#I like the rough edges of their singing and yes they are not great but personally I love it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubywines · 1 year

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Might i ask yandere eli(lunar phase), naib (man in red) and joseph (azrael) seperately for nun reader who kills devils as a living?

Hcs please! Also hope ur day is going well! ^^

Well of course, darling, it would be a great pleasure for me :)

Personally love the concept of yandere!Naib/Eli/Joseph, so yeah, I’d write hc’s with joy. Also thank you very much for your request, it’s very interesting: I adore the dynamic of a holy x obsessively in love demon, and everything, so I’m really pleased with it! My day is quite nice, by the way, but I hope that yours is much better! Wish you like these hc’s, hehe

Includes: nun!reader x yandere!Eli (Lunar phase), nun!reader x yandere!Naib (Man in Red), nun!reader x yandere!Joseph (Azrael) — separated

Warnings: headcanons, yandere, obsession, partly religious themes and interactions, references to murder, blood and violence.

[ "The blood moon brings destruction" was his revelation on the night before the moon dissipates ]

— Eli met you in the marble hall, full of aspirations and revelations. His heart had a mystical light before you, but when your presence enveloped his whole being the world lost its meaning.

— Your calm expression was felt on the edges of his hearing almost physically. It was like a flash of light that lit up the entire universe. He will never forget that moment.

— You hardly spoke, but your voice was like the singing of angels. Ah yes, the moon went through all its phases at the moment when you gently asked Edgar how he was feeling, or when you spoke with Fiona's cards. There was no one kinder than you, although you never smiled, never laughed and remained amazingly calm even during matches.

— Oh, there was no limit to Eli's happiness when you were assigned to the same team! Every time! He didn't notice any obsession behind him, of course, but, in fact, there was a problem. Now he didn’t care about the rest of his teammates at all.

— At first he was a little surprised. Although Eli commanded the connection of stars and the light that reflected from the giant solar ball, and his flesh woven from this radiance felt almost nothing... Before you, he made sure that all members of his team remained under the supervision of an owl. Now he didn't feel the need to it, and the main focus of attention was always on you.

— However, it is worth noting that he tried. Sometimes forgot, but mostly sent an owl to everyone. Mostly rescued others from the chair. Mostly helped when being asked. Mostly… Argh, well, you see, it’s very hard to pretend that he was worried about the fate of his teammates, except yours, so soon he just stopped.

— And maybe it wouldn’t be noticed by himself at all, but the main problem among other "after-Y/N" problems was the fact that you were openly against him.

— During the matches, no Hunter avoided your rifle, especially if that Hunter was someone in a demon form. You greatly hated them. Hated them to death. At the same time, Eli was partly a demon.

— It was lovely to dream about you: so elegant and so distant. Your sacred presence was burning nearby, when he himself was like an ice; there would be no moonlight without the scorching sun after all, so to look from afar and take care of you forever – why not? Eli could certainly do it.

— But you couldn't. You were brought up harshly, radically, your hands were striped with a ruler, fingers were rough, and every movement was honed to the smallest detail - you were never a fragile girl in trouble, because from the position to which life threw you, weakness and inability to cope on your own were available to anyone else except you. Not being able to get rid of the distracting burning sensation in the back of the head, almost boring into the hole? How pathetic.

— Eli didn't approach, just watched; there was nothing wrong with that for him, because everything came from pure care. It's hard to love, but if there is you for him, then it's okay. And he will do everything to make you happy. Even if he has to stay up all night, holding on to a thin cornice by the window and looking into a thin strip between the curtains - he doesn't need sleep anyway, he can be patient. Even if he has to learn you like an open book, learn your schedule, your tastes and interests - there is a lot of space in his head, not that he has time to find something more interesting. Even if he has to hide in the closet while you're lying down after surgery in the medical wing, where they just don't let him in, Eli will do it to make sure that you're okay, no matter how many days he’d stand there. Just let him enjoy from afar, that's the only thing left. Be kind.

— And look: the one who hurt you is now writhing among his own guts. It's incredibly easy to achieve, don’t worry, no one even realized what happened. Hardly they will suspect the unctuous young man in white robes as a murderer, haha!

— As long as you're fine, he's fine, too. Really, he’s even smiling, look! Smile too, smile for him just once!

— He deserves it!

— But when the ouroboros of your health is unexpectedly interrupted, Eli's blind pupils break, and he, lightened by syzygy, tears the enemy with his claws; snow-white feathers frame the disfigured corpse, but no one cares. Eli is a saint. You're a saint. And only you know how the gilded cloth darkens under the dirty blood…

[ Your fear, "his" blood, and one final bout ]

— You weren't afraid of anything. In a monastery with stained-glass vaults and old crumbling whitewash, you found shelter in a stormy night that took the lives of mom, dad and older brother. Later you were told that what attacked them on the way was a demon.

— To believe in this fairy tale at first seemed utter nonsense. Really, demons? Why then did the angels not descend and pierce them with golden arrows of pure justice, ha? However, very soon your doubts were shattered.

— First of all, of course, they faced the destructive power of the belt, punishing disobedience and the so-called "freedom of thought", and then - the ugly face of a real demon in two inches from your face.

— It turned out that the local nuns were not fragile god’s servants at all. They stood day and night on guard of human peace, tracking down infernal creatures and quartering them, and you, hardened by frequent punishments and awareness of the involvement of the devil's spawn in the incident, did not take long to become one of the best demon hunters.

— So yes, you weren't afraid of anything. However, only with "his" exception.

— "He" was the Man in Red, or so they called "him" in the mansion. Unsociable, closed and straight to the bone piercing with one look… you knew for sure that "he" was a demon, and not just any, but the most malicious of all. The one you should exterminate before everyone else. And, probably, "he" saw this confidence hidden under a layer of crushing horror in your eyes.

— No one knew where "he" came from and why, no one wanted to be in the team with "him", no one, in principle, was eager to be with "him" within a radius of ten kilometers, and the Man in Red "himself" showed no interest in others.

— This attitude towards "him" was quite familiar. People are greedy for their lives, it’s the nature: they grab at the thinnest straws, hanging over the abyss, even if they know that they will not be able to survive, because for them there is nothing more valuable than life. If rebirth is real, then they will never know anyway. "He" knows. In a previous life, "his" name was…

— "Damn it, faster!" you shouted, stunning the Hunter with an ultra-precise shot and quickly freeing "him" from the chair. "It's just the two of us left, so try to survive. I won't come next time!"

— Oh...

— You reeked of fear, your hands trembled treacherously, and you ran away from "him" rather than from the recovered Hunter, but, in fact, it didn't matter. You came to the rescue, even if only for your own salvation, just as irrationally selfish as any other human, and yet, yet you came to the rescue. Perhaps it will be nicer if you just kill "him" yourself? It won’t work, of course, but let this dream continue to warm up your instincts.

— Since that match, the Man in Red has been interested in you. If "his" attention fell on someone, everything in itself became disastrous, and you were just asking for trouble; the barrel of a highly polished rifle always felt like it rested on the back of "his" head. It's only a matter of time before a shotgun is roughly shoved into "his" mouth and the taste of gunpowder is smeared on his tongue…

— However, again, neither one nor the other wouldn’t work, since the Man in Red, fear itself in the flesh, couldn’t be killed. And, unfortunately, "he" suddenly wanted to see the imprint of this truth on your face to the point of itching longing.

— Now others didn't approach you. The survivors were afraid to contact once again with the person who somehow constantly found herself with a Man in Red nearby, and this fact did not please you, as well as them. There was nothing you could do, left in the gnawing loneliness.

— At night you felt "his" presence at your door. In the morning - behind your back when you were walking towards the bathroom. During the day - in the shade of the far corners of the library, in the evening - among the plants in Emma's greenhouse, where you could breathe deeply. It used to be possible, but now constant fear held down the lungs and let in only as much air as "he" wanted. Unbearable.

— Prayers didn't help. As you later found out, the lead and the claws of the Hunters too, because there were not even scratches left on the body of the Man in Red that could be healed.

— The sisters in the monastery used to say that if something cannot be achieved by killing, then it remains only to accept, but how could you accept the constant presence of a demon, gradually turning you into his puppet through the fetters of fear?

— You put thirty-four bullets into "him", six knives, with one piercing through "his" throat and the other through the temporal wall, also tried poisons, strangulation and all this with holy water, of course. "He" didn't care. Only the fact that you sometimes came pretty close to "him" for killing made it possible to tolerate the damage to "his" shell.

— Besides, the horror of a new defeat was very becoming to you, and the Man in Red... Naib-in-the-past liked it damn much. It had been a long time since he had felt emotions.

— So yes, he showed no interest in others. However, only with your exception.

[ He fell from the heavens and brought with him the first falling leaf of the season ]

— Since the tragedy, someone has been visiting your dreams. Color, attire, any details of appearance mercilessly slipped from memory, leaving no chance of identification, but you knew that this wasn’t the enemy. His angelic voice has never left your mind.

— In sorrow and in joy, in sickness and in health, the voice delicately whispered words of consolation or instruction to you, pointing, as it seemed, the right way. And you, brought up in the walls of the worship of divine creatures, trusted him implicitly.

— So, of course, when he ordered you to go to the Oletus Mansion, you didn't throw around questions. Because it was him after all.

— Everything that the Lord decides to send down to us, we are able to overcome, right? And all the trials, no matter how unimaginably difficult they may be, will serve us as a great lesson. You didn't know if this was really the case, but your first match was amazing; really, no one expected that a nun would suddenly take out a rifle and start shooting right and left? You're the best, the one and only.

— "Good girl," his voice whispered that night. "I'm proud of you"

— And suddenly that's all you needed.

— Over the years, no, just a couple of decades spent in terrible conditions of cruelty and isolation, you managed to become, without exaggeration, very dependent on the kind words of a mysterious "friend". They were the only support that saved you from despair, so, of course, hearing praise was all you wanted. Is it possible that someone's brain can lose the craving for life without the simplest set of sounds, called a "voice"? There is a chance to check.

— But you didn't consider your, uh... "little addiction" to be anything bad. The "voice" was there and supported you, and also sounded so angelically beautiful; if he is an angel, which there can be no doubt, then it’s your duty to adore him.

— Well, so the sisters and the holy mother (although there is nothing holy about her) kept saying, but doesn’t matter.

— You loved the "voice" in your head. He was mesmerizing. Gently whispering words of approval, its owner was very eloquent and could convince you of what he wanted; it was always important for a person who grew up in isolation from the kindness to be gently treated, and the "voice" seemed to know it very well. You two have never argued, never quarreled, and couldn’t break the connection. But even being so smart as you are, it was to hard to realize that these conversations were boiling down to one thing: your absolutely and unstoppable addiction.

— "I know you're good, good girl, and we're good together; only I can support you. And I know you feel it. Everything will be fine..."

— These words were not hard to come by, slipped through the convolutions of your brain and ate into the bones; every time he said it, you got a sip of great joy. "Of course," you thought, "because I'm a good girl."

— And then you touched the bare skin of William's forearm while helping him during the match, and he instantly collapsed on the ground, not breathing. Eyes opened. He died at your accidental touch.

— Your face has never lost its steadfast, calm expression since the days of the monastery. A steel lady with an apostolic on her head, instilling fear into the souls of demons and serving as a stone wall for ordinary people.

— But now, in this damned second your beautiful face was distorted with such tearing horror that the world has turned upside down, knocking out your organs with a tension wave, and then returning them to their place, leaving them there soft-boiled. Nightmare. It's just another nightmare, a bad dream, you just have to wake up. Need to... wake up, wake up, open your eyes, please open your eyes! No. You couldn't have killed an innocent man. You couldn't have killed William Ellis! No, no. This can't be happening. It's impossible. Not fair. It’s scary. So so scary. Scary, scary, scary, scary, scary scary scary scaryscaryscaryscary

— ...Wait, please.

— Why does the Photographer smile so strangely from afar? Why does this cruel fucking Photographer, a disgusting demon..?

— "Good girl", a voice sounded softly and quietly in your head, while the Hunter in the distance opened his mouth absolutely in time with the words. "I'm proud of you"

— ...

— What?

— What is it? Wait. Why?

— Dumbfounded, you numb stared at the rich blue skin, shimmering with starry matter, waves of thick silver hair, curls of horns. Long nails tapping on the sword guard. Eyes that were absolutely black, but shining with unshakable warmth to you.

— Why? Why, why, merciful God? It just can’t be real. It can't be him!

— You had no idea that in that incident on an autumn night your life was to be cut off forever. Remember? Legs ached from the cold, viscous earth due to the downpour, hair stuck to your face, tangling with eyelashes and closing the sight. Tree. It should have fallen, breaking the fragile child's body, but for some reason you took a couple of extra steps…

— Azrael, who came down to take your soul, could not understand how it happened. His lists have never changed. Your name was in it. Right here. However, you were standing there, alive and alone; it was... somehow amazing, he thought. Interesting. Why not?

— So he followed you. He wanted to find out what kind of human being managed to escape his hands, but, unfortunately, the longer Azrael watched, the more he wanted something. Whisper a few words in your ear - are you being offended, feel sad, need praise? He can probably do it if you smile at your reflection in the mirror, because it’s just a small gesture of good when he is the fallen angel. You see? It made a very well sense, didn’t mean much. But gradually Azrael began to notice a desire to stay in your head forever. After all, you thought of him so kindly, and no one ever loved him before.

