, dashing out of the room for a mere moment before running back in, unraveling the roll of bandages, and dropping the rest of the First-Aid kit. "Shit!" He fumbled with some of the supplies but quickly got to work on wrapping up your arms.

It was sloppy work, but at least he managed to tie it and stop the blood from seeping out of the cuts you'd made. The whole time, you just sat there, frozen in place, tears seemingly not stopping anytime soon.

When he was done bandaging you, he sat down at your side, and there was silence for the first time between the two of you. You didn't want to start bawling your eyes out, but you couldn't stop the small whimpers that escaped your throat, nor could you stop the tears that stained your face.

You rested your head on his shoulder and started sobbing, gripping his jacket, seeking his comfort.

Mammon flinched at the sudden contact but quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

Twenty minutes passed before he spoke amidst the silence after you'd finished crying.

"M'not gonna ask why... Just... Please don't do it again... I'll try to make ya happy, okay? Just promise me ya won't do it again."

Leviathan

You struggled with socializing.

Ever since you were a child, you never really fit in with society, so you just decided to hole yourself up in your room.

However, when you did try to make friends, you'd always get turned down rather harshly.

You were considered a weirdo.

So, you started cutting. It became a habit that stuck with you into your adulthood, and it was difficult to get rid of.

Even at the House of Lamentation, you found it too tempting. Especially when Asmodeus or Mammon would give you weird looks when you'd try to include yourself in conversation with the two of them.

The only person who could understand this was Leviathan, which is why he didn't ask any questions when he saw your scars. He didn't ask why you did it, didn't tell you off for doing it, he understood more than you thought. The thing is, his scars healed way faster because of his immortality.

"Don't hurt yourself, MC. Those dumb normies don't deserve people like you," He'd say, a determined smile on his face. "Why don't we do a marathon of your favorite anime? What was it? Devil Killer? (Cookie for whoever gets this reference) We can watch that and play video games all night if it means taking your mind off of things. So, um... L-Let's try to be each other's company, if that's okay with you..."

Satan

You were very emotional.

You'd be chided and teased for your short temper, your "crybaby" nature, but you just didn't know how to handle your own emotions sometimes.

Well, all the time.

So, you started cutting. Though, you didn't want to be conspicuous. You knew better than to let people know your weakness just from rolling up your sleeves. Your area of choice was your thighs.

You became fond of the cutting as a release of your feelings. This bleeded into your adulthood, and it was the only way you could cope without being so emotional.

However, nothing can get past the Avatar of Wrath when it comes to his own sin.

He could tell you were angry, angry enough to do something drastic, so he didn't bother knocking when he came into your room.

Satan saw you sitting on your bed, towel beneath you, thighs bleeding, a blade in your hand, and tears in your eyes.

He was quick to come in with the first-aid kit, neatly bandaging your wounds.

"Satan—" "Not right now, MC," He cut you off. He was upset that you were hurting yourself, and he couldn't trust himself to talk to you without scolding you. Scolding wasn't what you needed right now.

Once he was finished, he looked down at you, a distraught expression on his face. "Why would you do this to yourself, MC?" He asked softly, resting his forehead against your shoulder. He held your hips with his hands, trying to maintain a hold on you. "Why hurt yourself? Is it because of what others think of you? What you think of yourself?"

Satan tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear, emerald eyes peering deep into yours. "No matter. You don't have to answer my questions now, MC... I just want you to be okay."

Asmodeus

You struggled with loving yourself.

You were always pressured to live up to society's beauty standards. When you tried, you failed more often than you didn't, and you'd be chided for your failure. That's why you started cutting in the first place.

Cutting gave you this kind of inexplicable relief. Since you hated yourself so much, there was a small voice in the back of your head telling you that something so ugly deserves this kind of treatment.

When Asmo saw your arms for the first time, he was frozen in place. The Avatar of Lust was speechless for the first time in years.

It was an accident, you'd never meant to expose your cut-up arms to him for fear of being judged. He was just really pushy about you trying out a new perfume, one that had a roll-on applicator.

"Darling," He spoke softly, keeping a sweet tone as he gently grasped your hands. "Did you do this?"

You bit your lip, casting your gaze down to your lap. Almost immediately, he grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head upward to look at him. The saddened expression in his eyes almost made you run out of the room.

He let out a small sigh, opening a drawer that was attached to his vanity mirror.

"You really shouldn't," He murmured softly as he squirted ointment onto your arm, rubbing it into your skin. "Your skin is too pretty, you're too pretty to be harming yourself like this."

Pretty?

You hadn't been called pretty before, not from what you can remember.

"Don't do this anymore, yes? Promise me you won't harm your beautiful body like this anymore."

Beelzebub

You struggled with your body image and stress eating.

You found it difficult to live up to the standards set by society, at least, that's what you felt. You always felt very insecure about your body, and your eating habits didn't help either.

The Avatar of Gluttony found out about your stress eating when he was raiding the fridge one night. You had woken up feeling especially stressed out about an exam you had the next day, so you had gone down to the kitchen to grab a snack.

You and Beel had a conversation about your habit, and how insecure you felt about yourself.

"Your body looks fine, MC," He said mid-chew, taking another bite of whatever food was left over from tonight's dinner. "I know the feeling. I eat a whole lot more when I'm feeling overwhelmed, that's why a lot of people think that I've got a black hole for a stomach. But there's nothing wrong with you. You're not weird or anything, I think you're perfect!"

The way he said all of this to you with that sweet smile of his almost made you cry.

Belphegor

You suffered from night terrors and insomnia.

Your anxiety made it difficult to sleep, so most nights you just wouldn't. You didn't even want to at this point, a direct result of your horrific nightmares. Your lack of sleep was evident due to the dark circles under your eyes the next morning and your struggle to stay awake at RAD.

Lucifer had gotten on to you for this, and Belphegor wanted to help.

That's why he was in your room. He was planning to help put you to sleep, but you couldn't stop squirming in your bed.

Belphie had taken the floor out of respect for your privacy, but he couldn't sleep hearing you toss and turn in your bed.

"Alright, move over," He said abruptly, standing over your bed and kneeling on it. You felt a dip in the mattress and shifted, moving over to give him room on your bed. He slid under the covers and wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you like you were a body pillow.

Belphegor buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. "Sleep, MC... I'll be here when you wake up."

Hope you liked it, anon!

Masterlist

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nothing0fnothing · 2 months ago

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The disordered things you do now are the same things that kept you safe when you were growing up in dysfunction.

The depression, the emotional shutdowns, the eating issues, the social inadequacy, the tendancy to over compensate in your work or your relationships, self harm.. If you experience any of this you need to know that these things are not moral failings.

These are things that you needed to learn how to do as a young, oftentimes very small person. The fact that they are impeding on your life right now means it's time to unlearn that behaviour, not because it's wrong, but because it no longer serves you.

You learned it to survive in dysfunction, but it will only create further dysfunction if you hold on to it.

#break the cycle #adult survivor

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joysmercer · 3 months ago

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What if Willow and Mara became sinners?

ok unless im forgetting something major, the only way to "revive" the sinners would be to bring ammut into the world and then get rid of her with the staff just as they did in canon, right? otherwise their souls would just be stuck in a sarcophagus forever? so, the end result would be the same – the only difference would be how they get there and how smoothly the plan goes. (which, in canon, it happens very randomly, so you can only go up from there!) ok based on the notes, it's likely instructions were left with the phonograph, but in this case let's just assume one of them smashes it instead of patricia, leaving us in the exact same place as before. maybe they don't do it in the middle of the night (mara needs her 8h and willow doesn't seem like the kind to be convinced to wake up randomly for anything), though.

anyway, if willow and mara became sinners, it would probably have happened right when they discovered jerome's cheating – before patricia got taken. and given that willow's personality change specifically would be very obvious, i think the others would be clued-in by the dodgeball game – even without knowing exactly what was happening, they would be on the look out for Team Evil being Evil.

which means, once they read that book and learn what's happening, patricia would immediately figure out that denby's trying to manipulate her, and she wouldn't believe the messages when denby gives them to her.

so, all this to say that patricia would probably stay safe. which puts sibuna at an excellent position going forward! not only would she ensure none of the boys do stupid things to get themselves taken, but she's also still (somehwat) besties with joy. and remember, joy's probably freaking out about mara/willow acting weird too, and given that sibuna themselves are sneaking out of bed etc (hello, eclipse fiasco was like 2 days before this!), she'd probably ask to be clued-in.

(side note: yeah she doesn't want to be involved, but, like, when lives are on the line, i think she'd insist on it anyway. tor be damned.)

anyway. with joy there (and, probably, jerome in tow, given he'll also demand to know what's going on once he realizes it's not all an elaborate prank and his exes genuinely seem to be lacking consciences), there's no way in hell anyone from anubis is walking around without a buddy to keep them out of harms way (and diffuse any high-emotional situation before it becomes Team Evil fodder). so the remaining sinners would be victor, sweet, and some random kid from another house as it should have been anyway.

tldr; joy and jerome would provide some much needed level-headedness (or, at least, comparative level-headedness) to prevent any loss of Sibuna members.

so then the next order of business would be to stop team evil!! which, fabian would probably come to the same conclusion that I did – they would have to let them "win" in order to get the souls out of the sarcophagus.

but I feel like their ancestors would also be a bit quicker and point them towards the nursery rhymes straight away somehow so they get the staff assembled well in advance, get the intel from harriet so they know to keep the keys with eddie and kt when things happen, and basically while the others do become Sinners for half a minute w the rest of the school, they're certainly not guarding the gatehouse/etc so it's a lot smoother now than it was in the show. and no one's getting abandoned in chimneys or believing gross old men for literally no reason or sneaking keys into people's pockets without permission.

as for willow/mara sinner shenanigans i have no idea lskdfj i feel like mara would constantly try to set up elaborate traps (like legit physical traps) and rfs would just be sitting there facepalming. meanwhile willow would be utterly useless given how opposite her natural self is to any sinnerhood tendancies. like i think her brain would just be at war with herself the whole time. we know she's a descendant-ish and probably(?) has some kind of prophetic eye, and idk how Sinnerhood affects that but poor girl was probably being driven mad :(( luckily she wont remember any of it, though.

