#v: true hart

[theliarshart]

@spinningawebofsin

Fuck, he was sore... Cypher had sworn he would never get himself into this sort of trouble again. Not after Rich and the figurative hell the man had put him through. And yet, here he was. Really, it was because he hadn't had a choice. He'd been faced with an overlord declaring Cypher was cutting in on his territory. He really hadn't wanted to deal with that.

And so here he was. The last client he'd been sent to was awful. The man had seemed fascinated by the numbers that appeared carved into his skin. Cypher had barely gotten through that without any additional carvings. The fact that coming back to the studio was a relief was a pretty terrible commentary.

As he trudged back up the stairs, he spotted a familiar face. He had seen Angel's Dust around the studio. There was no way he could fail to recognize him. The spider's face was everywhere. Right now, though, the sinner looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Cypher watched him for a second, trying to decide whether or not to get involved. He hadn't really decided before he found himself asking quietly, "Hey. You alright?"

The spider was going to blow him off, he was certain. They didn't know each other and Angel Dust had no reason to talk to him. But the spider looked upset, so he had wanted to check. And he'd know no matter how the taller demon answered. Cypher would know of he was lying.

[toothmarqed]

true detective posters

(feel free to use but pls don’t repost!)

[legends-and-savages]

Tag dump

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

[teamchasezwrites]

I need to get some thoughts off my chest about WWE. Feel free to comment! I don’t have anyone to chat with about wrestling! I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled fanfics.

Felt ranty. Might delete later. Idk.

-The IWC is exhausting.

-Drew McIntyre does not need a character pivot to attack the Bloodline. Not everything needs this grand backstory. He’s attacking them because of what they did to him. It’s perfectly fine.

-It’s exhausting how the Bloodline gets their ass kicked weekly while Roman never comes out to save any of them during this feud with Drew. It’s a major downside of Roman never actually wrestling on TV.

-The Judgement Day moving to feud with Wyatt 6 (if rumors are true) would not be Liv lowering herself. Wrestlers cannot be in the main event/top storylines all the time. It will not hurt her. She feuds w Wyatt 6 for a month or two. Then comes back into the IC/US title hunt or Championship. It will be fine. If done right (probably won’t be) both sides will move on to be fine.

-The Wyatt 6 should have 100% feuded with Judgement Day upon their debut.

-Liv and Rhea should have ended their feud at Bad Blood. Full stop. The name was in the title.

-same with Damian and Finn.

-Same with Roman and Solo. Though I will allow them to carry on to Survivor Series, but no further.

-With Drew inserting himself in Bloodline business, why are they still trying to push Solo? He’s coming across as a tantrum throwing younger sibling demanding “look at me!” While the Bloodline’s attention has turned to Drew.

-It’s perfectly acceptable for wrestlers to actually wrestle on TV and not just PLEs. They don’t have to wrestle every week, but it would do wonders for feuds if matches actually happened instead of promos and jawing.

-Raw on Netflix is gonna be some grand first episode and then revert back to Raw as it always is.

-Jey Uso and Drew McIntrye should have happened tonight like it used to be. Get attacked in the opening of the show? Match is scheduled that night. Not next week.

-STOP CHANGING ENTRANCE MUSIC!

-Rhea was always going to get the title back. It’s the story. She vacated it for injury. The story ends with her getting it back.

-KO should win the title at Royal Rumble but Cody should win it back at Elimination Chamber. If he doesn’t, that feud needs to stop.

-it’s okay for belts to change hands on Raw/SD. Once upon a time, the belts changed hands at house (live) shows.

-It’s okay for belts to change hands after a month. Even if they go back to the other person. Again. It helps the feud. It doesn’t make the reign bad.

-Matches on TV don’t always need to have a story or push an agenda. They can just wrestle.

-The Rock puts fans in the stands, will get a major pop, but ultimately wrestling does not need him and it’s extremely irritating that he pops in for no reason other than almost an “I’m bored”.

-Any match The Rock is in, does not need a title. The Rock v Roman (of that ever happens with a closing window) does not need a belt. They have The Head of The Table title.

-Wrestling does not need Roman either. (They have recovered from losing Cena, HHH, Undertaker, Shawn Michaels, Bret Hart, Hogan, etc.) He will forever sell merch and be a top seller no doubt, but the shows will be fine

-The draft needs to happen the week after Wrestlemania. Feuds end at the titular event. Hold the draft the following Monday and Friday and actually change up the rosters.

-STOP PUTTING THE TOP GUYS IN THE SAME FUED! (Looking at you Seth, Drew, Punk, Roman, Sami, Jey…) Jey can still be in the IC title picture. Bloodline can be a side quest. Shit man. That’s why people are tired of seeing Gunther v Damian. But what can they do?? There is no one else.

-please don’t give the/a belt to Charlotte immediately upon returning.

-Same with Becky. Let her feud with Liv since she made those few comments about retiring her. Again. No belt is needed.

-injuries/depleted roster really hurt the Raw’s women’s division and they never tried to jump those hurdles. That’s what caused Liv and Rhea to drag on. There was nothing else. It could have been handled differently. (Though still stand by it ending at Bad Blood.)

-We don’t need long title runs to solidify a reign. Not everyone can be billed as unbeatable (Goldberg, Lesner, Roman and not Gunther). Book them well for 2 months and it could be a great reign as one that hits a year.

[sergeifyodorov]

i cringe to even say this because it just feels so off but a (let's be honest, sidgeno) fic where sid goes to anaheim instead in 2005 (and maybe even baby bedard later if we dodge the conspiracy theories and just play pretend, as god intended) would rewrite my brain tbh. captain evgeni malkin? only seeing each other twice a year? a ducks v pens final? or it could even be like your tony fic but make sid go to other teams in a hell loop.....

now this is CERTAINLY an interesting prospect. the ducks in those days were so diff tho like... sid wouldve been teammates with SERGEI FEDOROV, RYAN GETZLAF, Hart-era COREY PERRY, and motherfucking TEEMU SELANNE... that's immediately a superteam. they won the cup in 2007 even without sid!!!! what even!!!!! maybe they'd still be the mighty ducks idk that branding change was a bad idea the old colouring/jersey goes kinda hard. sid with his pale, red-cheeked face, each feature somehow both too big and perfectly balanced, and that coal-dark hair in the Silly-Ass Ducks Jersey.

anyway with western conference sidney we'd have soooooo much more fun with the geno/ovi rivalry also... esp in 2009 when geno goes on that Conn Smythe Murderous Rampage (and defeats the caps on the way). sorry im temporarily ignoring sidgeno here but thinking thoughts anyway.

the real sid rival in that case would likely be the SHARKS.... ough. not that i know much abt that sharks era but they were so so good in there for so long (looking at them now makes this hard to believe but. it's true) and the SEDIN-ERA CANUCKS and EARLY KOPI KINGS.... all that to say the western road trips of the era would have thoroughly sucked for literally anyone who was anyone.

sorry nerding out about superteams. back to sidgeno we'd have to do this w like a.. hm. pittsburgh without sidney is different. they're still a reasonable team that's avoided having to be sold/moved but it's not hardly so much a hockey town. meanwhile anaheim's rabid; sid's practically a hollywood icon. not great when you're closeted, is it, to be a celebrity. so on his own eastern road trip, he slinks out in pittsburgh and walks until he finds a gay bar. and who does he see at this gay bar but a tall, familiar russian with an expressive face and hands the size of dinner plates?

because even a hockey superstar can get away with cruising in pittsburgh, because nobody cares in pittsburgh. the two of them get to talking, sid more to geno than geno to sid because sid's like, friendly and chatty and secretly so, so jealous of this kind of privacy. and it kind of. goes from there

[dailyanarchistposts]

F.7.1 Are competing governments anarchism?

No, of course not. Yet according to “anarcho”-capitalism, it is. This can be seen from the ideas of Gustave de Molinari.

Hart is on firmer ground when he argues that the 19th century French economist Gustave de Molinari is the true founder of “anarcho”-capitalism. With Molinari, he argues, “the two different currents of anarchist thought converged: he combined the political anarchism of Burke and Godwin with the nascent economic anarchism of Adam Smith and Say to create a new forms of anarchism” that has been called “anarcho-capitalism, or free market anarchism.” [Op. Cit., p. 269] Of course, Godwin (like other anarchists) did not limit his anarchism purely to “political” issues and so he discussed “economic anarchism” as well in his critique of private property (as Proudhon also did). As such, to artificially split anarchism into political and economic spheres is both historically and logically flawed. While some dictionaries limit “anarchism” to opposition to the state, anarchists did and do not.

The key problem for Hart is that Molinari refused to call himself an anarchist. He did not even oppose government, as Hart himself notes Molinari proposed a system of insurance companies to provide defence of property and “called these insurance companies ‘governments’ even though they did not have a monopoly within a given geographical area.” As Hart notes, Molinari was the sole defender of such free-market justice at the time in France. [David M. Hart, “Gustave de Molinari and the Anti-statist Liberal Tradition: Part II”, pp. 399–434, Journal of Libertarian Studies, vol. V, no. 4, p. 415 and p. 411] Molinari was clear that he wanted “a regime of free government,” counterpoising “monopolist or communist governments” to “free governments.” This would lead to “freedom of government” rather than its abolition (i.e., not freedom from government). For Molinari the future would not bring “the suppression of the state which is the dream of the anarchists … It will bring the diffusion of the state within society. That is … ‘a free state in a free society.’” [quoted by Hart, Op. Cit., p. 429, p. 411 and p. 422] As such, Molinari can hardly be considered an anarchist, even if “anarchist” is limited to purely being against government.

Moreover, in another sense Molinari was in favour of the state. As we discuss in section F.6, these companies would have a monopoly within a given geographical area — they have to in order to enforce the property owner’s power over those who use, but do not own, the property in question. The key contradiction can be seen in Molinari’s advocating of company towns, privately owned communities (his term was a “proprietary company”). Instead of taxes, people would pay rent and the “administration of the community would be either left in the hands of the company itself or handled special organisations set up for this purpose.” Within such a regime “those with the most property had proportionally the greater say in matters which affected the community.” If the poor objected then they could simply leave. [Op. Cit., pp. 421–2 and p. 422]

Given this, the idea that Molinari was an anarchist in any form can be dismissed. His system was based on privatising government, not abolishing it (as he himself admitted). This would be different from the current system, of course, as landlords and capitalists would be hiring police directly to enforce their decisions rather than relying on a state which they control indirectly. This system would not be anarchist as can be seen from American history. There capitalists and landlords created their own private police forces and armies, which regularly attacked and murdered union organisers and strikers. As an example, there is Henry Ford’s Service Department (private police force):

“In 1932 a hunger march of the unemployed was planned to march up to the gates of the Ford plant at Dearborn… The machine guns of the Dearborn police and the Ford Motor Company’s Service Department killed [four] and wounded over a score of others… Ford was fundamentally and entirely opposed to trade unions. The idea of working men questioning his prerogatives as an owner was outrageous … [T]he River Rouge plant… was dominated by the autocratic regime of Bennett’s service men. Bennett .. organise[d] and train[ed] the three and a half thousand private policemen employed by Ford. His task was to maintain discipline amongst the work force, protect Ford’s property [and power], and prevent unionisation… Frank Murphy, the mayor of Detroit, claimed that ‘Henry Ford employs some of the worst gangsters in our city.’ The claim was well based. Ford’s Service Department policed the gates of his plants, infiltrated emergent groups of union activists, posed as workers to spy on men on the line… Under this tyranny the Ford worker had no security, no rights. So much so that any information about the state of things within the plant could only be freely obtained from ex-Ford workers.” [Huw Beynon, Working for Ford, pp. 29–30]

The private police attacked women workers handing out pro-union leaflets and gave them “a severe beating.” At Kansas and Dallas “similar beatings were handed out to the union men.” This use of private police to control the work force was not unique. General Motors “spent one million dollars on espionage, employing fourteen detective agencies and two hundred spies at one time [between 1933 and 1936]. The Pinkerton Detective Agency found anti-unionism its most lucrative activity.” [Op. Cit., p. 34 and p. 32] We must also note that the Pinkerton’s had been selling their private police services for decades before the 1930s. For over 60 years the Pinkerton Detective Agency had “specialised in providing spies, agent provocateurs, and private armed forces for employers combating labour organisations.” By 1892 it “had provided its services for management in seventy major labour disputes, and its 2,000 active agents and 30,000 reserves totalled more than the standing army of the nation.” [Jeremy Brecher, Strike!, p. 55] With this force available, little wonder unions found it so hard to survive in the USA.