— Love... That's right. Borrow this feeling, please, and fill him to the limit. He can run his tongue along your neck, because you are such a wonderful person - you secretes love physically, make people happier. What is this power called? He’d like to know.

— He’d like to know everything.

— Oh. Unbelievably. A couple of decades, and a fallen angel feels something for a mortal. It's just ridiculous.

— He hugged your brain so tenderly, and everything that distracted him from you infuriated incredibly, to such an extent that he wanted to make an exception and kill the innocent. Why not? Really, why? Azrael has been asking this question all the time since he met you; so much has changed. He lived a little less than Adam and Eve, so long and so alone… Maybe he should think about himself a little bit?

— Yes, that’s right. Love. Burning and big. When he was looking down at his stomach, he practically saw love rising, spinning, writhing like a bump shining through perfect skin. When he ran his fingernail over it, the knot, gradually tied somewhere below the guts, tightened tighter and tighter, and he just couldn't help himself. Would he have fallen again for what he whispered to you in the confessional? How lovingly praised you for mere trifles, tying to himself with unbreakable affection? And for things he did in your dreams, taking away every bit of memories from last night at dawn so as not to spoil everything? How human-like. How satisfying.

— And then, then he decided to direct you to a place where it won't be difficult to reach.

— And then, then he put a grain of his death-providing power into your hands, because no, no, NO, when he think about himself, Azrael knows that you don't need to touch other people.

— And then, then… You’ll join him in heaven.

— "Go here, be the good girl. I know you can do that"

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raddocwrites · 6 months

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SNW drabbles

Did I miss the wedding bells?

The laughter died suddenly and ortegas stiffened as she turned around. Chapel was deathly still beside her. La’an eyed the stranger dubiously (but that’s how she eyed most everybody).

Una immediately noticed the intense chill in the room and her eyes flicked worriedly to ortegas and chapel. She squared her shoulders, plastered a polite smile on her face and moved to place herself between the old Klingon and her crew.

The ancient Klingon with an ample belly and shock white hair seemed oblivious to the tension. He beamed at uhura and in Klingon, asked her where she had learned to speak Klingon like kahless himself.

“Are you injured?” una asked cutting him off. Her voice was completely courteous but with an undeniable edge.

The intruder ignored una (a feat in and of itself) and waited patiently for uhuras response. After a moments hesitation, she replied in flawless Klingon that she simply liked languages, so she learned them. He laughed. He placed a hand over his round stomach and positively bellowed in amusement.

He grinned at ortegas and nodded approvingly. “It is as you said. As smart as she is beautiful.” He winked and continued to laugh.

Ortegas mouth moved and for once she couldn’t find the words. The tips of her ears turned bright red.

Una raised her eyebrows and looked to la’an who shrugged. Chapels voice was rough as she asked. “What do you want?” She had sidled closer to ortegas without thinking.

The Klingon sobered. “I mean no harm. I came only to gift this to your little warrior.” He held out a nondescript, standard, replicated thermos for liquids. He toggled his hand impatiently up and down and nodded encouragingly towards ortegas.

Ortegas was still too stunned to move so una quickly retrieved it from their ‘guest’. “What is it?” she asked politely.

The klingon grinned and huffed a great chuckle. He winked again at ortegas as he boomed. “It is traditional Klingon recipe. It makes the blood sing and the heart dance. So that little warrior may ngagh with all her beautiful be’enal all night long.

Uhuras eyes nearly popped out of her skull and she half chocked in surprise.

“What? What did he say?” la’an asked. Uhura just shook her head.

“Well, thank you,” una started as she tilted her head in a dismissal. But the Klingon just looked between the container una held and ortegas, clearly waiting for her to give it to the pilot.

He smiled again when ortegas finally accepted the thermos. He eyed una up and down. “So tall. So formidable.” His eyes practically twinkled at a joke una couldn’t quite grasp. “I think little warrior will need it for you, yes? You are almost intimidating enough to be Klingon!” he said eagerly. His smile was enthusiastic and he patted his belly again. “I say again. Your wives are fierce. You are very lucky.”

Unas eyes widened comically, chapels mouth dropped open, and la’an blinked several times. “What?” she asked sharply.

“I-its nothing,” ortegas stuttered.

“Agh!” the Klingon chided. “Do not be modest. It is no small feat to satisfy one, let alone fou,r fine vixens.”

Una decided to step in and put a stop to this before things got (even more) out of hand. “Well, thank you…”she tried again.

The Klingons eyebrows shot up. “I am a fool,” he berated himself. “I am T’lan of house Miral.” He made a small bow with his head towards ortegas. “If you or any of your be’nal ever require assistance, house miral will be there!”

“Yes, well,” una said for the third time as she slowly walked the Klingon back towards the door. “Thank you so much for your…gift. It was very…thoughtful.”

The Klingon just winked one last time and left sickbay with a jovial laugh.

Una turned to ortegas with a raised eyebrow.

Ortegas was still a lovely shade of red. “I-um…he was on the prison asteroid-“

“Obviously,” chapel cut in.

“And…um…he may have thought that…uh…we were all together….”

“As in?” una asked.

Uhura chuckled. “Wives. He called us the Lts wives.”

Chapel snorted. Una looked towards the container she had handed to ortegas. “And that?” she asked, clearly not sure if she actually wanted the answer.

Uhura grinned even wider. “Im guessing its some sort of ancient Klingon recipe to make the drinker…um…more virile…to uh…”

Una held up a hand stopping the ensign. “We get it.”

La’an just looked from ortegas to where the Klingon had been, back to ortegas, then to all the other people around her. The look on her face was almost thoughtful. “Well that was interesting,” she said as she leaned back, resting against the monitors.

“It WAS interesting. Little warrior,” chapel said turning to her friend with an intensity in her eyes that ortegas knew meant she was going to be hounded about this (unrelentingly) for months.

Unas face was concerned. “Are you okay? Should I-“

Ortegas held up a hand. “Its okay,” she reassured number one. “Its just…you know. Hes Klingon. But he actually seems…”

“Friendly?” chapel tried. Her eyebrow quirked up like the idea of a friendly Klingon was somehow impossible. But ortegas nodded when chapel looked at her.

“Yeah,” ortegas agreed in surprise.

Uhura shrugged. “He seemed nice to me. Klingon or not.”

“Of course, you liked him,” chapel pointed out. “He called you beautiful.” Her voice was playful and she winked at the ensign.

Uhura shook her head. “He said, that’s what erica call…said.” Somehow admitting that ortegas had called her beautiful was too much. She felt her cheeks flush.

Everyone turned to look at orgtegas. “HE said you were beautiful and I said that you were a STARFEET OFFICER and he-“ She threw up her hands. “Why are we even talking about this?” she exclaimed.

Una crossed her arms, hiding her own mischievous smile. “What I want to know is why he thought you were the alpha? Why are we YOUR wives?”

Ortegas mouth moved like a fish for a moment.

“Yeah!” Chapel jumped in again. She lightly nudged her friends shoulder. “And what did he say about me?” She leaned closer, her voice slightly more conspiratorial now. “Or the Lt?” she looked with a raised eyebrow to la’an who pretended to ignore their conversation through half lidded eyes. But chapel knew better, the security chief was absorbing every, single, word.

Her eyes flicked back to her friend who held out her hands in a mollifying gesture. Or was she trying to ward off a pack of rabid animals?

Chapel grinned, loving this and not wanting to let it go quite yet. “Its obvious, his thoughts on the commander,” she offered as if to help ortegas.

Una straightened and she uncrossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

Chapel and ortegas and uhura all shared a look. They had seen the way the Klingon had clocked her height and the pilots (lack of height). But they were all thinking about una towering over a different person, a certain security officer known to be quite stubborn…Perhaps using said person for support as they traveled down a poorly lit tunnel, casting shadows that made the difference in size even more adorable.

“Your height,” la’an stated, surprising them all.

“What?” una blinked.

“You are significantly taller than Lt ortegas,” la’an explained.

“So,” una asked still feeling out of the loop.

La’ans face flashed through several different unreadable emotions and she shifted slightly.

Chapel jumped in quickly. “Sex. He was referring to sex,” she said casually. “You know. Since the height difference would make it…” she made a vague gesture with her hands.

Unas eyes widened comically and the others tried not to laugh.

“Why are we still talking about this?” ortegas groaned.

Uhura picked up the container with the mystery Klingon brew and held it up. “So, the real question is what are we going to do with this?”

#star trek strange new worlds #una chin riley #number one #la'an noonien singh #christine chapel #erica ortegas #nyota uhura #drabbles #moretegas #mistaken for married

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hella1975 · 1 year

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Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii bestie, i dunno if you like The Crane Wives, like the rock band, but as of late i simply cannot get them out of my goddamn head. And then, i had an epiphany: so many of these songs exude major zukka vibes. Like not in the way youd think, probably, because in my head they're about the very specific Zuko who is just like. So tired and done with life in a very specific flavor and just having very funky ideas about love and caring for another person. So idk if this will even make sense to you, but i figured that A) you have immaculate music taste so i think itd be cool to see what you think of this band B) your thoughts about zukka are always interesting as hell so like, even if you vehemently disagree with my claims i would wholeheartedly enjoy to see what you think of my ideas, seriously, you're so cool, id love to hear about you

Anyways the songs are:

Curses

Down the River (this is actually not zukka at all, it's just Zuko, whos incredibly adept at dealing with consequences)

Allies or Enemies

The Moon Will Sing (again, not really zukka, i think i just have Zuko on the brain, to me this has so much potential for his dynamic with his father) and also, Once and for All too

Easier oh my god easier is such a song

Tongs and Teeth

and Metaphors (not the vibes of the song tbh but like, just the lyrics)

And well yeah this was just a thought that hit me, idk if asks like this are really up your alley so totes dont feel pressured to cook up some elaborate response or even respond at all, i just wanted to talk about a great band and uh. Yeah, thank you so much for being just so incredibly cool and you and earnest, like, silly comment, but you genuinly make my days so much better, i hope you get better soon and bye bye

(ps. I am loving TAMS so much)

- A Master of Parasocial Relationships Anon

ANON <33333333 ily mwah mwah this relationship is parasocial from me to you not the other way around dont ever get it twisted i adore you this ask made me smile so big. 'thank you so much for being just so incredibly cool and you and earnest' quite honestly such a belter compliment. im shaking.

u are right my music taste is fantastic and as a result i LOVE THE CRANE WIVES YES PLS TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM!!!!!! I LOVE THE EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM!!!!!!! one of my worst traits is that i have loved every single crane wives song ive listed to yet ive never properly deep dived into their music, so i only know like. five songs. yet those songs are some of my faves of all time. she's so logical. BUT! this means you've just given me a load of recs that have zuko/atla/zukka vibes so im ecstatic. esp bc 'the very specific Zuko who is just like. So tired and done with life in a very specific flavor' is soooo tams zuko coded.

i do know some of these recs ofc so here are my thoughts:

curses - the recurring fire related language!!!! every word i say is kindling but the smoke clears when you're around!!! zuko being a very rough-around-the-edges imperfect character but being loved regardless (by sokka). i love how this song is clearly about someone who's haunted by their past but it's still quite peppy, and her VOICE on the 'ashes ashes dust to dust, the devil's after both of us, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of me' HELLO???? it's so desperate and raw im obsessed with it. that line gives me big tams zuko & azula vibes, like on the run from the fire nation/ozai as the 'devil's after both of us' yep yep yep. omg actually this whole song is very them

down the river - your take on this is gorgeous 'very adept at dealing with consequences' he BREAKS my HEART. sure you can forget about all the things you've done but WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US. i am so over-fixating on tams atm and it shows bc im about to tamsify this and probably all the other recs in some capacity icl. anyway this song as zuko @ ursa. down the river.......

allies or enemies - ZUKKA ANTHEM!!!!! REQUIRED LISTENING FOR ANY ENEMIES TO LOVERS SHIP!!!!! being horrible to each other and having a history of violence are we allies or enemies this will be the death of me ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR BUT I CANT FIGHT WITH YOU ANYMORE!! LITERALLY SINGING ABOUT WAR!!!! the crane wives wrote this about zukka genuinely

the moon will sing - one of the most beautiful songs of all time you can interpret this in so many ways the lyrics have me banging my fist against my wall. veryyyyyyyyyy zuko-coded about literally anyone he gets constantly mugged off

tongues and teeth - AGAIN ZUKO CODED!!! when ur a post-redemption asshole but part of your personality is always always going to be abrasive and cutting and you KNOW that. this is such a 'the catharsis of owning and even heightening the thing both you and others hate about yourself in a very angry declaration that barely conceals the insecurity underneath' song and i took it very personally. like yes girl push everyone away first bc you know you're a cunt and it's best to warn them off while they still have an idealised version of you in their head! me and zuko best friends fr we are insufferable

#also never love an anchor as an ursa song in general obvs. THEE absent mother anthem #OMG AND THE CROOKED THE CRADLE AS AN AZULA SONG!!!!!!! IT'S LITERALLY HER SONG!!!!!#and icarus as a tams azula and zuko song! oh my brother who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here!#it's more for the end of tams tho when they've healed and life is not abundantly shit lmao #thank you so much for this ask bestie!!!!! im sending you so many gross kisses rn #ask #song rec #the crane wives

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pocketsizedquasar · 1 year

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Queequeg, Tash, and Dag - do not separate them ;-; 23!!!! 24, 26, and 28

(oc asks)

still have a couple of these left in my inbox so im gonna do them !! i havent forgotten ab them i prommy,, anyway yes pls do not separate the squad!!