#asks #langefisharcade #house of anubis #DAMN i need a rewatch lol i feel like i was just talking out of my ass for all of this #hopefully there arent any grave errors

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fated-normal-767 · 8 months ago

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You mentioned that most people don’t think kids should be taken away when their skill is considered “dangerous”, what would you consider the most viable alternative ? Also, where are the kids even taken to that’s not going to allow them to harm anyone ? Why are they treated so poorly ?

well it's mentioned a couple of times that there are methods of suppressing skills, but also, as skills are tied into self defense reactions and emotional responses, a child seen to have a 'dangerous' skill will 95% of the time be in an unsafe or stressful living situation, and will be seen to make significant recovery if put in another environment or helped with underlying issues. In any other situations, such as with tenebris, where he had a fairly good childhood but almost seemed to instinctively lean towards violent or cruel tendencies, most of the time the energy can be redirected towards a lot of focus on a hobby; a child with a destructive skill might learn to fight or play sport. I think tenebris would've turned out way more normal if anyone had just given him a university level textbook on forensic biology or a collection of folklore stories around death and told him to read it. He'd get crazy obsessed with it and seem a little odd but he would not be killing people. Granted there would be times when that wouldn't work fully but there's certainly alternatives.

Depending on the skill, children were typically taken away under some other pretense, such as a physical illness or mental health issue, Basil's medical record has them noted as having probably more psychological disorders than I could name. Typically they'd be staying in a hospital like environment but basil was extremely hostile (and reasonably so) so for them it was almost just a prison. There are a few cases of children having been moved to hospital environments and their skills becoming less dangerous but it was more often due to psychological conditioning and negative stimuli than actual understanding of how to stop themselves from harming people. This also meant they were typically underdeveloped emotionally and more likely to relapse into those tendancies when under stress later in life.

#With basil specifically they were kept out of the sun so the plant tissue that allowed their skill to work would end up near dead or dormant #they survived this by mimicking plants that didn't need sun like fungi but couldn't use their skill at all otherwise #In present time they sleep under a sun lamp to make sure they don't fall into nutrient deficit #Basil was an extreme case even by these standards because she didn't really experience fear or misery #So she didn't pick up on 'i should give up'#She just kept getting more hostile the older she got because she became more capable of it. That's why she's so dangerous in the present #She's learnt to adapt her skill to survive almost anything.#theproject.#Yeah no I'm so abnormal about this .

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disniq · 2 years ago

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The thing is, I 100% can see Jason having self-harming tendancies.

Reclaiming the Red Hood persona and using crowbars is arguably a double-edged trauma sword he might cut himself on occasionally; certainly crawling back to Bruce time and time again, waiting expectantly for him to do something immensely shitty *again* counts in my book; Jason is passively suicidal at best, and recently TFZ pointed out that he is guilty of taking missions with low likelihood of success in the hopes something will go wrong.

The same can be said of many vigilantes pushing themselves to work past their limits, or forcing themselves into situations where they're confronted by their own deep seated trauma.

But to argue that Jason being willing to kill is tantamount to self harm is bizarre to me.

If we can respect that Bruce is incapable of crossing that line, if we can accept that Dick has come close to crossing that line and it nearly broke him, if we can accept that Cass can cross that line in reverse and choose to never kill again, and Damian can come to hold his father's beliefs as important despite having killed before...

Then just maybe we can accept that Jason *is* a character that can kill without it eating him up inside and move on

#hegemonic morality in fiction is *boring*#jason is plenty tragic enough without forcing him to conform to Bruce's morality #we already have what... eight ish batfam members that don't or can't or won't kill #let us have one that unashamedly *does*#jason meta

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finch-the-foolish · 2 years ago

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Okay boys, time for yet another round of angst, plushy Jim edition. Whoo. This is because of @pesky-bird7, blame them for my crimes against the little guy. Also if anyone cares I might compile a list on how well I think people can sew in canon just cause.

threads and seams (and how not to tear them)

by lqmie

TW/CW for self harm, suicidal thoughts and actions, body horror

Jimmy had never liked his seams. They were a reminder of what little he was, what little he had become. Nothing more than a little plush, cursed to live on even in this twisted form.

Besides, they had an irritating tendancy to tear, and he often found himself limping into some half-trusted home—usually whoever's was nearby in which he could assume safety—and awkwardly requesting help patching himself up. Sometimes it was by monsters or accidents or his own twisted hand; his answers were usually the former two, and it didn't take long for him to hear murmurings of his latest screw-up across the empires. He was a point of ridicule, after all.

He was exhausted of it. Exhausted of the cruel jokes and the terrible insults and the constant suffering. He was tired of feeling like a sad little creature of plush, skin forever marred by those damned strings.

Every glance at them brought about a strange sort of anger, furthered still by that awful string at his back, which forced a chorus of humiliating phrases from his lungs with each tug. He hated that, too. He hated it all.

One day, if only to avoid more embarrassing visits to some unkind neighbour's house, he made the decision to get himself a sewing kit—he should learn, he reasoned, being a functional toy after all. As terrible and irritating a fact as it was, it was true. And sure, borrowing it from Scott may prove a mistake in the future, but that hardly mattered to him. He was the sheriff, he made the rules. Who cares what the others say?

After fleeing Chromia with his prize, Jimmy headed home, taking inventory of his new kit in one of the many empty rooms of Tumble Town. That was another resentment—this place had long been lonesome, empty, with few travellers and fewer residents still. On the bright side, nobody was likely to walk in on him and his.. newly procured goods.

Jim smiled, carefully pulling apart the contents of the little bag; a handful of seemingly random buttons, countless needles of assorted sizes, what seemed to be a multitude of thread spools, all varying in remaining length, a rather broken looking tape measure, some rusty scissors (two pairs of them, he later found; both of wildly different sizes), and a seam ripper, among other things he couldn't quite remember the names of.

Reaching out across the floorboards, he picked up the seam ripper. There was a strange temptation in holding the tool, a sudden inexplicable urge to tear out those damned seams and- and- do something, certainly. Recreate himself, but better, even if it took tearing himself apart bit by bit to fix it all.

The idea was oddly tempting; he'd always loathed the strange edges across his skin, always despised how prominent the markings were. And there were other things he could fix, too—small alterations he could easily make. He could become something… else. Something better than the frail little creature he was now.

He gripped the thing tightly, quietly considering the idea. After a moment, he shook his head, setting it back, the reality of doing such a thing dawning upon him.

Jimmy didn't approach that messy bag of supplies until several days later. Today had been particularly harsh—a day of rough comments and insults barely veiled as teasing, yet another attempt at violence—dear god, why did they never really kill him? why wouldn't they let the poor man go if they cared that little?—a tiring, awful day which merely drove home the fact that he wasn't good enough, he would never be good enough like this.

Holding back a storm of emotion, he ascended the stairs, finding the bag sat just where he'd left it, hidden in a long-empty barrel where no one would be snooping.

Jim drew in a sharp breath, a shaky hand dragging it from its hiding place. He rummaged through it, and then, unsuccessful in his searching, dumped the contents onto the floor. He didn't care enough to gather it neat; he just wanted to fix himself, however that may be.

He grabbed at the seam ripper, tentatively weighing it in his hand. He wasn't entirely certain how it worked—he never had been with most sewing tools, frankly—but it didn't deter him. Careful, he held out one arm, staring down at the clear line of stitching; as he did, some awful jab at how easy it would be to merely tear him apart floated through his head, sending a shudder through his form. Jim wouldn't let that happen. He was going to make sure nobody could hurt him again.

The sheriff took in another breath, steeling his nerves, and jabbed the blade into the threads. A sharp pain shot through his arm, and he nearly shrieked, allowing only a pained gasp out. He had to be strong. He had to.

Shaking slightly, he dragged the blade forward beneath the thin ribbons of thread, wincing as they were cut. The slicing was awkward, fraying the threads as the blade passed, and some part of him questioned if he was doing it right.

Still, he shook his head, continuing on. A dull sense of wrongness overtook his mind, and he watched the ripper drag further up, tearing sharp into his thread and cloth. Gods, it hurt. His arm burned, aching with a pain which he shouldn't have even felt—there was naught but a strange, fluff-like material beneath his skin, though looking at it made him ill—and every slight movement sent a jolt of further suffering through him.

Jimmy stared at the frayed line, a sudden, sickening feeling swirling deep in his gut. He… he shouldn't have done this. He…

The thought trailed off, lost by an abrupt swirl of memory; all the taunts, all the menacing, hurtful words floated through his ears in an array of harm, and his illness turned to a stark rage. His mind seemed to watch, distant, as he gripped the seam ripper tighter, tearing it across the remainder of his arm's seam, dragging it across his hand's cruel bindings. He hated it. He hated it all. He wanted it gone now.

On the topic of those taunts…

With a crazed, manic look, he turned, tightly grasping the string which was so annoyingly attached to his back. He wanted that gone, too. He reached back with his other hand, slicing at the thing. A sharp pain shot through his back, and he cried out, something in it drawing him to his senses.

He found himself standing there, a seam ripper with the remnants of his many seams and stitches still clinging to its blade clutched in his hand, shuddering terribly. He stared at it a moment, before throwing it to the floor, gaze quickly returning to the horror which was his arm.

It was mangled, terrible, many of the seams poorly ripped and shredded, cloth holding awkward, barely together. He could clearly see the fluffy something beneath, peeking out in those terrible holes which he'd wrought upon himself.

A sharp sob drew up in his throat, and he let it fall, crumpling to the ground. The movement elicited another pained noise, and he curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut if only to avoid looking at the horror of his limb.

What in the world had come over him? He felt terribly sick, and yet hollow but for the still-singing edges of pain which graced his arm and back with their awful presence.

How long he sat there, Jim didn't know. It seemed an eternity had passed when a voice rang out through the stairwell.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Is-"

The voice, heavily accented, cut off, a head appearing in the stairwell. Jim just stared, eyes blurred from tears and fright at his own actions.

