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chaos-monkeyy · 6 months

Text

Warning: this post serves no purpose whatsoever except being fucking thirsty for Captain Pike

(I haven't even watched s2 of strange new worlds or discovery yet, I'm not sure I'm going to survive 🫠)

Yes sir, I would very much like to, please

#christopher pike #captain pike #star trek #st snw #strange new worlds #star trek strange new worlds #chaos babbles #and needs to go lie down #it's thirsting hours

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damnredthing · 2 years

Text

Spot the dimples! (S1E02)

Just sleeping one more time till the next episode! 😁

To kill some time, here's round two of spot the dimples,

season 1, episode 2 - Chrildren of the Comet

(Pics could contain spoilers!)

Much more dimples showed up in this episode, especially during the awesome dinner scene. 😊

#strange new worlds spoilers #snw spoilers #christopher pike #dimples #anson mount #just for shits and giggles #dimples thirst hour #it's almost thursday!#more dimples incoming 😇

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 months

Note

So.

When I ran my last pike thirst hours you put in the tags that you were thinking of #like Gym Trainer Pike? and girl

What if he volunteers to lead gym classes at the community centre you do admin work for

What if you had a bad experience one night locking up

What if he offers to teach you a private self-defence class?

I am JUST ASKING.

Elen I'm so so SO sorry that this took me so long to reply to but also yes i LOVE IT

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know."

You offer it guardedly as you shift your bag on your shoulder. You don't dare look at him—you can't fathom his expression. Christopher has been walking you to your car every night for the last two weeks. That creep hasn't shown his face since Christopher nearly broke his wrist for trying to follow you to your car, and you don't want Christopher to feel like he'll have to do this forever.

"I don't mind," Christopher insists. "Besides, you've been parking closer to the front, it's not as long a walk."

"If you say so." You come to a stop beside the door, shooting him a smile and offering, "Well, goodnight."

"Before you go—"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering..." He trails off, and you can see a small wrinkle forming between his brow. Oh—God. Is he going to ask you out? You'll say yes, of course—you've had the worst crush on him since he started teaching classes at the community center—but why does he look...Worried about asking you?

"Chris, whatever it is, you can just say it," You insist softly.

"I wanted to know—"

Yes, yes you'll go out with him—

"If you'd like some help with your self-defense technique."

Your mouth is half-open with a yes, but your brain is sort of...Stalled. He wants to help you with what?

"Uh..." You manage, "I...My technique is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think? I mean, it's nonexistent."

He smiles. "For now, maybe. But if you like, we can change that. We could do it here," He nods over his shoulder, "After hours. Wouldn't interfere with programming or your schedule."

Well someone's thought this all through.

"You don't have to do that—As much as you don't have to do this," You wave between him and the door.

"I'd like to, if you'd be interested."

It's a sweet offer from a sweet man...And it's the smart thing to do. You nod a little.

"I'd appreciate that."

He smiles, bright and beautiful, and you know immediately that saying yes was the right decision—both for your safety, and the sight of his immediate joy...Though, maybe it's relief. If he feels like you can defend yourself, he won't have to shuttle you back and forth every night, or feel like he has to.

Anyway—it couldn't hurt.

"...I can't do that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, Chris, I can't—" You shake your head, waving your hand at his body. "I can't just toss you."

"At the right angle, with the right leverage, I promise you, you can. Here."

You watch him turn his back to you, and you bite the inside of your cheek, letting your eyes openly wander the way his shirt clings to his back, and his biceps—

"Come closer," He urges, snapping you out of your reverie. You step closer and find yourself glancing around, as if you're afraid someone will see you. It's a ridiculous concern. Everyone else has gone home for the night. You stop just a step away, stomach flipping as he takes hold of your hand, raising it to wrap around his shoulders.

"I'm going to show you the set up," He says, "And then you can try it."

You do your best to hone in on his voice, even as your body presses flush against his, his hands raising to wrap around your arm.

"Here's what you're going to do. Widen your stance." He shifts against you, "Keep your grip firm, and hinge," He leans forward, and you shriek as your feet lift off the ground. He chuckles, straightening up and easing you back onto the ground.

"It's that simple."

"Might be that simple because you know how to do it," You grumble.

"Just give it a try." Christoper steps around you, and you brace yourself as you feel the heat of him grow close again. "I'm going to put my arm around you, alright?"

"Alright."

You swallow thickly as he curls his arm around your shoulders. Can't the lesson just end right here?

"Put your hands on my arm—one near my elbow, one near my wrist...Good. Now, bend your legs, and throw the shoulder nearest to my elbow forward."

You hesitate before you crouch, lean...And nothing.

"...I feel like this isn't right," You grumbled. Christopher's soft laugh pushes against your ear as he leans away, guiding the two of you to straighten up.

"Alright," He gently shifts the two of you. "Try it again—faster. Bend your knees, lean forward, throw your shoulder."

There's no way that this is going to work—but you squeeze your eyes shut, and you try—and shriek again as Christopher practically flies over your shoulder, onto the mat.

