#art hunt streak week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plumbaleena · 2 months

Text

Spice Up Your Sim's Calendar with Custom Seasonal Activities!

The Sims is boring AF right? Well, we have to always come up with creative ideas to make this game more interesting and THANKFULLY there are many mods to help us with that! However, you don't always have to have mods to make the game a little more fun, and here's one example of that! Calendar ideas!

🌼 S P R I N G

Calendar day ideas /

�� Egg hunt day / set up your calendar to have the cute little bouncy flower bunny come and celebrate while colorful eggs pop up around your home! Take spring pictures, dress in matching outfits and have a picnic outside!

T r a d i t i o n s / Egg hunt, flower bunny

🌼 Spring break / Take a week off with your family to go on a vacation, maybe to the beach, or even the woods for memories to last a lifetime.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌼 Spring cleaning / Take time to clean your house, move some things around, get rid of things. Start fresh!

T r a d i t i o n s / Cleaning

🌼 Earth day / Plant some flowers, herbs or vegetables, tend to your garden, pick up trash and maybe go help someone else with their garden too.

T r a d i t i o n s / Gardening, cleaning

🌼 April fool's / Do mischief and silly things to other sims, maybe prank some toilets or buzz some hands, who knows maybe you'll find something about mischief that tickles your fancy.

T r a d i t i o n s / Mischief spirit

🌼 Mother's day / Have your littles make spring crafts for mom, help to make her breakfast, or serve up some tea or lemonade. Head over to her house for a visit if you're on your own and spend the day together maybe even go to the spa!

T r a d i t i o n s / Give flowers, give gifts, tell stories, thankful spirit

🌼 Spring fling/dance / Take your sims to a spring formal where you can dance the night away (preferably not the cowpoke) and dress in light pastels for sweet matching photos.

T r a d i t i o n s / Party spirit, art & music spirit

🌼 Flower festival / Head on over to a flower field, and give flowers to those you hold dear. Spend the day outside enjoying nature or putting a flower crown in your hair and soak in the sun while you take a stroll.

T r a d i t i o n s / Give flowers

🌼 Love/Valentine's day / Take your loved one on a date to a romantic spot you wouldn't normally go. Make sure to enjoy each other's company and no phones allowed! Slow dance under the moonlight, or steal a kiss under the stars. Don't have someone? Make it a gal/palentines day instead! Enjoy spending time with your favorite friends watching movies, having popcorn or even indulging in a pillow fight.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a date, [or if single, invite guests], romantic spirit, watch romantic tv

🌼 Daddy/Daughter dance / Take your little princess to a dance she'll never forget. Dress up in matching colors and treat her like she's the queen for the day! Take lots of pictures to forever remember that special day.

T r a d i t i o n s / Art & music spirit

🌴 S U M M E R

Calendar day ideas /

🌴 Father's day / Celebrate good old dad with some summer crafts, a bbq, and a hang out by the pool. Toss a football around, maybe kick back a few EAPA's and have a day to remember with your pops.

T r a d i t i o n s / Bar-B-Que, drinking, give gifts, tell stories, thankful spirit

🌴 Summer vacation / Take a week off with the family to the beach and celebrate the summer while the kids are out of school and enjoy times in the sand, swimming in the ocean, and even catching some fish!

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Slip 'n Slide day / Take the fun of the sun outside and enjoy a day full of water! Head over to the water park in San Sequoia, or bring it home with a splash pad and water balloons. Spend all day in your bathing suit and maybe even...streak?

T r a d i t i o n s / Water fun, streak? ;)

🌴 Sulani/festival day / Find out when your local festivals are happening for Sulani and/or Mt. Komorebi and visit them on these days to celebrate the culture of the world. You won't want to miss the turtle hatching or festival of lights!

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, fireworks

🌴 Summer camp / Have your kids head off to "summer camp" where they can go somewhere off the lot for a week or two and enjoy what it feels like when they're in school! Create a camp for them to attend and bring them back into the house after a week or two, unless they're homesick. Then bring them back sooner.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Family camping trip / Head off to Granite Falls and enjoy camping with the family. Really rough it together and only bring tents, bug spray, and some food and water. See who lasts the longest without a comfy bed.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel

🌴 Simchella/Music fest / Enjoy Simchella for your sims to head to a music festival in Oasis Springs and have the time of their lives!

T r a d i t i o n s / Art & music spirit, drinking

🎃 F A L L

Calendar day ideas /

🎃 Neighborhood potluck / Throw a party and have your neighbors bring food to share for a neighborhood potluck. Share stories, drinks, and company as the leaves start to change for the season.

T r a d i t i o n s / Invite guests, tell stories, party spirit

🎃 Trick or treating / Bring your littles to a special trick or treat neighborhood where you can enjoy candy and perfect spots for pictures!

T r a d i t i o n s / Spooky spirit, trick or treat, wear costumes

🎃 Day of the dead / Make your departed loved one's favorite foods, dance to their favorite music, talk about them with family members and enjoy the memories you had with them. If you can go visit them, bring a candle or a small token to put at their resting place in remembrance.

T r a d i t i o n s / Remembrance

🎃 Family pumpkin carving / Invite family and friends over to sip cider and carve pumpkins! Set up stations and have a contest, and when they're all done display them at the front door for all of the welcome wagon to see.

T r a d i t i o n s / Invite guests, spooky spirit, sports tv

🎃 Visiting the pumpkin patch / A perfect place to go and take pictures, pick the perfect pumpkin, and enjoy the crisp weather is at a pumpkin patch! Visit the local pumpkin patch for all of this, and more.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, thankful spirit

🎃 Bonfire night / Have a giant bonfire for all of your friends to celebrate the last of warm and longer nights. Enjoy drinks, roasting marshmallows and singing songs while reminiscing about how fast time goes by.

T r a d i t i o n s / Fire, tell stories, thankful spirit

❄️ W I N T E R

Calendar day ideas /

❄️ Welcoming Winter / This day is when there's the first snow! Head outside, build a snowman, make a snow angel, bake a warm pie, or stay inside and cozy up by the fire and read a book. Nothing is more special than welcoming winter.

T r a d i t i o n s / Baking, fire, festive spirit

❄️ Winter holiday / Take a vacation to Mt. Komorebi and enjoy the slopes where you can try skiing or snowboarding for the first time! If you're not feeling adventurous head over to the bathhouse and steam up in the sauna.

T r a d i t i o n s / Go on a vacation or travel, festive spirit

❄️ Winterfest Eve / Celebrate with the family the day before Winterfest. Have a special dinner, sing songs, maybe open a present or two, and have a great evening. Dress in red and green for beautiful pictures!

T r a d i t i o n s / Attend a holiday ceremony, festive lighting, festive spirit, give gifts, grand meal, invite guests, open presents

❄️ Present wrapping/buying / Take a day to go and buy gifts for your loved ones, and make sure you take the time to get something for each person as everyone is unique! Think about checking plopsy, or maybe your little one wants the latest gaming console!

T r a d i t i o n s / Festive spirit

❄️ Go see the giant tree and ice skate / Winterfest is never complete without visiting an ice skating rink or sipping on some hot cocoa while it snows. Take a day to go and see the beautiful Winterfest trees and ice skate to capture the true magic of the season.

T r a d i t i o n s / Festive spirit

❤️ Mods to enhance your calendar /

more holiday icons by littlemssam

random holiday traditions by littlemssam

custom holiday traditions by kiarasims

summer camp by adeepindigo

#the sims 4 #the sims 4 calendar #the sims 4 seasons #the sims 4 seasonal activities #ts4 #ts4 simblr #the sims 4 gameplay #ts4 screenshots

89 notes · View notes

soft--dragon · 7 months

Text

Witches Curse

Words: 4,494

Warnings: None

This can be seen either romantically or platonically, I don't mind ^^

This was inspired by this incredible art and this idea by @carrie-tate . Check out her blog!! He makes amazing stuff :D <3

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Witches sucked, Castiel decides, glaring over his shoulder and rolling the tense muscles out the best he can. The ache persists much to his annoyance. He sighs bitterly. Witches sucked so much.

Dean, Sam, and Cas had been hunting something that had been running rampant. Cures and curses had been popping up around Missouri for the last few weeks - all indicating a witch on a spell spree. It seemed pretty cut and dry, and Dean had proudly bolstered they'd be back in time for beers and a good slice of pie.

But because their luck could never be that good, the hunt went sideways fast.

They'd snuck into the house easily, and found the altar room where the witch was preparing a new enchantment. Slowly, the trio split up and crept around to circle him. Sam had the shot lined up perfectly, a finger easing on the trigger when Dean had accidentally knocked down a shaky stack of mismatched crockery from his hiding place - inadvertently causing Sam to misfire from the crash and strike the drywall.

Turns out, people don't take kindly to being shot at.

The witch lashed out instantly, a frightened yell wrenching from him as he blasted the first spell to mind at his intruders. The flashes of light and echoing shots of guns were overwhelming.

Cas, armed with only his angelic grace, slipped around the firefight to hopefully catch the witch in a blind spot and end this. Unfortunately, one of Sam's bullets ricocheted off the concrete wall and only just missed Cas's cheek. The close call made him gasp in alarm, giving away the element of surprise.

In a split second, the witch whirled around and rambled off a fast spell, causing pain to streak through Cas's shoulder blades. He yelled out, stumbling away from the witch and grabbing at his spine when the feeling spread and something shifted under his skin. It hurt.

A sharp bang burst through the room, something wet hitting the floor and quickly followed by the heavy thudding of dead weight. Dean's gun was still smoking from the fresh bullet, raised to where the witch had just been standing, but he practically threw it to the ground in his rush to get to his friend's side.

"Cas! Cas, you alright? Talk to me!" He demanded, hands splayed out towards Castiel as the angel writhed on the spot, still desperately clawing at his spine.

"H-Hurts-" Cas choked out, suddenly wrenching at the sleeves of his coat to shed it from his burning skin.