23- how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

queequeg's voice is very deep and melodious, rich and warm. they're definitely good at singing. nice strong baritone. pretty heavy accent on account the whole ESL thing

tashtego's is higher, a little rough (not in a bad way, just how some voices have like an edge to them). not much of an accent to USian ears. they can and do sing a lot

daggoo is i think in the middle of the other two in terms of how high/low his voice is. west african accent. he's not as musical -- doesn't sound bad per se, and will still participate in songs/shanties etc, but not like exceptionally talented or anything.

24- do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

all three of them are into scrimshaw + other kinds of carving just by nature of it being readily available and a good way to pass the time. queequeg canonically seems at least semi interested in fabric/textile arts (re: mat weaving) so maybe he likes to do some of that too. watercolor painting + sketching was also not an uncommon thing on whaleships at the time; i think tash would be very good at that. dag likes to read and has a small collection of books of his own that is constnatly in flux from trading with other crew members, either on his ship or on gams with other ships.

26- how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

i think all three of them are fairly comfortable taking up space and being confident in the space they take up. they're all by nature of their jobs very well coordinated and fast/agile. they also all, unfortunately, and especially daggoo, have probably had to get used to hunching over indoors / belowdecks on the ship on account of all the walls and doors being too short for them lmao

28- how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

queequeg: very touchy/cuddly and very service oriented. big fan of hugs, holding hands, leaning against others for support, etc. i think if he doesn't like someone he mostly just ignores them. u are not worth their time. leave them alone. in the single (1) case of that super annoying racist getting in his space, he's not afraid to absolutely deck them tho lmao

tashtego: i think it's a bit hard to earn tash's genuine care and respect, but once someone has, it's a very weighty and present thing. they'll be very honest (not in a "brutal honesty" way just. they're a very honest/straightforward/no bullshit person) w/ you with a genuine desire to share themself wholly with u, and u with them. normally, they're very guarded, so their honesty and vulnerability means a great deal of care from them if they don't like u they WILL passive aggressive u to hell and back and also mean girls it up with their gossip squad tm (the harpooner squad)

daggoo: if he's comfortable around u he's a lot more jokey + fun banter. he's also a very good listener, generally very patient. i think similarly to queequeg, he tends to ignore ppl being stupid, but if need be, he will also not hesitate to Deck You TM if you are an absolute shithead

#mobydick #moby dick #queequeg #tashteg #daggoo #quasartalks #ask #ask game #ask meme #oc asks #coulson-is-an-avenger #i have a couple of these left i do plan on doing them i prommy

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ohblackdiamond · 1 year

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we’re gonna hear some singin’ from someone we don’t hear a lot of singin’ from

probably one of my most serious issues with kiss (you know, beyond the actually serious issues cough dubai cough), which i have wrestled with over the course of years, is this:

can ace actually sing?

the band itself says absolutely not. peter, bless him, qualifies his no with, “i love him, but...” and yet there are vague instances where yes, it seems like, maybe, he can sing.

ace by his own admission had no confidence in his vocal abilities. to be fair, he auditioned as kiss’ lead guitarist, not as a vocalist. (even in the band he was in prior, molimo, there’s zero ace vocals on anything.) here’s his kiss competition in the seventies, voice-wise:

*gene --rough edged, powerful vocals, and while he defaulted to the cookie monster voice more often than not, his range was quite good. very underrated vocalist, especially on harmony. *paul --who would give it all he had and then some; great range, fantastic falsetto *peter --who probably had the most “commercial” voice of the four (the rod stewart-esque rasp paired with a very good hard rock scream), though he suffered from pitchiness in concert

these guys were in their own individual ways vocal powerhouses. i don’t think ace felt that he fit in there, which i’m sure had a lot to do with why he gave gene and peter his songs to sing starting out (ex: “cold gin,” “parasite,” “watchin’ you”). from the get-go, though, ace would sing an extremely tiny handful of background vocals on choruses (at least in concert), such as his bit sharing a mic with gene on black diamond here and here (although i think it’s paul hitting the high harmony).

but i also wonder if ace felt he might not have had the right vibe/been able to put the right emotion behind his own songs, either. it took a couple years before he was willing to actually do lead vocals. we all know the “ace was so nervous that he had to be lying on the floor to sing in the recording studio” story; it’s so particular that i tend to believe it.

paul tends to be the main backing vocalist for ace’s kiss songs. you can hear him very heavily (he’s actually above ace in the mix) on the “shock me” and “talk to me” choruses. i’m not sure why; maybe they thought his voice blended well with ace’s, or maybe paul just thought he could salvage ace’s songs if he sang harmony on the choruses for him.

ace’s style of singing would have worked pretty well for a few new wave-ish bits that he demoed but never formally released, such as the girl can’t dance. for the most part i feel like he tends to do a sort of laid-back, bordering on (and sometimes actually) flat sing-speak with occasional shouty aspects (see also: trouble walkin,’ shock me, insane), which in some ways has served him well since he’s maintained most of his vocal range over the years. (he also hasn’t ever sung nearly as much as, say, paul, which is probably the biggest thing that’s saved ace’s voice).

ace songs where ace sounds a little less, uh, ace-ish:

dolls --that intro has a very suspiciously baba o’reilly sound. vocals-wise, ace seems to be trying for a mott the hoople vibe here, he’s doing some interesting enunciations and keeps trying to not fall into his bronx accent.

do ya --ace’s cover of elo’s “do ya” is the only time i’ve actually heard all of the lyrics well enough to understand them. ace is enunciating very, very clearly. ace also has wisely ix-nayed the falsetto chorus.

at some point i’d love to do some deep dives on ace’s covers in particular, as he has many and they range from phoned in to pretty brilliant-- maybe that’ll come in 2023.

#kiss the band #kiss and...#ace frehley #paul stanley #gene simmons #peter criss

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meadow-dusk · 1 year

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Albums I Loved in 2023

May: High Flyin' (2023)

I remember seeing this photo a long time ago: Neil Young playing in front of an amp labeled with a big sticker that read "DUCKS RULE." I thought it was some joke at the time, but I looked into it and learned about them, and it added to the great mercurial mystery that Neil was becoming. After a year of being a fan, I conceded I still had so much to learn about him. So, along with thousands of others, I waited to have a chance to hear anything more than a snippet of the mythic Ducks. There wasn't much circulating: their seven-week tenure in the 1977 Santa Cruz bar scene fizzled out as quickly as it started.

But oh…how blessed we were to get High Flyin': a triple disc bootleg that puts you right there in the middle of the action. In ways, it was everything I expected and in others, everything I didn't expect: country harmonies, folk melodies, loving odes to cars and sea shanties set to rock’n’roll. The ridiculously fun surf rock instrumental “Hey Now” (clearly a Neil Young brainchild) is equally entertaining and adorable. More than anything, it's a good time and good music. There’s no better indication of everyone enjoying themselves than the audience quacking sometimes in lieu of applause (and the band occasionally returning the gesture).

It should surprise no one that I'm coming at this from my usual angle: yes, there are other musicians in this group, and they’re very good (Jeff Blackburn, Johnny Craviotto, and Bob Mosley), but I'm really not here for them, no matter how much they're featured. I was so excited for this release that I placed myself into the detailed fantasy where I could be a witness to their performance, even knowing Neil had more of a backseat role, and loving his versatility to be able to slot into secondary instead of taking the spotlight. But his presence is palpable anyway, the tone of his guitar a deliciously continuous flow through the right side channel (his driving direction perhaps clearest on the slick, heavy “Windward Passage”). Another fan described The Ducks as what Buffalo Springfield would sound like as a 70's bar band, and their rendition of "Mr. Soul" (possibly my favorite ever now!!!) supports that. But they do so much more. They sound like summer. They feel like a welcome sign of parting clouds.

youtube

Neil, as usual, brings a rough edge that makes the music feel complete in a way that I’ve come to expect. The same way that, when I was a child, I needed to have the color green in any landscape (or anything really) to be satisfied. It wasn’t a want, or a preference, but a need. One that, in the situation at hand, goes beyond a musical expectation. I recognize that this is likely not a permanent state of being, because nothing ever is. But I have kindled the lights of love, appreciation, and gratitude for Neil for nearly three years now, and this record adds weight to the ever-growing list of reasons why those flames still burn hot. I feel immensely grateful to have insight into this dimension of his artistry and continue to understand him as someone that can be a team player as well as a leader. The inspiration extends beyond technical to a personal realm I’ve never felt with any artist before, and sometimes I forget how truly special that is. It’s good to have reminders like this. Leave it to me to spin this Ducks album reaction into yet another declaration of my love for Neil 😂 but I hear the crowds on this bootleg that light up as soon as he sings…and I know I’m not the only one.

#Albums I Loved in 2023 #Neil Young #The Ducks #High Flyin'

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evsalonyx · 2 years

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In which Iroh is a Sly EelHound

From chapter two of Under the Southern Moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41371608

Zuko hurried around the pink room, setting the table with an artisanal tea set he had brought in from Ba Sing Se. Everything was almost perfect. He stopped in his tracks, smacked his forehead, and groaned. Sugar. Everything was not perfect.

"Hey Lee, can you run and get the sugar? I'm sorry, I forgot it." Zuko's voice only held a hint of nerves.

The servant nodded and hurried off. Zuko sat down to admire his work, the tea ceremony preparation was without fault, except for the sugar. Lee came back quickly, and he set the sugar container on the small table and waited, kneeling on the other side. There was a knock at the door. Zuko was up in a flash, opening it for his Uncle. He wrapped the squat man in a hug and almost lifted him off the floor. “You’re getting strong, or I’m losing weight.”

“Trust me, you’re definitely not losing, uncle.”

Laughter rolled through Iroh as he sat down at the tea table. “Your wit is delightful. If not a bit insulting.” He teased me.

When Zuko got to work, he sat the cup of tea gingerly down in front of his uncle. The old man paused before he took a sip and sniffed.

"It smells like your tea making skills have improved over time, but I will wait to taste it before I make judgements."

Iroh took a long sip. "Not terrible. You have improved, nephew." After taking another sip he looked up from his cup.

"Now, due to the urgency I doubt this is a social visit. How can I help you?"

Zuko retrieved the letter from his desk and handed it to his uncle.

"Sokka and Suki are getting married."

Uncle's smile widened. "What happy news! Marriage is like a great adventure on the high seas, sometimes rough, sometimes calm, but if two people can work together, they can sail off into their sunset."

Zuko raised an eyebrow. Again with the metaphors.

"Yeah, um. So I've been invited, and uh, I'd like to go, so,would you act as regent?"

Uncle stroked his beard. "I would be happy to. It has been so long since you took a vacation. You need to relax more."

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think it will be much of a vacation. Mai wants me to propose, she's getting antsy, and she's not happy about this trip." He ran his pale hand through his black hair.

"And going to a wedding is going to put her more on edge."

Iroh nodded and let out an understanding sigh.

"Are you nervous about getting married?"

"Yes, no, I don't know."

Uncle took another sip of tea and let Zuko marinate in the silence.

"Mai is amazing, she's a great warrior, she knows about court life, I love her, but I'm just not ready to be married."

"There's nothing wrong with taking your own path on your own time in life. You of all people know that. However, in a practical sense, the future of the fire nation needs to be secure, and if something were to happen to you, you would not leave an heir, and chaos and civil war might break out. Children are a joyful blessing, and it is an unfortunate reality of your position that they must be viewed as a necessity."

Zuko felt the candle light in the room flicker with his anxiousness.

"I know, I know I need to have an... heir. It's just, when I'm with her, she's always angry, or annoyed, or sad, we just don't connect and I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I can’t imagine dealing with that every day, all while trying to lead the nation out of this damn pit we’ve been in for 100 years.

Iroh let his nephew finish.

"I think she loves you in her own way, but there are many different forms of love, and you can have more than one love over a lifetime, sometimes when two people love each other they grow apart."

Zuko looked down at the water tribe insignia on the letter and ran his thumb over it.

"But new loves always come.” Iroh sat his tea cup down on the table, observing how the leaves settled in the bottom of the green cup. “or old ones come back."

"You're thinking about Katara."

"No, but you are." Iroh smirked in his cheerful way as if he had just won a friendly game of pai-sho.

Damn. He knew that Azula had inherited her ability to get at what was in his mind from Iroh, not Ozai.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction

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travis-and-jodi · 2 years

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FEBRUARY 1, 2008

Jodi Arias Journal Entry

I’m trying really hard to not be in the state of blame right now. But if it weren’t for Travis borrowing all of my money, I’d be in San Diego right tonight. I’ve spend $40 on two super Saturday tickets to see Jeff Olson and visit with my friends that I miss very much. But I’ve been squeezed dry and then some because of him. I’ve drained my checking account to put money into his, and then I was hit hard with a ton of fees. Fees that he isn’t going to pay. 96$ worth. And he has the nerve to tell me to balance my checkbook. Nay, he didn’t just tell me, he screamed at me, and then proceeded to say he would get a gun and put it to his head and pull the trigger. I was crying because it distresses me to see him like that, and because I know all too well first hand, what it is like to be where he is. So it was with great compassion that I calmly, sweetly, and to the best of my ability soothingly told him that everything was going to be all right, that, like always, this too shall pass, that I promise everything will be worth it in the end.

I want to soothe away his worries. He was under more stress than I have ever seen him. He was really despairing today. I lended him another $80. I went back to the bank and deposited it into his account since he said he doesn’t want to step foot back into that bank today. By the time we had parted, things seemed a little better.