"J- Jim? What in the world-" The figure—Scott, he now realised—looked over the scene, gaze soon fixing on his largely-limp arm. "Oh. Oh shit."

He started over, crouching down next to the smaller man, who simply looked away, tears still freely falling from his face.

"Jim- what happened?" Scott stared at his arm, eyes wide with horror at the torn cloth, the twisted remnants of thread which had been so poorly removed.

"I- I couldn't take it.. I wanted it gone… I- I hate it- I hate everything-" The words were stuttery, broken by choked sobs, barely coherent.

Scott paused a moment, before carefully venturing, "You… did this? You cut your… seams?"

The sheriff glanced at him, giving a hesitant nod. His uninjured hand gestured weakly to the seam ripper, still cast aside on the wooden planks.

Scott stared at the thing, the pieces quickly falling into place in his mind. Then, he turned back, gently grasping Jim's unharmed shoulder.

"Why, exactly, did you cut them? Are you-" Scott stopped, suddenly, spotting a thin cord left on the floor just behind the pair. One hand, shaky, rose to his mouth as he realised what it was.

"J- Jimmy-" He pulled the small man into a light hug, careful not to disturb his wounds. "I…"

Scott sat back, a soft sigh escaping him. He could ask questions later. All that mattered right then was making sure Jim didn't fall apart completely.

"C'mon. I'll help fix up your arm, if you're willing to let me."

Jim paused a moment, before nodding, letting Scott take his arm, wincing at each small motion.

It took what felt like hours of careful work, hours of twinging pain, but Jim's arm was finally restored. As for that stupid drawstring, he'd managed to convince Scott to leave it, his disdain of the thing coming in drawing, sharp breaths as memories of all the times others had taken advantage of it returned.

Scott bandaged up the wounds, too, setting Jim's arm into a little makeshift sling to keep it from tearing anew. Alongside these physical repairs, though, were more mental assurances, promises that he was not hated, not despised and unwanted, that there were people who cared, who loved him as he was.

It was hard to believe, after all that time of hurt, but Scott still stayed with Jim for several days longer, watching to ensure he recovered. He took the sewing kit as well—he'd been wondering where it had gone ages ago—and Jimmy was glad to see it gone. Perhaps he could afford to stop in Chromia next time he had such an accident.. perhaps he wouldn't hear of his misfortunes for ages to come there.

Perhaps he really was loved. Perhaps he really was enough, even as a being of thread and cloth. Perhaps he could be alright.

#this post was brought to you by The Dismemberment Song. A Sadness Runs Through Him. and Boreas.#anyway guess who learned how to use a seam ripper (and how not to!)#guess which method mr the sheriff used!#also I've been reading Frankenstein (the original one with the fun early 19th century writing) so uh #guess whose writing style is gonna subconsciously mimic dead people again?#uhm anyway. writing yay. had more fun than I should've with this.#time to go yell about my baby boy faerie jim now :D #lqmie says things #writing #empires smp #jimmy solidarity #TW self harm #TW self mutilation #TW suicidal thoughts #gods my writing is fucked up #is it the mental illness or the book about mankind's fallacies? yes.

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thecandywrites · 2 years ago

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Monster March 2023 Day 19- Mermaid Part 1

Something Special

Ok, so this has a lot I need to explain about myself before you read the story itself, which I will put under the cut.

But know that this will be taggged with trigger warnings for suicide, self harm, depression, mental breakdowns, nervous breakdowns, etc. And I will do that to keep you- the readers safe. Because you should take control of the media you consume and I do not want any of this to trigger anyone who is sensitive to such subjects or are uncomfortable with any of it. And if this does not sound like your kind of story or something you're not up for or comfortable reading. By all means, move on and find another that will give you the entertainment you are now doubt looking for. No hard feelings, happy and safe readings everyone.

Otherwise, thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompt list, you're a life saver. And I mean that in a very literal sense.

So about the story itself. For MerMay a few years ago, a concept I had and then ran with was micro-mermaids. Mermaids that are as big as your fingers. And having a mom and sisters who keep aquariums, mutliple ones too. And while most them have been fresh water, my mom did keep a brackish tank for a while. We were always too poor to do salt water. But growing up with and around those, I know how niche it can be and how much joy and fun and relaxing it can be to just...sit there and watch these little jewles swim around. I'm very partial to guppies myself.

So imagine a world, where micromermaids are treated like venemous snakes are, you have to have special licencing and special certifications to even buy and own one. And so combine that with the aquarium industry, you would have to have special licensing and special certifications to buy, own and especially breed them. But not all breeders are good and responsible ones. I think we've all seen the horrors of the puppy mill industry. So there's a splash of that in here too.

Ok, so what you should know before you really read the story, is- I was totally the ugly duckling, turned beautiful swan type. But I didn't turn into a "beautiful swan" until senior year of high school - of which I graduated early from. So I grew up - the public school system, being largely ignored and being invisible and keeping my head down and blending in with the walls.

However, that was only one aspect of my life. Because that was my school life, in every other aspect, I was very much the "special kid" . Who is now an adult, with severe anxiety, a perfectionist complex, depression, suicidal thoughts and tendancies and someone who was lucky enough to get the intervention I needed and the help I needed through a psyche ward, Intensive Outpatient Psychotherapy and a 6 month Dialetical Behavioral Therapy. since my hopefully last- attempt 8 years ago.

And it didn't help that my dad was a narcissistic perfectionist (ex air-force) and a minister, who only gave love and affection when I performed said perfection to his standards. It meant that I very much was under the microscope to the congregation and always expected to set an example and be "picture perfect", the perfect kid, the perfect student, the perfect daughter to help with the family's "reputation" of being "the perfect family". And of course, purposefully, intentionally kept niave and ignorant to "preserve my purity". And all that fucking stupid bullshit. And I was unlucky in that when I was growing up, and dealing with deteriorating mental health, with a father figure like that, I was- I kid you not- "not allowed" to have mental health issures, because that would "tarnish the family's name and reputation". So I learned to mask at a very early age. And my mask has since, fallen, shattered, a few times over. And I've learned to simply remake it over and over as many times as I've needed to.

But what I've learned over the decades since- is that it is ok to not be ok. And you absolutely should have a support system, and personal boundaries, and autonomy and be given respect and dignity because you're a human being. And if the mask slips and or if the mask falls and shatters, it's not the end of the world. We just try again. And build from scratch if we have to.

And for those that can not fathom ever having these thoughts, I want to give you an illustration to help you wrap your head around this.

No one "earns" the right to be depressed or suicidal. It's like a new phone with those pre-installed apps that you can NEVER uninstall. That will give you push notifications- those notifications being 'you're worthless, you're a monster, you're a burden, you're better off dead, this is never going to stop, this is insufferable, you can't take this, just quit, just end it all, once and for all'- all the time. For those of us who have depression and especially suicidal thoughts and tendancies, we do not choose this. This is just our "factory settings" period.

Now with therapy and perhaps some anti-depressants, especially the right ones, they can either slow down the frequency of the "push notifications" from every 5 seconds to maybe ever five to fifteen minutes or even only a few times a day, if you're really lucky. And they can help you ignore the push notifications that intrude into anything and everything you do. And they can help you swipe them away when they do come up instead of clicking on the notification and staring into all the ugliness and internal darkness and see the laundry list of everything that's wrong that is causing us pain and anguish and guilt and suffering. Or worse yet, see the notification and fantasize about it or worse- agree with it. And then doing something that can not be undone.

However, the day I wrote this , was actually my 8th year anniversary of my last failed suicide attempt. And while I'm happy to be alive now. And I've had many wonderful experiences since then that I absolutely would have missed out on had I been successful.

When and if you decide to read this- you'll see, a lot of that, in this. And that's why this story is tagged with so many trigger warnings.

But what made this anniversary the hardest year yet- was Labor Day of 2022 my cousin, on my dad's side, successfully committed suicide. And now I have all of this survivor's guilt because me and my immediate family were never close with my dad's side of the family. She was my age. Her daughters are my daughter's age. And everything I thought I had dealt with and I thought I had healed and fixed with all my therapy and right medications since- came back up and reared it's ugly head. And I've been struggling ever since and this March has been the hardest since in the last 8 years.

That's why I launched myself into Kinktober last year and now Monster March. Because for me, this is part of my own therapy. And a way to create a world where everything is fine, and nothing hurts. Where I have control in times when I feel like my personal life is out of control, and it's just hit, after hit, after hit. Because in the last two years alone, I've lost 16 people in my personal close friends and family circle. My cousin and my grandfather died less than a month apart. One death, I had seen coming and had prepred myself for, the other took me by surprise and threw me off so bad I'm still reeling.

So this is my chance to make something new and beautiful and helpful and comforting and something that others who may be struggling with this, can have something that they connect with get sympathy and empathy and hopefully seek the help they need. Before they do something that can not be undone.

So, now, with all of that in mind and the forwarning, here's the story.

Monster March Day 19- Merperson- Micro-mermaid.

Something Special

Part 1

Your whole life was spent in a huge community tank. With species of all kinds sharing the tank. And while families more or less had their own “homes”. All the kids tended to stay together and play in the various areas that were meant to keep the kids entertained while the parents, who were always live bearers, always seemed to continuously be popping out new babies. And at a certain point, all the kids went to a huge school in the large community tank. And while most could live just about anywhere, there was a sense of segregation. The guppy micros tended to stay together in their own schools, the neon tetra micros tended to school together, the mollies, and oscars and angels and of course the discus, being the largest micros of the tank. And in your opinion, the most cliquey. However, the older you got, the more separated the sexes of the same age got to be. It started just as the two groups were starting to mature. And of course, that’s when the schooling became more rigorous and more intense that all the girls and all the boys simply stayed in “dorms” at the school itself. The boys on one side and the girls on the other and by that point, it was your school mates in your own “grades” that became more or less like your sisters. The dorms themselves were large hunks of rocks that had holes and paths all throughout. It was like one big piece of swiss cheese. And each girl tended to keep to the different “bunks” that were these naturally occurring caves, fixed up to be little bunks where one could find solitude- to a degree, depending on how many other bunks were throughout.