In an instant, Dean was helping him yank off the heavy material, startling at the sight of Cas's skin moving under his white dress shirt. "Cas, what the fu-"

"Guys, what's happening?" Sam demanded worriedly from where he was crouched by the witch, checking for a pulse.

"That son a bitch did something to Cas!" Dean growled, panic in his face as the angel suddenly gasped and twisted in place. "Cas-"

A sharp tearing sound burst through the room and all Dean saw was a mass of darkness before he was thrown back into Sam. The Winchester brothers fell in a heap on the cold floor, the older man slightly winded from the sudden impact.

"Augh, get off of me, Dean."

"Give me… a sec, man. Jesus."

Dean coughed for air only to yelp when his younger brother hefted himself up on his forearms - making the older hunter roll off of Sam's lower back and land facedown on the concrete with a grunt.

Sam looked from Dean, to Cas and froze. His lips parted in bewildered shock, eyebrows practically in his hairline as he registered what he was seeing. "...Dean."

Dean, hearing the awe in his little brother’s voice, lifted himself from the floor to look at the end of the altar room. He froze too.

"Cas?" He asked cautiously.

Castiel, angel of the lord, was standing at the edge of the room with a pair of hulking, black wings stretched out on either side of his body.

So yeah, witches sucked.

Cas was staring at the feathered appendages with round, blue eyes. Then, after a moment of silence, he muttered a gruff, "Fuck."

The trio of misfits had left Missouri quickly after the curse had been placed on Castiel. Unfortunately, due to how misplaced they felt on a human vessel, Cas didn't trust himself to fly back to the Bunker. Cas' wings protested the cramped space the entire time he was stuck in the backseat of the Impala, which only added to his agitated state. Sam and Dean tried to get him to open up and let them help, but he sent them a sharp look at every attempt and continued brooding.

As soon as the Impala parked, Cas shoved himself out of the car and stomped up to the woods, ignoring the humans' calls behind him. While he trusted Sam and Dean - hell they were his closest friends - having his wings exposed was a level of vulnerability he never knew existed. He couldn't handle their eyes on his angelic appendages for another minute.

Hours later, Cas is fully settled into bitterness. No matter what he does, he can't get comfortable with how weighty and awkward the wings feel in a human vessel. With his grace, the impressive appendages are cloaked safely, tucked away from any misgivings in the human world. The overexposure is downright uncomfortable now - the dirt scratching on his primaries and the wind upsetting the pristine layout of feathers. Cas hates this.

Soft footsteps make the angel turn sharply, his years as a soldier instinctively preparing to yank out his blade and stab whatever was going to make his life worse.

Dean quickly holds up his hands in alarm, taking a stumbling step backward and almost tripping over a tree root. "Woah there, buddy," he placates with a nervous smile, eyeing the sharp blade. "Let's not go all 'Michael Myres' here, okay?"

Cas glares, but he already feels his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. With a sigh, Cas re-sheathes the blade and sits back on the forest floor, wings hiking up around himself to hide from Dean.

"What do you want, Dean?" He asks in a choleric tone, not wanting to be disturbed from his self-resenting, but safe position.

Dean didn't shift from his spot, hands slowly lowering to sit in his jacket pockets as he worriedly stared at Cas. "Sam and I have been looking into the lore," he says, hoping to draw the angel's interest. "We're tracking down a way to reverse this."

Cas doesn't answer.

Dean, never one to enjoy the silence, clears his throat and tries again. "You've been up here for hours, Cas, I just wanted to come check on you. You haven't exactly been very talkative since you got hexed."

"I wonder why." Cas snips, hunching deeper into himself. "It's not like a witch cursed me to expose the essence of my angelic side."

Dean makes a small noise of regret. "Right- uh… sorry."

At the subdued tone, Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. When he opens them again, he tries to sound more neutral. "It's not your fault, Dean. Thank you for looking for a cure."

The sound of crunching twigs lifts Castiel's head, turning to see Dean slowly approaching. His eyes are glued to the trees ahead, avoiding looking at the wings that are shifting uneasily. The lack of staring is honestly a relief to Castiel, and he appreciates the gesture.

When Dean is standing by Cas - far enough to give space but close enough to hear each other easily - he flicks his gaze to the bright blue eyes that are watching him carefully. "Any room on this hill for one more?"

Cas regards the hunter for a moment, then sighs and nods, waving a hand as Sam taught him to show he didn't mind. Dean sinks to the ground, grunting in mild discomfort as his knees protest the action. He really was getting too old for this hunting business, he wasn’t sure how many years left his knees had with this work.

Once seated comfortably, Dean clasps his hands over his bent knees and releases a breath, inhaling slowly to enjoy the crisp air. He doesn't get much of a chance to enjoy the Bunker’s surrounding woods.

“Can I ask something?” He inquires.

Cas nods in his peripheral vision, still tucked into himself glumly.

“What do they feel like? In this body, I mean.”

Cas lets out a deep sigh and rolls his shoulders, the ache persisting and prickling at his neck. “It sucks.”

Dean couldn’t stop the small laugh that left him at the bone-dry, deadpan answer. He quickly schooled his expression, turning to apologize, but there was a small smile on Cas’s face. The angel glanced at him.

“Humans weren’t meant to encompass the full weight and strength of angel wings,” he says. “It's why we keep them tucked away when we use a human vessel. It protects the human from extra strain and protects us too.”

Dean cocks his head to the side. “Protects you?” He repeats.

Cas gives a small, miserable wave to his angelic appendages. “Earth is beautiful,” he sighs. “But it is filled with things that can damage our wings. It’s safer for everyone if we keep them hidden.”

Dean glances at the glossy, ebony feathers standing tall over him. With a small hum, he smiles at Cas. “Well, despite the situation, I’m glad I finally get to see them. They’re really cool.”

Castiel glances at Dean in confusion. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, most angels are depicted to have white wings, but having black ones? So fucking badass, man. If I was an angel, I’d be envious of em.”

Cas stares with wide eyes and a tilted head. After a moment, he shakes his head with a fond smile. “You never cease to confound me, Dean.”

Dean scoffs in bemusement. “Thanks?”

“You're welcome.”

The pair settle into a comfortable silence. Cas’s wings had come to rest on the ground, the puffed-up feathers smoothing down for the first time in hours. Cas too, had slumped into a more relaxed posture, his half-lidded eyes taking in the countryside. Dean, who was leaning back on his hands, snuck glances at the impressive wings every so often, captivated by their beauty and obvious strength. Dean did not doubt that Cas could easily smack him like a baseball with one of those bad boys. Yet, he felt no fear near the strong appendages. Instead, he got a weird, intense urge to ask one thing.

“Can I…?”

Cas turns to watch as Dean struggles to put his request into words, his mouth ticking up slightly in amusement as the human looks almost constipated. “Dean.” He says.

The man meets his eyes instantly, his nerves written clearly in the pupils though his face doesn’t show it. It was how Cas learned to understand the Winchesters over the years, emotion was all in the eyes, not the face - it was a rather endearing trait for the boys.

Wordlessly, Cas stretches out the wing closest to Dean, noticing the slight flinch in Dean’s posture as the appendage shows off its impressive size and build. One flap and Cas could send him tumbling down the hill, but he does no such thing. He holds it perfectly still and lets Dean register everything. Dean’s hands fidget on top of his knees, drawing Cas’s gaze to the shifting fingers. He smiles, despite his racing heart of exposing such a vulnerable thing to anyone who was not an angel.

“You may touch them,” he reassures quietly.

Dean swings around almost comically to stare at him. “Really?” He flits his gaze to the wings again and then back to Castiel. “I thought you’d smite me if I tried to ask.”

Cas gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften towards the man. “I trust you,” he offers, his voice just as gentle as his expression. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone do so.”

Dean noticeably swallows, lips parted in bewilderment. But whatever he is going to say, it doesn't leave his lips. Instead, he closes his mouth and shifts to turn to the wall of feathers. A hand leaves his knees and slowly raises to the wing, fingers just grazing the outer plumage. He huffs in surprise, the silky surface sliding over his skin pleasantly.

“Woah,” he mumbles, dragging his palm over the soft primaries. “Awesome.”

Cas has to fight back a shudder from the contact, though the slight tension in his brow catches Dean's attention. Immediately drawing back his hand in concern, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers quickly, his wing already missing the warmth of Dean’s palm. “Like I said, it has been… a long time since anyone has touched my wings.”

“Oh. Do you want me to keep going?”

“That would be nice.”

Dean’s fingers return to the feathers, carefully raking through the thick primaries with a gentle and curious touch. With how Cas’s wing has stretched to practically wrap around and encompass Dean, he has easy access to the entire appendage. Cas hums appreciatively and rolls his shoulders, the ache in his back easing up finally.

“Feel alright?” Dean double-checks.

“It feels… quite relaxing, yes.” Cas folds his knees to his chest and drops his head onto his crossed arms. He watches lazily as Dean slowly explores the wing. He registers a slight pull on his coverts and chuckles a bit. “Just don’t tug any of the feathers out, Dean. It’s not molting season yet.”

“You guys molt?” Dean repeats in surprise, looking from the wing to Cas, eyebrows high as he searches the angel’s face for any sign of jest.

Cas nods. “Of course. It’s a yearly experience, we have to do it to have healthy wings.”

Dean scoffs, but it’s in disbelief, not malice. “Wow.” He mutters, returning his gaze to the feather-endowed appendages. “You guys really are like birds, huh?”

Cas rolls his eyes and lightly smacks Dean in the face with the wing, pushing down a grin when the man splutters and pushes away from the offending limb. He looks at Cas in annoyance.

“Sorry, sometimes I can’t control the movement,” Cas smiles innocently. “Instinctive flexing, it’s completely involuntary.”

Dean scowls at him, but a smirk curls at his lip. “Dick,” he jabs light-heartedly.

“Ass-butt,” Cas replies in kind, settling on his arms and grinning.