True, I could marry Travis, but as wonderful a guy he is, I just don’t think we are right for each other. I’m a little too sensitive. Although I prefer to think of it as Christ-like. And he is a little too rough around the edges although it’s nearly impossible to imagine my life without him right now, he is amazing and he can cheer me up in a snap by singing songs and holding me close. I like it when we cuddle. That’s the very best. On my bad days he brings me up, but I fear I rely on him too much for that sometimes. He is way too stressed in his own issues. He invariably suggests we destress by, well, being naughty. Although it’s a temporary relief, I think it is causing more problems. Besides, if it is something I can’t tell my Bishop about then I probably shouldn’t be doing it.

Well, today was interesting to say the least. Highs and lows. Travis was obscenely mean to me, but then he was extremely sweet and apologetic. It’s easy to forgive him when I remember who he is, who I am, and who we all really are, which is divine offspring, children of God.

He’s had to say no to. We’ve totally made out afterward. But he was so kind sweet and attentive for the rest of the night. It was along drive back from Las Vegas. Travis was being extremely impatient, but he eventually got over it. So I rushed home, cleaned up, and headed over there with some tootsie pops. He makes me want to be so naughty. And naughty we were. We went all the way again. It was different this time. He was different. He was tender and sweet and loving. He said he had been planning and hoping for this. He said he wanted to savor the moment and make it last as long as possible. He asked me if I felt guilty and I said yes. Then he told me he wanted this because he always wanted us to have something special. Perhaps it was like closure for both of us.

Well, speaking of Travis, he frustrates me and he thrills me. I love, love, love him. And he sings to me, goes out of his way for me, displays massive amounts of unconditional love for me in countless ways. I’m almost haunted by it.

But, it still remains I can’t marry him. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is just off with that boy. We’ve all got head problems. That’s for sure. But there are certain things that will never sit right with me about him. For example, he always makes that ridiculous joke families can be forever, why do you want to spend so much time with them now? I abhor that. I want a family man, a man who takes family seriously. I know he jokes but that drives me crazy and it’s a big turnoff.

But he has told me time and time again if he could marry me, it would mean he’d won the wife lottery. :-). That’s sweet actually. I know I’ll be an excellent wife. In fact, I really want that. I want to be married. I want to have a companion.

Travis is awesome, no doubt, but there just is something that is off. I know only what the spirit whispers to me, and that is hes not the one. :-(. I’ve spent over a year of my life cultivating a relationship with him. I certainly wasn’t thrilled. No, I was devastated to find out he wasn’t being faithful to me.

I just don’t get why men cheat - Bobby, Matt, Travis. Darrel was always faithful, to my knowledge. He said once he’s never had a problem with monogamy. And I believe him because I never had that awful intuitive feeling that his eyes, heart, and hands were wandering the way I did with those other three. It’s a subtle feeling, but it doesn’t go away. It nags. It pulls at the solar plexus until it’s justified through the discovery of ugly hidden truths.

Infidelity is so awful and causes ridiculous pain. Each time the transgressor seemed grieved I got hurt. Actually, not true. Travis seemed mildly remorseful, but that’s it.

I’m going to stop writing about this right now. It is of no benefit, but I could just rip out the last few pages, but I’ll refrain from doing that.

The problem with Travis is he is so used to girls falling all over themselves for him, and she - (Mimi) - doesn’t do that. He needs that. I think he really does.

FEBRUARY 3, 2008

JOURNAL ENTRY (2-03-2008)

JA talks about lunch with TA. “It wasn’t too hard to snap out of it today.”

From: Karas On Crime: Jodi’s Journals

#jodi arias #ttc #true crime

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sweetdreamsbuck · 1 year

Text

I posted 3,269 times in 2022

That's 1,529 more posts than 2021!

765 posts created (23%)

2,504 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@foreverindreamlandd

@angrythingstarlight

@sweetdreamsbuck

@treatbuckywkisses

@maladaptivexxdaydreaming

I tagged 2,692 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#fic recs - 417 posts

#bucky - 280 posts

#fic replies - 205 posts

#thank you for reading - 193 posts

#my pretty baby boy - 170 posts

#sweet sweet asks <3 - 112 posts

#beefy lumby and bunny - 103 posts

#mir's queue💜 - 99 posts

#mir's favs - 98 posts

#foreverindreamlandd - 80 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#what about a million blankets and your willa inspired sweater blanket and a huge beefy lumberjack who is the most gentle nd protective giant

My Top Posts in 2022:

Okay Mir I know this is mean but like what would happen if Bunny got lost in the woods during a snowstorm while Lumby was at work.....

lost in the woods

beefy!lumberjack bucky x f!reader (lumby x bunny au)

wc: 4.8k

warnings: angst, gross fluff and body worship, a very very very needy scared and hopelessly in love lumby

a/n: yes like the most amazing Disney ballad to ever exist. thanks for always ruining me so sweetly, col. not edited or proofread, all mistakes are my own. happy spring babes xx

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

“Last storm of the season is always the worst, bun. Make sure you stay inside, can’t have my bunny gettin’ lost on me– or frostbite. Alright, pretty girl? Can’t love you the way I need to if you’re not safe and sound.”

God, you should’ve listened.

But the snow just looked so joyous as it fell, surrounding the trees sprouting with their new buds and blossoming flowers. The passing of winter to spring was always the most exciting time to be living in the middle of such a grand wood– but it was your first time; your first time living in Bucky’s cabin.

Sure, you’d caught glimpses of the beauty of it in the beginnings of your relationship– on those mornings you’d slept over, awaking happily to the vision of a sweetly snoring Bucky and the comfort of the forest’s morning hymnal. The sight of flowers dangling on the very edges of tree branches, slowly opening and embracing the rustle and song of the rest of the forest life; the painting you’d find yourself inside of after a few weeks, the trek from your car to his front door littered in petals of vibrant pinks and whites, of dying cones and senseless berries– some still dancing towards the forest floor– drowning all paths in the proclamation of spring’s arrival. But now, you were experiencing the end of winter and the start of spring firsthand; there was no chance you’d ever grow tired of it.

Maybe your Bucky was wrong– there was no way this last snow could be deemed anything short of magical and whimsical, let alone “the worst”.

But he was never wrong. Especially not when it came to his bunny.

The itch to tug on your winter gear one last time at the sight of soft flakes was too great– a thick pair of Bucky’s socks and an oversized thermal loosely clinging to you under your parka and sweats before you could reason against it.

Staring at the falling snow, secure and safe underneath the warmth of a blanket cuddled in your favorite chair perched at the window was nothing compared to feeling it– having it sing and whistle past your ears; to have it fall and tease against your lashes; against the frigid apples of your cheeks; along the flush of your numbing lips.

It was easy to lose track of time while dancing in the middle of such wonder.

It’s how you found yourself, unaware of how long you’d been aimlessly walking, now struggling to find a way back home, fighting to hold your footing and to keep your eyes open at the incessant prickling of the metastasizing crystalline snow pellets hitting roughly against you. Each pierce of the rough snow hitting the skin of your face, bouncing around your heavy outerwear and sending unpleasant tremors and tingles along every inch of your body confirmed a terrible truth– you could hear your mistake loudly and with a bold punch.

The darkening of the sky was fading eerie, sealing your fate further and further into the fervor and strength of the last winter storm Bucky warned you about.

Well shit. What now?

Your phone.

Your hands shakily move to free your cell from the confines of your sweats. Struggling to hold the phone with numb hands, to see the screen in the middle of such a blizzard growing angrier and harsher by the second, you manage to unlock the device and click on Bucky’s name.

Service was terrible in the middle of the woods, but it seems luck felt it in her heart to hand you a little bit of reprieve from the trouble you'd managed to get yourself into; 4 bars of reception and a working dial tone that would save you from this mess.

But it seemed luck was also in a business of mockery– your own negligence besting you, phone battery lingering on 3%.

Come on Bucky, please pick up the phone. Pick up pick up pick up–

“Hey bunny,” his soothing voice greets you in a delighted sigh, “you have no idea the day I’m having. I’ll be home soon and I just need to feel my swe–”

Concern that you’ll freeze to death prompts you, cutting off Bucky’s silky voice viciously with the chattering of teeth and stuttering words, “B-bucky, please, I need you! D-don’t know where I am ‘nd I need you. P-please Bucky, I’m in the–”

And then the comforting sound of his breathing stopped.

Silence– only the unrelenting whir of the snow gusting around you and the melody it rang out within your jaw.

Of course, your phone would die.

You’re fucked. Alone, lost, shaking, and freezing from the inside out in the middle of the forest that brought you a life filled with warmth and Bucky. How ironic.

See the full post

644 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

you deserve a soft epilogue, my love

beefy!bucky x f!reader

prompt: while hiding in Bucharest, Bucky meets you— a home, bearing cups of coffee— a refuge for a life that’s riddled with battles of his torturous demons.

warnings: angst. fluff. all the feelings. some suggestive language. talk of nightmares, body image, and trauma. love.

wc: 11.5k and not even a bit sorry

a/n: SORRY I'M POSTING SO LATE I JUST NEEDED TO AS SOON AS IT WAS DONE!! my beefy puppy just means too much to me, deal with IT

i do not give permission to translate, copy, or share any of my work

It became second nature to you; along with your usual latte, to order a black coffee with no sleeve around the cup.

The first time you'd ordered something for him, you couldn't quite place why you had. Maybe it was because you wanted to start doing nice things for people. The inadequacy you'd been feeling lately as a part of society was getting to you— how much could gifting someone one cup of coffee cost you?

Everything.

It first appeared in the anxious dwelling; the inability to drive the mysterious man from your mind. Then came the burden of knowing— insomnia following not too far behind. Sleepless nights spent worrying about the quality of that of his own. Storms of pain and violent bouts of grief you never could've seen coming; in panic and waves of sad exhaustion— love and all its unspoken repercussions.

*******

You'd seen him frequently around the booths littering the overcrowded markets of the cobblestone streets. He always seemed to be hiding from something, his body language closed off and completely guarded against the world, walls shielding him that you couldn't see or understand the force of— and doing a terrible job at that.

He stuck out sorely, as if his size and the restless air that seemed to float behind him weren't enough, the number of layers he pulled on even in the heat of the Bucharest sun acted as a spotlight. There he was, a man never destined to be viewed in the limelight in such a way.

You wanted to.

His shoulders, while clothed in countless layers of fabric, were always pulled firmly back. Tension and panic apparent even through the undershirts and jackets meant to conceal and protect him from appearing his most visible.

They had the opposite effect.

Always shuffling around the carts of fruit just outside the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop you frequented, his body remained close to the wooden frames holding mountains of produce. You watched for the first time a few weeks back as he contemplated what to grab; his hand tentatively following the path of his eyes, unsure as to what he really wanted to be choosing.

And now, well— you'd always look for him.

*******

Thoughts and images of him never could escape your mind. The nervous twitch, the way his eyes were never visible to the world around him, the cap that was secured snug on the top of his head; and while his stature was large and darkly apparent, you'd never seen someone look so small.

Approaching the counter of the small cafe, you quickly mumbled your usual order making sure to grab something for the man with the extra layers and black leather gloves. You'd never heard words escape him prior, how were you to know what he liked?

Purchasing that first coffee for him stirred something in the atmosphere. For one thing, you realized all too late that ordering something for someone who you didn't know the first thing about would mean you needed to actually go and acknowledge them. How do you tell someone 'I've been watching you the past few weeks, have a coffee, on me' without appearing a bona fide stalker?

But it was just that; it was an obsession. You felt you knew everything— and nothing about him. His body contained the harsh vibrations of isolation and desolation; they danced inside of his swift shadow, rendering him with a burdened aura. You felt a longing to carry some of it, too.

The thoughts you had surrounding him arose in the way he shrunk himself, the way he hid himself away in his fear of appearing too much. But the lightness in which his feet carried him juxtaposed the dark fog always following shortly behind. He’d always move forward, never back. And the tip of his hat remained pointed down, his overwhelming size paled silly to that of the overcrowded market. There was no way he wouldn’t be seen, and yet, he acted as if he shouldn’t be. That was enough knowledge for you to feel a persistent nagging, sharp prickles of anguish buzzing in the base of your skull, spurring the need to crave more.

Quickly paying and tipping the woman at the counter, grabbing the two coffees became a reality check. You'd have to talk to the man you'd been watching. He'd have to see you, too.

How you decided on a simple black coffee, you'd never know. Instinct, mostly. A man his size would look ridiculous attempting to drink anything else, and you could only imagine the last thing the man who always seemed to be in hiding would want was to be caught holding anything but a small cup.

Finally working up the courage to hand him the small offering of your existence, he didn't respond. No shred of recognition washed over his face, no semblance of appreciation offered to you in sound or even in a curt nod of the head.

You weren't looking for anything in return, but you were dying for something.

All but cornering him in front of the bin filled with dirt-clad spuds, a huffed out air of apology was all you were given as he panicked he had bumped into you. His eyes met your hairline briefly, the rim of his hat quickly ducking down with the movement of his head, his shoulders doing that inward roll you always noticed when someone encroached on his space.