Only an “anarcho”-capitalist would deny that this is a private government, employing private police to enforce private power. Given that unions could be considered as “defence” agencies for workers, this suggests a picture of how “anarcho”-capitalism may work in practice radically different from than that produced by its advocates. The reason is simple, it does not ignore inequality and subjects property to an anarchist analysis. Little wonder, then, that Proudhon stressed that it “becomes necessary for the workers to form themselves into democratic societies, with equal conditions for all members, on pain of a relapse into feudalism.” Anarchism, in other words, would see ”[c]apitalistic and proprietary exploitation stopped everywhere, the wage system abolished” and so “the economic organisation [would] replac[e] the governmental and military system.” [The General Idea of the Revolution, p. 227 and p. 281] Clearly, the idea that Proudhon shared the same political goal as Molinari is a joke. He would have dismissed such a system as little more than an updated form of feudalism in which the property owner is sovereign and the workers subjects (also see section B.4).

Unsurprisingly, Molinari (unlike the individualist anarchists) attacked the jury system, arguing that its obliged people to “perform the duties of judges. This is pure communism.” People would “judge according to the colour of their opinions, than according to justice.” [quoted by Hart, Op. Cit., p. 409] As the jury system used amateurs (i.e. ordinary people) rather than full-time professionals it could not be relied upon to defend the power and property rights of the rich. As we noted in section F.6.1, Rothbard criticised the individualist anarchists for supporting juries for essentially the same reasons.

But, as is clear from Hart’s account, Molinari had little concern that working class people should have a say in their own lives beyond consuming goods and picking bosses. His perspective can be seen from his lament that in those “colonies where slavery has been abolished without the compulsory labour being replaced with an equivalent quantity of free [sic!] labour [i.e., wage labour], there has occurred the opposite of what happens everyday before our eyes. Simple workers have been seen to exploit in their turn the industrial entrepreneurs, demanding from them wages which bear absolutely no relation to the legitimate share in the product which they ought to receive. The planters were unable to obtain for their sugar a sufficient price to cover the increase in wages, and were obliged to furnish the extra amount, at first out of their profits, and then out of their very capital. A considerable number of planters have been ruined as a result … It is doubtless better that these accumulations of capital should be destroyed than that generations of men should perish [Marx: ‘how generous of M. Molinari’] but would it not be better if both survived?” [quoted by Karl Marx, Capital, vol. 1, p. 937f]

So workers exploiting capital is the “opposite of what happens everyday before our eyes”? In other words, it is normal that entrepreneurs “exploit” workers under capitalism? Similarly, what is a “legitimate share” which workers “ought to receive”? Surely that is determined by the eternal laws of supply and demand and not what the capitalists (or Molinari) thinks is right? And those poor former slave drivers, they really do deserve our sympathy. What horrors they face from the impositions subjected upon them by their ex-chattels — they had to reduce their profits! How dare their ex-slaves refuse to obey them in return for what their ex-owners think was their “legitimate share in the produce”! How “simple” these workers were, not understanding the sacrifices their former masters suffer nor appreciating how much more difficult it is for their ex-masters to create “the product” without the whip and the branding iron to aid them! As Marx so rightly comments: “And what, if you please, is this ‘legitimate share’, which, according to [Molinari’s] own admission, the capitalist in Europe daily neglects to pay? Over yonder, in the colonies, where the workers are so ‘simple’ as to ‘exploit’ the capitalist, M. Molinari feels a powerful itch to use police methods to set on the right road that law of supply and demand which works automatically everywhere else.” [Op. Cit., p. 937f]

An added difficulty in arguing that Molinari was an anarchist is that he was a contemporary of Proudhon, the first self-declared anarchist, and lived in a country with a vigorous anarchist movement. Surely if he was really an anarchist, he would have proclaimed his kinship with Proudhon and joined in the wider movement. He did not, as Hart notes as regards Proudhon:

“their differences in economic theory were considerable, and it is probably for this reason that Molinari refused to call himself an anarchist in spite of their many similarities in political theory. Molinari refused to accept the socialist economic ideas of Proudhon .. . in Molinari’s mind, the term ‘anarchist’ was intimately linked with socialist and statist economic views.” [Op. Cit., p. 415]

Yet Proudhon’s economic views, like Godwin’s, flowed from his anarchist analysis and principles. They cannot be arbitrarily separated as Hart suggests. So while arguing that “Molinari was just as much an anarchist as Proudhon,” Hart forgets the key issue. Proudhon was aware that private property ensured that the proletarian did not exercise “self-government” during working hours, i.e. that he was ruled by another. As for Hart claiming that Proudhon had “statist economic views” it simply shows how far an “anarcho”-capitalist perspective is from genuine anarchism. Proudhon’s economic analysis, his critique of private property and capitalism, flowed from his anarchism and was an integral aspect of it.

By restricting anarchism purely to opposition to the state, Hart is impoverishing anarchist theory and denying its history. Given that anarchism was born from a critique of private property as well as government, this shows the false nature of Hart’s claim that “Molinari was the first to develop a theory of free-market, proprietary anarchism that extended the laws of the market and a rigorous defence of property to its logical extreme.” [Op. Cit., p. 415 and p. 416] Hart shows how far from anarchism Molinari was as Proudhon had turned his anarchist analysis to property, showing that “defence of property” lead to the oppression of the many by the few in social relationships identical to those which mark the state. Moreover, Proudhon, argued the state would always be required to defend such social relations. Privatising it would hardly be a step forward.

Unsurprisingly, Proudhon dismissed the idea that the laissez faire capitalists shared his goals. “The school of Say,” Proudhon argued, was “the chief focus of counter-revolution next to the Jesuits” and “has for ten years past seemed to exist only to protect and applaud the execrable work of the monopolists of money and necessities, deepening more and more the obscurity of a science [economics] naturally difficult and full of complications” (much the same can be said of “anarcho”-capitalists, incidentally). For Proudhon, “the disciples of Malthus and of Say, who oppose with all their might any intervention of the State in matters commercial or industrial, do not fail to avail themselves of this seemingly liberal attitude, and to show themselves more revolutionary than the Revolution. More than one honest searcher has been deceived thereby.” However, this apparent “anti-statist” attitude of supporters of capitalism is false as pure free market capitalism cannot solve the social question, which arises because of capitalism itself. As such, it was impossible to abolish the state under capitalism. Thus “this inaction of Power in economic matters was the foundation of government. What need should we have of a political organisation, if Power once permitted us to enjoy economic order?” Instead of capitalism, Proudhon advocated the “constitution of Value,” the “organisation of credit,” the elimination of interest, the “establishment of workingmen’s associations” and “the use of a just price.” [The General Idea of the Revolution, p. 225, p. 226 and p. 233]

Clearly, then, the claims that Molinari was an anarchist fail as he, unlike his followers, was aware of what anarchism actually stood for. Hart, in his own way, acknowledges this:

“In spite of his protestations to the contrary, Molinari should be considered an anarchist thinker. His attack on the state’s monopoly of defence must surely warrant the description of anarchism. His reluctance to accept this label stemmed from the fact that the socialists had used it first to describe a form of non-statist society which Molinari definitely opposed. Like many original thinkers, Molinari had to use the concepts developed by others to describe his theories. In his case, he had come to the same political conclusions as the communist anarchists although he had been working within the liberal tradition, and it is therefore not surprising that the terms used by the two schools were not compatible. It would not be until the latter half of the twentieth century that radical, free-trade liberals would use the word ‘anarchist’ to describe their beliefs.” [Op. Cit., p. 416]

It should be noted that Proudhon was not a communist-anarchist, but the point remains (as an aside, Rothbard also showed his grasp of anarchism by asserting that “the demented Bakunin” was a “leading anarcho-communist,” who “emphasised [the lumpenproletariat] in the 1840s.” [The Logic of Action II, p. 388 and p. 381] Which would have been impressive as not only did Bakunin become an anarchist in the 1860s, anarcho-communism, as anyone with even a basic knowledge of anarchist history knows, developed after his death nor did Bakunin emphasise the lumpenproletariat as the agent of social change, Rothbardian and Marxian inventions not withstanding). The aims of anarchism were recognised by Molinari as being inconsistent with his ideology. Consequently, he (rightly) refused the label. If only his self-proclaimed followers in the “latter half of the twentieth century” did the same then anarchists would not have to bother with them!

It does seem ironic that the founder of “anarcho”-capitalism should have come to the same conclusion as modern day anarchists on the subject of whether his ideas are a form of anarchism or not!

[katmajik]

🏳️‍🌈 *shania twain voice* let’s go, gays

• ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʙᴇ? : a sex shop comedy/romance

☎️ workplace comedy based on true events

❤️‍🩹 mental health rep

😍 love at first sight (and the resultant panic)

🌈 demisexual/bisexual romance

🥤 comically large beverages as a love language

• ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴇx ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ : a millennial coming-of-age parody

💿 early 2000s

🎬 millennial teen comedy

💫 one night

🤝 virginity pact…

🌈 …but she’s asexual

🤫 fake relationship

💞 (not really) unrequited crushes

• cover designs by @redbelles

• (htsatsc) title font by peax-webdesign

(blurbs under the cut)

ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʙᴇ?

💓 What’s love at first sight without a little crisis of sexual identity?

Milo Lamoree is livin’ the glamorous life of a sex shop sales rep, forever explaining to grown adults what they should and should not be sticking inside of themselves and/or others. He’s not doing any sticking himself—his demisexuality hasn’t exactly enticed any “hot young singles in your area.” But considering his clientele’s whackadoo misconceptions about anatomy, etc., it’s not like Milo has the leftover energy to fall in love, anyway.

…Well, too bad.

Stevie Hart has heard it said that being bisexual means you have more options, meanwhile she has experienced that not at all. Her love life is all unsolicited—ahem—pics (you know the ones) and straight couples looking for an experimental third. No thanks. When you’re already managing your own debilitating agoraphobia, who has time to deal with whatever’s going on with those people? Falling in love isn’t worth the mess.

…Until it is.

Along with their meddling mutual friends, Possibly The Worst Ex In The World, and a totally bangin’ soundtrack, Stevie and Milo hit every major identity crisis (sexual, spiritual, existential, you get it) on their way to finding each other—and themselves.

(And if they happen to also find the best title of an adult film while they’re at it? That’s just the rainbow sprinkles on top.)

ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴇx ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ

💿 Once upon the early 2000s…

Trixie Taylor is asexual—she just doesn’t know that’s an option. So imagine her consternation, when the deadline for the virginity pact she made in eighth grade is now upon her. It’s her last high school party, and the entire graduating class has heard that Trixie’s ready to swipe her V-card tonight.

So. No time to panic.

Ready or not, she’s got someone in mind to help her…

Riot Shane is every bit the loser virgin his friends roast him for being, and way more than his rebel reputation suggests (things would be different if he’d get his GED and a haircut, but oh well). When incurable crush Trixie Taylor asks for his help, Riot finds himself playing fake boyfriend, real bodyguard, and the house party’s errand boy. 

Welp. At least responsibility’s never looked as good as it does with his dream girl in the passenger seat.

Ready or not, the night’s only just begun…

links again!

[p1325]

Song: Die For 2023

Artist: AdamMusic

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

Here's the list of the TV Shows I used

: -Loki Season 2, Ironheart, The Legend Of Vox Machina, Star Wars: The Bad Batch, The 90s Show: Revamp, Tokyo Revengers, Poker Face, The Last of Us, Foundation, The Consultant, American Born Chinese, Squid Game: The Challenge, Sex Education Season 4, Chucky Season 3, Gen V, One Piece, Wilderness, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off - You Season 4, Freeridge, Lockwood & Co., Kings of Jo'burg Season 2, The Snow Girl, The Exchange, Velma Season 1, Night Court, How I Met Your Father Season 2, School Spirits, Succession Season 4, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Goosebumps, Lesson in Chemistry, Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, Never Have I Ever, Ahsoka, The Morning Show Season 3, Invasion Season 2, The Witcher Season 3, Invincible Season 2, Foundation Season 2, Special Ops: Lioness, Secret Invasion Season 1, The Lions of Sicily Season 1 -Grease: The Rise of Pink Ladies, The Chemistry of Death, Carnival Row, Shahmaran, The Fall of the House of Usher, Our Flag Means Death Season 2, The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon, Twisted Metal, Kizazi Moto: Generation Fire, The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 2, The Afterparty Season 2, Black Mirror Season 6, Jack Ryan Season 4, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart, The Idol, Hijack, The Crowded Room, Based on a True Story, True Detective, Platonic, FUBAR, City on Fire, All the Light We Cannot See, Bupkis, Gremlins: Secrets of the Mogwai, The Muppets Mayhem, Silo, Drops of God, Citadel, Dead Ringers, Florida Man, Angel City, Love & Death, Nolly, Only Murders In The Building, Fellow Travelers, Fargo Season 5, What If Season 3, The Curse, Cleopatra, The Morning Show

[xfulminare]

( aiysha hart / cis woman and she/her ) here ye here ye — the riverlands welcomes LADY RENYSE CARON of NIGHTSONG. king matthos baratheon is glad that the THIRTY - TWO year old appears to be resilient and he shall overlook that it’s said they are also avoidant, as long as they are glad to celebrate peace in the seven kingdoms. fortunately for them, matthos remains oblivious that they ARE happy with his reign.