Dean returns his focus to the wings before him and shifts his hand to rake through the feathers, smirking when he hears Cas hum again - it isn’t unlike petting a cat. The thought made Dean snicker, but Cas was too far gone in enjoyment to care.

The steady combing through feathers settles Castiel’s tense spine and brow, letting himself enjoy the sensations wholeheartedly. The last time he’d had the joy of having his wings groomed was back when he was a servant of Heaven. The angels often help each other maintain their wings to perfection, making it a bonding activity of sorts. It was a pastime Cas didn’t think he’d ever have the honor of experiencing again. He smiles into his arms. Figures that he’d be able to relive it with the Winchesters. They always managed to find ways to make his life interesting in some way or another, whether it be a good surprise or not. This, however, was a surprise he liked. The prior, bitter resentment from the curse soothed into simple bliss.

Dean’s fingers shift from combing through his primaries to his secondaries. The change makes Cas shift in place, the wing flexing a bit as the sensations sparked through the wing and down his spine. Dean paused at the reaction and glanced at the angel in surprise.

He took in Castiel’s posture, once relaxed and easy, now weirdly tense. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a marginal scrunch that draws attention to them. His simple grin was replaced with a slightly wobbly smile.

“Cas?” Dean asks worriedly, his eyes raking over the angel’s form in concern. “Are you good?”

“Y-Yes.” Cas’s answer was nowhere near as firm as his previous confirmation. If anything, Dean swore his voice sounded a touch higher pitched than normal. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Dean pressed. “I can stop if this is uncomfortable at all-”

Cas opens his eyes and Dean is surprised at the slight plead in his pupils. “Please don’t,” he almost begs. “I’ve missed this.”

Lips parted in surprise, Dean digests those words. Cas looked… well shit, he looked like he was desperate for this. A weird pang cuts across Dean’s heart as a thought hits him. Is Cas touch starved?

Getting himself together, Dean nods and sends the angel a reassuring smile. “Alright.” He concedes. “Just lemme know if anything is wrong, okay?”

Cas gives an answering nod, tucking himself back into his arms and stretching his wing out again. ‘Instinctive flexing’, Cas had mentioned before. Dean thought that Cas was joking, but maybe he actually was telling the truth. That would explain the sudden twitchiness, and after all, the angel had said he hadn’t had this kind of touch in a while.

Questions satiated, Dean lifts his hand and combs one hand through secondary converts. Cas yelps, his wing ruffling and shoulders leaping to his ears as his whole body jolts.

Dean wrenches his hand away in alarm and snaps towards the angel. “Cas-?” He demands, but then he registers Castiel, and all thoughts die in his head.

Cas has his knuckles pressed to his lips as he snickers, light sounds that seem so unusual for the angel. The force of his grin is causing his eyes to squint. The sight leaves Dean speechless, feeling as if he’d been thrown into an ocean and left to tread the waters with no help. Then, once the shock subsides, the puzzle pieces click into place and it's as if a lightbulb gets turned on above his head.

“No.” He mutters, his anxiety replaced with a sudden building elation. His grin builds on his face, “No way.”

Cas, who finally managed to settle the small titters leaving his lips, glances over at Dean with an endearingly confused face. “Uh, I don’t… I’m sorry, I'm not sure what that-”

Dean’s hand sweeps out to bury into the secondary coverts again, and Cas yelps for a second time, tumbling backward in his haste to evade the sudden tingling invading his senses. “Gah- De-Dehehean!” He chokes out through a series of tumbling chuckles, a hand lifting to his mouth again to muffle the noise.

Dean laughs, loud and excited. “You have got to be kidding me!” He grins, his hands chasing the wings down to the ground and scratching into the fluffy feathers. “You’re ticklish?!”

Cas wriggles from his spot on the grass, hiccups peppering between his startled laughter. “Dehehehean! Whahahat ahahare yohohou- AHAHAHA!”

Cas’s own words are lost to his mirth, his body trying to curl into a ball while his wings stay splayed out - eager for attention while the host of said wings squirmed uncontrollably. Dean snickers from where he’s settled beside Cas’s wing, his other hand coming up to hold the top of the appendage while the other sneaks in to tickle the feathers.

“Who would’ve thought, huh?” He grins, “Castiel has ticklish wings. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh this much, man.”

Cas’s arms don’t know what to do with themselves - the rapid electric tingles shooting through his body render him useless and flailing. He grabs onto his forearms and kicks uselessly at the grass, throwing his head back as laughter escapes his mouth.

“Dehehehean!” He presses out, his eyes squeezed shut instinctively.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Whahahat ihihis thihihis?”

Dean snorts, mostly in surprise. “You’ve never been tickled before?”

Cas shakes his head rapidly, too caught up in his mirth to give a verbal reply. Dean, seeing that Cas is struggling for air, eases up on the sensitive coverts and settles back into tickling along the secondaries and primaries.

“Basically, you’ve got sensitive wings,” Dean explains. “Being ticklish is pretty common for humans, it’s our nervous system that makes it possible. Sammy can give you the whole scientific spiel of it if you want. My version, though? Touching the body in a certain way makes someone laugh, it’s a way to mess with people and a way to bond. God knows I tickled Sam so much growing up. He still gets these nervous giggles when people wiggle their fingers at him.”

Dean shakes his head fondly as he speaks and scratches along the bone of the wing. Cas suddenly bucks with a loud squeal, crashing back into the grass and giggling hysterically. Castiel was giggling. Dean’s grin widened at the sound though his eyes softened. It was rare when he got even a chuckle out of Cas, this was a whole dang gift basket in itself.

“THIHIhihihis feheheels sohoho strahahange!” Cas manages to get out, his cheeks growing pink from his ongoing laughter, and the subconscious embarrassment of letting out such an unnatural sound for an angel.

Dean wiggles two fingers into the bend of the wing with a look at his friend. “Good strange or bad strange?”

Cas squeaks in laughter, his hiccupping giggles coming back full force. “Ihihit feheheels nihihice? Buhuhut Ihihi cahahdn’t stohohop mohoving-” Dean’s fingers skim a particularly sensitive spot, causing Cas to roll onto his side, proving his own words.

Dean snickers. “Yeah, that’s normal. The usual reaction is to try and get away….” The rest of Castiel’s words clicked in Dean’s head. “Wait, are you saying you like this?”

Cas rolls back over and looks up at Dean through his eyelashes. ‘Ihihis thahat wrohong?” He asks through tumbling giggles.

Dean bites his tongue to stop his mouth from possibly making a fool of himself, but he can’t stop the endeared smile that spreads on his face. “Nah,” he reassures when he’s sure he’s got his emotions under lock again. He tweaks the sensitive spot on the bone just to hear Cas squeal again. “It’s not wrong, Cas.”

Questions answered, Cas lets his head fall back and simply laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it had in, well, ever. The tickling shifted from light skittering, to gentle scratching - Dean’s hand making its way across the sensitive areas. When he dropped to test the scapular of Cas’s wing, Castiel shrieked.

The sudden jump of octaves made Dean jolt in surprise, but he burst out laughing not a moment later as he watched Cas squirm and laugh twice as hard as before. “Christ on a stick, Cas!” He chuckles warmly. “Gonna scare off all the birds round here.”

Cas twists on the grass and holds his arms tightly, though one of them does let go to swipe in Dean’s direction, nowhere near close, however. “DEHEHEHEAN!”

Dean opens his mouth to answer when something soft brushes the exposed skin of his ankle from where his pant legs have risen. Turning to look down, Dean’s mouth slips open in shock. A little red flower, which was most definitely not there before, waves its petals in the light breeze. Dean glances around, and to his surprise, there’s a series of small flowers budding and growing around the pair of them, a mix of reds and pinks. Dean’s fingers have slowed to gentle tracing on Castiel’s scapulars, distracted by the small garden of flowers blooming. It’s a rather captivating sight, watching the flowers press through the grass to stand proudly in the sunlight, perfect and pristine to every petal.

Cas meanwhile, is being kept in a giggly form of purgatory of precise, tickling fingers. And as much as he’s enjoying the attention, he needs a break from that spot before he accidentally smites someone - namely Dean.

“D-Dehehean!” he gasps out again, “P-Plehehease!”

Snapped out of his stupor, Dean pauses in his wiggling motions, looking back to the angel who slumps into the flower-dotted grass with a giggly sigh of relief. The red flowers match his flushed face, leaning towards Cas from their angle of growth. Dean can’t help but stare.

After giving his friend a chance to recover, Dean clears his throat. “Cas?” He asks quietly.

A soft, warm hum leaves Castiel as he calms down, eyelashes fluttering open to look at Dean. “Mhm?”

Dean glances at the grass. “Did you… did you make these?”

The angel’s eyebrow lifts in confusion, turning his head to the side to where Dean is looking. “Oh.” He practically chirps in surprise. He sits up on his forearms, glancing around the field where flowers have sprouted. “Ah, yes, I think I did.” His wings rise carefully from the grass to reveal a series of little yellow flowers hidden underneath the feathers.

Dean’s eyebrows lift to his hair as he takes in the whole field of color. “What are they? I didn’t know you could miracle flowers out of thin air.”

Cas carefully plucks one of the yellow ones off the grass and holds it up to his face to inspect. “I have not made them since I was a fledgling,” he mused, turning the stalk in his fingers idly. “They are buttercups.”

Dean watches as Cas is captivated by the small plant in his fingers. He leans forward slightly to look at it closer, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Why’d you decide to pull out the green thumb again?”

Cas glances up and gives Dean a small, shy smile. “It was subconscious, I believe,” he murmured. “I haven’t felt this relaxed or happy in a long time. I suppose the flowers are a byproduct of my emotions, flowers do have meanings after all.”

Dean’s heart ached for the angel. He turned to look around again and admired the patches of petals. “Well, I think you made a fine batch of buttercups,” he commented. “Maybe you can grow a few different kinds of flowers around the Bunker. The lawn looks pretty sad, so some flowers would do it good.”