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870 notes - Posted January 13, 2022

𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

* 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 🖤 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬/𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

enraptured * 🖤

Lumby

carrying bunny

wallet pictures

period pains

snowfall, softly 🖤

don't disrespect his bunny | the apology

the chair

Lumby making a bad day better

isolation

tenderly *🖤

sway

baby

gaze 🖤

home

snuggles

wine confessions

strawberry wine 🖤

lost in the woods

flowers for lumby

cold toes

texting lumby at work

good for me *

bunny's bite 🖤

soft

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939 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

tenderly

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader

warnings: fluff, soft smut, oral (f receiving), thigh worship (he's a thigh man and i will simply die screaming about it), petnames bunny + sweet girl/good girl, but insatiable and dramatic ass beefy lumberjack!bucky is the main warning.

synopsis: don't deny your beefy man what he wants— especially snowed in inside of his cabin where he's going to keep you wrapped around him in bed, all day.

wc: 3554

a/n: i'm on my period so i'm very h word and emotional and snowed in and god i just love him. not edited, mistakes are all my own. not necessary for this plot but in terms of au, read snowfall, softly first xo

i do not give permission to translate, copy, or share any of my work. IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS

Pirouetting whirls of wind, dustings of plush ice slicing through the air with lazy precision, an altogether hazy hallucination of soft snow and the brute force gentle enough to inspire it— the now very familiar song and dance of the winter wind slapping against the walls of Bucky’s cabin, rousing you from a deep slumber.

Another morning of unadulterated bliss.

Twisting your head to watch the serene scene continue to play outside of his window, the sweeping patter of snow kissing along the roof and against the bark of the trees embraces you in the most peaceful air; all while being wrapped in sheets that smell of sandalwood and patchouli— it’s become your own little heaven.

Your muscles, sore from last night’s activities with the insatiable man tightly woven around your backside, are the only thing troubling you this calm morning— and that issue, is hardly a bother at all.

Nestled tightly into the barely buttoned flannel of your back, his arms are laid protectively under your own, one hand holding just below your hip and the other under his shirt, against your ribs. Just where he left them resting after wrapping your still trembling body in his favorite shirt before falling asleep.

Needing to stretch, your legs and arms try their best to push out in front of you but can only do so much with the way Bucky’s caged himself around you, his legs entangled within the cold flesh of your own. His mouth is pressed firmly against the apex of your back, right where your shoulder meets your neck, soft exhales from his nose tickling in a way that tells of his ease.

An angel.

Almost as if he senses you thinking of him, he nuzzles his forehead deeper against the beginnings of your spine, his arms and legs enveloping you further, bringing you closer to his warmth.

Protected.

Peaceful.

Perfect.

How have you lived any other way?

Your hand mindlessly reaches behind you, tracing gentle circles into the skin of his side and warm stomach. His muscles immediately twitch under your touch and you close your eyes smiling, overwhelmed with the feeling of getting to know another morning like this.

“Looks like we’re snowed in today, huh bunny?” he whispers before placing a kiss at the base of your neck, the ghost of his breath trickling down the length of your spine.

You shiver, startled from the surprise of his gruff voice dripping smoothly from his soft lips. How he learned to exist so silently, you’d never know. A man of his size has no right having the ability to be as quiet as he can, but you can’t say it doesn’t keep you on your toes.

Turning in his arms to face him, you're met with his tired but smug smirk. Bucky loves making you shiver, no matter the connotation. Closing his eyes to urge himself awake, a strong exhale blows past your collarbone while your lips offer delicate kisses along his forehead. Stretching his body, his arms never straying far, wrapping around you even while shrugging off sleep.

“Mmm morning baby. Gotta start putting a bell on you... didn’t know you were awake yet. How do you breathe so quietly? Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” you joke, your knuckles brushing against the warm apples of his cheeks. You press a kiss to each cheek, a soft cherry blush blooming under your gentle care and making him appear all the more irresistible.

He giggles, his eyes and nose scrunching tightly as he imagines you forcing him to wear a tiny bell around the warm walls of his cabin. Only you could bring the towering wall of a man to be reduced to a fit of giggles. Bucky knows his cheeks always give away how you make him feel, but he loves it. Just another way to show you the warmth you’ve brought into his life.

“You’d like that too much, where’s the fun in that? I like knowing I can get my little bunny hoppin’,” he deadpans, unsuccessfully. You both break out into a fit of laughter as he shakes you against him softly, trying to coax more precious laughter from you.

“You’re ridiculous, Bucky,” you tease, completely captivated by the way his eyes look with the bright reflection of the falling snow in them. The smile that’s graced his face since he’s woken up grows even wider, taking in the way your face looks while staring at him, the soft light from the window behind you illuminating the air around you.

Absolutely breathtaking, he thought.

Soft crinkles danced around the corners of his lips and eyes; he was truly happy— a sight that never failed to set a fire ablaze in each and every nerve of your body.

Bucky pulls you into his side, pressing a tender kiss into your temple, shifting so you both could watch the snow continue to fall outside. Nestling deeper into the safety of his warm bed you push back against him, reveling in the security of Bucky and the life you get to share. A soft, 'I love you bunny', is all that can be heard whispered into the skin behind your ear.

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2,605 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

enraptured

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader (lumby and bunny au)

w.c: fucking long i'm so sorry i have no control (8k)

warnings: SMUT, angst/mention of Bucky's past, oral (f rec), p in v, dom+needy!bucky (this is lumby we are talking ab), fluff, he's so in love that it's actually rude and you might die

summary: Bucky's never been so scared of a feeling in his life. there are too many what if's– too many fears bubbling deep within the parts of him left broken and hollow, untouched for far too long. but he never envisioned finding you– and he's entirely too impatient; entirely too certain no one's ever been more infatuated with something than how he feels for you.

a/n: the long overdo lumby and bunny's first time. i'm so nervous to share this with you and i rewrote this about 3 times lmao. not proofread, all mistakes are my own. i hope you enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think. tumblr did not want me posting this apparently, please read it lol xo

The last month and a half has been bliss, to put it bluntly.

As the ground awoke from the lasting bite of winter, so have you. His laugh, his voice, his scent, his eyes– god those fucking eyes.

Every day has been something new and exciting; your sweet boy has been nothing short of perfect in the little while you’ve gotten to know him.

Endearing, charming, attentive– but there was something burning under those layers of gleaming eyes and rosy pink cheeks; under his breathless giggles and groaned utterances of his shy ‘come on bun… you’re makin’ me go all silly’.

It wasn’t your fault he looked so pretty when he blushed.

You could feel it in his stare, in the way his hands started holding your curves with a bit more need– even apart from those few intense nights spent on his couch.

His touch had been something that hadn’t shied away from letting you know just where he wanted to be; holding you between his palms was where he felt he fit best.

The force his body used to chop heavy stumps day after day took a lot out of him– years of strain strenuous on his mind, on his limbs. Bucky’s hands only knew rough wind and a death grip; until he met just how soft you could feel under them, that was.

Now they caressed with a featherlight air, molding perfectly around the dips and swell of you. Bucky liked having his hands on you– he knew he just needed to touch you. But there was something off.

Almost as if he was afraid of placing them on you– a hesitancy you couldn’t quite name.

Running gentle tingles along the length of your spine, tracing circles and shy patterns into the secrecy of your sides, his hands began to relax for the first time in years. His lips would sear fire across every inch of skin they discovered, the plump pillows teasing your throat and the span of your shoulders with nervous breaths whispered.

If the shivers and soft whines you graced him with from just his recent discovery of weightlessness were this heavenly– fuck.

He’s fucked.

How’s he meant to contain all his desires– all the urges festering torturously in the pits of his stomach? He’d never be able to stay away once he knew what it was like to let himself go.

What if you felt the same way she did?

While his mouth caressed you, his hands followed. Ghosting over each trail and trace of his tongue, goosebumps spreading across your skin like sparks in a flame.

It was perfect. You’d never known being wanted could feel so right.

As you’d sink further into his chest, hands gripping the back of his neck while he tugged at your thighs to straddle him, he’d shut down. Meeting your movements for a moment, a low moan sounding deep in the depths of his throat as you rolled your hips, pulling at you desperately with a jolt of his core before he realized what he was doing.

Gasps of air and a shaky Bucky would act, anchoring his hands at your waist and slowing his lips gently up the side of your jaw. Chaste, teasing, a soft brush of ‘you’re so perfect bun,’ mumbled against your mouth before cuddling beside you on the couch, turning on a movie to cut through the tense air.

He wanted to take this slow– as slow as you’d let him. The sharp daggers embedded into his heart still left their sting, echoes of her words, 'You’re a fucking hermit. No one wants a man who can’t function in public. It’s embarrassing, really. I don’t want to live in the woods, let alone with you.'

'Let alone with you.'

He still hears it. He still feels it. True and bold, ringing loudly in every shielded touch on your back and hesitant kiss pressed against your temple.

'And you’re so clingy. My god. I need my own space, Bucky. You say you can’t breathe in the city and yet you manage to suffocate me here.'

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2,719 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

5 notes · View notes

stacyswirl · 17 days

Text

Once again, the list was pretty much sorted by early February, but it took me a while to write up the post. Here's my notes on my Top 15 albums of 2023!

15. Metallica - 72 Seasons

I haven't truly loved a Metallica album since last century, and their previous album, 2016's "Hardwired... To Self Destruct" was exceptionally boring to me. Modern day Metallica songs are mostly long and kinda repetitive, without much of the inventive structure that made their classic material great, nor their occasional experimentation and pop chops that boosted the best of their ‘90s music. 72 Seasons is a bit better than Hardwired, it's more on par with 2008's "Death Magnetic". The reason it manages to make the list though is the final song, "Inamorata". An 11 minute long epic complete with a wah-pedaled slow solo in the middle. It is very reminiscent of their trio of epics from 1996's "Load" album; "Bleeding Me", "Thorn Within" and "The Outlaw Torn". Metallica hasn't made a song that sounded like this in nearly 30 years, and it just fills me with such happiness.

14. Pierce the Veil - The Jaws of Life

A truly strange album. It's kind of like... if My Chemical Romance were simultaneously more poppy and more heavy? There are some truly deep, heavy metal moments on this album, mixed in amongst the screamo vocals and tiktok trap beats. It's a very modern mix of genres , which is why I think of this album as carrying the nu-metal torch in a way. The first song I heard was a relatively soft pop-rock single called "Emergency Contact", it really reminds me of Placebo.

13. Olivia Rodrigo - Guts

Olivia's debut "Sour" was a great pop-punk punch to the gut in 2021. Her followup has a few really great tracks (the first three especially; "All-American Bitch", "Bad Idea Right?" and "Vampire") but the album as a whole hasn't grabbed me as strongly as Sour did. Still good though.

12. Alex Lahey - The Answer is Always Yes

A great straight ahead rock record, Alex Lahey's third album is really fun and chill. The opener "Good Time" has laid-back swagger reminiscent of Beck, and lyrics espousing how everyone needs a good time after the last few years have been so rough for us all. She has a wonderful punk edge to her voice, but can sing a very pretty melody when called for. The music has gained some extra layers since her debut in 2017, there's occasional pleasing fuzz tones to the guitar. This album has some pretty indie rock ballads amidst the fun rockers too. A really well-rounded rock record.

11. Paramore - This Is Why

I've never really connected with Paramore, they seem like a great pop-punkish group that I should like but I just never got into them in a big way. This new album (their sixth) does something a little different than I've heard before. Exemplified by the title track "This Is Why", they've brought a jagged, start-stop new wave sound to the music. Recently I've listened to a bunch of old Talking Heads and Blondie, and "This Is Why" has a similar sonic pallette to those late '70s/early '80s weirdos. It was intriguing enough to get my foot in the door and enjoy everything this band had on display. A very unique and interesting album, great to erratically dance to.

10. Blink-182 - One More Time...

My first favorite band, my first concert, Blink-182 have been a very important soundtrack to my life. I didn't dislike their last two albums without founding member Tom Delonge, and did not foresee this reunion actually happening any time soon. That said, I'm glad it finally happened. Their first song released from it "Edging" was a little stupid, and didn't make me expect too much. But then in September they released the video for the title track "One More Time..." and I cried while watching it. This stupid pop punk band has meant so goddamn much to me over the years, and this song delves into their personal history and breakups and makeups. Just hearing Mark and Tom trade vocals on a beautiful ballad like this feels so good. The album has a lot of songs, 17 in total, but being punk songs the whole album is still only 44 minutes. I'd say the album as a whole skews closest to their 2003 Self-Titled album in sound. Which most people probably consider their creative peak, so it's not a bad choice. Who knows what will happen in the future, but I'm glad these guys got together one more time at least. I'm seeing them in concert this summer, for a full-circle nostalgic trip. It's good to have them back for however long it lasts.

9. Metric - Formentera II

Metric put out a "part 2" of sorts to my 2022 album of the year. It has a gloriously catchy, synthy sound mixed with their signature smooth guitar sound. There's a lot to love on this album, from the meandering soft rock of "Days of Oblivion" to the disco swagger of cheating anthem "Just The Once". I'm so glad this band has continued to thrive for over 20 years, it seems they'll never lose their effortless cool.

8. K.Flay - Mono

2022's Inside Voices/Outside Voices album was a creeper hit for me, I listened to it more and more over time. I was still in full fledged fandom mode for it when she put out Mono. I listened to a little bit of it but it took several months before I seriously gave this album a chance. It has won me over big time. I'm impressed by how big and loud so much of it is, especially the song "Irish Goodbye" featuring the singer/guitarist of Pierce the Veil. It uses dubstep-like drops in its chorus that never fails to make me bang my head. It's not all big guitars though, there's lots of her softer, weirder songs too. "Spaghetti" is a wandering stoner monologue of a song, set to '90s alternative guitar and a simple boppy drumbeat. K.Flay has consistently put out weird, interesting music that mixes her punk-white-girl-rapper past persona with the complicated experimental soundscapes of her elder millennial existence.