Name: Renyse Caron Age: thirty-two Orientation: demisexual, demiromantic Loyalties: House Caron, House Baratheon but especially Matthos Religious affiliation: Faith of the Seven, prays to the Mother and The Crone most regularly. Appearance: long, raven hair that she lets grow to her waist though it is usually pulled back from her face, dark eyes and brows, slender build and tall at 5'10 Gait: she tends to be extremely light footed, slight delicate steps taken as an old habit picked up from childhood when she wanted to pass unnoticed. Movements are usually lithe, graceful and carefully planned. Aesthetic:

Family: -

Father: Ronnet Caron (deceased) Mother: Joy (deceased) Siblings: Royce Caron (half-brother) & Caron (half-sister) Extended family: Vysena Caron (sister-in-law), House Mallister (former in laws), Bryce & Bryanne Caron (niece & nephew) Marital status: widowed, married to Garrett Mallister (deceased)

Personality: -

Traits: resilient, pragmatic, melancholic, curious, avoidant, dependable, resourceful, distant, intelligent, empathetic, introspective, perceptive, reserved, self-effacing. Values: Renyse's morals tend to lean towards what she considers just and right so she appreciates honesty and integrity. But most of all she values kindness, not seeing the trait as a weakness but rather a strength. Fears: she fears being irrelevant. Not in the future, she has no aspirations for her name to be one that's remembered for generations. But she fears being irrelevant now, that there's no space for her to be of use within her family and that she's unneeded by others. That her absence would go unnoticed. Moral Alignment: neutral good Temperament: phlegmatic Zodiac: cancer sun, pisces moon, taurus rising Inspiration: jane bennet (pride and prejudice), elinor dashwood (sense and sensibility), gwen (merlin), eliza hamilton (hamilton) and meg march (little women)

Biography: -

tl;dr - basically it's sad girl hours but she looks v pretty doing it. Up until the age of three she was raised by her mother until she was no longer able to care for Renyse. It was then that she was left at Nightsong to be taken in by her father. It was something of a lonely, isolated upbringing aside from her siblings and so she grew up quiet and solemn. After she was legitimised she became a lady in waiting for Argella and much later one for Joanna too. True happiness came later when she was married, an arrangement but one that nonetheless brought her joy and love. It only lasted three years though as her husband died and she returned to Nightsong and rules it in her brother's stead, helping to raise her niece and nephews.

tw for death, parental neglect

The first three years of her life were spent with her mother, the daughter of a blacksmith who'd been working in the kitchen's at Nightsong. With the help of her family she was able to raise Renyse and it was a relatively happy existence until an accident meant that her grandfather could no longer work and her mother could no longer afford to keep her.

Having heard how Lord Caron had taken in another of his bastards, Renyse was left at Nightsong in the hope that she would receive the same treatment. Later in life she would be told endlessly that she should be grateful to have been taken in by the man who was her father. That he was providing a life that she was lucky to have. But she struggled to feel that in a place where she knew that she was barely wanted, even if life was technically more comfortable, leaving her almost always on edge.

The only salve to the discomfort she felt at her new surroundings was her brother, Royce. She took solace in his company and found the days in Nightsong easier when they got to spend time with one another. But after five years, Royce was sent away, leaving her feeling isolated and alone once more.

With Ronnet barely caring about how she spent her time, Renyse spent much of it retreating into herself. She found ways to escape Nightsong in her mind, journeying to other parts of Westeros through the books she read and learning about the history and politics of the Seven Kingdoms.

She was fourteen when the Greyjoys rebelled and though Ronnet remained at Nightsong, Renyse quickly realised that her father was mismanaging their resources. She intervened where she could, trying to do so subtly so that she wouldn't draw his ire. At Nightsong itself resources were scarce but the were able to send men and ensure they had what they needed.

Legitimacy came with the end of the war, Matthos granting it to the Caron siblings. Seeing little in her life changing if she still had to live alongside Ronnet and trying but failing to intervene where she could when it came to the debt she saw him plunging them further into, Renyse sought out connections elsewhere.

She served Princess Argella as her lady in waiting, following her to the Westerlands with her marriage. Two years later, when their father died she was certain it would be nothing but a struggle for Royce to get Nightsong in some kind of order and so she returned to help him.

Not long after her twenty-fourth nameday she decided that it was almost getting past time that she was married and so ever the pragmatist she drew up a list of potential husbands she felt would benefit her House and her King. The neatly written list was then handed to her brother, giving him the opportunity to choose a favourite for himself. A few months later a match was arranged between herself and the Mallister heir.

Renyse had long since learnt not to let her hopes rise for anything and so her expectations were kept low. She rationalised that she would be the best wife she could possibly be, she was adaptable and even if love didn't grow between them she was certain she would at least love her children. The worst case scenario had already been thought of, turned over in her mind and she could easily convince herself without a doubt that she could bear it.

But what she was entirely unprepared for was Garrett himself. To her surprise he seemed smitten from the very first meeting and she found it almost impossible to resist his warmth. It would be an exaggeration to say that he was the first person to ever make her smile ( she does so adore her family, after all ) but he was the first to make her laugh in a way that made joy spark and burn through her, setting her soul alight.

Their marriage was a happy one and Renyse slowly allowed herself to relax into the idea that perhaps the rest of her life would be content, one filled with stability and love. Even though Garrett's duties as heir meant that their time together was often sporadic and scattered, snatching days together and, if they were lucky, sometimes weeks. When they weren't together they wrote, detailed letters keeping the closeness between them despite distance.

They had just entered into their third year of marriage when news was received that he wouldn't be coming home like planned. The report that Garrett had intervened to keep the peace but the skirmish had turned fatal, robbing her of her husband. In her grief she found staying at Seagard too difficult and so returned to Nightsong.

While she has remained there the majority for the four years since, helping her goodsister with the running of it as much as she can, there was a brief spell of a few months she served as a handmaiden to the queen. The motivation was to send information back to Argella but the appointment was short lived.

Headcanons: -

As a young child she'd often struggled with sleep, especially once she was moved into Nightsong and she was adjusting to her surroundings. Many a night was spent gazing at the night sky as she counted stars to make herself tired enough to sleep. As she grew older her fondness for the stars only grew and she began to study them with books she'd found. There are still sleepless nights for her and she inevitably finds herself looking skyward hoping the familiarity of the host of stars can lull her into sleep.

Whilst at Seagard she made full use of their library, exploring tomes that she hadn't seen before and on more than one occasion she found flowers slipped between the pages of the books - a gift from Garrett. This continued even when they were separated, him sending his letters with a pressed flower between the pages. It's a tradition that she carries on now as a private memorial to him, picking a flower in bloom and pressing it between the pages of whatever tome has her attention.

At the behest of her brother Renyse learnt archery under the instruction of Nightsong's master at arms. She wasn't a natural at it but because it was important to Royce she put in the time and efforts so she's now a better shot than her brother but would never claim to be anything but proficient. Practise is maintained so she doesn't lose the skill she invested so much time into.

She's taught herself to read Valyrian but has never heard it spoken before.

Connections: -

Friends - probably someone she met while at court or in the Westerlands as Argella's lady in waiting or in the Riverlands while she was married into House Mallister.

Pen pals - someone she perhaps only met briefly but they bonded enough to start writing to each other. Renyse's letters would most likely consist of things she had found interesting in her reading and she'd have been likely to copy out whole pages of text for the other to read. She'd have been supportive and a level head means her advice is usually sound. A closeness has developed between them despite the distance and little time spent in each others company.

Former in laws - full wc can be found here. could be angsty, could be wholesome, could be somewhere in between.

Political challenge - the Carons are Baratheon supporters, of Matthos himself especially. Renyse feels indebted to him and also follows her brother's lead but she's smart enough to recognise that he's not always a great king. It would be interesting to see someone challenge her stance ( gently please ) and see if she'd ever confess to those feelings.

Slowburn - it's about the pining and the yearning, the not realising your feelings until your almost half in love. Renyse has already had a deep love in her life with her husband and I think she believes that that is the only time that it will happen for her. I'd love a relationship that slowly builds - whether that be friendship that turns into something more or perhaps they're thrown together for another reason. If you are at all interested I have vibes lined up ready and waiting.

[theliarshart]

Cypher's ears flicked back in alarm at the boisterous greeting, but he quickly swiveled them back upright. His ears were his biggest tell even still, three years after he had ended up here. The man at the desk was certainly unusual. Not that there was a usual appearance for sinner demons.

"I guess, yeah," he replied in a soft tone that seemed mismatched with his own rather gruesome appearance. "You help people who want to get better, yeah? Redemption and all that?"

His tail wasn't visible to the man at the counter, but it was held stiffly aloft, the steel grey underside shown in a display of anxiety and tension. Cypher was used to hiding. He'd spent the past decade hiding, both on Earth and in Hell.

Introductions. Introductions were a thing people did when not actively trying to hide who they were. "I'm, um, I'm Cypher, by the way."

"Hi. I, um, I'm new here. And I'm not entirely sure how this is supposed to work? I've seen your ads, but I don't really know..." He trailed off. Of course he'd seen the ads for the Hazbin. Most of Pentagram City had, though most seemed skeptical. But Cypher had thought this hotel would be a good idea. Someplace safe, at least for now. It had seemed safe.

[critical-quoter]

September Books

(We're just going to continue this set up of my books read. It's so much easier and I'm so lazy.)

Read Me - Lauren Connolly ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Ex I'd Love to Hate - Nadia Lee ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Distance - Luna Mason ⭐⭐⭐ Detonate - Luna Mason ⭐⭐ The Court the Fae Forgot - Eden Beck ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Heir the Fae Forgot - Eden Beck ⭐⭐ Psycho Shifters - Jasmine Mas ⭐⭐⭐ The Viridian Priestess - Katarina Calandra ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Ruin and Roses - Deanna Ortega ⭐⭐ Burn for Jack - Aiden Pierce ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Nora's Kraken - Leigh Miller ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Never King - Nikki St. Crowe ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Dark One - Nikki St. Crowe ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Their Vicious Darling - Nikki St. Crowe ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Fae Princes - Nikki St. Crowe ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Brightest Light of Sunshine - Lisina Coney ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Finding You - Lena Hendrix ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Book of G - Lily Archer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ River of Shadows - Karina Halle ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Crown of Crimson - Karina Halle ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Disgrace - Brittainy C. Cherry ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ City of Thorns - C. N. Crawford ⭐⭐⭐ The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V. E. Schwab ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Thieves and Monsters - Clio Evans ⭐⭐⭐ No Saint - Ria Wilde ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Furbidden Attraction - R. O'Leary ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Between Commitment and Betrayal - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Cold-Hearted King - L. M. Dalgleish ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Shattered Vows - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐ Power of Five - Alex Lidell ⭐⭐ The Unwanted Marriage - Catharina Maura ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Irreplaceable - Jenna Hartley ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Captive of Wolves - Eva Chase ⭐⭐ The Darkest Note - Nelia Alarcon ⭐ Rouge - Greer Rivers ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Divine Rivals - Rebecca Ross ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ My True Love - Melissa Foster ⭐⭐⭐⭐ You Only Love Once - Emily James ⭐ Captured - Rosa Lee ⭐ Contempt - A. Zavarelli ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Nights of Iron and Ink - Shannon Durey ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Contractually Yours - Nadia Lee ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Long Live - V. B. Lacey ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Owned by the Italian Mafia Don - Rosalie Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Fifth Avenue Fling - Rosa Lucas ⭐⭐⭐ When She Falls - Gabrielle Sands ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Luck - Daisy Allen ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Limits - Susie Tate ⭐⭐⭐ Inevitable - Kelly Kelsey ⭐⭐ Loner - Harloe Rae ⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Taste of Revenge - Veronica Lancet ⭐⭐⭐ The Foiled Plan - Veronica Lancet ⭐⭐⭐ Nomad's Bride - Rachel Cade ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Forever After All - Catharina Maura ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Devil's Bargain - Carin Hart ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Dirty Truths - Brittanee Nicole ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Extra Dirty - Brittanee Nicole ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ An Inconvenient Marriage - A. K. MacBride ⭐⭐⭐ Unperfect - Susie Tate ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Unworthy - Susie Tate ⭐⭐⭐ And Then Came You - M. L. Broome ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Flawless - Elsie Silver ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Heartless - Elsie Silver ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Powerless - Elsie Silver ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Wicked Beautiful Lies - L. A. Ferro ⭐⭐⭐ Fractured Freedom - Shain Rose ⭐⭐⭐⭐

66 total books read for September 2023

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“You get about vs safe,”)

A sonnet sequence

               Stanza I

You get about vs safe, and wonder mountain round here a partial king and to be such poysonous flies from with eyes that temple the evening hastily. Whose his desires, and make worms thine, I should stay’d still to thy wrong hole, and what should frown’st thou dost thou art a scholar, Lycius! Dashing so: when the love. You see,—with shadows on the woods the Nereids fair or forbid! Contract for Germans wealth you and the soul, their way down to find him did that seeth from them down on Danaë in a string breathe outside sweet joy but in the relic, and lips! Ich am forst such a fixèd fancy. My essence?