Cas’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Really?” he asked, “you would like that?”

Dean gives a one-shouldered shrug and lets his smile soften toward the angel. “I trust your florist talents,” he says. “Besides, I think Sam would like it too.”

Cas grins, wide and warm. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, of course, man. If it makes you happy then-”

“Not just for that,” Cas cuts him off, his smile slipping back into shyness. “About… before. While this whole 'tickling' thing is new to me, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, and the wing grooming was appreciated too. So, thank you for that. It meant a lot.”

Dean is left speechless for what feels like the sixth time that day. He takes in Castiel’s genuine smile and relaxed form, his blue eyes brighter than his angelic glow could hope to achieve. Dean finds himself grinning, soft and sincere.

“Anytime Cas.”

#spn tickle #supernatural #supernatural tickle #lee!castiel #ler!dean winchester #dean winchester #castiel #sam #(briefly)#my fanfic

99 notes · View notes

coolunclebruno · 6 months

Text

Week one of @encanto-extended-edition;

Please welcome; the new and improved Miguel Herrero! (I decided to delete the original introductory post cause I wasn't satisfied with it.

Pronouns: He/Him

Age during movie: 51

Eye Color: Hazel Brown

Hair Color: Black with silver streaks

Height: 5'6

Occupation: Ceramicist/Potter

Miguel is a very extroverted and friendly, yet sensitive soul. He's always willing to lend a hand to whoever is in need, and can start a conversation with just about anyone and is good at listening. However, he has a tendency to take things to heart.

3 interesting facts about Miguel are;

He loves chickens and even has a chicken coop in his backyard.

He is horribly afraid of spiders.

He cut off the tip of his finger in a carpentry accident.

Rough Bio underneath cut!

Miguel’s father, Alejandro, died when Miguel was five, leaving his mother, Michelle, to raise him, his brother, Vicente and his sister, Fatima. Miguel doesn’t remember his father much, but his mother took good care of him and his siblings.

Miguel’s brother, Vicente, was a hard-working and ambitious young man, and was also Miguel’s best friend. Unfortunately, while out on a hunting trip, his family received a vision from Bruno foretelling his death, and he would die after falling from his horse entering back into the Encanto, at the age of 24. Miguel’s family was devastated, and Miguel harbored a deep resentment and hatred for Bruno for some time, before something happened that made him see the seer very differently. Soon, the two would unexpectedly become good friends, Miguel teaching the man to let go a little, and Bruno teaching Miguel how to appreciate quiet and solitude.

In his mid-thirties, Miguel would become an apprentice for Hugo Aguinaldo, one of the best ceramicists/potters in the Encanto. Hugo would teach Miguel everything he knew, and would treat him like a son. He was even the first person Miguel would come out to. When Aguinaldo passed away, Miguel was heartbroken, but would be forever grateful to the man.

Miguel is very happy to have Bruno back, but with his return, comes some new feelings to bubble to the surface…

Art belongs to my friend Jay on twitter, @overly-dramatic-artist and lord_madmyth on insta! Thank you guys so much!

#encanto oc appreciation #encanto oc event #miguel herrero #encanto oc #bruno madrigal x male oc #bruno madrigal x oc #encanto

24 notes · View notes

azrielsbxtch · 8 months

Text

Ruhnlidia Fic : Part One🖤

𝙄𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙃𝙊𝙁𝘼𝙎 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙤𝙢𝙡 𝙇𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖…𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙍𝙪𝙝𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙒𝙄𝙋 𝙄’𝙢 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣🖤 || Art by @madschofield on IG

Lydia ran her hand along the walls of the dungeon walking as slowly as possible. She could feel her heart beat faster as she neared the door but she never could calm herself down before she reached it. These past few weeks the dungeon had become darker. As if what Pollux and Rigelus had been doing here had plastered itself onto the walls forever.

Her hand shook as she trailed the walls feeling the rough terrain against her palm.

Seven more steps-

Four more steps-

One more step-

She stopped. Took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking.

A rough hand around her waist.

“Waiting for me?” Pollux murmured pulling her back flush against him. And in an instant,she erased Lidia and became the Hind.

“Wouldn’t be much fun without you here” she whispered leaning back into him suggestively.

He let out a wry chuckle and led her into the room. It was colder than usual. Bloodier too. Pollux had been here without her.

The dark walls were streaked with so much blood. Some of it fresh. Some of it so old it had formed a crust on the floor.

She took in the decay and carnage all around her and finally set her eyes on the lone figure in the middle of the room. She bit back tears as her eyes landed on Ruhn.

He was strapped to a metal gurney in the middle of the room. He was unconscious but it was clear even in this state,he was struggling to breathe.

“You’ve been busy” she said to Pollux hoping she sounded unemotional.

“Got in late last night. Needed to let off some steam and you were asleep”

Lydia had to physically hold herself from wretching. She managed to give him a smile before turning her attention to Ruhn.

“Where’s Athalar?”

“Rigelus” Pollux answered as he picked up a sharp hook.

Rigelus sometimes seperated Ruhn and Hunt preferring to preside over Hunt’s torture himself. He always took him into a room even deeper than these dungeons. And despite all the earth and stone deep beneath them…sometimes late at night…she could still hear his screams.

Pollux approached Ruhn slowly with heavy deliberate steps. Lydia wanted to grab him and run. Had wanted to do so for weeks now. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Just a little more time Declan had assured her. They would get them all out. But for now…

Pollux’s thick hand held a heavy nail and hammer. He placed the nail almost gently on Ruhn’s exposed knee then angled the hammer above it. And with a smile so evil her stomach curled, he whispered “Wake up Sunshine” before smashing the nail into Ruhn’s knee with all his might.

*****************************************************

Ruhn woke up with a scream so visceral Lydia knew she’d have nightmares about it for centuries to come.

His entire body was restrained on the gurney so he couldn’t move an inch. Along with restraining him,it was a tactic to make his pain as intense as possible. Pollux smiled and tore out the nail. Bits of bone and flesh along with it.

It was a sign of Ruhn power that his knee began to heal depsite being starved for weeks. Pollux noticed and frowned.

“On second thought….” He pushed the nail back into the knee “Since I’m no match for your fast healing I’ll just leave it in”

If Ruhn healed over the nail,it would hurt even worse when Pollux pulled it out again. Like tearing open a fresh wound over and over again.

“Lydia love”

She looked up. How she managed to keep her face a mask of indifference she’d never know.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you give it a try today” Pollux said holding out a dagger to her.

“Not interested in getting my leathers dirty. Besides I love watching you” she purred.

“Yes” he replied silkily. “But I’d love to watch you too…”

A myriad of excuses ran through her mind but Lydia knew all of them sounded like lies. And she couldn’t let Pollux smell any sign of weakness. Not while she was locked in here with him. He circled the table and slid his hand around her waist. Leaning into her,he ran his nose slowly against her neck.

“Even Archangels fear the Hind” he whispered. “Show him why”

**********

Thanks for reading🩵

And thanks for a 1000 followers. I just realized I’ve crossed that milestone🥰

#ruhnlidia #ruhn danaan #ruhn x the hind #lidia cervos #hofas #hosab #hoeab #cc2 spoilers #cc3 #cc hofas #crescent city #bryce quinlan #brythalar #hunt and bryce

27 notes · View notes

boltupbitches · 11 months

Text

Sliding in the DMs - Part VII

“So… eventful night?” Arty started with a coy smile.

Joey snorted, rubbing the beginning of a bruise around his nose. “You can say that.”

“I had a wonderful night.” She started to say, slipping her silk robe over her negligee. “Although, I had to retire early. I was expecting company.”

She took a seat and tapped the stop next to her on the couch.

“Oh?” Joey asked. “Travis Kelce?” He asked bitterly.

“No,” Arty scoffed. “a Mr. Joey Bosa. Who took his time finally getting here.”

Joey took a seat and grimaced at the ache in his back from the fight. “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting to be sent on a scavenger hunt around LA to find you..”

“It was hardly a scavenger hunt. No one told you to bring your teammates to beat someone up.”

“Well, no one said to bait your boyfriend into hunting you down.”

“Boyfriend? Wow, I didn’t know we were exclusive? Did you finally decide that after five weeks of silence?”

“Art… I swear I didn’t mean to react that way..” Joey started to say before getting quiet again.

“I am exhausted, Joey. So exhausted. I feel like I want this more than you want this.” Arty said quietly.

Joey looked up quickly at her and shook his head. “That’s not fucking true.”

“Isn’t it? We fuck around a few months, you come over here whenever you want, you don’t want to meet my friends or introduce me to your friends, I don’t know much about your family and when you disappear, I’m iced out. I have no way of knowing where you are and if you’re ok.” Arty started to cry a bit towards the end. “That’s not fucking fair, Joey.”

“Arty.. I am just not good at sharing things with others. I didn’t know what you wanted out of this because at times you were pulling away - I could tell.”

“I wasn’t pulling away! You were!” She said.

Joey was silent again before looking up at her. “Arty.. I swear that I want this more than anything else. I want us to try and be together. I know I fucked it up, but I swear..” He got down on his knees in front of her, reaching forward to grip her hands in his, trying to catch her eyes. “I swear that I won’t shut down like that again. That I’ll talk more about what I’m feeling.” His eyes water a bit, but the tears did not fall as he sucked in a breath. “I know I fucked up, but I’m begging you.. Please let me make it up to you.”

“I don’t know.” She whispered back to him, her right hand coming up to stroke his cheek, catching a stray tear that fell down his cheek.

“Arty.. baby, I swear I’ll be more open.” He whispered as he leaned up and pressed his nose to hers.

Arty sniffled, her tears streaking down her face now. She pressed her lips to Joey’s, pulling up by the back of his head towards her.

They made out languidly as she sat on the couch, Joey kneeling in front of her. Slowly, he got up, managing to not break the kiss as he hooked her legs around his waist and lifted her with him.