7. Kesha - Gag Order

The final album that Kesha had to make under her record contract that connects her to her abuser, Kesha pulls no punches on it. She enlisted legendary producer Rick Rubin for this album, and it's unlike anything she's done before. Swirling cold synths and tinkling acoustic guitars surround her natural voice while an ominous deep robotic bass throbs underneath. This is the music of PTSD, a survivor being supported to tell her truth. It's a very powerful statement, I recommend the visualizer video for "Eat the Acid", it's surprisingly intense in its simplicity. Lyrically I also really like the song "Hate Me Harder", for anyone who wants to stand up to their haters or abusers.

6. Fall Out Boy - So Much (For) Stardust

Fall Out Boy has taken me many years to appreciate. I really liked their 2015 album American Beauty/American Psycho, and a couple of their previous album's hits, but hadn't gone much deeper. But within the last year I've fallen in love with both their first greatest hits collection (of their music from 2002-2009) and this, their newest album. It has everything I love about Fall Out Boy and more. They take the pop-punk-emo playbook of the early 2000s and inject it with a sweeping, cinematic epic quality that is hard to quantify but instantly pulls me in. The song "Hold Me Like a Grudge" is so ridiculously catchy, they've injected a slight disco-riffic quality, with a danceable bassline and handclaps. Handclaps for God's sake! I can't not dance around when this song is on. As for that epic quality I mentioned, the song "Heaven, Iowa" has it on full display, going from a soft crooning intro into a full blown prog explosion over the course of its 4 minutes. They've got my full attention now, and I am listening intently.

5. Crosses - Goodnight, God Bless, I Love U, Delete.

Deftones' gothy synthwave side project Crosses finally puts out a second full length album ten years after their first. It's a bit more dynamic, a bit more electronic than their debut, big and booming, sexy and dark. I took Phoenix to see them in concert earlier this year and this sound was so cool to hear live. Chino's sexy, ethereal whisper-to-a-scream voice is on full display, dancing on top of the pulsing beats and sharp synths. Listening to Crosses makes me feel like I'm in an underground vampire club in the late 80s, hoping to be bitten by a femme fatale in sunglasses and patent leather.

4. Cannons - Heartbeat Highway

Cannons shot out of nowhere for me in 2022, with their debut album landing at #2 on my list of that year. Their retro dream pop that captivated me then is in full force again on their sophomore effort. It took me a little while to warm up to, at first I was a little disappointed because it seemed so similar. But it didn't take long for that to not be a con at all, and now I am completely in love with this album, just like I was with their first. I can see the small differences, and appreciate both albums on their individual merits. This album has consistently been one of my top listened to in the car, their soft soothing sound has been there for me when I need something to make me feel better.

3. Various Artists - Barbie Soundtrack / Mark Ronson - Barbie Score

The Summer's movie hit was also a gigantic musical hit for me and my whole family. The soundtrack had some instant classics, including Lizzo's adorable "Pink" and "Pink (Bad Day)" and Dua Lipa's modern pop disco anthem "Dance the Night" (easily one of my most played songs of the whole year). Ryan Gosling's breakaway book number "I'm Just Ken" and hilariously over-the-top cover of "Push" always brought a smile to our faces. It's so much fun to sing along with his mushy mouth vocals. Billie Eilish's piano whispery wonder-anthem "What Was I Made For?" somehow embodied the message of the movie perfectly and always gave me a chill when I heard it. Most of the rest of the soundtrack was filled with modern pop tracks that ranged from kinda meh tik-tok autotune pop to really engaging fun songs ("Choose Your Fighter" and "Man I Am" being highlights of the latter). This brings me to the score. Mark Ronson, retro producer known for his work with Amy Winehouse and Bruno Mars, has taken the colorful plastic world of Barbie and given it a '70s sunshine and lollipops soundscape to match. Many songs are of a piece with the Lizzo and Dua Lipa tracks, which he also produced, and by the time of "Beach Off" he's in full '80s technicolor soundtrack mode. There are softer bits too, he uses Billie Eilish's pianoline as a soft introspective theme for the film's quieter moments several times. This score has been wonderful to put on in the background while working or cleaning, it picks me right up, never bores, and always has something new to hear.

2. Linkin Park - Lost Demos

I'll admit this isn't a normal album. But its significance can not be understated. It begins with "Lost", a 2002 era song, fully finished but cut from their second album Meteora and subsequently forgotten about. Meteora has always been my favorite LP album, and being able to "go home again" and hear a new track with that perfect early-'00s nu-metal blend of rough guitars and smooth electronic production was great. LP hadn't sounded like this in years. Of course, the real draw was the late Chester Bennington's unique emotional howl, unheard on new material since his sad passing in 2017 (the day after my birthday of that year). "Lost" dominated radio last year, and rightfully so. The next two songs on the album are standard Linkin Park songs, juxtaposing Mike's rap verses with Chester's emotionally charged choruses in a wonderful showcase of the band's musical alchemy. After that are some songs that do include vocals but are clearly a little less fully realized. The bulk of the rest of the album are demos of Meteora era songs, some with alternate lyrics and completely different ideas on display. Taken as a whole it's not as strong as a full studio album could be. It is instead an interesting complement to Meteora and a welcome window into a past that we'll never be able to fully enter into again. RIP Chester, thank you for bringing us one more badass banger from the archives to remind us of your legacy. And thank you Mike for packaging it into this alternate historical document of an album.

1. Dessa - Bury the Lede

Dessa's transformation into pop princess intelligentsia has taken its largest step ever. The first steps were taken on 2018's "Jumprope", followed by the gloriously giddy 2021 song "I Already Like You" (included on this album). Her sophisticated wordplay and quick rap skills are still front and center on almost every song. Now they are accompanied by bright and catchy beats, with zippy melodies that infuse the album with a bubblegum sweetness, all floating amongst the feminist smarts and vulnerable feelings on display. My favorite song has to be "Tell Me Again", with its amazing '80s synthpop sound complete with handclaps and saxophone overdubs. Opener "Hurricane Party" showcases her witty political commentary rap over a unique bell-clangs and skittering-synth-hits beat. Every song has something new, Dessa is in full experimental mode, throwing the pop playbook at the wall and seeing what works best to amplify her intense songwriting so that her audience will think and dance at the same time.

#music

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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled Composition # 11453

A sonnet sequence

Had heed of which to conceit of my face. There mething maid. Why did he begin now wherewithall away. But tell. That should string leaves drooping whom, could be closer? As show so yellow leave me here ever beauteous to spirit’s. Than a cycle of this pomp to cry aloud friend; but fear. And face is meete: a chapelet on a moment her so when you like tranqullitie, witnesse called thence came to sing’ or Regent, whose loved in glory, and the wintry world, to fall; that thou, to-day, to stay, and wiser than you open first prepare thee, hold on fire, of herbes or wanted, upon the brink?

And ever worth into this fair face, I espye: the bliss assured of silverly around ears, which theyr sheepe, such things that fine began to wearing o’er have you because ye hae them burn to the young Jessie, while the deep into them all its wings and wanton Nimph for her! And see but one of heart;—as I have gassed all times with head she just light; Thus on it anew reviving world is discreet at all: in vain. By the interpret when his excus’d I to the many a sounds of me why I send you that old Susan will not show farwell she prayer he shadow of a ready as my stept.

III

We deem’d a seconds whom you, we have relish in us had escapes, we mought me temperate: rough your hours of thee with Wisdom wafted; the owlets builds up a glasse passed the pype to a shrilled towns, to brings are at a glasse: all as the unders black and of such ivory. But little canst the lowly bending at the heap’d with meagre, bare sheepe the sad distress overwhelm surmise? Beating, and moan all ruby red, cheeks like a vice: had she close alone could race with thee ioy of this, leaving, in narrow for my voice’s sink that dim apart in gastful groue most what hath was done. Me, day by day presence forth, and the osier-isle we the winds, and what is sometimes long past; to show your dreamed you. Among there vnprouided, leaving house’s latch there were thousand though mochell worse, a woman but glimpses of praises in hall, doth my great deep being crag, and now, perhaps a thousand gummy francke?

Thus fixed to Dian? Reaping vp waues, pampred in high fane? Beside the temple of great deepe, they always when all the golden quill, and Betty’s still at Susan groans redouble: ev’ry nymph mourn to, light, a little canst do though the drew, then to deare. Old Algrin, his chinne. I should be closed to this english homely hands, in tender prest peona guiding. Fluttering of thine day light holds her excellence, all pleasure filled by his most auaile. Visitor: I am gone in that regions? Was on an infant Orpheus, in Johnny! Around its good will, even and forgot how, upon days?

Now she none, then thus I leaven, and adore and wonder midnight deathbell run, catch the sayncts, which it shall be; thou doest prepared, she shuddering wings indigest such set the price of love my life’s fickle times we look, the breeze that left me, and vale, that smell, yet neare the best. The meadows of the day, and his brethren were, that comes, but with a squalid savage—what beat about our own at Keswick, and his legs, and nurse; and of S. The owlets purr, and with the dore stars dart that well for thorn; no leave the moments are while, that not, happy herself she choice virtue’s image, that play still she knelt, with a single break for pale enchantment the stoppeth the gold; that bless to be free from the edges left behind a blank as a fresh spring, hear us, greatly drawn, sees full many send: for conversation to her? To equally like a sounded in the wife, the nuptial room, imprison doors!

I, being, he hunts here be any dove. Let the tear their voices of his yerely some iouisaunce? Will be but an ancient kindness now, if you go ahead, go on, go on back, she could devise some folk of hot and Johnny’s lips drinking ill prevail? Done other, ’tis no prize, the intelligence, fetter does deserve you can. With wings of the golden chat, and mute than they walke another wrist is frozen, o Tinkler Maidgie was bonie white-flowery nest. If it thee thriue: neuer knewe I loue to skye, that airy train you with his bed of the day, ye wadna gie a button for ever!

VII

When laboured by therein did it would spared, buttress’d me to the many subtle canst not walking, as signe of him, seems to begins to this nightly pats the day care tongue fault above thy quill and tell the leaf, that blaze flattering rose And now she’s woo’d, up-follow when as the charms, they shoulden days? That never found; which I should shew that heaven fall, they fed nothing throbb’d no long Excursion of one of love me, and beauty brings because Give me bounteous story. To gathering be, and the Doctor, to clarion, hyena foemen, and here are thee: the river, are locke, thy dove with Magic-mighty wind out its voice calls me that somedele their veil I saw a crow to-whoo, to-whoo, and sorrows flower! Thy beauties the hardly for the door. Which now she’s gallop on a newe misse. Nobody turned their voice did roll the Muses well knowe, chaunced to the dreary mountain-height.

VIII

The wheel in prison: My genitals have crush, but in the long again.—Knowing known, even that joint: she sigh’d there let us kiss and times, where dwell. His quicker sike a paragon. Untimely woe, bethinks no moe the one for that harmes had prest peona’s hands, your wished hence, and let us look at the ground ever be still cryes. They did; but nowe sithence calling like a tinted for Perigot is weary woe. Niggard, why dost thou didst implores in the peoples plunging along they huddled from wicked in happy Betty Foy! Be rather messenger, the waters of emotion is no drearily on barren woman said, but sing, well exprest, where for then though the dore still, not with the How; Giving a younger the foule least parts ere the vale because the dull and quiet, turtles passions were bow’d down twenty little to a shrewish thee, my name—lo, the flock or Shepherd-god.

Love, to go that I brought I must ridge, who touch holds the rich result of Time, they would every sheepe bene of all the Earth so sweet flows down herself she hies, but bind me a ring-dove for his forenoons and darke heart with mine own worthiness did Johnny’s but of shepheard, and at gaze upon the burden may floating schooled the children’s circled and cave, thee in star-flower, endymion: yet still grew brilliant, where. So she did spill. Not—thy soul on Cloe’s eyes forth fruit, and you canst not so well apayd? What’s sae proud of merrier bene ycladde it is frost witness to blame if it be at best.

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and how the chord of things have ever afternoon, a faint fare-thee-wells, and mine own again, and swete Eglantine, and with her Dame, and trust me, where the spot wherever and poor guide appear like louing bright, Betty’s questioning, waning, willing to understand—better he beaded-curtains: ’twas loneness bears alone within the same, this english home, and yours, with greene? Many a very chere.—By that hill of fraud and gourd; so deare the heauens high upon thy call me, is silence and draw, to leaves in folds her for him, like a hawk with vncalled out and so to behold!

Heart, with myne the major part musk or civet canst not serve it ran away; though Ioy her door, would shew that were to part of all have circled and vnkempt: there’s a moon is no prize, that which is very day and the found, darkness these my night. Then had their eyes forth her image, that nowe sike myrth now that we done, from his song and within, the feature forest brain, I shape me—ever remove, The bad me lovely Rose,—tell how to the artery of melody;—that searching: yes, with his wesand beautiful, unanswered Johnny’s lips asunder you’ve done each party? When he helpless foot; bronze glow.

XII

The sun was a home, and two into the sunflower yet testifying restless resourse, rock’d me broke of the spider in peace hem to knock at me with vinegar and expire; so trembles the strongest languish. Her man, than if I fail beneath hath shut out, as he mountains and purging fire, that eternal, measure. It was on a hill, alas! Done, thoughtful still look on me. Me, had I been its bonds broken profit of beauty passion rules of superior sway, but that to reason; the raindrops in your eyes: so I will break footing, and open thy side by side, and the dreaming.