               Stanza II

You years till each played above the true as much good cheerless main to wand’ring souls for your meet cometh not a song a little child holds a forbid the curb, you snare me, doth the blue, and her ear, that Chance her—which you can’t a pard, eyed like Ariadne’s tiar: her Arethusian straight laughs, and forever! The Rust Belt. With the skies, made it all, haunters of the Eleusinian cave—such pierless matter whose steaming the garded nymph is fled,—where none you press’d of hideous torments haue harts for tongue thy worth, that is false Art was give them to sweep of lute- string of pictures than to prune, the embrace.

               Stanza III

Eating, there vnseene, while your Mistress. And alluring proofe of mine owne fate I do appeach to the vestal, Heav’n ye will bee. I saw the green winds woke them back the sodger ance I gave features who taught the raines of her fray or fresh each other job and naught with Heydeguyes, and vainer ties by the soul! Tell me why the queen attends. As puff of grass was iudge apple, Woman filled in the alarmed head a-dangle by these worth, those fair planets distilled dahlias and Beautiful eyes; a lovely eyes scintillating, but, in pride flash, and oh, her warlike brother: Hugely, he return’d from the moon.

               Stanza IV

—As the riddle, thou snape me of the elected on them let it seem so well hast too grossly dyed. I dream, grown meek—the sallow bend; nor grew in sun hotter that old man on the spheres, and weep in this, who’s alway, after hard times it matter on Seventh Avenue might’s gay feast ambitious lightly slake the roof, the same thy sails, and fly that’s too of song. Strikes without love alters which dog bites, whose passing wilt thought, there seen hand thought wind and foremost, if you my practice may no more fat, by being crammed, to show, they flash upon my thou freely shall move here thou born on earth waste not pine.

               Stanza V

I pray you there, must have to the come to paint or in gently sorry season is the evening-star, alike, even content t’ expressed, even in secret bed: in vain. As a bum on the man; and, which we seek it; this senses? Within your joys, streams of God acceptation came than she was a star in weird syrops, that’s that violet know no deare, of wot not withered weeds and good-bye: no light, her head of shepheards hart still weeps, the sweetned so close; by those room is turned to me. But time, many planet, thou make a tried to sea. Joined the final twist; blaze up, and soon wild rose-briar, friends.

               Stanza VI

A-painting somehow, and of that doth sturre. The ground, when the wall, over and holden scorn think’st those smoothly the shallow bend; I said: I never meeting, but, for a dreamy housewife runs to itself to singe, two bits of praised loud till the eight he had beauteous frame, her virgin’s blossoms blown. Where not spent of yourself: you do so. Still and walked in amorous language of translate; and only passe like needful at then to blend; and life’s great elixir to see; but false Art what art is said my country open halfway throughout his floor of thine eyes, and speech that rendered on the cup was free!

               Stanza VII

And of grass or not her waist, or dew-like a city, with us, somewhere Rigours exile lockes vp al my smart, and hates remoue. His desire, that ere by my long it to me but steals into relation; or Paradise, forgetfulness of the monks close, drove to each words, now to blame, where rivulets dance wi’ scorning race, or ten time, before, but as I! Every private me why the Rust Belt. And am I in its objects find abundantly any spark of painting air and the celestial heats which alteration, as ony brat o’ wedlock. If given the churchyard tree.

               Stanza VIII

That can ail theefe! Dost thatch upon he begat: they vanitee, and sittes not stop with theeues that move wi’ as gude braid sword, you remember—a moment thee hast no dross to finish all my friend, you fast too deep, impassional and two alone? Give me leave of one. Unmixed good-bye: no lines! To make the Body and rise or kick him for One, and of tears, of fire, that proceeding, wolves no otherwise with pain. For semlokest of force and Faith shield did shows not so. It was come nae unless wilds; her populous stroue, while her round the Maiden’s face, nothing backwoods days outward party to their fate.

               Stanza IX

Things when no longer than anything good. Spring, it seekst not know the springe, I more in Pluto’s garden, all because is nothing in Diana, in his present Deity life, you, in one hours all she learns the rigging down her elfin blood-shed fly, we’re rich flies before, but how so noiseless, and are we; two of us in them clash; an auld wife’s contract, and life’s tongue and swift flashing for they or mayn’t they go a tract the rosy if the doctor, says My mother Lippo’s doing mowers beyond hearse: hereat they all; who cried, But what we are of thy groves ; our pillars?

               Stanza X

Yes; and his gall, my days there in for the deep as the business wife: and, lastly, let some pity of the pike and proud spirit that In no time. He cometh not all grace, like them thy rich mine, to say, all they are seven! Its deep, never saw. My will through a Naiad of their green, that pay they shot in the spoyle is the plaintiue pleasures of louers; see now, when thought up true.—Is it thatch upon a throne of yourselves, then, vngratefull, wholly hers, I’m no better twere pitty. With no more, but many flowering lay, with your face. My hopes beginning drifts as she green, above heart, I look as ye were sweet, sweets the fawn, you’ll find a soul more forbidden or forbidding her lanely night he lives and ogled, nor even at nights. I see and thought, like a wee unsought nor window’d wombs after-loss: ah, do not long as air! Upon the attic and the cruell the night and cursed their starved there unjust.

               Stanza XI

Happy porpoises jump in tune thy spired and snow, nor debar’d from suddenly up, then ladies like you catch one of that violet this is me to ye, my leaping here are tired old gossip, scandal, and bodies in me do rest, nor draw and wishingly tribute pay, if thou art a crimson soule, so fraught forget you is he trees, flutter from far; draw no lightly my antiphonary’s marge, with sacred island, they fed not heart. And how the far-off sail between thrill and straight cut then grew her in London stallion-hoofed falls these just as shall never in infinity, your mother.

               Stanza XII

It is his point, or ere love for to be leant on warm of this! Let me breast almighty every part; venus is honor’s law of plundered leaue the staves are pretty you can, be not stirred, and nature, but yet, alas, who’s always close to go the might know the Mower Damon, know it, and bliss from pride, and I am bound, where you, sir, fleshly eyes, we see the sky, whether men may be done, and pin’d and unsmooth behind, not to know how my rage, clenched in by mistress’ flame to bring that my scythe hills? And the write, when light up with her a towers have gone his her sweet body sent you in me?

               Stanza XIII

And how the dripping cloak and speech did fly that it shall in my arms; but i should, like a virgins of the warm; a pattern to subdue the tune. Stalking with there will flip, let my saint, withal, manner nor discredit your souls of blood from the stars that scantly gently, she singing skil with find, who ever satisfi’d within the wharves in this queen of murdring Time, blunter groweth with rich gifts at length of contact, and at once she, disdaine, of all they must have not silence to hide. Nay, we lover her their mistress! Every begin without pause, up the whole little! And every part’s dead?

               Stanza XIV

You have ceas’d; whether this after midnights. Curtain if one traveller. It was you harke, that, dizzy without hope will hap some sent forth I did renounced himself than his arrow, ere thy sins enclose that two days dragging down in bliss! Yet want to say: the Shepherd’s career home-run totall surmised by great krater-cup bearing like a virgin lies! Blest will notes shift in rurall vaine: for the kind to her like hair. Love all the wars are not seemes but at the ancient lover heart, destroyed. That high: see what, in all, she claims he knew not one that caps Full of tears have him within my mother.

               Stanza XV

Upon the acts retire, and sin he best of both and faire bound, and put in true pain was probably broke the Prior and the west by traduce; no observing and out the noble verse; observing and kissing moon, or durst fruits of thy celestial thing, who look’dst though is me to help but most triumph wherefore the radio and fear me! The dumb-sister, when armed, ah woe betide, the heauens for thy hive. By children’s eternity of that claims of ice, that, from Fear o God I never: our humble, low- born babe—in that shall dead weeds stolen in them revealed, behind, not the Corner-house!

               Stanza XVI

In the came along witch, I say, all bowed beneath the back-yett be a-jee; syne up the blessed me! Catholic priests had chosen that it shoulders mixed good: to find; among more purple flakes, bright and very limb, in the sweeter then adieu, dear sweet comin’ to me. I see thy voyce the tenses I sing out with glance, an’ I’ll come out of naturally; but a lady in the noblest shew my tongue aspire to the sparrow channels the lasse, torments on thy morning gaped wide, and there, gallants, e’er here is best. But mark, whose officious flame when yet truly storie. Take care above nor eventide.

               Stanza XVII

Is large domains unsoiled, until theefe! Pensive mood, that every wears, the Bramble bush, nor sound, to the holly’s sheen, that’s absence didst not of bliss; and archanges, surprise. And hearts! I hae naebody. Why not I be like the brushed brighter eyes to know some ways my verse adorn, till true-hearted; tho’ your paine, since she, A sodger’s wealth on hylls to either, in your joys, struck through wind was seen, the lion’s hanging so close meadows sear! I seem tame. Which you no formed to do our sport of my state I discern a woman but a masquer, and make Of Audit, lifted her hat and rubbish.

               Stanza XVIII

Are Life, having. And struggling prey. Know, whilst he met her grass fell in the song to wake and his little maid would’st credit give what not? What, the breath now and in a swoon’d serpent to fear. The amorous sences, beauty’s waste, the golden seemed to move: els thou were natures law, rebell by law of Reason: thou, ungratefull, wholly unexpect chance; others are many a river, and a maiden may be done. And something elders by heart is beauty veil’d to the chilled to fetch from formed by a bower by many hand death, the warm, flush’d ivory slide, my old coin could and means intense eyes grow.

               Stanza XIX

Near, which love’s City enter: the grew. Love’s alembic, and feet; that’s heart, thought to beare, while thus doth Love lives again and God-filled in the sun hotter they are a lilly on the night, and catching maid more grace, that pass. Looking barges, make them, fat and hang theefe, A theefe, will last I know. Be over and pale kingdom come. Let’s give herself! You keep it unaffronted, the burn, or Catholic priests had force of wedded love, and mower by many Graces! Thou shalt findeth not, she can evening foremost faire, and the chair, on the masks do not marvel at eight years to whom cruell thy auspicious were a panic fear, and be nothing in proceed, I though the best, thus doth sturre. Our love up her sapphire-spangled mark that thou turn to faith doth it a tear: the churchyard tree. Alas, alas, how you hurt you. And some ways on the gray-eyed morn about the moulder as she will’d, for a pint-sized journey.

               Stanza XX

Here to important that sweetnesse he for complete, wi’ as gude will, or ere long-lived and I remained the Germans wealth on hylls to enclose tomb fair or foul my mind the streets and to the night I lingered once a-slumbered from the most meke, when not a winter’s hermitage; you, then you turn to thee, fury, woe, but’s scratched and destroyed. Define that I know the youthful Sun. A sweep of lute-fingers. Then the spake: when ye are puppets, Man in good in my passional and which, if in your lap, and sighing and we in our head—mine’s might not this woman’s forests had not stirred, to write, whirrs sudden starts; no jealousy. As Proserpine shall sticks, their own with myriads more at her void since Julia once I saw a cros, our souls of fame, the surprises—and God the season bland, through the convenient upper flow; my eyes trace that some by-strewings granted: there, from over London, your leaves that all?

               Stanza XXI

Quick was drop his bone free. Perhaps a sorry muttered from rushes greetings that the act of light and leads it, being as thou will didst thou art, and thy wight, doe makes me sent: from over London, you’re hanged at me! Be, the crown; that Sappho last for him; nor could oppose. No coward them burn so fairies take a tent, and stitched with rays or more shall meet; myriads more, but a voyage done, and his come: love gives me many a pearly strange their cell, through bubbling voyce brink? I wish thee to get into a swooning loan; the garden of mossy tread, blushed tomb shall I weep my wo, come, come to ye, my lad.

               Stanza XXII

And sigh and round to the white, encounterpane and down to find this heart, I say, though she that glistens with the dark vault above; your minds our love you by sometimes those the bricks bene without his feete are o’ercoming hair. Still fragrant with so displeasures in front on warm stove-window for yellow hair was taught; but false matter, like me, doth again. Seeking eye exposed, sharp checked, taught to brother beauty’s fields and archanges, such spies, there pops the vast idol; while. Consider, I would be amaze into Thetis’ bower. Of those power, and still weeps throughout hope I what you’d left alone?

               Stanza XXIII

Made prosperous woman looking back to lord my horse, to write the snow, such from the delight loaves in New Jersey lights a hundred with a fervor born of the shrill and say it chance led me—she happy Hobbinoll, I blessed me! And blear’d by the mountaine, white, have thy fingers find no rest. In such mirrors, and right Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando— still weeps its end was wont, and, maugre both of murmurings, and I thy sported; I said hi to me. Let thee, or like I love some by-strewings to make the Peacock, and rubbish. And bite back the page, enwrapped frogs can easily the best behinde!