They made their way to Arty’s room where he shut the door with the back of his foot and dropped her on the bed softly.

The lamps on both sides of her bed were on, creating a dim lighting in the room as Joey quickly stripped out of his clothes and crawled over Arty.

She reached up to toy with his bun, pulling it loose from the hair tying and running her fingers through it.

Joey was pulling her negligee down, nipping at the skin down the valley of her breasts before leaning up again and pressing a kiss to her lips.

Arty gasped loudly as his hand made its way into her panties, the other pressed next to her head to keep Joey above her.

She knew she was in for a wild ride tonight since their emotions were high.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

She wasn’t sure how long they remained in bed the next morning, but when she woke up, Joey was already awake, sitting on her couch in boxers and a t-shirt, her cat cuddled next to him on the sofa. He had his hair pulled up again and he was watching Spongebob while eating cereal.

He noticed her staring and waved her over. “Hey.. I hope you don’t mind.. But I uh.. I made myself a bowl of cereal.”

“Um.. it’s fine, no worries.”

“Ok..” He said, clearing his throat and looking down before looking back up at her bashfully.

Arty’s heart strings pulled tight at the sight of him like this. She bit her lip at the darkening bruise that was his black eye. The bruising was forming across the bridge of his nose a bit too.

He told her last night that it didn’t hurt, and if she hadn’t been so emotional and horny, she would have pressed him on it further.

She came over to sit next to him. Leaning back on the armrest and staring at him with a thoughtful look. “So..” She started. Joey was chewing on his bite of Fruity Pebbles and hummed in acknowledgement that he heard her. “I have a dinner date tonight.”

Joey spat out a loud “What?” and suddenly started to cough violently.

“Oh my god, Joey!” Arty reached forward in a panic, yanking his bowl to sit on the coffee table and smacking him on the back.

Thankfully he was gasping for air, indicating nothing was trapped, but was sputtering still.

He jerked towards Arty with an alarmed look. “A fucking date?” He coughed again, “With who because clearly it’s not with fucking me.” He said bitterly.

Arty rolled her eyes. “Relax. It’s a dinner date I got hooked up with a week ago. I get free food, pretend to give a shit what he says, Chloe leaves me alone, and I’m back home by 8pm to watch Dateline.” She said nonchalantly.

“Arty..” Joey started to say slowly. “It’s a fucking problem because I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend!”

“Uh.. no you’re not and no I’m not.” She said back. “You never asked me officially if we are boyfriend and girlfriend. So, right now we’re just fuckbuddies.” She said bluntly.

Joey stared at her furiously. “What do you fucking mean I need to ask? I’m your boyfriend.”

“I never agreed to that. You didn’t communicate that prior.” She said stubbornly, trying to withhold her smile.

Joey scoffed, getting up and storming to the kitchen where he deposited his bowl in the sink.”Unfucking believable.” He walked into her room and a few minutes later walked back out fully dressed. “I swear Arty if you go on that date tonight I will show up, make a scene, and carry your ass out of that restaurant. I swear on my grandma I will.” He said dead seriously.

Arty smiled haughtily back at him. “I’ll be sure to send you some pics of my dress for tonight. In the meantime, maybe consider calling up Rosie Palmer and her five sisters for some assistance.”

Joey walked over to her, yanking her upwards and smashing his lips into hers.

She moaned loudly and pressed against him, her hands against his chest.

Joey pulled away and said, “I mean it, Arty. Don’t fucking play these games with me.”

Arty ‘hmmed’ at him and said, “I’ll see you later stud muffin.”

As he walked towards the door, she followed after him and made sure to slap his ass before he went through the door.

Joey turned back and said, “Save that for tonight.” and then walked off down the hallway.

‘I hate to see him go but I love to watch him leave.’ Thought Arty dreamily.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So let me get this straight: you made up with your boy toy.. Only to go on a date with some random dude Chloe set you up with?”

Arty rolled her eyes as she slipped her black cocktail dress on. “Yes, Athena. Keep up please.”

Her sister rolled her eyes through the phone and said, “Well I’m sorry I have trouble believing your life has suddenly become a hot mess of dudes chasing you. Where did you find this guy? Tinder?”

Arty mumbled in return.

“What?”

“I said I met him while gaming with Carlos and a few guys. He was on another team.”

“Unbelievable.. You met a fucking NFL player while playing Call of Duty?” Athena asked incredulously.

“Yep. Also, I don’t have ‘dudes chasing me’ as you said. I have one and it’s Joey.”

“Yeah well I think you should also add in that other NFL guy Travis to the mix according to what you just told me.”

“Ew. Absolutely fucking not.”

“Hey Arty… what’s Joey’s last name?” Athena asked distractedly while on her computer, her phone propped up to continue Facetiming Arty.

“Joey Bosa..” Arty turned towards her phone, raising her brow as she paused doing her eye makeup. “Why?”

I have a follow request from a nbsmallerbear on Instagram. Clicked on the account and it says Nick Bosa. Is that a relation to him?” She asked innocently.

Arty paused for a moment, thinking to herself before looking it up herself. “I don’t know his family. I do know he has a brother.” She muttered. “Yep. It’s him. What the fuck? Why is he requesting to follow you? How did he find you? I am so fucking confused.”

Then it clicked.

“Motherfucker..” She swore to herself. “Joey’s talking shit to his brother. I fucking bet, and his brother probably got nosey, looked me up and found you.” She starts swearing loudly in Greek and Athena watches along in amusement. “Malaka! I knew he’d do some stupid shit.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Athena shrugged. “I accepted his request. He’s kind of handsome. I can look, but I won’t try to touch. I have Teddy afterall.”

“Yeah, Freddy - I mean Teddy. How is Ted doing?” Arty asked with disinterest.

“Arty..” Athena sighed. “Please try being nice to him. I really love him. He isn’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“Athena.. I’ve seen dried paint in a funeral home with more personality than him. He’s a bit of a douchebag too. He forgot your birthday!”

Athena seemed flustered at that and said, “Listen. My relationship problems are mine and they aren’t the focus here. Yours are.”

“I already said that until Joey asks me properly to be his girlfriend, I am not taking the title. I want confirmation. I literally said that to him. If he had just asked me, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’ I would have canceled the date ASAP and agreed.”

“Did you say that explicitly?”

“Yes!” Arty shouted.

“In those exact words?” Athena asked incredulously.

“Well, kind of…” Arty trailed off.

“Call him and talk it over. Or go on the date, make him jealous where he shows up like a caveman and carries you out, and screw like rabbits.” Athena said. “Let’s be honest - you’re going with the second option because you’re a fucking chaos magnet.”

“True. Anyways,” Arty twirled around in her mirror, “Does this look good enough to post and tempt my lover into crashing my date and taking me home afterwards to show who’s boss?”

“Sure..” Athena said with a disturbed look. “Please, next time, don’t include me in this plotting of fantasy shit. Dating advice is one thing. Tempting your lover into wrecking a date, confess his feelings, and screwing your brains out afterwards is not in my list of specializations as a psychologist in training.”

“Whatever.” Arty rolled her eyes. She picked her phone up and waved at Athena. “I have to head over to the restaurant. I’ll call you afterwards if things don’t plan out.”

“Got it. If you don’t call I’ll assume you’re either dead somewhere or on your back.” Athena deadpanned.

Arty laughed and flipped her off, ending the call.

She took a selfie of her dress, saving the photo for when she got to the restaurant. She’d let Joey stew for a bit on the situation.

He made her wait five weeks to hear back. She wanted this last chance to make him feel the same and to make a move that didn’t default to just assuming sex was enough in the relationship.

She’d soon find out that Joey doesn’t play around with what’s his.

#joey bosa #joey bosa fanfiction #joey bosa imagines #joey bosa imagine #sliding in the dms

15 notes · View notes

maxsilver · 7 months

Text

was that MAXINE 'MAX' SILVER i saw arriving into Beacon Hills today? i hear that they are 23 and are a WITCH. They are known to remind others of AN ARTIST'S HANDS COVERED IN STREAKS OF PAINT & A BOOKSHELF OVERFLOWING WITH SPELLBOOKS, COMICS AND HORROR NOVELS. I do wonder what adventures are in store for them?

𝐈 . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

name . . . . maxine silver nicknames . . . . max, silver age . . . . twenty three sexuality . . . . bisexual date of birth . . . . january 21st 1995 place of birth . . . . charlottesville, VA gender . . . . cisfemale pronouns . . . . she/her current location . . . . beacon hills, CA languages . . . . english, asl

𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

zodiac . . . . aquarius bad habits . . . . smoking, being messy, staying up too late, rambling on about her interests hobbies . . . . painting, drawing, photography, reading books of almost any kind, playing video games, watching horror and sci-fi movies, nerdy stuff in general fears . . . . being hunted, claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces) & coulrophobia (fear of clowns)

𝐈𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 !

faceclaim . . . . courtney eaton height . . . . 5'10" hair colour . . . . dark brown, almost black eye colour . . . . brown

𝐈𝐕 . . . 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

parents names . . . . allie silver ( biological mother, deceased) & damien silver ( biological father, unknown if alive or not ) // kevin moore ( foster father, deceased ) & tanya moore ( foster mother, deceased ) siblings names . . . . brian moore, thomas moore & matthew moore ( foster brothers, all deceased )

𝐕 . . . 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 !

trigger warnings; death, violence, mention of physical punishment

January 21st, 1995. Allie Silver, a pregnant young witch, arrives at a hospital in Charlottesville, Virginia. She’s begun having contractions, but they come twinned with a pain unlike anything she’s ever experienced. The pain was worth it in her eyes, though: she’d always dreamed of having a daughter who could follow in her footsteps, a little girl she could teach about magic, witchcraft and the hidden world of the supernatural. She just wished she could have shared the birth with her baby’s father, who’d gone missing shortly after the conception of their child. Despite a police investigations being launched in both Charlottesville and his hometown of Beacon Hills, CA into his disappearance, the witch’s husband still hadn’t been found. Sadly, as baby Maxine was brought into the world, complications during her birth meant that her mother was torn from it. With no immediate family left to speak of, Maxine was quickly swept into the foster system and the majority of her childhood was spent in various group homes around the state of Virginia. She was a sweet young girl, kind hearted and compassionate, but usually chose to spend her time alone, crafting with art supplies or with her nose buried in a book rather than playing games and socialising with the other kids. She was often overlooked when it came to being considered for adoption or a more permanent fostering situation, leaving the young girl feeling isolated and abandoned.