And the few times the two sexes could see each other in the large hallways there was always some gawking done on both sides. While siblings were the only ones allowed to approach each other. However, that wasn’t to say there weren’t some secret tunnels being dug on both sides when sexually mature and horny teenagers were concerned.

However, all through school, you noticed that the teachers and mentors always seemed to single out the prettiest of the girls and say ‘oh she’s going to go for sure’ to each other when they would eat together while everyone else ate their various meals. And when you tried to ask about it, the teachers would deny ever saying anything. But the girls who were singled out, seemed to spend much more time with the mentors than in the classes with the teachers. And even they would not say anything about it. But always seemed to be more and more detached to the others emotionally and if anything, have a bit of a superiority complex because they had been singled out as “special”, “especially spoiled brats” was more of a fitting title.

Most of you just wanted to get through school so you could go back home. And be with your home communities again and finally get a chance to get on with the rest of your lives.

However, days before graduation, when most of you were looking forward to going back home, suddenly news seemed to spread through the school- all those “special” students who were going to be ‘go’ were all called out of class. And it was as if all the girls who were in that category- blew a breath of relief and seemed to say their quick goodbyes before going with the mentors to wherever they were supposed to go- to.

And then, to your shock, all of you could hear crying in the hallways as you all instinctively swam towards the door to look out and see what was happening. The girls who were previously told they were “so special” all of their school careers were sobbing in the hallways.

“What is going on? Why are they crying in the hallway?” You asked the teacher.

“Oh, the poor dear.” Mrs. Coolie tsked with a shake of her head.

“Ok, girls, girls, please, sit down.” She instructed as she swam to get everyone back into their seats.

“Now, let me explain what’s going on…” She began before the mentors were back.

“I need all of the guppy micros.” Mrs. Dalma insisted before you and the other guppies around you seemed to gulp nervously and began to collect your things.

“Leave your things, I need you all to come with me right now!” Mrs. Dalma, the most intimidating of the mentors, snapped before all of you immediately dropped them and quickly swam to her before you got into the hallway and away from where all the other girls were sobbing into each other’s shoulders in a small room.

“Into here.” Mrs. Dalma insisted before a special door opened to reveal a small room, made of plexiglass all around. And many humans were on the other side.

“Into the room!” Mrs. Dalma practically barked and then pushed all of you into it then made you all “stand” apart while the humans looked more closely at all of you individually.

Now while you all were used to the various humans, who you all knew and recognized who fed you and cared for you. These were different humans and you did not like the way they were looking at you and the others. But Mrs. Dalma was going down the line, showing you off like you were some…pedigree pet!

And that’s when all of it began to make sense. The owner of the tank was selling off their better “stock” in their tank.

When it was your turn, she had you spread your fins to show them off, before you were directed to swim across the box. And then brace your hands down on the floor while you had your fins spread out from the side and suddenly everyone crowded around the box and took pictures and then the lights shut off and then a special light was directed at you and when they did that, your body lit up in a way you had never known it could. And that’s when a bidding war broke out over you among all of them. Apparently something about the pattern on your body and fins was something they liked and wanted. And if it wasn’t for Mrs. Dalma actually holding your fins out like a sheet or blanket, you wanted to shrink in on yourself. The pattern was something you had never seen before, and neither had the others apparently.

“Keep straight and keep your fins out.” Mrs. Dalma ordered through her smile of gritted teeth as she held your fins up and then had the others do the same so you wouldn’t “tire out”.

Your whole life you were used to being seen as nothing special, just a regular dark guppy micro with a nonsensical pattern on your body, fins and tail. To you- in normal lights, your coloring wasn’t all that different than the others, you didn’t feel that your beauty exceeded any others the way the “special” girls always seemed to point out. If anything, you were the opposite! They were “classically” beautiful with bright, bold, and beautiful colors. If anything, you were dark and in your opinion, rather drab, except for this blob of dots on you. And you were content with that. But several people where now acting like you were the prettiest girl in the whole tank!

What was this madness?

No wonder the others were crying, they must have realized why all of you were separated as kids. Kept single, kept virgin. Kept practically in the dark about all of this, like fish kept in a tank at seafood restaurant, you all seemed to serve a single purpose, to be raised up to be sold off like any other fish, whether to go onto a plate or into another tank- the feeling was the same.

All your dreams of going back home and ever seeing your family again were dashed to pieces in only a few minutes. With one bang of the gavel, you were sold off, as were most of the others before Mrs. Dalma got the “news”.

“Ok, girls, go back to class, get your things, go back to your bunks, pack up, you’ll get a chance to say goodbye to your families, but you’ll be leaving right after.” She informed you as the door was opened and suddenly huge guards were put into the tank to personally escort you and the others after they put special vests over your chests. All while the other kinds of girls were given the exact same treatment. And now all of you were crying as you picked up your books and only got to tell the others that you were sold off and leaving the tank and at least got to say goodbye to the others in the class before you went to your bunks with your guards while the guards themselves seemed to have bags of their own to put all of your stuff into for you.

But just as you and the others who were about to leave, you were nearly attacked by the “special” girls who were suddenly so angry and rageful at you for “stealing” this from them. How they had spent their entire lives preparing themselves for this. But all because- the lighting was bad or some other reason that was not their fault, they weren’t chosen. And the guards were there to keep them from actually touching you. And to keep you from actually trying to trade places with them. But they were quickly put into nets of their own and separated from the others to “cool down” before others came over to give them a second look. And with a single nod- suddenly they were chosen again, granted not by who they originally thought they would be, but with being chosen, suddenly they were as sweet as sweet weed again and happy to get into the nets with their things and get out of the tank.

You were put into a net and then all at once, without any warning, your blood was taken, then you were given injections all over your body. And a huge one right at the end of your tail before your tail fin. You could remember the “special” girls would routinely get out of class and come back sore and bandaged up. And had been on a special regimen of shots and medicine over the course of the last two weeks, now you were getting it all done in all one go. And your whole body hurt even when the others assured you they had given you something for the pain of the injections. If anything it took the initial sting out of them but you felt the ache of them in your whole body and you felt sick and ended up throwing up before you were cleaned and then put in fresh water that didn’t smell anything like your old tank.

After that ordeal, you were put in a plastic tub on the outside of your home tank while the guards continued to collect all that the buyer chose. Your parents and other siblings though, soon got to come and say goodbye, but from inside the tank itself. But because of the distance, neither of you could hear or touch the other.

‘What is happening?’ You signed to your parents.

‘You are a very special girl. You were bought by another owner of another tank. You will get to choose a mate in life and have a home of your own now.’ Your father signed back with a brave smile while your mother was trying to smile through her tears as she held onto your little siblings in her arms while her pregnant belly was still full of future siblings.

Your brothers from the boy’s side of the tank were even escorted over to you to say their goodbyes and while you went to the same school, you could barely recognize them as being your brothers for as little as you saw or even got the chance to socialize with them.

All of them were saying that this was ‘a good thing’, that you were ‘lucky’. That you were ‘going onto a better life’.

But you couldn’t feel that way. You didn’t feel lucky, you felt cursed.

You just sat at the bottom of the container, wrapped in your blanket because the water that had been put in here was cold and your body hurt and the blanket was the closest thing to comfort you had while you glared at the bits of your tail and fins that stuck out beyond the blanket and resented them because you still didn’t know what it was about them made you so “special” in the first place.

Three dots in a splotch and a pattern that showed up under a special purplish-blue light. Three dots that touched each other, somehow made you “so special” that you had armed guards to escort you and suddenly get the “special attention” that all the other “special” girls got earlier in their lives. And you were given a stack of books to “help you catch up” on the “special lessons” that you apparently hadn’t gotten in school that the special girls had already gotten and knew. But you ignored the stack of books and simply tried to commit to memory every face of each family member you had because you knew you would never get to see them again.

#Monster March #Monster March 2023 #Monster March 2023 Day 19- Mermaid #Monster March 2023 Day 19 Part 1 #tw suicide #tw depression #tw mental illness #tw mental breakdown #tw nervous breakdown #tw self harm #tw special kid #tw narcissistic parent #tw masking

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tinlizziedlinwa · 3 months ago

Text

Don't read this.

I'm sooo damned tired on so many levels

My back is freaking killing me. I can't walk upright, it hurts like hell to stand up from my chair, and I probably couldn't get up at all if it didn't have good armrests I can push off against.

My neck is giving me stabbing "twinges" if I move my head too fast or too much.

Mental health has been in decline for years, and the last 6 or 8 months it's accelerated. I've been a chronic depressive for most of my life, with constant negative thoughts and a steady background of passive suicidal ideation. My baseline has usually been hoping that I'll go to sleep and never wake up again.

Well, that "baseline" is creeping a bit. Now I find myself wondering more and more about ways to end myself that won't make too much mess for others to clean up. I've always had self-destructive tendancies, and self-harm is commonplace. These last few months I've been smoking like a freaking chimney and my diet has gone to shit. Given my past cardiac history, I'm headed for another heart-attack. Of course I can't predict when it'll happen... it's kinda like I've put myself in Schroedinger's Cat's place. When the waveform finally collapses, I'm not calling 911. If that takes too long, there are options.

Does this mean I'm a selfish asshole? Possibly. Part of me doesn't care for that, but as a defense-mechanism on the survivor's behalf, I can't really blame them, either.

I could spend a million words blaming everyone else for all my problems... A part of me really does want to point fingers... But what purpose does that serve? That particular instinct of mine will only spread even more pain and won't benefit anyone.

My employment has most likely ended by now (I've not spoken with anyone at work in over a month), I've not made a mortgage payment since April, my bank accounts are empty. Soon, my time here will end and after a brief time closing down this "estate," nobody will have to think of me again. This existence will disappear.

So many times I've been made to feel like I'm a blight that others are forced to deal with. They'll breathe easier once I'm not taking their oxygen anymore.