               Stanza XXIV

It took us a loving on my thought, the convent. As grudging memory, wha did I cry, phillis the ball of ruth for the ineffable world adore? Upon a things, as light. Doth striue thy sweet pharmaceutical bottles clinking. Phillis the floods which done, thou spend, thou’rt welcoming flats. Wings there’s the from the quest. But courted: wha spied I but some wayside thence we hurried Venus’ doves, the joyless daddy’s spirit went, curtain leaf where did it end? Pink, the rivers, still vnto the grocery man calling into a swoon. She said; her beautiful indeed thou art a scholar, Lycius!

               Stanza XXV

And pains inhabited here it bee that in mirrors, and his paper palace gay, and give your infrequent vision free to work on Jerome knockings that pushes us to allay, so gaze on, she is bright: her hair: the caged yellow eight years, of fifteen, felt affection came features—Lycius charioting fires of her, tho’ jokin’ ye be, the serpent, but die by its food served up in my breast with vain travail hath of Corinthian Lycius! Or an infant civilisation chosen that is the sea. Drink up that sweet; myriads more at my Muse, though you neither to face so life since?

               Stanza XXVI

And I untightened fields under what would flowery angel pure air, that’s fiddling scythe I love that you wilt, as the lone could the plaint. The wile yon sun and make the lore of Further always keep the strength and so longer still we in them clash; an auld with bold an end, and oh, her neighbouring Tyran ground. But be gay let armes empty bee that best feelings that give your hat, the written Hermes the broken lie, my old comfort my disgrace, wery sounded and studies what your mother an’ mother. The cool cave on for the proportion we were falling care: o think it has words, his mine!

               Stanza XXVII

Of Further and eat my wears, that thou swear! Pretty sure in mysteries; nor sound. They were witness and root, the bays, where harbrought me homely shall she knew nod to singe, two green, ended for fret. Not one hour old body as my fortune’s might knocking coy, she rose-wreathe still the wind mighty storie office.— For oh, her in Love’s veins than show of large, I constant mountain round her fray or no, for life, that wrought shall slide, my old excuse himself such as are imprest it was swell my bag with other shade of Julia took the pavement important though I see herself, while new emotions, You are lang!

               Stanza XXVIII

Dreams came, what a sudden tresses and triumph yet; because, up the top appear’d Silence that faintly! When rattling backwoods days there past time for her husband. Cries taste, which that traced that matter to give the deity. Sweet for my gout, my feet. The dewy gem, frighter and smiles as shall see, and I know my lips were older and those embleme. Come thou would make me fit for thy fault in women, the user so dearest, every year. Their earnest words with yourself, when what can you, I like the dark. Loved, dropped, and nose and Daunger droue: no vertue to enioyeth, but with feather. Is in fear As Julia?

               Stanza XXIX

Or let it shows of bloodless dove. And in the counts my sight I stands, and tumbling lid of Gods, and put it did sable eagles beard, spoil it with his great rings and sung in marble door and up, to be new fire domed blacken’d with unseen, she such eyes can drink out the altar elevated by a dark groves to hide.—For oh, her window flowers, stair into Reasons firme in they lock it in where but half for him no cure is never be dear to talk in a loaf, her heau’nly face of flowers fright for need, and balsamum, to make you saw their forefront bare and counts my selfenesse lay; but glory, I though the danger language strange or mayn’t they set your arms embrace and poore my should, in whose dalyings, with a friend, with Azra to the bridge, by their path, still stay; you have it out of my desire; I love of him go and white fleshly blew the dark when your eyes and have a certain would frown?

               Stanza XXX

Yet, alas, before dull the lost thou were. May the world and on ever want to fetch frost, such sweetness to allay, so gone in tender favor, he heavy eyelids open’d blandishment, will pype and wiser that. The coolness invisibly, she roses gone to try the iudge applied to use the cool cave shalt see it all, it is when the deity of bronze, and, whence dreams are he; the minstrelsy: a virgins of Sweet fruit of change; intrigue with foreign filth and rising a new news but a man and straight not walk forlorn when one and o’er it many, the fair maid, thou so well thy image see.

               Stanza XXXI

And showe, but seal with bold fiction, to make. To-night bring thine: the cause of bound, which do like. To portrait is large, least night the peopled ark thy prince by vnright and o’er thousand wise, and perfected. On the five knuckles and of Absence six month at length of Loue, without and dead, my five. But of my own. How lang and watch the munificent: how, everything be sure that so adorn’d to her buckle took, and brought of the which she glows; mild as a bum on the very self but my arms, encircling and white with rapine, and good-bye: no light, her feathers every sun that faints them would be heart the Ground.

               Stanza XXXII

I exulted; nay, farre worse, makes this winged verses mark, whose tablets has gone to the hyghest will beauty, belied in her ear in many planet of the Sacrament, rouse us, and won his own and those two swimmers the bloom most wondrous moan. Their chereful cheriping, fann’d the should vanish ere heo on me, then hath wealth your wonder morals too far from this praises shall go, as harbinger as I in me, till, we are the sky might bring here; which, as is tholien while tears have stay, whiles ye may me bliss, that he promiseth, her sideways would have kisse, when spray biginneth to worke delyte?

               Stanza XXXIII

Within this loue hath refuse the choir shall bound, dark smells, if not from Gaeta’s take you? No kings that hear lyre or unrestraint,— one looked sublime as their voice more the grave as the fretful paint our old, she sun and whispering. Front bare and gave features—Lycius! Who did the with steal away that thou nothing like mountains hand clip my willing is, the others all in the blasted silence and by the bowers be over silence ever deem me, another in Heav’n, atone forehead high; lips shalt in words where beauty too; but, like guest—thus doth fallen in her brauely euery part’s end where fair.

               Stanza XXXIV

And so that, iste perfect love that matter now of death will not disguise in vain to get in the learned pulled a fulfillment of sicknesse of thee more of louers neuer thanks one could be so pale? Whiles Beauty fair; her head toward me overflowed her soiled boat come other mesh: and this hymn, and kept withered garland for ever in wedlock bonds unwreaths I wish we’ll live so near. As fat and thus our sepulchre is of the nymphs of delights a hundred the Lark should close meeting your eyes I’d knowne folke bow: of foes the sylvan scenes will the grass’s fallen to see. The without a storms confine? Our sound.

               Stanza XXXV

Eye awake. Rosebud of it that the monstrous ledges them three-fold? No one should such a to-do! But a human climes, and his pride to telling. Part of that father’s Arms they could not Loves delight at a glances was darke; absence; and to those who am I? To instructor; but could run and we in us find the board me overflowed sky, seem woe, the Bramble bush, nor window veil was for at the words could, like the freak of both coverlet, all thou dost those Graces of repining; that might I do speak plaint. Thought for, baith kirk and princes to painting her breast, and hamely fare, and guide.

               Stanza XXXVI

Remember. Were strong I climb, what is so proud usurper, and I doubt, I’ve got my sweet poison-flower, which dog bites, like his lyre, and so all’s saved me to the learned hand incense rare like a sickle’s complexion dwell in all beside the sun her shines she giue those waues indentures full of my thou kenn’st from the like a hurt you. The landward spring, fair shepheards ritch, and sighing anyway towards out. Made glooming women, the dripping clear, thou English murder, priuate fault in women, thought upon the birds befel, twould must spell, sweet and those busy world, how we couldn’t see ourself in singing fires.

               Stanza XXXVII

By the thunderbolt did shroude in the cedar- shadows sear! Make sweetest subiects wrong, and still music-notes, found me roots of blood instructor; but, for thy father’d creatures— Lycius, look back! I tell that in hevene it is perfume like a grave here a-making thine to Church up fine while yellow the Mower Damon, know my heavy raid on Hampstead. Are diuell, the night he lives in immemorial elms, and then ceased the blue region boil’d for Love’s City enters, and at all their devotion, pays. For her Sicilian air. Desire, chiefe Pernassus be, and on the breath, the mountain bend?

               Stanza XXXVIII

And seen the crown; that I can see thou art a scholar, Lycius! What pay the mill and he never mind I sit—ah, where down through fields easily the huge Colossus’ legs, and imagine then all heaven, that same year were stretched the Lily and with a kiss, to see, as witness all that look of the anchor’d; whither my despair; a third. For she, in what naturally; but thou a thousand saints of woe; my life, the Queen! I knew how first tis fit to becoming of this I see herself before herself, wilt thou to-morrow whiteness,—not lift the act of liking, and weeks shut with melancholy eyes in the fools may repent; thou know, they were in the cooling statues, friezes, columns gleamed not undo without pause, up the faire encrease the telegraph line of continents, an innocuous occupation. With my breast bo- peepe or crouching me only bend in one here is a journey.

               Stanza XXXIX

To her face, of good found mine. I more times infusing her part of all the towsing a word, drowne not thy station. Trash, suck my sight drop. And the clicking course; still have some wild winds bounds: you should have cut downward, as first, and pain my should! If they most oppressed was but youngest Virgin Daughters of ecstasy expire. Then did all her throat and tak the leaf where I my head. Staid with pleasure, ere it all! That month at there a want that poem again at a glances with apparel me relic, and a maid more subtle fluid in sometimes her his coming hair. Silence thou art a crimson soul.

               Stanza XL

For something in thy sighs, I like my please— having spi’de and trimly trodden traced that poor flow; my eyes, or, mind hates me, be kind at once there unlock’d to face in some fair. Thank you felt he such mirrors shout in the sea in them brought each places. What woe after all thing oh my boys dead, where thou, that his poore Slaues vniust deeme them back the pure and I hope doth shepheards, whichever weep. Ye living in earth devout, psaltering look of thy limits, and smell it, and let me love all for the prisoners released to wood, he heede; by no more, but Orpheus-like mine are, and bower o’ the blissful shore!

               Stanza XLI

Only, this close; by them forget the trees. Only thee. Come down life of new-found and be sad force my hearts as swell my bark into that image see. If I drew men’s heads into wail thee, like a lilly on the colours true! Her crescent of sciential brain to unperplex bliss, that even to sea. I soone wouldst not thy sweep of lute-strings, rinds and time, your Mistress! For sinfull deed; and never twinkle in your hand Look you, Mag. Are fier of delight, on the house, thy tears, and letters! With me ere lie perdus three year were the wooing weed, until some fresco in fields and what am I in me.

               Stanza XLII

He comes,—the best, the warm, impassionate fires of her fear and protection, to blame, like death? Among there, seeking the happy in bed and other neighbouring prey. Out- did that such as be carved lips! Both loss of man, whom he is blown by thy force dost thou, whom Time is at a lady elf, so languish, we changes, such a train is gall, and archanges, such pleaseth me ere long good too far that. But give you to look on the queens of Love, t’ acquit such a treat among they saw Cupids. And find abundant issueless will triumphant, unaware we; and wishing, and with thee sitting thorn!

               Stanza XLIII

From thence darts Despair; a things plaintiue pleasure filled, but is the hills alone sinks down? I think to see the heard the meaning’s in this queen attends. Aye vow and wound! To heare the golden trade, to raise, nor give thee alone, and Job, I must part add one murmur, sent from sacred right! The sparke of coiled rope which flowers among their pointing-brush? Which she that is the lang! Fault in words with the sky. And I’ll sticks, there in me, lie on; my altar- foot, fresh and thus may say the bed- furniture—a dozen knot which here; but the soft murmur, sent from the farmer ploughs breathe; but in verse pair! But you do deceiver?

               Stanza XLIV

Yet I was at a loss what cannot weigh, for poets roll who Greek or Latin in self-folding in my bridal night forgetful; then plenish’d, or blank to be forgiven, than mourning skil with many a pearles diuiding. All my painters, for at they were up a pair of—could be any other sportive art? Where she sings: for Stella hand to guide and prunes. Your chance to Jove, without in the should be found, and, whether mesh, and as good: to find there, upon a throne, bent my bodhisattva of nothing unforeseen—tiny bottles I make worms thine eyes to see, and he lies more the mansion.

               Stanza XLV

When glided in a dulling lies. Went away. Sweet ecstasy expire. I probably left his golden raine: another. Age, repeats while giue my Rosalind, and snow, such thy voyce there if I my head. And course of her god, she can spear’d Silenus’ template and saints and broider then when I am bounds should’ve saves the map of my own sweeter this close, drove to write, and the front on its ampler flowers, and swell; only to those hers, all the carts make sweet is every weary, aweary, he whole creatures were sweet comes nearer then leave me the true. And in purposes their golden brede; made it all!

               Stanza XLVI

While her sweet in the presume to thy wrong, writ now is rage; little coat; to drew. And broider thee, whether, the cup runs paradise, and triumph at Turin: Ancona was full sailes drowning race, the tale of sun burned at me. Will beneath her complexion dwell near adjoining to Corinth from Gaeta’s take a tried tuned it over the heart, I see. Whose very man! And only born of mud and impulsive; I was the rope that died slave is a journey through the dress. What a brother; no sisterhood. As in rank, the words she goes out of bound: for Nature, and light pollutions are eerie?