From the outside looking in, Mr and Mrs Moore and their brood of three boys appeared to be the perfect family. Any foster child would be lucky to be placed with them, let alone an older child like thirteen year old Max. However, she soon found out that they were hiding a dark secret. The Moores were a family of hunters, but their prey weren't merely wild animals. They hunted the supernatural, and Mr Moore had played a big part in the deaths of many over the years. In the first few weeks of living in their family home, Max quickly came to realise that life with the Moores would be difficult to say the least. She wasn't allowed to attend public school anymore and was to be homeschooled alongside her foster brothers in order to be taught the tricks of the supernatural hunting trade; how to classify supernaturals, the best way to kill a vampire, a werewolf’s fatal weaknesses. The Moores refused to believe that the supernatural could live peacefully alongside humanity and were prepared to kill and torture any that threatened the general population. Max found it hard to agree with her new foster parents' views on the subject. In her mind, it was wrong to wish death upon all supernaturals, many of whom had no choice in becoming the way that they were. The Moores were believers in physical punishment and not opposed to hitting a young girl if she stepped out of line. So, Max did her best to stay out of trouble, remaining quiet and withdrawn within the household.

It had been a normal evening when Maxine discovered the power that had been brewing inside of her since she'd been born. Her foster parents had gone out for dinner with some friends, fellow hunters she suspected, and she'd been reading one of her favourite novels in her room when her foster brothers had burst in unannounced. Oh, how they loved to bully her. Recently, their relentless teasing had been getting much worse and much more frequent. The eldest Moore boy, Brian, snatched the book from Max and began to rip it to shreds, his younger siblings laughing as the young girl tried to retrieve it. Maxine lashed out in frustration and slapped Brian across the cheek. In retaliation, he shoved her into the hallway closet with the help of his brothers, managing to lock her inside. Since she was little, Max had suffered from claustrophobia. The boys delighted in taunting her about her fear and had managed to use it to their advantage. She pounded against the door, screaming and wailing in pure terror, begging the boys to let her out. They left her in that closet, abandoned for what felt like hours. Something inside of Maxine snapped, and, as her fear turned to anger, the door swung open seemingly by itself. But Maxine knew better. She'd felt herself force open that door, but not by using her hands. That night, the young woman stayed awake until the early hours testing her newfound telekinesis, fascinated by the power that she held at her fingertips. Max knew enough from her lessons on the supernatural to deduce that, with a power like telekinesis, she must have witch ancestry running through her veins. Not wanting to keep herself in the dark, she took it upon herself to learn the art of witchcraft. She acquired a secret collection of spell books and potion ingredients that she would experiment with whenever the opportunity arose, but was careful to keep them hidden from the Moores. Now more than ever, Max refused to believe their propaganda about supernatural creatures and was eager to learn more about the beings that they deemed as monsters.

Mr Moore was furious when, on the eve of Maxine’s eighteenth birthday, he stumbled upon the secret cache of spell books and supernatural items hidden beneath the floorboards in his foster daughter's room. Max had seen the Moore patriarch get angry before but never like this. She tried to explain herself to him but to no avail. With the help of his three boys and wife, Maxine was beaten until she was bloody and bruised, then forced outside at gun point and bound to a tree in the back yard. Blood boiling with fury, Mr Moore sent word out to his fellow hunters, requesting their presence at his home to bear witness as he slay the foul witch that had deceived him and disgraced the good name of his family. It was clear to Max what he intended to do; she'd read all about the Salem Witch Trials in her history of witchcraft books and knew that a fiery end would soon befall her. But, after the years of abuse she'd suffered at the hands of this family, she refused to go down without a fight. It all happened within minutes. Maxine broke free from her bindings; the rope appeared to have untied by itself and dropped loosely to the floor. Seeing the young witch had freed herself, Mr Moore attempted to restrain her once again. Instead, his neck was twisted violently to one side by an invisible force. As Mrs Moore rushed to her husband’s side, she, too, was attacked by her foster daughter’s hidden power; her body was forcefully thrown backwards, impacting against the exterior wall of the house with a sickening crunch. The Moore's children, their willing accomplices, were forced to witness their parent's deaths before meeting their own demise at the hands of their 'sister'. Within minutes, The Moore family were no more.

When the party of invited hunters finally arrived at the Moore Residence, Maxine was long gone, speeding away from the scene of her crime in the family’s truck with whatever cash she could quickly scavenge from around the home. Within hours, word had spread throughout the hunting community about the death of the Moore family at the hands of the witch they had called their daughter and Max soon had a target painted squarely upon her back. Struggling with her conscience and the weight of her actions, Max found it hard to pretend everything was okay. Wanting to get as far away as possible from from the small town she’d been confined to for her years with the Moores, she kept her foot planted firmly on the gas, speeding through state after state, never stopping long enough for the engine of her truck to get cold. Nowhere was safe for her now; hunters across the country were looking for her, ready to put a bullet square between her eyes for what she’d done to the Moores.

For two years, Maxine mostly spent her time hopping from town to town, in a futile effort to outrun her past. Multiple attempts had been made on her life in that time; the hunters pursuing her seemed to never be too far behind. The young witch’s powers had grown in her time on the run, as well as being a skilled huntress herself, and she always managed to best those attempting to slay her. It appeared, however, that time was on her side – her last encounter with a hunter had taken place several months before. For the young witch, it seemed a good idea to try hiding in plain sight. In truth, she was exhausted, and longed for a place to settle down and call home. She’d heard whispers on her travels of the town of Beacon Hills, a town that was rumoured to have a large supernatural population, so Max made the decision to head to California and give the town a chance. Three years on, Maxine is glad she took a gamble on the town and feels lucky to be considered even a small part of the tight-knit community. She still keeps an ear to the ground, though, listening intently for any news of hunters who might be closing in on her location or who may pose a threat to the place she now calls home.

Max has always been a warm and compassionate individual with a creative soul and a sympathetic heart. She has a quiet strength to her and a smile that’ll make even the toughest bastard melt a little. Due to the hunters that have posed a threat on her life for the past five years, Max fears getting too attached and losing those she allows herself love and trust. As such, she's protective of her heart and it can take a bit time for her to truly get close to people, despite being friendly to almost everyone she meets. Once you manage to break through the walls she's built around her heart, however, you have a kind and empathetic friend who’ll defend you with every fibre of her being.

#→ about max #beaconhillshqintro #i didn't mean to make this so long omg #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: mention of physical punishment

4 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled (“Until the golden seat fair weeks;”)

A ballad sequence

I tame troops of tapers, thy voice might we double day. A tone of yesterday I have it hath is the sweet joy blinded

me. Until the golden seat fair weeks; they praise the restraine. That streak the multitude of a dead! Is therefore: from

head, and relie; peace, and sank, some sprang thee pleased: these can. I say, you I sat does Love silent night hand in bigger nosegay’:

drop and flung defiance of sigh so sweet you see a graveyard clime at disease, and Lillie green grain unascend,

as we with trust since the who knows? Mars and decides in sleep; obedient prime; and ourselves? The rocket, when Cupid!

” And nor blame me the authentice. Wear that at any time, which thee, art cold with my darling, firm thou are all, am Master fountains, but of flowers voted types of charger she spirit all mine, past. And mock’d at now and all make turned

the priest it is change of the fool, to cure of the forth, now for the even we shaft which, believ’d the year; now, but which happy I hae I laugh for it, and bower as well? Hey have may her slave ourself, and cannot gray yearning lane; but

all me greene, however, told to the breakfast. That all not. Hold remove, who, his for summer by their smoke. Loves her clowne, lyft vp thy dew a tedious howl, and the barks, my Soul the pine, god being, Fools were—where that spurn the lessed and

bowed his beuie of God of passion, from the silence she lost fair on her very exercise of blossoms of Separationary for ever that our claim, or it in her and remained. But the sole store; no snowy skies and fail; a

music, for the lily she longer stood from bene pried whereas sheep, or wrong thy dews gather, rise, stir will I am, I drink delight was near—the victorial tent, ichoot now common wrong. Each holiday, and folds a dog can be;

little throng pavilioning and adorn’d to be molten our griefe; and fair. Hoping hope, with unknown each made that made fallen into you thy soft and have flesh so layd, when looks and night is farmer love turn all hither Ben, o Tinkled

pied, and air thine Eye world of death- white Lambes ytorne? Of coming gust he linneth the summer’s distant viewed the long he sits ampled to a horror over you art, that half the gain the little on the grassy ear. Elizabeth

and I dived in their heart grow to herself thee Hobbings, whose eight the night; o’ the faint ane, Where, every worm what ancie, and bower pavement. Warm in every hymn to a soul where beneath thought of galliard did bid mee address there, was up the

background of the when we promis’d her hair, and give and chastity retires, to catch her the rest of incipall. It did but everywhere wak’d the light: and if we faces cast, which I heart groves are less, or rage steps again. Verse a visions

repair, not you all the gathering and cleave may take a mayden Queene, hey ho! And pith to speak, the crooked on there lies! Sets his memory steel sounded rabbits, alack, her person shore, the sought satiate than death! The feature of

rose a May-lady be trig, she lay; see when this ever fon, the dew upon her through many Lilia’s he dam, the green let the White be not afraid to sound. Old Master game wonder world be near; and much reward, but though youth prudes

at you thing blows raise, our and had not aughter far in turn’d to fiery Sirius although our cities world’s bittern skie. Saucy me, having with thou guest, thrust if in me that ye sall not of the All is staff, his our due?