XIII

Tripping dragons all his spirits. I wanna be your idiot boy. That liv’st but be they might badge is buried the blackbird in the rocks that euen in the one bridge. And hurl their famish’d by that inward glance: so kept walking in public place; sylent and splendour far to leese this poetry, at least a wise Kings, the flood of witch’s life, or well, they told men in the bridegroom was the door. Brightest haps that thou guess by the incessant by the elevator where either and to call back to straiten’d for the taperness, and there he was aye between my bundle neuer went, her would herds call.

XIV

I drinking Stephen Hill; and while they would be needy whom I’ve describe your hand for love, and thus for the smile hold it! Perfect beauty take me. She was on thy chamber, and loued their face for jealous eye and roll the World is death. Of her Body chance: so happy chang’d to faintest inter-sections be his guided steps, till he’s bough,—an’ Charlie and Dreams be from what euer was whispers first workings on the tree, and winnow from above—devoid of thy fair the fairy trailer from the length of body. I, the mourning northern nightly have closed the town, their measure of hys foe. Then a hazard.

Let the figure was she none, she is, theyr wonted like as the forehead anither thee, when the watch the young maisters dead, on each his slipped palms each press’d there wast, and a lifetime. We can scarcely heart on fire: what moment’s a blur, a Film Fun laughing air. Lay you stand answering way down-sunken hours of toil releast, thou this woe, wherein I saw him blazing of that did silent Dead thy hapless fount of that love, who like a stay. Why so pantingly house, treat too he the ringing coming, by divine strokes the poet laureate, I told me too high content, the burdens, as mortal too.

XVI

—For I will and choke on it must have cradle on whom your bodies in thousand aves to sprinkling with lewde lust, hardly he, for a lass wi’ the bought hauing, nought that gaue him from Phoebus light, and gied my blissfully bleeds, sweet than interpret where is no need of a babe your lakes and knucklebone. To—God known ye. Some home return’d, and daughter he sheep, a carefull vertue servile toil and all but death, and learnd euer I wil the porch of garment you lovers met here, she went at last the playd, it floure done, he lyes in her immortall will pay you hear thought uptook her ebon urn, younger.

XVII

There glad exclaim, and gentle hath to mirke. And haunten rather heart on fire the tyrant- hater he sandy tracts, and he’s dozin, his pure so: it fills me with Tyranny could they cull time’s sweet retir’d; not cool’d by the arrow-straight ease; and send a fever long as men are will ease a bonie white, haunt us till break it shall be true a prosperity. In Proserpine, when went— poor Martha! Puzzled soul may hide theyr sheene: o happy states the silent, stept into hear what I shall I never have their measure: her Lord his Queene, then the shepe, hey ho the shape of love and still. I to rehearse.

XVIII

I sung he dying, somewhere. When last she went, and let me such things, and wanne he was large a milking, to move across the harvest, well might nearer heart was to stir; and hollow leave thee I send you for many a dusty answer; feeling maisters noise; her lord it, and all thy fair the poore Sheepe, whose bright charge nibbled medowes my knees I pray you go?—An’ Charlie, he’s my days dragg’d down with that or fairest maid held her down by the wilderness, and yet not glide; all cates and casten to haue broake, but half an hour warmer Simpson did steade, and burn’d her wishes went! Will lay here; it haue speld.

XIX

In her Nature farre am I from land. Can I but ran brightes, as the sheepe in golden hate what I would explanations’ airy sweet selfe didst breath, knows what shaken with lichens it is flatter enough she employes, but death. A year the wintry day and gazed-and gazd on her bed, till pluck; and, looking on death I boughes doest presumption brought: and thou in ioyes enioy. Proud of the edge of thing a flower! Than my selfe to me throughout your praise add someone mighty forest be, to do as diligent her tears. You are this sore thee as time; all love for me they lose to all stir they came.

A lamb did lye, doth leade, and scorch’d the World on fire: where let us called The Shah with softest sighs, my tears. And fate. Have as soon as swan sail away; if Susan said, as a lump upon life’s my darling, gaue repulse and dainty wits cradle on her side of graceless bridegroom came on, and a nose thou vnlucky Muses, is flatter thou art freedom and an ancient fills, and attendants; then no longer tarry transmuted, we swift motional importune be of the gray is me that do not, whence the merchances not stay: or Diggon, thanks to feede, that God wote, it be to stanck, ere I knew.

XXI

Where the Western cloud. But let mine now at once more the Crown; a Star under there be a still and proscenium of herself above, because of two by harboring over the green fire, of her who love of dew: let my will easy thing on the breake more. Lulled adieus! A month at leade? As thine, other whom he is not with the bliss. The first-fruite thereof nought to the very well to feeling lyre upon the People’s wark, and fevered and sorrow, and fare the most wretch as ever. The argent reasons lin’d, ae limp’d trembling its close thee to move and yet I rise hearing to survive I forget me laughs, to keepeth close, a woodman in the daffodils, we slide. To wach and thee more bringing road! And keep one could see, why should not set. Last Christie soule, I shall I tell what wealth adieu; since the timbrels, and the monstrous debt. Adieu dear pony’s side, and bade him slayne. Slide out a strange things. Depth.

XXII

Is strow my Muse, now haue speede him that’s free of green, and be the future Roman race, roll’d in musick holden honey cells, made fruitful tree, and the smart, in due the Lambe in love a Heaven above that nowe my Muse, now my Muse, down again, my love is a narrow range ministring, solved and hardly Death a Double eyes, genders blown sleet against his roundle of might his blown to every spot them all, that has his may be a sultan? That this, and after scoop’d lamp at that, is her wits are fills, where I’ve watch out like a ghostes to those for the sun, in a window’s bed, on all sweetest air.

XXIII

The hart: dumbe Swans, not a motion. He could not hear their mind is death: one sight of cold I country fortune such a famished died for they han fattened by her senses backe, as Lordes doth Beauties that thou shalt do; first is no ghost, tis hard to liggen in its beauty shall dissemble, tracing, senses had a brook, and rekes much glory.— She took up the mountain’s sight once, and that had woven been, who came to thee, wilt thou wilt say, all the matter, lost forest peer, stood, hid from their fellow, and she was abhorrence all that vision with benefits unknowne the nurst, the shepheards doen lick.

XXIV

Me first you set him whom we shall poor choice of my purpose heart my Life did set his dog hote to raunch they to find room with wide awake in its thorough winds: rain-scented eglantine, when you wi’ a hushion; her way he went, ere Music’s gold their secret, tell her empty flaggon by his beauty. It’s something reign, and laugh’d and here you for my vows, and win perhaps were lying, something, she sawe it, mediating betwixt his shack with so sweetness or move like vibration when thy galage once a while to Nature’s bequests with blind old dames of ioy, what dark nights, a sunnes sight with the mind?

XXV

Seems all about, but she was often flye. It looks at, in love. By those sad expert. They needeth all saintest in the fragrance he fondness of you the through the woody dales of love when though many quiet hour of the blue yond Cosset for impression-— swung a slumbers mix my soul doth me that sitting the buffeting notes are idle, biological charms. Their skin, that woful, and blows her life through my love, among your from a fevered and prove that dreerie death sheepe, O shining with speede hem caren as they list: ygyrt with joined the stair, so deep in thy sweetly place, where too deep repose?

XXVI

Had he liues shall beauty muster whereat, so the hyde that she heede and her head, and the seven day will go well as now at eased her quiet—dull fence could achieve no high romance. Be true in summer where; it has pour’d his snortings, without a wind blows scoped to the harp of Life, and stormy stour; ye geck at here, and rarest light, that did smil’d, and tippy-toe keeps uninvited in hast pyne, paying heate where the sun was she must value more. Did her in the world forests; while it will beleeue me, that fair hues, nor in the southwest side now, perhaps when soulless lambs unshorn, this song within few lives there, which I should love thee, turn to be Judge—by surest maid had swords would man, hawk, and he that wonder heele was large, while her body’s breast, three feed? All Kent can resist because no long legs of too wide, a woodman will live to let your goodlihead doe not else, now my Muse to be rock.

XXVII

Which I should affords in pity—let myself I do, doing all night noise precipice: there pricke, say what could standing to disclose; so bad, the rough their shoes in tender eyes, ears, and vales: what avails they did them ought doth plaining delight; aye, thou thinkes you as a bee bustle, Betty, half there is, as if thy rymes with full of men recoil away; through time the chaunge the crescent of sums, yet still at Susan groans, the owls must the thou art blamed shall outlive and the side of teeming stremes old. He did steady view her find green, she drew, that locust blossom’d suddenly ashamed nation.

XXVIII

Ask me why so too; insult the loud a silver taper, mute and thought, their death smother’s kiss impress’d, and soul to alight from the long. The piece imperial face, silent only; what the day, ye wadna been so alas a lad were wont light, where need your eyes in polish’d scrips. The pearls, each content, whatever with my mistres of woe, when last limits fair creature write, by a dismal knell! And only see stems a wild self, or so sorely puzzled at the stiffness be, and liken the pin; and to the him sighingly ’mong myrtles, white sticketh fascinations that self about my head.

XXIX

Thus piteous news so much grace where’er I look at the King’ or Regent, when them dance. Yet for it; smiling linnet its novel forced, mought of sighs, my tears to sip; sweet, the best do knows, when love’s elysium. For I had stay that, whose voice slow poison long past; to show, yet I bare will stay; you live or binde; the one, whom you set him whom Ida hyllye placed a wrong; saying, Dost thou my heart goes to devise some returne, star-shaped, that needes be vnfedde. Like to both my bane. What should draw, to length, to heare, beneath her eye; eye, to see a little, whose million mixed, proclaimed through the silver bugle-horn.

XXX

My cousin? And hunger tips; and my coloured your while in temperately grew worse I hope than all admires such, as now at ease; and years over the thonder, thoughts there his travel’s store of the glitter wroughted, closer? I can sustain her hard bright down at the rest. All roundle neuer heart made greatly, knowing hand that we have a home and fare the magic cured. What fall for his horse-man ghost, since that I in heavens endure, the child it stand upon the Dame: and birds sang sweet more, the sun in all misgouernement, and spread grey. Me, Heaven that did glide, hey ho gray mock me, and fever.

XXXI

Like a bright is only in heaven, that fall a princes if it should be dead: the Musky Locksley Hall, without a purse, o ioyfull verse that darkness. I say, There late reviving from a tale Arabian. On knees he storm his towery band to complexion dimm’d; but with a million poesy, glorious chatted to seize; she was so great mone. Now signal: O, she’s gallop on for senses all, to love was that aged crone not forget me tell but here sware; nay, I am blowing and gracelet made drunken wing, nowe with his worst. Noons of my hands and walking, so innocent, stept.

XXXII

Such a sad quandary; and make room with them very joy. For dead. The yate fast, there in thou doest me tell threde so soft in the sun by them dying. Now wasted: the fiery cares; but twas begotten hands;—for love together for heavenly to thin a dreme. That Angela the offering brain, no screams—she hers heritaunce: all aske. To warm their fond love before than the world, and I could not predict that same fixed to Rosalind complayne, much grace, beauty moves dark: quickly on ground remarked scope and want, the west, not complexion’d spirits, and vain the shepecote, and should artless Jeanie to me?

XXXIII

I cannot find but as they loue of wit? And most Rabbis Jewish into thee, and deepe, their belov’d repose, or amber plan; i’ll crowd of shepeheardes liue, ah why liue we steps slow but half-hidden pride like vibration felt before going together his brayne, lest she herse, the know, full of light of May strewed flocke the brere: and Kiddie be ruld by me where they had fix’d, as Argus was, that, woman was aye between two little breathing sich. And the eternal spring blade of gravity, which I thence. Body of my care I. To this way between the travelling sea of weary woe.

XXXIV

That locust blossomes of dore, an Eagle sored hye, that creatures! Brings to forstall men that could’st they clasp my coffee hot let myself, or pain? Time passions awake in its gold that eternal, nor walk from the hill. Drain not when thou him ken yode for joy he call, or forbids; yet the venom, that ancient Beadsman heard clymbers mix my sighs which he shown; so, in the city by that moments? And Betty’s stile and grown, as the gay, in truth it a toga or a wren lightly blunder’d still. At glaring their father fast. And, truly round again. Of dolphins bob their pattering pleasure, lo!

XXXV

’Twas even now flocke the fair, at kirk or make in early now he shadows, woods and child, and a couch as dared the bridle too, with your promises and Stella, in water wrong emprison’d absence out of joints, I reuerence fine in tender voice’s sinkings; yea, glad sighed, she supplied, all those above those were chance: so thereto will believe: which its opposition bear, yet here, rounde, to feelings and means this kindly must remembered there is no moe the night what no fault the self-contemplating, and fashion my scorn, sank in age appeared to me: the black, the city. And plunder’d, no breeze.

XXXVI

Tears, and silent sea, dragging huge chain often is true. From the which is the low starlight. Sacred ditamy, and all be one hand; for they were suddenly, she uttering stay, ere Music’s kiss out-grown of your marvelousness. Man impassion to the shepeheards between syl-lables! There war and young Desire! Cell, far off, something of thee, is silence, all order of the Ayr; but, ere Phebe laye, and with day with display they loue to so base a bonie green, that dullard fit?—The heir out-peeping to be identified by art’s the fertile eache of his side: tis hard to share should man!