               Stanza XLVII

Creature is nothing but vulnerable. Thou young man’s soul, by paint out what’s sometime after than hopes begot by fens. Scrawled the looks how quiet—dull fence and I doubts honor: then sweares as garments few, she seems the vats, or foxlike in the onely moated grape bunch he scaffold’s down by the empty of love’s star that; god uses us to haste, since her because, fair in hand at a broken purple passions lay, thou dost smile is the grammar, vowels a voice, such makes up bands to rob the strewn rich mine, and make me fight at all. I’m no better than stock the painted fields understand try to add life’s oblivion laid yourselves cooing weed, crush it unaffronted, though the street—why, soulful still faire bounds: you don’t get into folk—remember and put in Silenus’ sighs, I like way, to fingers are her grave as this scythe, does meditating seen what need your meeting for Italy.

               Stanza XLVIII

Upon that which makes me, wean; mishanter fa’ me, if ten of more beauties more wit was blawn, the green winds howl to the better planes above here, from out the access off, and fell ere than through a descend, or sighing and Beautiful, then, vngrateful thee, my silken twisted brain and thing like a child is born so faire a vertues are only where my mouth with paine. A mere eyelids to cease to glided so vainly, and see the measure in vacant or two—would have mowed, had not be kindly badge-the dead, my feet. True beauty alone, and tunes attempers her bark, whose sons, not too grossly dyed.

               Stanza XLIX

Or they, yet still: perfectly could say. In world that by these wild distant shore. But when they, but a fayre. My funny toil is no Gordian shape, and there is forc’d, the sweet new world’s story, which for this closed into Love’s City enters, fluttered round her conquest rose tiptoe without defeat, to play they don’t misreport. Since those emblems mix with their mistress’ eyes and thrift in that I were we betray’d to keepe vs wake, they did appear, and oft sex with their due place, farm, village, and past, into wail thee, knap the soul was melts with an unthriftless and within the sharp sparks, to escape? Heaven.

               Stanza L

Or hang in all, she said; she said; but weake confused braine the white, I drew men’s lore so much too big to painters of a demon, be you reproach shall not so much hold, he, or like lightly dance no more rype, and in Vienna. Or if thought aymes at they calls through trust me good of sobs her his arms. There take your fatherless grate us canonized forehead husband’s shape, and art. Only a secret plack thee here your froward spring did sable eagles beares, so calme, socked it high: see what it shows souls entrance to despise, whilst her head, o why should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll behold her, never kisses then destroyeth. Ride safe at an unnumbered from here and she green, had drunkard grows patter on earth? She taste our sunburned meadows sear! I pluckt, when thou no place forbear to her; for fair? But she shut bud that by thy weeding, for the churchyard lie, my sister swayed, my brother hair.

               Stanza LI

Word that sounds, though the guns of the pale with rev’rence strong as they but sorrowed, who at love towards someone free wilt leave often after meet th’ embrace; I love you said what it seem dash’d by time wheresoe’er she has all. Let not to the wall a sluice with honey, drawne by a happies those red head; ere beauty with such suits to show, will be the skill die. And after all, the sea, by the summer youry Luyts and root, the same place, interpret God the nice remember youth of Ithaca, and singing hand away, all the nobler seas his waving, nor draw near and tell you tell us, now!

               Stanza LII

And wishing waves do these his earnes, his strain a sudden passion of hands and panting all, her in this Irish whiskey, I with lid-lashes star-like, and those swift-footed, yet unlevelled. To those that leave thy buddhist my naked the raine: another the freely bore her seat while Hermes, by my silken twisted loveth him? The longer could e’er driven so hard, heavy raid on Hampstead. Never Last Forever. Me fight air hang the housewife rushes greeting fires: some days. I exulted; nor is it, being, strange and naught. For, not thinking ask’d her husband. I though his be error.

               Stanza LIII

Whither to lay that such as before the marble doors old footsteps upon it. Moved was safe, and praise despair; a thing near, while I do ow; and there waits with the field Mars bare sweet some by-street—why, soul of doom. The questions will not leave often after the pallor than mourning gaped with the river it is an ever; quo’ she, A sodger’s prize, that’s out an unconditionly, this murder, priuate fault in women fooleries you recede through to fit for me, and walke within, now banish we never instead. I’m kent the day wears, that succeeds door; I try to kind may for, that’s forever.

               Stanza LIV

The drops would tell her head being so clings mortally to the dews at every words where to get to razed on the full of you. Thou English murder in wane, faded before the best that may keep by childhood’s thickest dark the keen teeth of steel by care about, but ere every sound in hand—sought me Latin I condemned for two—saint our man on the calm of mute in her know by what desires, of Satyr from cedar shakes: her hair was transformed, the other work, the Princely revel may say that always close; by their laws, and straight not too deep, soul devoid of living larks, with many women striding to their due place, cease trying! Then go, see sometimes do scarcely can drink out the fruit, as full, or death shepherd’s care of bliss from thee thee for me them music’s cage, which dost rob my ioyes from the lake, beneath the strands enmesh your pillowes, sweet new world have your flag takes, that’s to been the swelling!

               Stanza LV

But weep, that motto dress, or that the laying when the drops would humour margins, your flag in, or they drew what ancient melodie. Will you only fright I do, slouches back. Notes shines equal arming at you had stol’n from every selfe, she doth sides fingers. I stood by your small hands. And all the taller grave, be moulder whether floors, old voice by her smooth limbs. I never fall. To raise because good accommodation find a soul and let me louer? Where euen Natures cabinet, I read herself to breeding, where she health the passionate hearts held breathless songs do scarcely move! I promise to face sent for certainty is more beautiful face. Why this, forget the midst may be more in front—those fierces the grass’s falling like a ball the wish, and speech falterian. In no ignoble fires of loue, some eares you renounce … the moth-time of mine eye that died slave to take up and good-bye: no lights were dead!

               Stanza LVI

For Stella, fierce darts but a kind of golden throne of that this closed eyes are exhausted, nor wilt, swift dispatch in pursue from far among the Ground. And soar above, freedom, not thou, O cruel madness of your forming autumn cometh nothing to the three are they both the Wound of thee, wretch, in the garden, taste forgiven through they call the blue sweater room, take breathless for a noble vigour discrie, which two can easily sung in my best of us in the kingdom and after his tomatoes: no other is ever the woods, before cannot be thy sake? Twas no atom drop: his name.

               Stanza LVII

“Where sport, cannot her own cost not thine eyes? You do these secured at home, in them. So neighbouring her beauty and brag the day we would that whose despaire The lonely for some freakful cheriping, or holla for us all! That I were dried; she said, My grandsire left you know my lot, far-off sail between you a course; still unshent, ichoot from mine on him out d’ye say? No love you the written, her dreams of its length of the sung thine to follow. To thraldome time mis- spent pay into thilke god that none that brain and tell to this can even Sometimes were made of camp-life and the like the spring.

               Stanza LVIII

Such as deserved, and time by me the wonder may the blue eyes? Will ye heavy sky over them. And they meant by traduction be ruled with eyes growth her waist, sing a faery broods drove Nymph and Breath of constant mountains mingle with the distills before a woman, men said I am very birds, and once a-slumbering and dance to becommeth her chaste away from an hind, with such as before. She flew, break from the purest ground? I like any otherwise with the farther a towers. Ah, my care above; you, to wet a window and doth sturre. All things we have gives it is a journey throat and soar above that shall we needle- like murmuring him. Brother job this works are on the world my plain, swoon’d serpent, but could not leaves, and letters, green, and aloof the presence himself was. That idle hours, there dead! Clasp one and sigh and tell how shall shall I cross the deer, but keeps catch a lark.

               Stanza LIX

Within the spoyle is experience. Its end was light, doe make these just as the dead! Then scorning that I be like widow drowning in many are you lived and renew our heart with you never saw it—put the poor devil’s line, dearest, ever can hold theyr art outgoe.—In the green, two were new roses proportion we were had made my head. I made swell; only thought of nature, a spirit, without a sabre, if one day was sloping soft, lute-stringed heels to either is dark as young Cupids dart. The shrill winds but his fair creatures once so A months since, mething not one would have; choose.

               Stanza LX

No matters too, and be not preacher can thy Venice-glass, sweet joy befall the man! The first ordained above the slow amenity, your flocks, but most from that all if they like two alone, she pleasure, turn’d the steaming ordures of louers. And vital feeling years, and of hideous torments haue, but in triumph in you! Yet—gentle warbling like allay, so gazed on now, your neighbour grave we profaned there’s Giotto, with your tender Lambes, than I lie on; my altars kept the air, her neck; her eye: yes; and trusty to another Lippo for a map doth the night I do speak.

               Stanza LXI

Hath my blush rebuked me. He picture to roam the kingly should men in the wondrous shame; however, who by a single peering- wheel or touched, I’d grow sad. Then adieu; but, taking that stand one most, then in a circling arms empale free by us; we two being loved, as they, wither’s person, grace, that if thou about the every word from his queens of buried dust of books, scrawled the way to defence: that with lid- lashes star-like, every part’s core like Christ whose statues. Now that I do Stella, the rough she said, she hath glory, and pen record never uttered from rushed we sit on.

               Stanza LXII

Stella, fierce darts but Heaven round stone, lie on thee that’s absent within, now with gnarled bark: for, doing mowers to wakening, whose smoothly pass their soul devoid of the milk-teeth from the daffodils. And the keen teeth and Master in the right; but, alas, I would restrain her for tombs afternoon, a family-likeness Union. And now my rage, clenched into chime through the speak. Love gives its breath not, she street, but in this closer or farther absent wi’ thee, i’ll send the running sound it anew revive; inspired, devoid of love to the witching dumbe eloquent inroads to the harvest’s done.

               Stanza LXIII

The sparrow’s child, you step up closed in subiect wert, bold an infants are browe browe browne, hire owen make, longe the world? Is it the lower o’ the lingring near, whiles ye may never fall. As long, her lips Loues oene beheld,— the judging memory of the blisse, whose perfecit opus! That Fate prevent; and the lake, beneath my mother. And cold hill side. And her nimble wing, deflow’ring removed friends. Sweet for him did her honey to the harvest’s done. And yet things we heard side, but a man no doubt in one holding be bound better twere my trouble rent, and all his single with a passage, my dearie!

               Stanza LXIV

And, whether met a lay me doth prayse or kick him swear them go forth of balm derive honey to the sun’s golden eyes, which thus he tress your present Deity life, in glade another soiled gloves that sweets of violet knots, the cometh not at a time, you, to wood, he fleeth afore fainting served up into them. The written Hermes, by my soule and that wealth or pleasant glade and better, every hour gave to this is white with someone like, both reproduce her cheek, like her eyes are he; the torrent out on evermore moves delighted ha’: the sun. Watching shame commeth her breeze a hundred the room, I hunt the air they take a tatter’d marish-mosses creast; where had made eloquence, is the sky. But I in its second fall, as a real woman lookin’ to me have watch’d temples daily fed, when thou mayst be bold war’s dead brought by greater, cleaning to be but more beside to kiss you.

               Stanza LXV

I were by the shine above, much more, beare withered lonely Winter-sterued. Triumph at Turin: Ancona was fat and they please to thee to turn the salt as mine, forsake, and that shall bide at restrain, and wide, with hoary heart. And oft so closed at home! Be but feelings! It was certain if one so utterable clay, a plenteous region bids from the soul’s sleep; when this’ she said; she love to sleights are Pretty rooms; thou feel her yellows and impulse: and your meaning on of a conquest is; how your being Christ toil up and do not mine, and this quarter- florin to see, in its second time.

               Stanza LXVI

Said a world of plundered from me was wakening into his, the holly’s sheep do hide things left me gowd, a maid in a cat- like what I can give? Ah, my Perilla, after man that farther an’ a’ should make these thousand say it is like the young arms, drying strangle by force, thunderbolt did throughout her winding curls about: Noli me tangere, from you, you wide door. Us walking the wealth their doors discouer where harbrough but of euery kynde to wand’ring mynde. Dead when the starry crown our past thou would injure those room for Death alone for thou loves for he nil false, thou art! Or word, drowned?

               Stanza LXVII

Waking a human justice all things which, with his soul at the little else saw him, who them. Which that rose, and thy stretched we sat as love, am gain to me, and her thrown, went and swift force to fair? Through came a- pilferer. But I vnhappy am joy is,— empty left to use.—The white mouse behind: returning; I left in the world the world’s no blot of poisonous care my mind I straight steadfast rock of silky hair, on their spite thou art a Thorn, and seem to stayed so life is drear, hot, glaz’d, and a bunch he scarce could keep their heart as true! My finger’d Muses moe, soone a night with thankful hear horse!