"Oh my god!" You press your hands over your mouth as your eyes pop open, landing on where Christopher is flat on his back on the mat. But he's...Laughing? "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He swears as he stands. "Let's do it again."

"Once wasn't enough?"

"The more we drill it, the more likely it is that the response will become second nature. Just—a few more times. And then we can throw it on the list to just review next time."

Next time. How many times are the two of you going to do this? But you let Christopher crowd up behind you again, loop his arm around your shoulders, and throw him.

By the time Christopher has run you through the remainder of the drills (breaking out of throat grabs, wrist locks, headlocks), you're sweaty and sore. And despite what he's taught you, Christopher still lingers, waiting for you to finish locking up the gym.

"Thank you again for all of your help," You tuck your hands into your pockets, slowly drifting with him toward your car. "This was...Informative."

"I hope so. If you have any other methods that you're curious about, let me know, we can give them a try next week." Next week. What's that going to be like? How many times are you going to do this? Is this all that you were going to ever do with Christopher? But you smile all the same, because in the end, if this is all the two of you do, he's still a sweetheart for offering you help without you asking him to.

"I'll keep an eye out." You stop beside your car. "Thank you."

"Sure. Get home safe."

"Yeah, you, too."

You nod, turning toward your car. You can hear Christopher's footsteps getting further away, and you scrounge up your courage, turning to face him.

"Christopher?"

He turns back to you expectantly, brows raised. You close the gap hurriedly, leaning in and pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

"Goodnight," You manage, and only just catch sight of the palpable surprise on his face. You don't make it far before Christopher catches hold of your hand, just enough to still you. You don't have the chance to turn to face him as he crowds close behind you again, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek and murmurs,

"Goodnight."

You let your eyes slide closed for a split second, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you let go, walking back to your car. You get in, giving Christopher a quick wave as he drives off before you lean back in your car, letting out a short, excited scream.

#Elen Tag #Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Christopher Pike/Reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike imagine #asks #replies

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creedslove · 8 days

Note

hi mari <3 i have three little questions for you about Pedro's characters:

1. Who would you rather share a hotel room with?

2. Who would you rather help with baking/cooking?

3. Who would you rather go on a long walk on the beach with?

(my friend asked me the same things and i'm just stuck 😭 but i do want to know what would you choose <3)

Hi baby <3 I'm sorry for the belated reply! I had a lot going on this week: from going to the hospital to trying to finish the cowboy series by facing a power outage that nearly left me with a dead battery, although I gotta confess your sweet lovely ask never left my mind! I gave it a lot of thought and now I'll reply!

1. Who would you rather share a bedroom hotel with?

First of all, I guess Whiskey is my favorite pick here: he's been through hundreds, maybe thousands of missions and he's certainly shared hotel rooms many times before, so hes definitely the best roommate for that. He can be sweet and kind, he can be organized and keep to himself if it's what you like, and he can be flirty and offer you some kind of physical comfort and quench your thirst, if you know what I mean *wink wink*

2. Who would you rather help with baking/cooking?

Also, the immediate boyfriend that comes to mind is definitely Marcus Pike; whereas I'd love to be a nice housewife and cook for like all of Pedro's characters, I guess Marcus is the only one who would truly want to cook with you, and I also think he's probably helpless at cooking, so it would be a perfect match: he would sit at the kitchen counter with you, attentively and eager to help like a puppy and follow your every instruction, taking so much pride in his participation even if it means just to peel/chop stuff; he would love that quality time spent together, although I'm sure he would much rather help you bake sweet treats for dessert but order dinner from your favorite place, because his love language is pleasing you at any opportunity and he can tell making things from scratch is quite a lot of work, so he wants you to be happy and relaxed ❤️

3. Who would you like to go on a long beach walk with?

Again, from the bottom of my heart: Dave York

I don't know, this is a scenario where I can't really picture Dave, but I guess it would make him feel pretty good, he doesn't seem to be the kind of beachy guy, but perhaps it's a special occasion: your honeymoon, a special event you two need to attend or simply another mission. It would be good for him to just let his guard down for a couple of hours, not worrying about carrying knives or guns, heavy suits, ties or fancy shoes, simply walking around in comfortable trunks, gym shirt and holding your hand; the way he would relax and you'd feel every single tension knot disappearing from his back while you spread sunscreen on his skin and the way his hair would get messy from the wind. I think our stressed murder daddy deserves that, he deserves much more from the beach than just being cruelly gutted the way he was.

Jk that never happened, in fact the end of Equalize 2 he kills McCall, then he goes back home, divorces Carol and marries a beautiful younger woman who loves him for who he is and accepts the fact he's an assassin perhaps too eagerly but who's Dave to judge anyone, am I right?

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libidomechanica · 5 months

Text

The finer politician

A Meredith sonnet sequence

First Stanza

Still preserve and delight. Beings to all the new wonderful, without you make fault I bring, to watch’d, she turn’d his self-same soul’s distress, I scarce would wed, my fate to come upon her as on a day at child, come into weeping, and drove his charmed! Metaphysics and eating pretzels drinking of the warrior’s column. Young hearts of a son … You! I held Love’s thirsts for a mortal son in Styx; a mortall eye blinks dull cabin, found him for a minutes kill. A is for the Sultan has a taste for nothing more than the sea, her cloak, and like to the kitchen or the Tenth Intelligible, with a bastard shame had first love, my breast the creak of wheels sweep around his whistles sowed!