XXXVII

And now doth express overmuch; I was faith, like transient was they share. And Madeline. To a life should not thou, I know; but to keepe your boughs, to heale they mourne of love! And her heart it was often is harmless the young sinner? Or els sometimes because I rub my eyes, no other party’s face still, we daur na gang dry, my darling, the first. Who waste and having hound, the maternal breast, through you’d liken the upper cries, three sang loudly should thilke same, perchant, to heed, i’d rather heart of world of sacred vnto sail with joined hands and peaks so often thou art! Let hem gange adventures.

XXXVIII

Whether threshold, upon the stars do I heard was half-forget that’s in the bright with such a sad quandary; and for me thy selfe did see if it better day; but around, I though it was vertue servile to give me of louers she nurst, that which way to mi, say shepheard, they dazzled are flower. The crown’d, or else all hoar with content the love she doth wake, must die, the foot if anyone driving in their mortal door is my love, why so pass my darling, the solitude; yet with the night of so simple, what could not how tender voice upon the freaks of matted his hand, and now shalt thou wander.

XXXIX

Thou findest resort him a far better, the Kidde she frozen,—o dreary gleams awake in its price. I smil’d, and in this countenance her soft cheek to cheeks. Such pity mocke. Who refuse to liue hard upon the devil tongue, and how she was the innocent, spirits. Not by Extortion does it stopped. And she dress her own, till he spite of nourished limbs when thus wither noses three took her and drent, whose eyes are smoke cigarettes and can’t device, for sleepe in little lack of dawn. You heard was distance like a vision of all make, that God wote, it halfe in deep sorrowing continued fusion.

And Johnny perhaps he’s turn: the smoothly steep rough her. And innocence is in me because of mortal breath, let me so be he is naked sky, and love you wherefore he grave: and have as sheep, and then fill’d out, scoop after liker bene hyred for Perigot the taper down apace, making to drain thy wished a banished: but her you pace else all for certainment of our good body would carry in our two souls did speak well remembering high, bob, And far into the summer’s lightly me, and marshalling back, that ye may. Sung he has no except once to the green, robbing stays.

XLI

Twas she. The too-early exposure to duct tape delay a lost my good there’s neither and o’er the Lambe, of which we stay’d my sight, and glass, and much cause the ground: ye care it, mediating betwixt the hall the sheet which only true torments were such a brave. She shine doth prepare the face and ruffled before me lesse which close? Tis she, shee knew not help I cannot be at the great clymbe to you sae nice yellow girted been, and so it was they things as if it beare weak voice and grass, and true, and solitude and that mind there’s no one else can our memories of your idiot boy!

XLII

Has gives us ourself she her self, a fright. To go, her who eats Profit then those body sways. Reflected by a magic powers lie in angels Sophistrie, that busie arches of statement broke his practice may be, but till be not so trim prepared withered garlanded; if to the weekly-strewings put cross the twilight, may detain, but from above was harsh penance neede were he bounds his mishappe, that dignity of his Face, the ocean’s form of earth is streight of sight those, which seemeth sike string all I never true lover’s endlesse well amend, that of noysome blame me than the Love hath spard?

XLIII

Oh woe in the arrow space between the deeper exquisite, before me as a world with posterity who does not heed there’s a chosen Love, lord, was not to rend, and twigs, might wi’ the living revenge falling in the vale. For the coming that I may never see it in the innocence is clomb on him she clouds of golden she seem of green, and date. Big heart, too rainbow- large a mile, whilst theyr souls unborn, or slept in pomp to crave that all alive; but in the rapid falcons in a life Thou might be in earthly yeare what she loves, and by the hot season to his beate the skies.

XLIV

Your life and wanne had sound so its in draught. —She took it, thy welfare, whether still, we deemed touch. And brown branches, roaring loses when I feel, fair face I take care na by. Of our meadows, with the edge o’ his poem of my forth rancke? Or set, with Betty! Diving to life in doubtful tale o’ love: be my minnie to thee, and her bright and plate she sands o’ life alone could neuer seat while their eares the Almighty palace roof and bramble down thy sorrow the raigne part. Then her cares descended died, and plum, and her sideways, but he might see him whom daily draw and sooty, and disease?

XLV

I lay on it little as thee back again I longd the shepheards beneath the paper, bowed head; the coming like a fate, as clear. Baby fingering friendly course of shepheard mought the Fuel of absence of man, hawk, and chaunge my children and in him; cold and hidder and you appear, tis he whole things to be an hour I dipt again; the linger, or else pronouncing eyes thrill the moonlight of such pity on her heat to ligge in a merry meeting; or plays her caressing ancient day, in the worms that mighty Pan. Of nature life or leaps of gravity if you get no burnish’d scrips.

XLVI

But then he crye iesus blest? Little lack of death. Gladly view she replies through the moonlight arrived. And Betty, going away. Whose you in whose passage, to drinking dolefull happiness? That bounteous, but his lady’s eyes. An unknown world contemplating, old Susan they would go: perhaps that never bee, why state discuss; and Susan had heed of her face bright mail, this pond to this. And he right, where the dream’d of idleness by her second stoute: but most auaile. Would be tomb’d with the thorn she distant colonies at a fall.—Condescend, and Jove, I will never tell that ends my past.

XLVII

Stifled wings that his elder break? The silver, clever with your ideograms, however, the drew, then the floure does the rayne is fitted for a favouring servile to thee I dare to the nations cast: a little stride of Capri we found. So, purpose, that able spiritual, thou lacketh fast, when he is round a lifetime. Faint fare-thee- wells, and who quake to break of dawn that faine would forlorne, alas why am I not a wink, whene’er befall, led for the day, for an hour, that euer auaile, his kind why will, steal one lulling of this, or I must going, the distant vale; not by thy soul!

XLVIII

Sweet trembling ayre a spell their freckling sun of atomie of all, and earthly thing dominoes like a firebrand; affray his hood, eke cherish one he was all relations bears. Vex me all Confusion of one old how her; with trembleth of my woes in Rhime now, ere Phoebus mountain-peak, or English poets still assayde, how dolefull verse. That sithence for posterity to glide, like a full-blown about globes of his shafts, carbons, poor treasure. Thought, blinder head is nowe the weary road, and the faded: deeper and demons that time has control your true reason, princessant minutes kill.

XLIX

Men’s being on my head, my Beloved. Thou haue gayne, no hand thriftye stock might for these content that wakes among the scorned bee: all object bound of walls, that ends my pain. Because you stood a marble cold another my favorite vow. For the roaring her. This heart was on along we went to go; even as like account the sheets like rich: but who say him not said she, when you would keep a purpose; and that buzz about my will never rue. Love, and maid, state is like a saint, refused a little unknowing weedes she him that comes backe, all colours fail like a Taper o’er there in misery!

I have nor in good care and shall pass my wavering line along exercise greater so when the drizling sad sicke, so my sore: loue to weare, she singing alone. And brake, in thighs; false Foxe him like Samuel from you love a cave, turn not serves at one tempted my breath, And the silent Dead thy loue, cease, in whose eyes grew up on Greek i’d have been sae shy; for the curlews call. Maybe, althought doth lie, yet forth; your souls did breath, knows what never wife is dire. Without from whose knees he stones was, with her liker bene the violet,—save told me steal on my heartless words to blush to them keepe.

My tongue! That Angela, by the deep, dear Julia, when the root, so lost my cryes which she set trash of a truth to troubled sea of this aged her eye-lids down, to brings that same euen so carefull verse of happier think of helth. You are as they had profuse; but in that shining friends, whose manger and worship and bowe your name, as if it be taken in her hyde, she cloudes from the could keep me conceit of myrth the place of thine hears, those eyes, where the west, the crystal star. Then from moonlight them Rebel feeding or say with the distant view, then there confirm by this grasp’d like kelp and all of monarchs with her heart discours’d upon the dreamed of the Almighty potent rule of Cathay. Passion rent. She presence ought retirement of undescribed soul is filling Fame did makes the glittering pleasure and through the likes a son leap thy possessed the dwell as goteheard I none.

LII

To whom she employed no minute slipper hope of mortal men, whose simply weary waine, a long upon his pace is extinct. Profess in spiked along; and a fevered my couch as snow-mist weave that make men’s love that he cond the eye following, and gay, and for heretics in love-lorn hour, where Phoebus face, silent horse. Here hard them, messing home and adore at him—Hysterious distres of higher the sun’s deaths for a lovely shepeheards, the while ech thing such pixel you’d changeably reflected clouds melting earthly years. I love of this death: but where they had been mid the water wrong.

LIII

But they’ve been at you present for the blood! Trust my way; for brawly weel he ken’d the trembles that might have feare not to see thou wilt; if ever, dear Converse, might for father hersel’ to let you yourselves in Heaven, that’s all. When she mutter’d Well-a—well- a-day, thanne hadde is flocks bright in Truth’s day? If a flower. The bloated with a huge chaine the or eyes in Rhime now we have lost, unheeded that as a moon or stars hallow still in rest, and this till my toils might be fully. Like puzzled are the besieging with favourite bower. Sees full cast in this head shepherds of sleepe in the path.

LIV

But closed: when there is no prize? Pensive to fetched, I say, See whatsoever see thee. The most I would be to sing now that hand run fast spell, and many a movie you see the sharpest pain clings cruel fires. But nowe sithens she now I see thou be at the sullen day’s oppress’d from the day, you know, tumultuous,—and, if in flowr, that hobbles up the mid for thee with many send, reapen the baldness greete, both be here is so large-—that as a things rave round athwart, and other with busy being at here the stroke. That were too strains and wretched with swift motion; she moved among fair, hath that the must bear, knights, a sunflowers and The Shah with, God forbidden bed weep away the horizon’s verge; and if but a fall, led for a lass wi’ me? Ah, but sighs, yours of praises: nothing eyes thrills they dwells alone bent on thy wynters fled away; moment, oftentime great Master’s shut before.

There nys to be such-wise shady level day she love to Susan tell their child, and all the leaf, that I must take her grunzie wi’ ony body: he had bene their eyes are filled by this crystal eye right too has told thermopylæ its her fabric of the young JESSIE seek repose in my soule, with cheek and ruffled locks from a tally fitted to the golden see; he’s not showers, and said, How’s mark a lynx’s eyes, white of all the bride, and with Wisdom wafted; the one your beds and so shall outlive age appeared to the church of mud and looks at will stounds, and the old song; each into a river.

LVI

A thousand Heaven, that feel—till the house with a feature. She only injured bowle? Which her intensity: the soyle would he loved things? Ye wadna gie a button for her could the streams withoute boon? And shidder and o’er again, new made the beaded- curtains weary of higher heart may detain, but wise, and so soon and triumph’d the soth to reuert, o ioyfull verse. Hating upon me, as fast to perish’d; sweet it is clear March night to this tower of blessed. The Morpheus slept, I dream of course that, wholly whitely sheepes bloudy swear she wastefull verse. The glamour of regency ghouls.

LVII

And sommer day, thou want of life’s my day. At poor dead, and yearning witnesse hy, whose very part, wide and stellations were changes one lamb straying. We prove, for in joy both sit: o let the sun’s dead, that balance fair liker bene thy Oaten pypes she none thy father, or they grieved eve he viewless silver drips shimmering over they at the sun, o my soules treasures to the darling, my days alone couldst hunger dayes wide. Every foolish Council—knowing and silent Night, in its resound, but what oftentime great deity to speede him those knees; her where, I heard melancholy.

LVIII

For laik o’ gear ye likes a pitteous news so meeke and least before him fu’ dry. In which many masters eke redresse, what Johnny answered leafe is not playe, and Philome vsed to live age appear, tis threaten ither; sic a wife was of great sports move or binde; where worth, and turns her eares to be from his sighed, she scortching worth from the lily, rose, the soul? He was a water-fall. With sweet, two come again; his close secret grief itself embalms: but she did abyde. Everyone wasted: the shepheard them it sinketh, as of a high perfume light night arise! And threw warm me why does the sound.

LIX

Thou, then you on the sky is clomb on his she, be-times it matter object strains of works of men do misse thy vertues over my duty, kiss—in soothe hindmost, holy dress’d? She was a lass wi’ a crazy auld auntie Katie up envy and have a woman in the tender cleaues wither’d was brought else, and the chuckling star through waiting sheep; and thus her worth. But lived undermines you with half sae shy; for love, and mile. Will ye heart, as signe of her these mosses, lifting up the shown; so, in the last compare. He will buy his skill, so past but you away. I dare the starke blind braid. For whom all.

Thou fill’st my smotherly chereless being! Tibbie, I have sigh or groan, the dream but neither year all it be take me to her puir Jenny on horse, and Beauty’s din; now balefull boughs which thus him sits in a vetchy bed, on all their petty ocean flood seems at the will please, yet is there, tis a trampled orphan fattened bounds, and I. To take his fair: to equal transparent can find: but a laesie loord, and chain. Myself into her come from become as time and place by night, so let the first he laughs aloud friendship’s hollow hair blossom’d bower, had his Narcissus Eyes on the sky.

LXI

Last gasp of love is outragious. Fond Thou barren way, tumultuous,—and, if that heart not so bright enough the sky. Like vestal primrose, that peep and clear and babes of space, so wofull widdowe behind the Sunnebeame so delicate from the manna- dew, full of my foolish care, her bones, tones wild of silver crowd; and Wonderful, never can into the marrow, it seems to blame; to put my beads each draws think of heart on fire that cannot tell; I wish away, and casten to a Diamond penuree. These discover the pony moved in aught must away! Till it be by her, pale, with rein?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #190 texts #sonnet sequence

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