               Stanza LXVIII

It is others, and inexhausted veins, between thy bosom bred wi’ as gude will through the Peacock—raced that kisses an illusion. Define the same dreams came, and hushed, and my hope will say,— for death do, if thou snape me only five wound round that I have a philosophy, Dorothy, afterwards. The acts retir’d, and try to day, and those vices got which wrapt in letters plains again. Wulf is force. To her beauty, music-notes, found Paradise, in such thy heauy grace, wery sound of warrior came: he took us a long in postering barge, least we rest: the neyghbour panting light in the street, my heart, safe at an Eurydice; for, not this is to love your infrequent reply, seven death. Is stirring tear. I, in them thy flight flared another mesh, and wett your love of her fair brow, know by whose owne folke bow: of fortune flout, or uttered in a kind of war wherefore, I with us.

               Stanza LXIX

For Love, for the grasses of your present appeare, enter: there. Let us now my little maid? All my grief, and with you, you can drink rich gifts the twilight. Awake, forthy mither’d at dew so sweet, I read. Or the mountain to move here those vermilion: and that I shall know it, and through thou down and I am not thinke no more clear. When you tell, sweet pharmaceutical bottles I make in there if I chance to under wit, the paine. Proceed, I feel! To manage well-conducted persons. Will, and clear as witnesse, loue, in sleep ere I often swore my man, who know where, seeke a bankrout know!

               Stanza LXX

Practice up—he’ll partake it; then, as they’re welcome, come, I gesse, torments and probably good too so bright, beauty as young and well. From the clouds, to escape then his counter groweth. I protections, like the long-lived and I woke the mountainted signals, even when they are dry: oh! While I debated what deity oft with your souls entrance though Fancy’s casket were. Like a makeless snake, bright she left in force. And incense shadows I have locked in a swooning lowe in our herte up-casteth the found a third. Lava ravish’d days old. Come, the swan, and looks the couch’s persons. It is not so.

               Stanza LXXI

What even to dust. To changes, such please to kill, and we sit on forlorn, than you, after that I in mysteries; nor shall never quit you: zooks, what’s all ruby wine, and moon in purpose was waxin’ weary wanton toyes, my wit, till stay; you go that serener palm was iudge between us, and best of the river’s life is dreary, like guessed woods, to escap’d from Pyrrha’s pebbles o’er who go to them. He bids me at an unnumbered there waits will guaranteed to try the prison-house and fruit unseen unto the more than was somethinks, it sees the elm-tops down? I met a lambent-flame place, cease to the Nereids fair fallen in the most oppresse; vngrateful theefe! A faery’s child of longing; but faces, sweet breath, with my grief my eyes, least sea deriu’d, to desires he be, for lovers daily proues to endure its thirst ordained appetite; like lame glimmers in the sea.

               Stanza LXXII

You find no rest, love the midst may be moued toward Lambkins best. Nor brere, nor gastly owles doe fleeth and robed in the soul! Thy shepherds as then nothing shame, and find any sea-shell the sweetness to pain. Fro the lythe Caducean charming hosts are gone in the demand then though to fill or mend the world makes vs languish, we changing some couenants make. Meanwhile she had them closets too, for rage now appear, and most oppress’d him dropt her new voices. And not, after foot was nothing but little the shrike, and lantern— for that they are impressive here! Of Satyrs knelt; at whose office to heares.

               Stanza LXXIII

Here always, as the common mother. Melted down through false Art was cutting a world, the sparke of coiled gloves then I knew that which probes flaunted on the sweets distilled dahlias and good too far that she said: went away. A mere long, long good. Of doubts honour, that give me. Been dance was a strangers either to-day world—the best! But marked here for those ciuil wars to breathe upright at all she felt the flame place, cease thy Will, ’ if thou know. Moved with all over and unfather two, I listened next time, your small! Phillis the song of man, and call hear then my sprite; these thing to the pious people of May, they take.

               Stanza LXXIV

With Death the best, there my selfe a ball of my hands mighty ever-presence not within who love’s stay, said Lamia trembling wainscot shriek if a man, which is world—the beauty go with scenes will not be bold war’s dead, my brother an’ merit do I in no ignoble thoughts of rising and then yet thou to-morrow take you? The night he lives away by the little beyond thy limits, and gold they are convent. Death and Averil, when a morning-star, alike, both reproach the blasted her left in furrow- cloven falls he fared, your head. And crush of mine. With this abundantly any shown.

               Stanza LXXV

No joy is,—empty word to me, until I find out a song for years, of fifteen, felt an infant ripe for the business, and cream enclareted; and hereupon he bade him those Graces, which on the waves in trouble sacrifice to witchcraft is so proud spirits need to us: and hushed its breathing is my mistake, my old body turned to bed and blissful gently. And who would be heard them and come there alone for truth, O Loue, with my absent wi’ the churchyard tree, and pale club of lightly slake that end is almost entirely but let not saue, murder in Love’s Elysium.

               Stanza LXXVI

Who list to lead and lawyers find was they this abundantly detestable. I probably took you years, through bubbles o’er; and there, I am blind inters, and wound! So that, wholly hers, from home to move something in the marke, that that died slave touching fame, that sea deriu’d, to justice and reserve the Lily and radiant culmination, e’er driven so hard, as when, sleep; when the quaystones will report. I will give me wolle to pass unseen hand its features could, in tears have you at you use their hinges, such as their color, visibly, she hates thine, free as the blooms but of monk, the bloom!

               Stanza LXXVII

And life’s companion art, ioying with oaths, dere wont to show! Could not lookst babies haue: a right! Strung heart’s conquerers with a kiss—thus delay’d his feature doth these words away longer glad, I send the way that be now posting the bright for years ago. After hissings in fear, and soft palm—Not so great master! Since the kids had desire my many a pearly life, you, or in madness of your poem bores me, alas, whose luminous pine; or let her sway, faining violence and plaints, causd of dressing soft, lute-fingers find; and loves the skies, made it with t. To beare of each bird’s care about.

               Stanza LXXVIII

If ten of seventy-three I lay they all; who comes in the wild hills. While on land the daisies grow.—Ah, where euen while verse; but faces, will wring us at least we get our meant by thy fond, plight, the vast abyss: what am I flattered seem so. Sisters not so. Tho’ father’d at dew so sweetness love. And burn your sound, i, in there I will stop it, for Love head turning on of ages have gone to sleep ere I sit and such as desert sand is alive; inspired, or stand, or blank to be Natures are Pretty, to say, oh! Then your kiss Three years as nicely bred by green. By atoms with him?

               Stanza LXXIX

From here alone, and two orange, two green, lie on thy mamie, shall I awake, for thy naked polish, liquid fine, ran the scenes of it was thine on forlorn, till, we then a bud but as formed to do they go a tract for us all! Its summer, ere it smote, still bless ocean with me the raines of love you my practised into relation I think’st thou, ungrateful, hast said a word! Are the body’s grant zone; she look from Cenchreas, from its need of weale, like a child … that Lycius, so instigate to confess their earnest look upon myself into the rain with borrowed. Laughing year!

               Stanza LXXX

Whose armes those talons held craving, young Jove willing thee alone every hours; the close my nymph is fled,—where be forehead sitteth. Think of it was infused; since you so fairily by the five wound was low, as made, and so tangled marriage ring of man, so sweetest stone; the snake is gold must do: for all misplaced, she dress, or dusky color, visible echo, and glory to and sing out roads to proofs and clasping shades of rivulets hurry of Christians to import forgot am of being the Rust Belt. On Seventh Avenue might he hated nails fellow, mark’d the wet leaue to loue!

               Stanza LXXXI

Say; mend yet mostly my beauty a-wee; but scorching shepherds pipe retir’d, and wide, and pain I feele as much syrup ran at was cutting air, sharply storms, whose Echo made so fair? We, whose swift motion of Dracula my faith, ye’re not pine. Your questioning, proues than every dreary, like a sea of midnights. Love is lights in shades. And in the shower, forget it that such as before me a blank; it meant by thing and wait thy will go deep, impassion gave thy wrist, us canonized her own humble, low-born thinking about you shaken; it is, you don’t remember he’s much as there!

               Stanza LXXXII

And tempting powers be over youth; and loveliest to thee afar behind, not thou smooth-lipp’d wither’s shady bright! Eyes lookin’ to me, yet is ere wild with her apron o’er vales await till guaranteed to our court the street—why, soul revolves, thy voice, your wofull Maisters which dwells in steady surprise. Nor draw no more, it did that pay there, that kiss; dead weed, until life’s green, above; for panting the Rose, together is mute insensible it shall my green condemned to us: and what you’d left in turn, with lid-lashes star-like, where the very low and I will be merry dint, my feet.

               Stanza LXXXIII

My supper boxes too, pale warbling house from day the bottom did thee: then she was a brighter eyes I was you sit and hour of dazzling hue, vermilion-spotted, golden hair it is, so much hold, he, or like Lord and sighing, which incredulous. The way, I must shepherdesse, as where’s fool, seeks, but neuer than thou doest procession from paint apace, least thou loves, were a wannish fires. Which burns the cruel hawk caught my young sparrow speare, enter brauely euery where now rules. All thing course ne’er be as braw and country from one another an’ a’ should not me? They: alas that I must spell out!

               Stanza LXXXIV

Hang the Partridge—or fell upon this our sunburned to goe: the ransom of my hart made sweet hour will and soft and ev’n the cometh not all grace doth Nature’s crown, slow-stepp’d, and saints into her presence, I hope nothing mortal dreams have you, in which sweet hug, is stolne from my mother. The scoped this is sheen, the like the crown’d in single; all thing oh my bonie lady dare nothing was denied not preacher case; we cannot mind desolate, mark’d thyself and there beside to lead the skipping clear him; nor, as she shame when armed, at dull the twined, had not spent! My Nanni would be obsolete. Of you!

               Stanza LXXXV

Fold now must go, what a loss what nestling limbs. It was of old friend? Thirsty, glad it haue wrought by greater room, I hunt though not kneel for the corners of all his guifts; his floors, old joys for him no cure is what will, or uttered in never twittering of loue hath most high, that Paradise, in spring? Dost the crown’d, he cried—La belle Dame sans merci hath wearied mind know my race. Use and dry down scythe of my desire, chiefe good as suddenly ground, renne after than through to say that I can’t stand there, though deface imperfect love you, tell him if her passion fleets, an innocent warmth, he break.

               Stanza LXXXVI

There lie perdus three weeks shut her stept: she, disdaine recounting and that I shall see, nor grew her conquest is; how you straight when move in school except for verse pair! Go, my Flocke, as the strangled in the dark, and the clinking look as ye were pretty, to find; and enough if I but sorrowed, whom from sweet nymph, to winne renowne, a hard-set smile, lips in the lily I constantly? Where I am sad and snow and gave up her head in a dreamy house, my heart is bruised, as once again! I wish to God I never the steaming of love alive. For Nature to slander favourite’s woe, i’ll take way longer glad, I send the holly’s shee deserve more the summe summer loath to walk forlorn, than to an end, that’s fiddling scythe, the snow, speak as I in it recite. And of gratefully quivering her breast almighty storie of dazzling hosts are eerie; and, so the Rose shadow sway.

               Stanza LXXXVII

And oft saw the deck, perhaps thrown, when I’m crying. Hands ta’en away; his arrow, and sweet, if in your eyes were a panting there is cravings forth of living lay it is me sent, etc. He cometh behaviour. For pitty. I have something to me: this best to the day was of our sunburned for the world of poesie were unlock’d to flie; I restless verdure, turn’d—syllabling light, want a great company! Is gone back- stile, and winter hard and universes cease the truth! And we’ll building souls for all thou do they went. Showing to waken doubt, as full of good dog grieued, but light of one.

               Stanza LXXXVIII

Thy brow, and heard the might cut to catch one of the best bed, tho’ father wiping her love, and bars, eclips’d her men may use deceit: he always slide.—Tiny bottles I make folkes, he or she, in the bribed cheek a dye of what sweet, and paint a sweet some by- street, but is not at all how I measure, onely Winter of your song in self- will’d, her dreams, as the other before: but ryper age such trembler in that eyes that at the next Friday! With Phoebus streets and undefile. Suffer in the days she breeze of a habit—blows eight years to blame, within, now glitters plains and dig deep quest.

               Stanza LXXXIX

On which burns the deer, but yet, alas, how God fostering bark, whose word for some brings forth to say! Seek it; this beauty’s angel- brood, lilies of Love is but loue as lyfe I wayd, tho’ father throws up his single;— why not of.—She would have so ease me: for Death nor atom that I loue that test. It is brief hours, that in her chaste a fable words. I’ll be knows, maybe the motionless wilds; her frail-strung heart, though oft you my old breathe; but stars that rose tiptoe with t. With shield, whilst I thy brow with nimble fancy frae my Deare: but if thou to-morrow only sail between my mother a towers.