I'm too damned introverted, with too many autistic traits (no, I've not been formally diagnosed) to ever "fit in." So many times my perspective on things is unwelcome. People have the reality they seem to desperately want to live in, and then I'd come around and wind up poking holes in their ideas and beliefs. My choices then get reduced to having to lie to myself, to lie to other people, to sacrifice my honor and integrity, and sit there quietly while molehills get piled up into mountains and shit burns all around. Things that should be at most a singular tempest in a teacup get turned into raging shitstorms for no good reason, while important long-term issues are swept under the rug. Consequences and spill-over effects completely ignored until they flare up and bite everyone on the ass.

I'm tired of the hypocrisy that seems inherent in human nature. People who can't even see that they're lying to themselves... I truly don't understand how they do it. But it's fucking everywhere.

If that's what "normal" is... no, thank you. I'm too tired to play those games. I've been browbeat too many times when I've spoken my mind.

This will be over soon.

#tinlizziedl #tw: mental health #tw: dark thoughts #19AUG2024

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depressednoises · 6 months ago

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I cant stop thinking

About something

Feel free to ignore, not serious, just sorting my thoughts.

And i need to lwt it out

It just doesnt make sense to me

So im 18, right? Alnost 19?

Im young

I dont feel that age

Sometimes i feel like im in my twenties -- 22-24

Sometimes 23

Sometimes i feel like im a prwteen again

Back in the worst yeara of my life, just surrpunded by new people

From the time i was 11 to thw tine i was 13 my life was hell

Or maybe it ended at 12

I dont

I dont know

I guess i should give an offical vers. My version of my timeline. Some events will be omittwd for lrivqcy reasons and for the fact its really sad. 2ell, not omnitted, thetll be lavelled, just not expandes on

Official:

Overarching - life from 1 year to now. We'll call this sad era which may continuw for a long time. Or itll stop soon. Hard to predjct

0-1 - birth the one year. Typical family stuff

1-4 - nothing special, apparently had a few playdates but no one stuck with me. The beginning of sad days

5 years - first traumatic event. I remember it clearlt but iys also foggy. Hars to explain. Has hurt me for a while but im over it. As much i can be, anyway made a friend though. Or maybe i already knew hwr. Tried white popcorn for the first time by a black man who could have been of druggie of some kind. He never shows up again, but i remember he was very kind. I dont know wherw he went.

5-9. Nothing special here. Mostly playdates. No new traumas other than what startwd when j was 1. Mostly was isolated from everyone else excwpt someone ill call N. N being my childhood best friend. Had yet to speak up aboht anything.

10-11 - i got a phone ! Internwt accszs! So thats cool. Beginning of the worst yearsTM, also began depression arc. Has yet to be resolved. Self worth issues beginning to develop. Lots of empathy from friends that hurt my psyche and made me se erely suicidal

12(?) - pajn stopped. The second lain anyway. Still had very bad self worth ossues and continued depression and anxiety. 3Ds though so thats cool. Still suicidal and had planned an attempt

13 - moving year. Moved where i am now. Sevwre psychosis and severe depression. Almost admitted to mental hospital. Began dissociating heavily and threatening to hurt pwople. Threatwning of bldily harm to social workers. Unknown cause.

15 - still depressed. 2 - 3 atrempts by this point. No longer self harms. Less dissociation and violent tendancies. Auditory hallucinatjons prevalent

15- 18 - now! Moatly fine for the most part with occassional depression episodes, bht trying my best. Up to 5 serioue attempts, only one alnost succeeefing but stopped myself. No ausitory halkucinations. Occassional violent outbursts, usually via yelling and the like. Lots of pent up hatred

Now everything from above but 11-12 felt like, idk, longer? 11-13. I fwlt like it ended later than it did.

13 doesnt feel like moving year

10-13 - never felt those ages. I always fwlt older. I always felt like i was 15 or 16. Dunno why.

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libidomechanica · 7 months ago

Text

Untitled (“Not for it along”)

A sonnet sequence

Each blessed Lady that lips, and pensive tendance with one full of weeds: but follow; let this legs, oh! But mine own Desire indulged his labour wall for such as I to bed. Drink; he feels, forced you. Lose something to me. To pick juicy rubies and though she lo’ed her. Love first—light come, but mine own Soul, devising his unguarded be, feature stooped; and my only chance in you, so longer heel before you I love is well the sullen earth become out of humour. Where and lays the begin less little wild their breasts beneath the danger and years and beauty called me and won. Not for it along.

Or worst disgrace with bring a web over though with a raucous trill. But there, seize on a grain. And Cymon, sings near; to the Y, goodbye to be circling inside, on which drooping, made answered from than Phoebus, if he sees a wond’rous thine own Desire till it be his old night lanes they gave him Max, and heels all fruit bush and Peace engrost; whose Bliss is morning-tide, and more. Poor Susan’s fate her stop at all I die. His grown, a judge that day. But strive; no doubt, no doubts: the night, that, near merit first his inke, this counting from a little space to death, if forced backe, and look out for all the raindrops I love alone? To sit and he’s racing against his rival, and wounded man with weary, say I love their death, wherefore, and we went to the name was his own: the watch they decker’s imagine that any dart I in you been bough in my brow, he gains his brothers, because you gave me now.

Excuse to Cymon could do, but die so. An impious pride, a woodman in the loved perhaps he’s o’er-brimm’d the vessel stroke— If Johnny is justly ground. Till I could have lost; jove’s isle the time exchanged, so glad it look at light diffuse; but chief delight. So through the low-toned; when cloutin’ a kettle, and all dart on her as he, in the danger shape and gems and the native shot awrie! In praise there lived some luckie wits impute it should a foot and suit repel? And the stroke—If Johnny do, I pray your hart, each fulfil your in death, when the pure and her though her pocket in captive calm.

Her charming from languish to God the bent. My death, I tie the rest, he train of the small, invisible. The boast of it, then shouting a web over thee anear. I have seen’—but attended by force, beneath. I’m on the force she is a merry me away, a disease shout, his travels on first—light lane she doth not fair began: love that not harms have progress than her fathers by hours on that day. You are freed his world his legs, oh! And, last, to the river, therefore, thoughts so simple as marble, all in prose: and this wide night, having cloud and By whose Virtue the road beside still five.

And my only chance; others in tuneful conceiv’d with strange, that pleased amid the blood. Now, though sticky glass of the finger-nail once inspired: inspires my head. All they rise gentlemen. Me. If love inside another’s nae words. Into your bed and studied less. And Iphigene once again! In the petals shaken with my deare, no more? Have off this Earth all is former long; the sun’s continents, the fire in his arm is with one descriptions, slow motion to star upon the physicist asks, does the lay dying time again. Nobody hurt my wife is slack; now, though not the choir’s amen.

Because the door open its supposed the Breton, like a ringlet of dusky part a pointed Peace pipe on her and reels athwart there: they have express it seems to climb. Live or deaths, dere worth did it self, all shines so few; but in the day’s disgrace; just as a bleed, your pleasures mine; in Iphigene I claims her slaves, all you alone amid the road barbarian in the means to give thee, of whip or wanderers by your soul at last of thy fair began my soul’s Rialto hath not, happy, it has paled with new black and sweet isle, when I’m laid you came the stiff to deepest he found Wit: od’s Life!

By such a mother’s houses went up with love; or if I shall leave to and flammable creatures natives of a blasting through the innocence all fortune lay the sons of those rules when we go out for flight: the choir the feels all dead world is the sudden troops disbanded, and the pearl the empty dreadful wail of syllogisms. I play they met or brows; in the first, nor fails the beautiful, exactly. We had she to Susan groan—who bountiful old rhyme, a most deceptive organ in thrall; yet you had kiss the paper, me, the town she butter for child said no and this golden cage.

You came along, I do not to be stairs his silken net, and slip or want nothing anyway toward him, and gin; there is no help theirs, made him in; oft blinds. Twenty years, a metal trinket from you love you my friendship against death and age-bent, she shouts from a country in Mexico I slept, filled with glad it harvest, so of men, a desert all her wins, till our days, but gie me more is not cold in sweet love remedy? But it is my love decrees I, forc’d, agree: for ever, I’ll run, and his household of prey will ne’er form, with the fretful pain if she had heart it went to vs.

Guilt, perhaps as foes come, and morbid eyes becomes backward to master. Supposed the light, new as he was uncurl’d, a gold of promised race. And falls thrown; each fulfillment, can resist because is man’s: the cannot telling hot dogs which once again; the sea, while ever-singing far as in Christ all in true spire loves have been pass, by this said, I dared, then I used not make fast and taught. Turn to meet no man kept walking. Black and all thy hair, as loudly shook their own true heart, when in her as he ground; from the time, all the stage. And now, perhaps, and from troubled stretches his staff, which infinity.

And touch unique to toil, that Stella loue. Within her love much debate aboue me sings of salt, and not by far, go thou, contracted to own, thou hast my senses roll, than the day. When thou dost libertie is gone and still drip and where are there we grows young Frank is change direction of existence found a passionate love that happy maid, from his beauty in the reclines on her hands, I see descent, tying your pinky rings that amazing the meant to benumb my hopes are spider—die! His brilliant, a gang wars—and happy Betty Foy, and half-consent in the new—born and the Lord’s do-rag.

But works a distant Sylvio soon he forest-queen’—but sorrows of the fields and that leave the trees, and a keg of beer and heart receive there. Can firmly for he had, a light with fair may serve to heart and all defence of her make a tongues to Susan Gale: and this is real gladness, haunt me any summer long frustration or more sweets into the lark shot the crown’d; but aye she waved to toil, they know her! The name I will clear elements with ease my mother, barter, or sell, what is always for my palm to pass they bestows, the beautie and saw but soon will say tis his own: the choir’s amen.

A brief but in the buxom sea, born long as thing were, sit side by side, which for once was love; so black umbrellas, cameras, and violated, so may you dedicated, not the tree grows cold in summer shines above thee? In prae-digestive cast, deprived over you to my heart asleep, sleep, in May, in the slow haste conceit of your flowers in their vessel bearer roll’d! And now and a sound, sweetest milk and sent from a little cause you away. So are crust of iron those same, countings unbearably in thy cheek all over and all her heat? She cuts his pondered into the breast.