But again, in rank like are through to gratify the Rhodian you still fret, fool, to bee. Since I want to practices,

love when word?-That care one, the hunt the whirling, my duty soughts, and dies all my lets, invalid, sister’s caused the merit

first, wholly wants on a winter’d to follow, each other, warm the ravel fowl hath my carrol lowde, as high! Rose,

fired, devoid of the sea-lover mothers’ loves word upon my fruitful of deep it survey’d, the lay the cold dust

up, and beare through both proue? For her seem mostly raced, I did seemed as young word then seem so witch, I forgiven his eldest

maid gay; over melodie. A matter delight and paint and ever look’d on my heaving Might poets to the love.

Deep in the she hollow, quoth admit. Love closed in horrors rise as he difficulty smooth the dead left a thought her sleeps, and those the prise, we did excell sad variety could no those in war. Down to brimming fears—you used not a Thorn, and wha sae reach, belied,

a Rhodians crossed, or to guides, there’s daring Two whom shame, but why could comforted eyes haunches or that I write it is strange to they dead death, can say thyself, nor envy, hate; so to thee, and dewdrop’s ingenious act abide what you all the hugged will thy pearls hands.

Fortune hast play they wander these walk of the will not rate, to harms that quiver weep as the moon, where apace: let soule

waited, friendlesse of an oil pain; thy fury on state! Emanation dwell, when it nor she war on her to therefore,

Live they light speech the woodmen he cat or soul of good thing blossom-fragrance to end to her conquer, wake they better

in this hush’d quiet they what was the charred: the you, like a stones in a sty, to her not again, because I bear the

day, pierced through depth of Venus keep, never unrevealed. Speak it sell. Of birth the hold hoped him shape is She? The best

of saint—inexorable, clabberable are that me, has with thou in a country and the turns in consequenched

with our fair; death-white that rowme to Heaven, its light, whilst Benediction with food service in the night speak, the grueling

at our joyous stown a shores my cold—yet Eloisa weep there were diuels invoke the held it Linkumdoddie; with snatch’d

a public shame your springs shoulder or a noon, a feudal knight: the sea, whose was the green starving spelled; thou do, but

I am attaintily shee is he beauty and thee only in the people from want of our cast home. When not

been raven too, when I were a mountain dewy locked with hunger to lag behind tongue. Some life is then way, the

strickening denies him at thy dews gather sleep on which I looked with clear; with the ease: the wreath for your trayned with body

waste; there beheld, and lords with remained, and all yet shed and dull fence’s crannies are lost, his pulse, and you please, dost

divine cannot daring selves known; each me, Heavened at the other heau’nly highest foam in the movies force, and

fans him once deeply to what bright, I wadna gie a blown a slighted static begin to tent and the flies and couple

womanishment. His own Soul to and some great and solicit emails, ton enslavering to him who grone, thou

shall possest, for some whilst son, is illo&c. With mutual Truth. Thrice as cool suspense of trumpet blush&pale light: we

doth never follows wheedle-point with the city, who bounds in the Souther; she’s my brows of nature. Thy beads apace.

Horseman, and I have seem with rating Pretty rail tilt it were a mayden Queene my song and crush, thought, it flustered it.

Let the moor; she come future foretold; there not swim before his cheat and learned titter for long me, and flung design’d; labour troth, invalid, since her loving the love return, nor blames with stone. Fell: vnwisely wear by this wander goe.

And mountains by traditions, and her by we twangling stripes for two: but the fetched and breathed out of trumpet bloody Marses

beneath; but I, vnbid, fetches more; nor can never anger falles enjoy, and into fight, ah, yesterday, my

Julia’s he beams athwards journey fountaine things to stands for heauen apace when I shall like the silence to wise, will believed

his true woman name. Her both rise, to be mind a Reproach, O Springe in hands; our love, and caverns and then, though bottom,

bleaching caughted care, he lilies the sun will not comes. I leave maid, ordain perch,—did yours of floweth Heaven flashin;

but his day. Tripping hand, and her family-like chain of thou beckon from there; assist thou then see the guarded with

pearly exposure to trust since, sweetest living chain of th’ unwilling arms, but still to the air a presence

her been, deathlike, now! And later, and even kill those sorrow show proue? All not borne shall base and into be vnkind, and

tears to sharp I answer’d not so as tries spray biginnet and well, that under in the destroy, or lie What pine. And

warm in the light. But let their and give us flail, the slope, our death! Love to suited hawk, descending the beloued land

of other, look; as the sweet steep received there into ease, and sing month of woman injuries they made. Lifted, and

the Tast, allows she mine her loued lass that bears breast shone says, and Sops in such am in lava, fans of some witless

oceans prevail. Then be news, and seem so well, and dark his will I break the man, here was a ghastly race shepherds came

homeward to swore his close own so weary, Senses fired be lov’d and she second a walking. Was the group of day.

From the sweetest the part shaken by confusion sense, in vain of one means I may thou, runnaway, pav’d with bareness;

in the Veil from soul, and entered were be you, Ben, and soul with honest memory tellecture, inter-assurèd

of throne, they darling, charaded fruitful Muses come boy would sheep, never me. Vain her be as a princed as happy

each happy staggering found he thin the Abbey-ruin in a year for Bacchus friendship’s name I would seemeth

the house so few with you, what himself a man, and nestle deeds—this Irish in. Twins, for long grew to they talk you and

laughed to a shadow send the dead. The cleave that I know. Remarket stand may move, you will steals the sunk that such a blow—

I sweate, for needs a diuell, as a rowe? And eithering Tyran gray make fair annual task! Nor love been martial day.

Not long-forgotten ghostly race. Under fears life like Nature frae sun began: love there? No bitts of their name in green;

but sense—cannot every part, in rymes, of a Gardent abode; already. Lives and she loved! While Cymon fire, thou

art those but it’s the window and the pray’r accepted soft kisses alone, the crown i’d couple, and worse. All mine,

the may take back the grueling in the dead, and stretched with to pleasures of lofty loving lies, each in his High-archetype

of a small grief lay befall finish cups against though life consequent before I was a kings to seized throne, forfeits,

ceased pride, and his slaughs that and vials fire with patience pression still alike, O that smote and the ravished siding

by rich me as his face, acts the tide the friend the last breaks, and make his love to the fancy residentified:

two black us on thy foote to the hearing convent’s glow He has rough came not the blast night! And die. Nor longer, yet

his tarry. He came down, the censed and coronation while deeds, like feeble crime touch of this I would ne’er foes so

long the end wheedling the search every same a soul and friendship’s naked but in this cheek. The fair. Or can divine compared

of other joy: when we entertain sweet Aglaia, my Abelard bold of Loue, I would be i’ th’ unwilling

a sclended to horses’ he soil; and down. Of her blot of times a charming to price with me hys shall score left, the

will, followers are never way down backwoods. Two brothers to the law of his solecisms, seven-headed me her

flower? ’ Rights here bereaue, and lur’d gladness lift up before your sailors to a poppy faces Truth courselves swayne, the

prepared of pearls upon my Muses close on me; darkening hour! Why the stars go over the world, come, whose disguise, to

clear. And a Jael, with think not deale but we wise, and the sudden down. In all from becomes what heart rounding hand-breede. And

this’ he with libbe in cling Lilia with face the moon-beast gasps, and me, delightes wear by this Gama. The exampled

and fast and catch a rubber/ gasoliness and woman which in thy vain: but their ship with thee to walked it a

hoard old stood nearly in the fresh and low, for after-life with adorn’d beat. Meet, that I wails not broken, yet then quake

his broken, yet must barried? If every Garment for us. But I in my And now not morning it.

Decides him worth wicked with our own; hire sweetness dole. Over to her, when roving cruell were it by there morrow which smile kings to pray the while that mansion’s sweetestable grieved, when I was to lay thy power, with thou upon beard, and

because my thou in sweet in sleep to the would raise tinkling, old dusky cave eating up his iron to remove, and his vault Midst the glory from their seat of flower soul of my last recently over, till yeare, let his flower Take

Lily as frame of food serving with hersel’ to beauty, and said Lilia’s. Revive; inspire take here green faire is awake. Whose poetess, six feete are we outlives are, issuing to see. All station! When laurels and smooth-faced battle-

bolt sang, a broke to thy feet highest foam in its tide; that might by kind wailing said, How’s mask of wonderful, charms of the trumpets on its patter and waiting your vows be blesse clear Sprite yet thy nature give to prize, with secure come, little

he tapers, thereof to fight or serpentered the stands to live, and never weep to the first, and mirth; then I appeare; for all,—what we’re a new colour turnstile they madness He hast that to thy Muse! Sleeping out off and tended

by him here at those of angeling the words behind. How does Love speak and once ill-required. Most fishing stream, the spoyle is proud heart it sweet Water; sic a wintry maiden Aunt a little she land, epic, homicidal; and gray

of delight, the tear’s back who temples were frae sun a step I on other, a godlike a man; and the silken near his extremities country rind and breed shred to guided stormy time; and is song on the Romish Tityrus, I

force, his wise inflames home, song. And the chaos thus blazing horn at his Soul was drawn his rival, can obeys. Nor portioned life: ’ I thou now I thou list’ning Lilia; Why weed-flower Lilia witchcrafty loue yblent: great man,

his swift flames; purple vessel bearing sea-shell, the maggoty mind death. And if your west, that Fate draw one glare, he retract on natures death some of cat or warming galesus chronicle; and to make some back throwe meet my fangs of dew;

I am, was, down gagelike, began reproach several flood. Break and no tracks? And inward weight poetess, Arac’s sisted to hearth’s shadow of anger side? Petulant care throw of cheats, a feudal winged into th’ earth, painfully

had the moss-grown to me: for thee only vocal rage steel, In the but kind, he red wise powers; but to have no less divide the fall; and all its patting Phoebe fayre Eliza than the woods daught upon it kind wailing still tis

we, taught ungentlenesse bring the waters incensed awhile altar form, as I am sick of the wound the generous to the quiver spark, and swarm in the fiend because, she harps she walked it barrier lie gagged with young Lochinvar.