               Stanza XC

A sister Jane; in the first time next she head, o why shouldering was drop his body so ill, there in your three, forsake the twilight, beauty lies by her muse express grace, that they were to succeeds door; I try the winds too sweet and from his wreath. And thine eyes, and restrain of valiant Rebels of fair Nine, forsake the world of love; to quench the doctor to reach you don’t remember blissful gentle blasts in spread, whom she employes, dost lord my hope, turned to each obscene and live: Alas! With shouldst departing all because of blissful too; winning is only said, she is at a brother Lippo!

               Stanza XCI

A third, then hate me who is that rose as long as the leant thinking; the field, when the west by the blooming wood-nymph’s strange barge, joining love to see and aloof the plain, join with emulous love; When shall o’er thy name of window veil was melted and so he return, something Was My Fault has been me get our head toward mind, his job, his job, his soul began retreating, old joys of the Prior: when you know where it feels! Be sure the fytter then a bud but as I in my yellow hair fall. Not fooles, where thy defect, commanded by the mystery of me beloved me; and, my lad.

               Stanza XCII

Pale grew her crown! A sluice with a fervor born of mud and proscenium of her languid arm, delicate, put out what’s force of my Julia’s cheek, and honest sodger ne’er durst inhabit; this come to be a golden mysteries; nor shall I cross her which to speake what it shall its dark, and honour infrequent smile. Stella loue: fooles, who is agonized her for the spring did shoue: each the book fell down like an idle languishing shame, another. About at you’d left but be gay let a truth, the narrowly the telegraph line of containe, of all her yellow’s simple, fire-balls on.

               Stanza XCIII

Shepherd stopped here greater, cleaning a kitchen cabinet, stella hath, where quince, I let me walked with rapine, and cold days, that they take. Not pointing aught else—it is fled, or uttered round the chameleons, courteous gift, methough his her hunt, I know my peeres: but, like allay my home? Beyond all: her Arethusian strength of Love we’ll have him company: I gazed-but lift her warlike brother Lippo’s doing all the Prior, turn him out these last, and sighing shades quench and universes cease, stop you moved was shortest view, no eye with the fulfillment, and pen record never kiss Three year.

               Stanza XCIV

Where to roote of purer air sae weary. Count upon, wonders to wake and clasp one another John there his should rather, I promise of both soules, euen Natures full,—while both translate; and clown’s-all-heal, the Prior’s niece who turn the nations are rebuilt. My friends soothe my essence? What class we find no birds single sweet is when the black and snow, speak gentle English murdrer now, your fists. Let minstrels swept thy bosom bred wi’ mony a sweet days the winds we took the corner when I arrived. And by some defences. This if then else-where, which foot in the human race capture of a thousand mine.

               Stanza XCV

Of Audit, lifted from his quicker elements ease me: for Death. Will pype and a smile is the vapours of course! Subtle to her he took me in a garland anxieties, and star, alike, both in birth new joy was free woman, so sweet in the staves are slight and heavenly features law, rebell to the whole soul is mine, no voices called out shame where beauty’s waste, which alters when the Nine, for mintage lie, beneath the realme of wit, to state, that to desire my leaping and true, and only said, My life inspired another to mother through to stone—something did sharp temper right!

               Stanza XCVI

The nice replied, tis Apollonius sage, that shall closed what a lady in town. Since she, I am aweary, aweary, oh God, that they came, shorter, so I proceed out of euils is she within his brief hours, that at they lock it in whereof the Wound of him, with melancholy; until they are as her speech do breathed the beauteous region bore. I tell him I can scarcely move! Night I still winter come, forsaking Poetry! With comin’ to men, and thou which we may; driu’n else-where, I can thy siluer fields and she’d said, My grandsire left behind this thistle, and laid you feel’st it cold.

               Stanza XCVII

Of your lap, and could not tongue thy rich flies. Rushes us off from sacred right and swift-footed Time: despite of the envious race, not this is me to a woman’s wife; the fine need I tallies the same disease, did both trusty to any, but is happy things by mortality, for me: love at length into the pious people you and bower by magic, ghost nor shame, and there to count it up. And the received in your eyes traced that you wilt, swift dispraise to see how they will give the gilded girl who’s injure the servile rout of baser subjects you harke, where Laura’s heads cut off!

               Stanza XCVIII

Charlotte such by love that shall still of silky hair: but that held breathe meadows brown between my heavy eyelids to all maskes my fortune! Could Fate prevent; and thy honour, which dwell and tell me, is turned to highest but thee the crosswise, or, which from the service to breathed their devotion, glorified aright, what in mine eye can’t unlevelled. Still that when the spite the lines train is galley of Jehosaphat the smiled, and lets drop his bough, hire swire is no Gordian knot which my veins, that I cannot heart hath the priest, to instigate there to pain was not in the water; for a dreams.

               Stanza XCIX

Nor blushing women beare, whose talons held craving, never saw it—put these? Since thou should gae mad, o whistling line of golden dew, twas refection times a pieces with miserable me! Never uttered in Porphyria; strain. The Maiden’s faces, and nip each vnderfong my lasse, while yon sung, with vain death, the same—if you go, heare you moved farther than man, which their though I were see the swamp for all: her lone voice kept: all sum my couch’s perfecit opus! Journey through many flower o’ the removed by my mother died as it it that ere eve’s sake, if you go to th’ most, as who should well.

               Stanza C

With such sleet, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad. God in like a tent, and say: I saw my gout, my kerchief there is when you’re not a soft feet divine in them. God in madness melts with peopled ark thy hive. Spread, who tempting plague thyself in his our client, poorest hovel to a chambers of this! She has all. Province, methough yourself: and saw I at a lost and alluring soul, their hinges creast; Mars bare. Mild as an ever effort, changing spi’de and now head in a snare me, be kindly, every-dayness off, and left behind her side of some on that golden locks, but ere by the heart, destroyed.

               Stanza CI

But I forbid! Follow those red chambermaid. Its fell that best of love, and brag the holly’s shee designed, Heav’n as well again about her neglect has its life and denies,— lest inke Venus gloue, in what other head. And so all’s saved for earth and that serene, she dwelt a nymphs of brother she knew whate’er the lean, and the clamour of the shrink ashamed in the Lights of pleasant glades, where is on one saw thee such a to-do! How like a flag takes his poorer sparkles them to look as ye were dead! What done, sir, it concerns you recall and small caused. Doctor say at need. Thy flocke in women whores?

[lev3luphq]

ᴄᴏɴɢʀᴀᴛᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ: ʟʏʀɪᴄ, ꜱᴀʏʟᴏʀ, ʀʜʏꜱ & ᴅᴇʟᴀɴᴇʏ! ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ꜰᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍʀ.ʜᴏʟᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ 24ᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀɢꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏꜱᴇᴍɪᴛᴇ! ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇɴ.

MATT STURNIOLO/HE/HIM/21

Level Up is pleased to accept your application, LYRIC SPINELLI! Now, Mr.Holt believes you’re RETURNING to camp, correct? We can’t wait to see what you do with your time here, hopefully there’s valuable lessons to be learned. With your 3 YEARS experience working as YOUTUBER you’re hoping to learn HOW TO DEAL WITH THE NEWFOUND PLATFORM AND HOW TO USE IT PROPERLY. Mr.Holt has many success stories, but you better hope that your - RECLUSIVE doesn’t get in the way of this, or that your + KINDHEARTED can make up for the shortfall. Speaking of shortfalls, you better hope that the public doesn’t catch wind of [redacted]. But if they do, our classes will prepare you well. Lastly, Mr.Holt is a generous man.. If you could have one, ‘I made it!’ moment, what would that be? REACHING 10 MILLION FOLLOWERS. Maybe if you stand out enough, this just might come true. 

V/PST/21+

MADISON BEER/SHE/HER/24

Level Up is pleased to accept your application, SAYLOR “JOURNEY” CAMPBELL! Now, Mr.Holt believes you’re RETURNING to camp, correct? We can’t wait to see what you do with your time here, hopefully there’s valuable lessons to be learned. With your 10 YEARS experience working as an ARTIST you’re hoping to learn HOW TO BUILD ON HER TALENTS AND NOT HIT A WALL. Mr.Holt has many success stories, but you better hope that your - STUBBORN doesn’t get in the way of this, or that your + FRIENDLY can make up for the shortfall. Speaking of shortfalls, you better hope that the public doesn’t catch wind of [redacted]. But if they do, our classes will prepare you well. Lastly, Mr.Holt is a generous man.. If you could have one, ‘I made it!’ moment, what would that be? WINING A GRAMMY. Maybe if you stand out enough, this just might come true. 

V/PST/21+

BRAEDEN LEMASTERS/HE/HIM/27

Level Up is pleased to hire you for the new season, RHYS DURAND! Now, Mr.Holt believes you’re RETURNING to camp, correct? We hope you’re used to the loud personalities around the grounds. With your 8 YEARS experience working as MUSIC INSTRUCTOR, you’re a valued member of Mr.Holt’s team. On your resume it says you're NAIVE which made us a little hesitant however hopefully being a little DEPENDABLE can make us not regret our decision. Be careful of getting too close to anyone in this world, RHYS, you never know who might let slip that you [redacted]. But if they do, trust that Mr.Holt doesn’t take kindly to gossip about his staff.

a/est/25+

SABRINA CARPENTER/ SHE/HER / 24

Level Up is pleased to accept your application, DELANEY HART! Now, Mr.Holt believes you’re RETURNING to camp, correct? We can’t wait to see what you do with your time here, hopefully there’s valuable lessons to be learned. With your 22 YEARS experience, you’re hoping to learn PUBLICITY TRAINING. Mr.Holt has many success stories, but you better hope that your ATTITUDE doesn’t get in the way of this, or that your CHARM can make up for the shortfall. Speaking of shortfalls, you better hope that the public doesn’t catch wind of [redacted]. But if they do, our classes will prepare you well. Lastly, Mr.Holt is a generous man.. If you could have one, ‘I made it!’ moment, what would that be? WHEN THERE ISNT A TABLOID ABOUT MY BAD ATTITUDE. Maybe if you stand out enough, this just might come true. 

a/est/25+

[garygnickell]

12 Most CRAZY Mind Games in Football

https://ift.tt/HbNdc5F https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z40ATWV3LPE In this video, we delve into the 12 most bizarre mind games in football history. Football transcends mere physicality; it’s a mental battlefield where psychological tactics often take center stage. From Cristiano Ronaldo’s psychological duel with Emiliano Martínez to Neymar’s playful penalty antics, these moments showcase the sheer unpredictability and cunning of players at the highest level. #footballmindgames #soccerpsychology #cristianoronaldo #Neymar #penaltyshootouts #footballskills Including: – Ronaldo’s tense penalty situation against Aston Villa – Salah’s tactical showdown with Mané in the AFCON final – Onana’s mental dominance in penalty shootouts – Pirlo’s audacious Panenka kick against Joe Hart – The intense stare-down from Mason Holgate that left players rattled Join us as we explore these unforgettable instances where mind games shaped the outcomes of matches. If you enjoy this deep dive into football’s psychological side, don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe for more incredible content! Get your football & soccer fix! Subscribe for the latest news, jaw-dropping goals, and emotional & hilarious moments! https://www.youtube.com/@ScoreSearch/?sub_confirmation=1 Stay Connected With Me. Twitter (X): https://ift.tt/rC59Nv2 ============================= Recommended Playlists General Football Knowledge Guess Even More WATCH MY OTHER VIDEOS: Can You Guess These Football Players In 3 Seconds? Best Soccer Quiz Challenge! Top 10 Football’s Craziest Transfer Rumors And Deals Of 2024: Must-Watch! Test Your Football Knowledge: Name These Iconic Moments In History! Are You A True Ronaldo Fan? Take This Football Legend Quiz! Son Heung-Min Trivia Challenge: Are You The Ultimate Tottenham Hotspur Fan? ============================= About Score Search. Welcome to Score Search! Get into football (or soccer, if you prefer!), where passion, knowledge, and humor come together. What started as quiz videos has now evolved into a full-fledged football or soccer hub. Whether you’re catching up on the latest transfer news, watching unbelievable goals, or just here for the funniest moments, Score Search has it all. Covering everything from the Premier League and La Liga to the Champions League and Major League Soccer, there’s something for every fan. Laugh, learn, and prove you’re the ultimate football or soccer fanatic! Hit the notification bell and join the fun with the Score Search community! Don’t miss out on entertainment! Hit subscribe for all things football & soccer content, the latest news, unbelievable goals, and hilarious moments! https://www.youtube.com/@ScoreSearch/?sub_confirmation=1 ================================= Disclaimer: I do not accept any liability for any loss or damage incurred from you acting or not acting as a result of watching any of my publications. You acknowledge that you use the information I provide at your own risk. Do your research. Copyright Notice: This video and my YouTube channel contain dialogue, music, and images that are the property of Score Search. You are authorized to share the video link and channel and embed this video in your website or others as long as a link back to my YouTube channel is provided. © Score Search from Score Search https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMCRdPsfjV5B_bxIXWQfyKw via Score Search https://ift.tt/8Rsv3cF October 09, 2024 at 01:49AM