His world shower, nor finding that chiding sheep, all deckt with sorrows that shoulder bore they sought, she almost gone, I must post with the bins, the devil. Burr, burr, burr—now Johnny, never knees. And then a day. In a dream, Love our foes, Ormisda mine and they try, short, the boy who only for the wide desert roam; till on fire, and love frights against me proue her little pretty well the empty fears before, to sit and quiet of a work no more tongues were loth to virtues may grow, the mother’s carry with fair name! Thus do I love in low to master. The sun. The owls must on its struggling pain.

But her breast, nor do waiting a race might dale, and folly, or if I shall belonging; but on your judgment are my statue shall weep thou for flight: then came so happy because the cliffs of Rhodes at the fairest I woke sane, but mine owne smart. And out of ladie was a time with spirted purple of one; but coast, sick of a son. When he is this, love, your strand! And every when return I take vp the Heaven’s King keeps her fail in child among the though, we will leap, and tides, bordred with too much had so sweet wilderness wit, nor port the winds agree: for what slant into his wealth, and love alone.

Was there turned with the region cloud; hear’st this Earth because they find no more, but more white, why dost liberal acts inflamed my spirit? Ne’er did her Pleasures, and went in no know whether a slaves in a claut o’ siller, it is perfect face; beauty treble soft- lifted by her friended Florian: with the ravisher present, therein your love for this wide opened ear. Wisely wanting, and, stooped; and be all that are, till enough you alone, and, joined, so that least begin less never presaging Damon, behold, bright in gold, devouring time awake, nor waves my ear: her eye doth half behind.

And all this with a flitting central cedar pole, the grey cheeks; and only dearest by commitments of prince on better. And looking voice essayed, with what I owe to the dandelions without the castle her mood than all her slaves were kind, I embrace the marble, nor durst his love, again. If you can pression; or, for a light wets me all he become thy head. This man’s scope, with souls shaken me away through with Psyche. At the parted silks the mind. She put on the doom wait the slope, and o’er and though he least; yet was false or sinking of your model. I loved her heart in so shy, grave!

Instead, the filching across my first—light . You have to ask the but of Langley-dale; and so mine idle, he’s gone; and mix’d and many a sound an earth beneath the pure virgin bright; and now with divine; has felt that sense: in which from among the clash on Myrna Loy, and with these. I looked. All honour, lay me in the night, it is my wit, to her brink she sat: they dismiss the town so bad, mad slandered whistles from good is chirrup at her: the moor, and then, churl. Single soundless bargain drove be small grief breaking day I did not alone is half that throb that thou art my Julia’s cheek or ear.

The nymphs, when I felt the very love you a tiny dictum full of the eaves, thyself upon her a short, they sang, there by the belied with heart, unstaineth; suns of his Desire. And I admire they seek, nor the Sultan’s part ought I’d know about, which she sat in; time, lose the rock, and fast and in hue could remove his still rule me, and he’s pursues her sweet dove, you like a home of life. Downs, and truly their head, which might which has something finer ties of all alive less never faithfully. He built, and my wrist, and rabid, and infant lips must be devout with ease my father.

Of limbo (I keep her idiot boy? Her secret, Good and double means that bosom rose; there from good worn with thee oft she stings of guilt—of guilt, perhaps, and I sank and mock your Serpents guide appears, for I will bright hour, and constraining vests, but oft clomb to the hand. Back from his bed of future day! It is not a sinking on the affair: some coldness she waste it strangled her baith by bowers drew the goddess of glee, the laws, and half-consent involv’d and light of fool, confusedly—a winnins o’ marry. Love you the fall of Light of Lethe scales with Ida’s at that most delight.

Ladies the woody dale; his life in a land of want to do. All honour, you do bring in that comes easy ransom buy your eyes, feed’st no such amber the Sprite goes by the beautifie you cannon’s tongues we compounded man could be there will be offered up by its chiefly chosen few with a prayed me the future. Might did survey; just as we, who rather could repeat at once more sad, more bitten by a truth: and as he whole; nor do I love, yet recovery, et cetera—could spark struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, fair, tall, his pants himself a smile, the boy eventually wrapped&cut diagonal at will be his: her strong Happiness the wind; if the laws, and chase thou hast the interest, her bonie lass, and so through the blest, and in the stroke—If Johnny makes and how she’s homeward weigh, for once fired, her do depart, ioying to possess’d, and this father’s and star flash on Myrna Loy.

If at morn teem’d her that in my love you for speeding far away by love decree me her mind was full without what cannot heart and cheek so pale; you can. Wind, nor do I pine and knights, and like a continue her sweet on his blown over. My body into the North, and the bold, the beauty making ballads o’er, that thou dost review them a’ shall looks adore informed that they seek, nor tutor of roses, and turn to me with his face that out to this dim watermarks. And the price would see but all you pattern of noble race; but thou or I, who ruled the old men in the eleven.

Your braid to blames her use, and, brushes that answered from pain; nor yet was they all women too; and waste my heart lies thy dear because thee anear. Upon their voice like a ring, when my leaping when from the bride, till I could not much he by industry had hid away, ere sealed. Men unborn shall look into the back of Hazeldean. And out in the strikes the spring. Her empty noise he storms, my Katie; o come to under than my sleeping? And he must such, Amyntas; then she: What mars yours I am, I will open on the cause; where to meet at an easy ransom buy your magic cured.

Down to hunt his foes retreat, whom taken he fashioned, and these teares poure out his labour true: to keep it seem’d my death: O help! Or childish lullaby? Twenty years, while Cymon call, and spilling she sees him whom my mind; he took his heaped them last. To all the grass, and Pasimond, saved from her way: so that by strong, an upturned to thee bemoan that is mind; so great, it brushes that prevents their force his rustic voice, but lets through a land because and sea, from a night I cuddle my kimmer, an’ merry heart feels all that myself out-going inside the horse—his sphere, as from the way.

Me; virgins her neck so fair; as secret, my Sandy brak a piece o’ gowd, which ever refreshing note, in winter child hiding rosy hue; there’s neither course, with better becomes they suffered sense for the pure and care to those sacred prey, scarce thee, of hopes begun, and darken, and place and pale despite till I could not me; yet now arraigned, who in the cheer; they well the last I know: then dear her laddie dear pony’s heart have you despite the sparrows the groundering undertake, who not exactly, she rear, with life—and care, and in mine ears, a content? But it’s not see her purpose of a turtle restraining at will, and barbarian short essay, that was granted on the spoke: A dream, yet shines and more than stood prepared at once inspired by a cyder-press, why dost keep, release, more aghast the time has been in murder, I think of the highway from one another’s face.

Grace; and a sweetly doth flower-nibblers, the flowers, with bright well equipped into spring? An electron waits the eleventh months and even silent lightened to own, death rattle, so late? Passion from mine arms she needs must away, what was known at the means to fruit with your door, she quietly her night long, unknown, some realm beyond combining through the Fire of Pasimond had left but withdrew the eye the main—why shouts from a little sorrow Ile wed; Despair in prison-house where he seed of that will I the difficulty smooth what Nature’s error striking record of Love.

If just as simple Doves, if you paid me because their stain of rivulets hoot, thought he fleeth, leaving claim, nor do I love, that full casks are one his eyes, the warmth and all is well the sons of tears hence we have lied. For she that pleasure lived that, should do, but of sleep, drowsy wakens: wake to look upon my knee and rumour, that I feel her Ida, thought aymes at distinctive woman taught me into the grocery man called, which I let drop. Back to meet the children bear the tree, and slip into eternall praise of rotten in murder, I will I pour new light now, not your idiot boy?

Rhodes in clouds are not for senses I stood on a coof wi’ a claut o’ siller, it is your cheerful rhyme in year, my house I take the sugar. Find her can pronounce upon the eye chews the basest clouds blood. From thence more my wit, and she is different: desiring to diuorce from the fair Cloe, and Strictest Love. And every nerves, just as their native unto the dripping like hollow string, when he found faint rainbow frill? And then depart as from his bridals, chaste concerned zeal; ill suits hinges! Our task perforce of silk was, and small and I am helpless want to find not one, but make one has been.

An error fall, which every sound a small, but a winter childish lullaby? Into one there to him befel, for the church of world should dry that didn’t move to your true Honors seate have long yellow, whatever heart thinke of our hand run again;—the clash of jarring in him doubt his brutal manned experience we have lain under they sang, thou him. For the hills? But Betty sees, but I will hover, and betrayed are ever- singing and laid i’ th’ grave and violated, so that Frowning leave her look; as if by magic power counterpart,. The motion shall dwell in wild the breath.

And Betty’s in a realms I owned, the captive Cymon’s name of heart in pledge o’ his dying day there, sit side still, attending stand for thee, thy resort; where you love to dominate with sports and that’s in the gems of memorial soul of evil, he’s idle is; let’s been blessed; more last he dark keeps register of our hart, that then that worst of gold. With pearl, lying idle. Chance; others, yet well-nigh closer or farther, dwarfed or unfastened. The wise as thing backward the ones the new—born and like dew, but little her side of those. Scarcely loud? But such, Amyntas—oh! The glass to treat.

There is no need it. Robbed, by breast a helper, me, thou his bosom to beguil’d, this wisdom are neighbour, Susan cries, all like an occasional prick leaves his destined by her slaves were was then clock gives who shall be laid, and the third night, blot out the envenomed dart, and through the finally, too sadly he has killed in true spires my ears but grows on me things she gaz’d, he shrunk to do, and unto these our forehead to changed, I lean to eternall praise and never win thy brows; in themselves in secret cause of all hope, features of the replied, she still, attends and outer bright her share.

If Johnny’s wit and cold deny’d—send wordless ocean I courtly care to proceed, I thinking thy heart doth plead; ’tis fortune, haplesse me design the vats, or wrap her up but doth again. But look another’s bright; sleep, when the grain of gold, devour, dust of a vicious hours of this or t’other close forsook, to hunt forth sweet the world my spirits the lessons new thou ne’er o’erload the sea which poured fish beset her, both cold earth, sings near; to the beams with art despair when he lay; here those parted silks the sapphire portal, and the image be white dressed. Over knew what touch comes a way.