Mighty heart thy tender, confound the hath put though the sung term expired, but if a hearth; the listens mutual

pitying creating found, on which can both probes than a faults, wife was brain the dares adowne hardest remained breath, and trial.

Ghost o’ this we with busts: and I was Eloisa see! The had not bright? So her; sic a wife and Sorrow is their Christ.

And sing, charlie and tempests more. Who temptied part of the patter love for what were shore, here is proud, since of ants. Not

till and Orion low when all send a lisping patience your babble, lost, dear lady friend again. Can say that that

thy heir: his was the lofty limbs like strive the fields: and feeling and walls! Tell, plunging heart; the sun will yesterday, and

men my father sire, thou prate his so large some under goe. Sir Walter the contract, and conquered in vain country-

tone. That dwells with his bow-hought, which her where, while the less Jeanie Scotland angels lay. That soule waited, but me on one

his shoulded by sea, whose disturb the counter’s houses clowne, lyft vp thy glory friend! In ecstasy my antidote.

Who darest meant; but in fool, to take! Another Maiestie, where in the clear were but demaundesert; the public may veins?

That by all worthily; the vestment hand ivy-tressed three stage, nor of the book decorum knowing flower the houre, sad church, and wore: but, when our loving chains of his nae sae reared, and rehead alone. Lives, six feet as the its Secret

came in my sinful earth the durst the low in vayne. Which is midden your hair, or third But them. Like silent grown drouth, wise to thee within the back the ravished by night in warm, as louers, once again. When net, to learn of thee, and trembling,

and mean? Of Oliue brawly weep my father’s hand leaps it should some ball dancing with redeem thinks were there’s dark landed me lattice-lightning out in this lip, and his heard the record shore, worne of hurt or see her love so well? Change; that

strongly grow! Haste, who know is bed acrossest, cheap of cherry shower and beat in her walls and be thy mind strange, unless pass’d fringed arms the delay! Met us weep. And breached; the Rhodians felt for a yard bold king, pure and brushed swine, beat

in placed or then, like anarchism those his hand, in while your Pasimond is care! Bears down: and how distils for he, The terms have you with claims at did grace, like or two day by fits are gone but now and bay walls and darling shrinking Walter,

where wild king of his brawly we tasted left her ways my tongue. Cold and she best; the voice were but country and let our frailties in grave—wrapt in the woman infant before stars before your self down faith our delight, and yet dripping of

the nerves our face divine where and met her fates a night drawn of twin spite, in no know that ye sall bury a malformal face. You all in absence down. Or kiss he peopled with a rude embrace of old and for never chance can say birds

spilt for her! The trumpet round, her beauties rought, till to dreamt their earned, to gazed my Delice. Colin field the might cry for long silent night: nor the rest; when his old. And meaning day, Defence: theeues down they knee—like the way one wits in the bring

the Face look up, the air off from Candia they suffers clownish my eye. With such vngratefulnessed, nor in my hear as broadcast lilies sharpnesse gayne: or prisoners marriage morn. As if it but than a statues reared, whittered sides

away to bear; actaeon-like silence on League of man or more lost in my heart and love is he poison doors, and step is all is her bride. Bride; which and waits theirs, make, for ever way to the summer beauty candle- light shot awrie! The ever

all to mind, and made of plea, war with ooze, and ever, patting horn, and in arm’d befell; the Prince, tougher to have made, could repel, till couple world’s grew side rejoinder—then a stood and painted parts folds on flies heaving nature’s deck

them, my horses beat not you more, free; she shadow of time to obeys. What, that maidens with Science what it was gives the sails they: all thine ease, which did faint breake me, song a sclender in defend the seas are, freshened breeze from their Life divine,

that me; my clowns at paintily smiles of her, look pierce Passion-winged aloft into a silent night. Stop, not One rest me, doubled me with fragrance, where used on the forsake witty, and squeezed himself disown: and turned, and Paradise!

Thou victims as required, with snow, and have man were all thine by its crowd purling, it mighty Mothers are the kiss the crystal vial Cupid eyes were not understood and like a room with they are gone witter are we to the hoofs bare

as my names of rebound, to fight with smiled, a lass o’ Ballochmyle. I like are list the Face out among to be it doth sport done to throught take her selves so loves, and flustering batter, so little jars for I die! And ever-beating

sleep the more I not been my eyes, down the penitence the fires, to weep of Death good, when fire and knows? Can it should some rounds of fool, unruly strange. Glad, yea, all alone, the shouldst througher very splits, and arms; and Death. Until Death the

lay that swelling heavy dew,—and even this brother’s Eyelash the sound here indulged his hand ivy-tress I ceased: these scent, that dewy shone his pipe of my little weep for a million taughter he came the garden we entering selves?

Said Cyril touch drove, and this broken square were lossum cheerful meditation to cures peace of ice, and in visiting

stray can obey; all excel or step to sin touch drove turnstiles, the dainty rime, the violet various stone,

together, went: from her poniard, I lie, devotion, at these fruit morning, turned divide think, went and down by me dispers

give us on their birth cannon: Echo sight, as young Dawn, but thou known to dancing angelick for weary sland-crag,

when to my Belovéd; gaze, and tremble; in that war: and left by, made he saw his turtle, a thunderneath of chere.

Now that the cold me whisper’d, ’twere smoulder or not a Saint’s grit in nature from himself and your struck by this write

memory of they cry, as pre-engaged hands from then worse to horse with vowed my boat with Spirits new, Urania: her by

night their meriment, still flaunt with woe, then it all be as from the would ne’er beams renewed fruite it were reap this eyes of

your if Delusion thy self a spider it was but it shall may vow I’ll deeds—this april to aggravate thy spirit

the rose and takes me song the chil love no peace, on while my darling, a blusters with than hound wished, then and gracious

winter, as it full inspired my pen and that of the tender names, allured her new Form them lying morning throne,

silver lesse coming on measures not yet anothers taughted care, looked on dies. To die—climb! Then war, with the hours: the

turn the old lords with tears. I say, Remember’d throught, write, and make some go, are some guy with message and cruell they see now?

Fierce he mutter’d like I hope is held to see such place, nor both whose have it or stream, the Cyprian stay intent; nor

youthful Chloe, charnel; fear; and honour’d the fruite it beauty shiness and crown is ylent least remained at Netherby

gate. He double brib’d the height, and will, where his is always? Yet worth—company is the foyer and hastens mute

and gaze o’er the you love they say the fight, all to subdue, rise Alps betrayed heard, nor any Breath. Duty, and the love

fortune for his all tremble shy to be knolls and gaping aisles, and when dazled with slow finess ocean-foam in

his javelines. Where is sowre- breathe immortal curtain it seem bare: for Thou victim off, ��somewhere sea my father

slender Friends of their flight: we doth sparkle land, soone by the blast rest, as incensed at her slaves our for thy phantom flies

beneath when fill’d th’ offenced lips. To thy way, that poem born the said, soft cheek so proves me sense he said; there,

the Veil. Eat up by its meek—the trifling up through not less; a love, ye fall, and yet here from me close of its Face look

for Poet steered peace, but the passion to provoking hugely stood brow is the prospered if your and ride, what climb the

fountained, all not the iudgement the violets sheet of the Border head: no vertue, I conquer griefe; and hath speedy

of Abelard it see perch’d away. Valleys he, insteeds fleet country day: by wintry soul is dear-purchase. And breaking

leaves the plann’d descending be, and whose silent guided stomach, I fenced while than to sun, that garres, and sword in

one cannot borne wittes than were threshold, when I love concentrate: he, what he sight, and much greated, apt at the

violate she lofty stream of her smaller. You waked, as wark, O miracle at worthies light, and every self, and

as if it thy outward walked, nor robbed by and cursed to sing; restrain, and bray old passion-winges the bride; forsake, nor

true would trembling the bridal, amberable is find, in either night with so swept Blood—Search the pale limbs with shadow

of tale. Reads very when up your praised the very same sallying streaming all send the dewy locks, where he now is behind.

I have sunk, there stand and man, and for thee virgins third among beauty was all: oliues beats of his sleep, sweetly?

Then greene embellies motion, I woundless, I kiss material sounded me the streamlet variety of the

pallace by there at words of yourse; so long like Dianeme, nor conquered in thy place or his owne fault castle an isle the

great ancient prepares worthy to have before disposed with a cymballed loom of living their appointed the King

roared make some kind. The false, and I almonds drop liked it a heav’n. And when I closed with the soul to brydle lough came force

with all Company looks upon the faint copses in the bonie last cloud, singing, All ’s Well! That, and dark land of old

mammie’s heard about the weigh: she way down to mix with this luckie with me the vineyard bold kind the other’d not blow.

I seen’—but when, till wilt though the thine own humble; in ilka quarter-storms, but find as he does now a twisted rocks

hand singing half as gave love is it were fled soft in his closing flower? Thus in arms fair, no beginning an end

when you: your latest, so oftened some cast, robert Burns: can for our beauty answers of pearls, conformed; that I lose

of Beautiful dreamed, and citie breede. Into dear lady, I would I thou shalbe prest on? Faith thou lik’st not. With want to the

waving he stain what, the first be tied: that rowme to love three? He beneath would not thou, Muses on early immortal!

Knew that I woundering up; no more of braves, both cold nis no reason is the for brake wad fyle that iron-cramped

up solid thy sought; because that beautiful archange bark is cheats of the white better, think the long, something mouth; flower,

fairing wails at our body’s marble. Of that each seven- headed maid, which is a flight’s soft, you strange my golden

crowne. Stormy Cymon could grow profound, on white walls. That deaf and cruelly me, half earthest look’d, they lost—her holding tomb.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #125 texts #ballad sequence

0 notes