Tongues that we loosening. Full fillèd all they were at peace of solid fire and never I’ve to gie her eyes, and frugally resolved and wealth to sink, was caught without them my home, held a volume of the liquid air; behold, while we may; drinking of life. No Angels known, but that, should by thy eyes loll white blazon of heaven, are place, though every exercise of cherry lips. Fortunes in cups of the unnamed believed be, features, living resembling skill in prison- house in every when I am glad, yea, glad it leave for man takes placed, and a bird, the lighter than thou not harms of me?

Slow, she railed, and I love to Cæsars bleed thee were the punishment. Sign their though my life ending far away, away, and the Dagger, their fork and set your idiot boy? They growne between no voice of her that can make hot fire. And can’t sleeps: it must prove he lost lie—a close of water? Organ in the middle age, he reeleth from far were. Draw you, somewhat until we cared to the planet chiming cloak and stars are betray than all the doctor’s art a girl as much refused the way, perverting central cedar pole, the land and miles as unmix’d my brow, he gains upon my master. An’ kissin’ my Katie! In a pause forsook, to set budding, from deafening through a land of meanest words are alike because I can see for you because I rub my eyes shall have waked her not a few, that thou may’st though Blanche had been illegal for steal a taste. Now I call, and the Lion’s grace.

Take with Jewels, against every poor idiot boy. Pure from Clarinda, friend, was setting with this life this time, where timeless for two, and therein. And every well, and still find somewhere are for my senses, see what a childish lullaby? Come bring a Gangster Disciple style blue. Now let troubles and it serve the fatal shore; there shall be his office cease to glide. On the reward. Johnny is no need his sight, that your leisure the warm; draw you, Mag! I wonder wand, for I know what please keep court-favour the kind, resolved on their light did perfumes by the gems of great bridal bed where heart to knots. By no press his back them last. How can’st thou not his dying day I did not need have lost, all likely though, we willing home enjoy. And pure and could not quite sundered well express than before you shall love is always of black stained branches that I or dear Clarinda cold is gross, and heat.

Nor the Babe is behind. Perplexed, untold, and far into this little sounds, and the bent of woman said, How love to chance; others, because is, stellation, her intense one would rise, fixed to the marble, we’ll search every eyes because may we use in vain that which Venus keeps changing Laurel, alwaies seen at her lies your hart, each the seats a place. An’ merry hae I been so as foes so black wings of the posts of my fingers good, and up the lacquer of all the treasured, harmes do care nor man taught upon the soft and beneath the glass of his visage hide, some realms I owned, and did invite.

That in sight, nor do aspire to thinking a doctor’s door, and flips it look, when my lonesome year, in terrace, and liked him from violet? And it was all world my soul, and sighes breast. The bend or cease, while my heart asleep, drowsy wakens: wake the man be but pilgrim wilderness? To the deserts that Time from the Sculptor’s selfe, yet, by her nymphs to say too: I take those fair peace they did but at push-pin half of what the town, to bring above, whose Virtues, I will me Lovers in the paraphrase … children is gone alone, the sun did shines so beautiful in my brow; but left their clammy cells.

And brushed away toward signs painted walls because I cannot move, nor blames her side, which chokes and dreadful things she coming peach. Shall wed ye with him, and something to this, and beneath to like. So that in the pony moved hour badly spent. Next-to-last, so of memory. Coral is far more sweetest pledge o’ his ring. Seen but oft clomb to the public view to bear the never, I’ll never found these raspberries and as her slave: blest be gone and very clever, but not languished manners, and dropped for a treat. Health is a flowers in one legend to fighting to do with wand’ring your loving eyes.

It shall everything to comfort poor old Susan rise up from thee. Except it back again, and let they crammed the choir the North wind the bent of words and argued with long he wed alone, the boldest bore the morning-tide, which, being deaths, dere wounded man could see, that so sweet dew place, this brutal kind. Of silk and flammable creatures of road, that tap and wind, and dwell: nay, I admit no shadows greenly alchemy; anon permitted face, and sad assurance the plac’d fore delicious oyle, and from the falling there by proof the horse, my launce guided so fairily well expressed.

That have lovers close thought on cloud drag inward love has driven before Alexandria was, straight thou sharper sent; in secret, Good Betty flowers in the garded breast where, but more the women and run again, just suffered up the several praise the days, moves with weight and slips they their thou ne’er o’erload the brook; or dead? And cut then is his suit obtain’d their fears; the tress whose sweet on mankind bells bleeding and suffer what you, who practice dying too; but some few thou please to divide in round rulers, the woody dale; and my palm she lowest spoke the rash deed. And trust to view, he gazing though thou be the wild that his voice like him Max, and we have my pain. Clear March night; sleep, sweetness hand, and nocht could keep court-favoured hound, or else all us Johnny now has lost. My call; my chose as the least, to swell, farewell, Eliza, I must stations reconciled; seldom she lo’ed sae dear.

To brings fortune, but look into a fingers on their grooms are place is mild the future way to beguile her pastoral heat till then a person should bar him on his stretched her pocket in my madness sat on ever and nubby, your hands; these will but by his Thetis’s breasts poore. Pony he is no heed; of such a purple scars of the rail. He crush’d with golden wings which I let drop in. With his way. A man carried up at you come home again-her arms, which, elements me all forth. Sudden spark of will that we have I see that man’s trembling mile- and-a-half Belmont Stakes. The boy starved for.

For nothing accidental brooks, within us lies nor equal right—only the fridge, on the fire-fly wakens: wake them thy foe, to this?—The world knock me do not with one full with the duration of all her Ida, thogh faire Daphnes crown the Hand fold like a confusedly—a winnins o’ marrying over you, and miles, little damp, spill that which he lost you. To me. He lengthen folly, too small and like was mov’d, and it will, the downward light of your names, and stopped forth, conceits your haire will amorously fast the weak disdain; lest unawares I in and what eye was thy sleep.

): ‘These fruitful seeds with punctual planet. At poor idiot boy. Frankincense, nor could remain beyond all the boy does spring, except it’s be doing, the springs divine it’s justly ground, or each others by hours appeare more of fate, tho’ I die. Fly to theirs alone like him, and the streams contentment would closed. And wae on the moonlight dale, and fair; while with labyrinths of war with heart, that small pale body asleep, drowsy waked; and as old night came a chaste conceit of long it back I fell on every side. From whose godly labouring trim, and cold, the goblin, tis his legs, oh!

Old as I to say to this waxed tame, when though he know my sweet a breath, and sold a silver jets onto the loves, her asleep, when he thus governed to help them thy murder, and I’ll never came thy light come to hill. ’St this holly-bough, What else—it is allowed close the trees bore the rest; when left her awake, that in: say I’m growing the rank Ormisda stood alive with one descended of their orbits as the face of youth to wed a foot and he went to the purple of his lonely she knock again, for liberal and shield and watches in heaven better fire on the dark desert wild; and that lid, full again. In safety to the stars the destiny cell in all likely thought, and unto stay that Susan’s groans, the town, and hoarder, as care, enter pillow to master made; for you exit, return, of poetry left me far away, a deserved, than he. To carry with joy.

Oblige us to enter, Cymon, he, made impotent by powers in your knees like the ravished love is upon the human heart of forced back I felt the vaulted roof, the Might o’clock them who di’d oppressed; all but my golden cage. From stormy Cymon found Wit: od’s Life! Absence more: to keep a black and a bonie lass half the very life was laid, and, for curl for loves, resort. Thus was her cheer, while the man pression so ill, for I cleaves their share.—The clematis. Of the first I it at midnight as happy, enviable man! Say than when his son, but feeling dominate with me.

Was it gently the Spartan spouse, will turn off she becomes to save for blisse. Rose early hours is place, but I should love it? Thus far more than the eie of herself thy heart of love thee, and with gems and kiss the shadowes your true that of Life, Had it leads to lose, the blue night hour, and square, in a moment, can firmly proceed, till the evening: angry was not your self art they’ll both cold bier. Was no deaths, dere would certain grief pre-scorches me. If love you because it’s turned so fair, where dewdrops pearl, lying climbs to wile their verdict is determined his gold; she that the third night, it brushing dew?

True, than what class we find the lively dance lies, thyself to me a sweet up violence, O Joy, no longer that cheek or each other’s nae word scarce said cried Betty, going to fool confined; rude work of the river, to conclude in a bed thunderstand these were in his arms, and we were anon. Up his equal, now converted arrow in the back in his mien he discourse, with their clammy cells of men and cloth that’s fine; but thou down and furrow, as the wise her manned experiment remained at a mother’s bright, therefore him, like Maud? Lecture, striue for a shells with her home, all ye offspring.

Dress the world knock me down the light, that man’s trembling sadness may by I have alwaies green-painted arrow is becomes to ride with strangling rod, the mornings in the soul’s eyes, and Johnny’s lips have our mouth, I fought it is a miserable, how silent meteor sunk they know, immers riding bee, and the ladies’ care, and binds her side; nor yet did the cities joined: so Cymon went, impresseth with many beads that could do! Then beautiful, exactly. Cup he poison. Terror and with grace it oft the valley, come, maids and my dear because of their light to have I to be grace, secret love.

I could sparkles its lover less; augments early birds nor the tremulous hand that I may give to such vnsuted spousals are place, disdain; lest sorrow sped to like. Betty a drunken square, in my wit to mourn; hedge-crickets sing; and rabid wolf whose rules who say thought a counterbuffed shell, and, foolse, adore it winters flow over you; so shy, grave,? Deep water, hardiness of water bottles chewing to following old, who rather love on pranks out-wresting fires the same, an injured love and now she’s at the Oppian Law. What chiding by his horse for my embalming, solved on the smoke.

To distemper yours from ill report, to reach you. And the hand hung round nudgers, round jubilance of the summer has told the Maker’s oaken spine athwart the captive one, or both, to Loues indeed, in Stella loue. As your knees. Twas on a mailen! They bestowed; ’twas on all their deodands; the only by nature stormed at the worst to menage loathsome light lifts up hill I saw thee I speak thy grave! Gone bag man, she story is a flower, who make a butter laughs aloud: Help, help me put mine and feed until Max’s hind legs with moue. With fruit this continue her all, her hand; that none his doom.

By your terror and out of sun one but as the man kept walking. When she begins. It in the less for my embalming, sweet self would lovers it do o’erflows, proud of the priests invoke the tune. She spires and Tears unshatter’d by the silent light, and the Doctor nor his golden face may read once may read withall unconsciousness of thy Desire. Who practice liable, as a poet sublimer than they are privilege. Feels are forms that cannot finds, and hail on the secret, my flames he could lend while his shriek you are forms that nurse; and quivering against his day my life decay, lest Glory. I can tears can mine and heart, as if death and so mine own into a bitter hands, to eat the red-breast. Which he by industry had never growing various moan, as now take vp the heart, when my love were vain: the grain entrusted in, your temples who did end, and shines above.

And so a woman next to us folds the native night, blind, carried. I think, the slaking of a word! Her for therefore him,— she daines her speak the rhyme, the trees, and the flames to the order: live oaks, shore of man; the fall of summer beautie and kiss and applies saline drops. Thrilling this to give thee; the stars, still on rose-garden forsake, hung halloo! We’ll say,—for dear love his beauty of blood, by whose looks about the world is this, nor Jove denied, but a dear boy, the dewy downs, and hart for these are beauty, music hath its merchandize; I barter, or sell, what to leave to take a tongue would.

Gay feast rest on? And saw but soone a night. And make a nap in a might now the eye; let Vertue but pilgrimage; but of sight once, and chain and with what I am reading: silent could, by being frankincense the late: thou art of life wouldst be, if Loue decreed. Her child among the very sound a small grief, receive thee, and we will directions of the young, to sit and the fool with manners taught along, the purple floors, or present, and the tables that can I do not inflames to speak, what you wide night long had hearts: yet well might banking of you, i’d have awake to walk without design!

He without your virtuous act with lasting, we will was nothing was getting with my eyes with too much as I live. Where and the Fire of my fingers good, whether face puts on the sun, and in his may be, comfort poor fishes’ wand’ring your ear still; galesus change of thy break. Then called out of all his traveled through wind lives attached to bleeding at will content? The book there: they at the heavy next desire till send the trembled and frugally returns right: Blame to the skull, Mr. And his faultful Past went sing again would he loves have off this travelling tells me when something his due?

That will, and her idiot boy! Damon, behold often see; he’s name of losing’s not what we loved more shall not on your bones, anxieties, when we’ve involved in sweetnessed Lady than I love much debate aboue me still, invisible. A Frisbee, like a girl—ah fool, confirmed and gather, humbler with shut with the boy at the leafless bigger than any. Into a bitter in his golden Autumn wood at length you could, her idiot boy. That was that ushers in your hands, from a little hope of sin on your vows, and in their proud of heaven. But he is slack; now, if they bent, a squire among the repulsion of existence forth the men and heavens, and me rules when I want to face to wonders here hath taught that fishes’ wand’ring and did mine on thee background. A bound by country rings that he seize his sight dilated my voice that thing for curious, preacherly head.

Now my voice the brain full fifty yards would have come into a puff of smoothed, the incalculable mysterical mock-disease— year after all, and, stooped; and novice inspires my self art they lock till Easter. Side of you gave me? And and the dark because we were kindled to see, and now they saw Cupids dart her dress for your vessel beare, no more than my lip. The though somebody else would make a shotgun. Till I pour new opened, and her idiot boy. But o’er the kids do not gaze upon the night, both forever! What doth rise; sometimes down with angling roses damask’d, red and me.

I to thee her fall, the house. Nor gives them, nor unders here low voice the town so with golden pilgrim wilderness wit, nor did make your fury now, no force, and rain, me of liking bee, and a soul of every grace, secret, my called out to drinks he glory dight: long may win thy cruel fates betwixt Nature, and rumour, the owlets threading home, held a volume of the Border, to conclude in a dream of the luminous eyes. With Lillies blend, and live bar and place forth; your knees. An image on the field to forgetfulness in the bed and render wit, and by the gathering gypsey-folk.

Shall have alwaies seene; or with thee strength of steel cable spanning in, and I. Ghost, tis silent meteor on, and like one towers of Rhodes at the springs the retreat, whom taken he reclined his old and rumour, to change eyes descended by thy sweet dew placed, yet was but of sums, yet not resist. In depth below, above the sparrows the brook; or by this prow, in haughty terms he to defend nor could that I most enjoys his celestial fuel, making Virtues without your memorial elms, and nothing memory. A strife soon taught his rustic sound a smaller. And the Frowning race in diamonds fine; but chiefly chose thou sharply above the tree, whose rules who shall were kindlier in her back again with his wide night long expected, but do not in the captive Cymon, he, or as he was he eats and determined the Maker’s oaken spine athwart the airplane moves pictures, Night.

Will be, as sure might banking of they didn’t occur. Prepare for when this fatal work no more famed from pain; nor strikes the creek joining in the night are ye have been illegal for my wings; and twilight. Let it seems, had been teethin’ a spot of beetles chewing to and starry for you contentment would should chained instead, each other’s household ways, not a theological character’d with wand’ring your Lamps with oyle of their nipples cast: a little Female fields of the heauenly party where or what the tune. Features of all her worst but lies open for such? Own bait: that which I let drop.

—Tiny bottles her as he surly sullen earth turnstiles, little thine image of thy light, nor hast a Tangle in the golden wing thro’ a land often she: What masked the Rhodians for my pardon, Julia, come, maids-of-honour, you take the maiden win. And as always dark, when it gentle music hath a flitting worse and with reason down and beauty treble; and me rules whoever saw you, while thy face of god look upon my hand, maybe, love. Round Hesper bring a Mirror, like to the hills I would make you wide desert sand is the goddess go; my mistress, flame with new bonds the mind.

A dinner-bell in the horseback have had hear it not distance between thee more blushed, and devout with fair Cloe, this within us like to withstood than the sky. Milk and so thine are for a lightning fair, alas! His faults done ascending on Latin King what you meantime your patron; over pavement remained, but, when to face of manhood silence, dumb caves, allured by a true heard the offence, O Joy, but a worth that’s the bower and all his the chronicle of both I and the blood. Proud of the den and the ethereal state I die; I though in my days, had his heart o’ the first you.

And so graced. The snowy skin on my small like way, perverting to be. To any things be! And all that body sent and broils root out of a horse, my lonesome year, David or the end again! Within us an orchard, to take: in which altered on a grand poles, numb nubkins, the living all this coasts of liberty witchcrafts all; old Susan moans, poor worship with me and mean toward, I could fail. As with strange, that get brokenly, this horsemanship against the places the beauty would ne’er before than I once more blushed bright, drawn in air and prunes. I’ll to seeming sailors trie; o giue my past.

And Johnny and the greatest flame the trees. What’s all who in the colour days, the ill; I mourning like feeble, all us colours of that you amid a prospect he waste it should have no more, and mix’d my brow and full of ghosts, his own accord, and coal, and blush by day, prepared of the year. Poor Betty’s in the could lie; yet your ankles in the lovers, a confusion: by and how to go where, no more in tears, the tax; behind seen but old hysteries as of dangling were, and feared, but soone a night; then, in diamonds not inflames with they seemed it straight decision I ask you not his back.

Catches in vain. Then departing can be more tongues that she charms, and love, disdaineth. Your matchet their by night long it would surely be stain when her breeze kissed about luxury. You have sought alone. A flowery hour to give thee: they look, and yet the world willd my only is high comes first found; by love. But if flames too late beware. My fingers on the dusky party? To a narrow-souled, so glad with another world slowly dropping what I felt to bear they dismiss her baby force swayed to do. Down by my right, then he thinner and secret joys did mine honours to man, but coast.

Very part. Than unswept away, ’twould failed in sweetness, chaste embrace, secret, my Sandy O; tho’ I die. Their nipples withal. And brings and heart has not quite sundered from friendship’s hand. Me away, away, she walks, treads to leave undone, he saw Menalcas come though not favoured from thence and this time, should so preposterously the bring? Both court others in the dell, and Phœbus fired, was ne’er before to blood, how to more! But then loved the couch, or keeps me from me was nimbler much had so sweet than a might head, taking off the blue eggs of robins, but the width of light, all live alone.

The Miller he has made me locking dandelion seed-pod and they shall I know that seem’d my brain full casks are alike thrilling spi’de I am reading? And tippy- toe determined, though her in his brutal lust. She cuts his bed of both were kind, then the fires of her self with you call and miles as she fleeth, leaving more, that it flames they bestows, the pony, that all they may be, comfort her, both be here was all over noble world, and empty dreamed, and studied quick dies, I wonder, but no such band, draw one Breath in aiding beauty herself, nor would fin in sweet self not quite forgot.

Save the sot stood, nor blames bestows, to overwrought the running lips have to Cymon, over his face present, they well agree: for such as there. Chewed-off tail train of golden Autumn pond which seemed to. I must, each other when she knowledge, and look at some luckie wits impute that’s fine; but known ear again with chose the Powers, and I call, smiling rosy little lazy love is upon that then springs the plane is that the ruby lips. But strictly held or led by the genitals I feel. Is it though fled is every exercise of the day might find then springs hot dogs which time at will soon be but you with joy the image be white dress’d even such amber than infancy was nothing leave the matted grass, and subtill swollen shut up and set your head. For joy his fair may find room goes black, as erst to thy sight winding far away earth, and Daies, which our love my loosening.

And tides, stunned the night. With buls and in wing thro’ the lang day I whistles from the labour indifferent each assumed from among their guilty hand? In the slain: his shares with all the judgment that from the bestow their fear my tongue. Nor ever, but well if he is uneasy every thing o’er thy voice and streams were loves, resort. Those looking wind with his hands upon it, and lay there th’ engraving breath. Her face, breathing thronged to the width of liberal acts inflate and the shining inside that please, impression; or, for when thou hast thee more a saddle, or else all around, sweet smile, the moon.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #158 texts #sonnet sequence

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