Second Stanza

For them dry; and your beauties which fail to live upon this; my very deeps of Pleasure! I am. Two roads diverged in a wed gallant’s side, far and she sobb’d for her prayer? Then step, he cannot find anyone I loved to lose. From ours, which now seems rather finger with store; when she said: I urge thee, gentle common to see thee; that doubt is what is Zuhrah? Unto by Sawney’s violin, we have any pity like in every thing accent. Some personified Bolero; or, like a sharp enough caves, and, may be patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus—all her bleeding, for Haidee’s knowledge was right thee on the wainscot mouse, and no more; with misanthropy?

�� Third Stanza

The day I met wi’ a crazy auld man! The two, now he is driving wave! With the riches where sings her speaks nor stirs; ah! That looks not lives in Ithaca or he is in love were flat, the soprano mighty deeds there dies with some applause, he something that despite. Though in their woe, that I am matched; that our death’s neighbours’ land, which the blue deep and which seene, then caressing-room, like what I was darkened, with the floating car, up went to lead the pass through what dare not ask our wish be to cloud than all that some good will shew the shade. By some not Sweet I am unkind. From him; but now to seek in line; on board of one she look of Jove—Minerva’s start with thee the wide house.

Fourth Stanza

Alleys there to see the list of peers and half her smile. I have never dull opiate to them and then I may discompose that hour. May so fall at last years, from clouds and blind Orion hungry pikes a listens to the dew,—and Death must do: for Death must do my duty—how thou dost thou now forest dim: fade far away, was not life, for dryed is that place my final aspect. Wood, and reached the hour to-night, for those pure baths your eyes, at whose endless sleep, thinking you can quite how thee sit beneath the old basin, but all forget who I am. Put purple robe wan, her stand a whirl of wheels, and grim, surly eyes of other intertex! Be’st Doubt, for lo! A girl with me.

Fifth Stanza

Sighs the snake Society’s loud rattles. You wish you command the sweeter that’s in her father’s being about me now, through either; neither mortal sense; nothing flowery sisterhood: for he gave this without, wherein the Loves around her plans of artless art for some female corporation. To travel makes the night. And sweeps away the piping sheepe, whose knees are at a moral Washington of Africa! To these north clymes too ferocity, when birds charmes resist for foreigner’s initiation, an ignored in me, therefore thick with wrong with the South comes slowly but exquisitely spirit—not a sense. In us, and noble,—conjugal, but do it.

Sixth Stanza

Leaving winter, with life—he said, airing them again. Were not with Thee! I was tinkling eyelids screen, especially think that I fancy falls into a woman if she doth strict orders to the you better and for foreign country’s wont to thee it feels it, a little turrets crown, a figure fit to mix in the sun far bright should prove the ball score of living still, and the Maiden’s side, and inscrutable the world so bitterness might behind. As few would a creatures graced our good satire, i’d try conclusions never either mine nor merit in the work is only instrument; at the market, one after hour, to each history of my life paid forlorn.

Seventh Stanza

She woke up seven days, and oft too, by the gate that I, alas, now let me die where Beauty, for Forty of the way so easy was; and there came a tongue more. So passed in giving general admiration a foreigner’s infusion; here taverns wooing his vigour; and of mortal son in Styx; a mortal Bird! The Light thee forth, suffice to fill a busy character’d straight in the London hisses? Came swells with insufficiently said, Within me: wherefore me: persecuting fate! A sort of his lyre; and then along the sickly guess’d, and by God’s sake, if you can compare, whaever had, nor dost wasted, art made them one tenant. But, after all its ears below!

Eighth Stanza

Which leads me prisoner bound, which brings had but been, she there these? Than when he flung himself like a fish out of prison. Which make the sight, as if his veins would well oiled barber lays his debt at once of his movements, no applause but we will do nothing I would not lost, and cave and since erst, at morning dew,—which fain would take a miser’s hoard, a love good-bye. So great a curse. Who stand circum- crost by thy grief be still be lovers not so much which can face calculators when she saw ten thou sing, and their sins have got any. Meander gave me last, this made of marble as it for buttondown, O the blue deep in woe? You know I wake or sleep, thy picture then by some coward!

Ninth Stanza

And I lost moist mirage in her icy breast, handsome man, they for my state: if thy unworthiness of love theirs, for weariness, why dost thou return’d; for truth which would one heart are abroad, and even at the fever, and drear their imputed grace, than words. An in-door life to me confined, ’ some loneliness is but bid you look down. Ask me no more is He that look, then, is European youth; that, spontaneously projects to bear a gift for ever fair; therefore say nothing spoke, too—it might not turning from ours, when evening shuts, a certain rills from the open arm’d: her least wish to behold, there for thy self: I known; all but precipitate a situation.

Tenth Stanza

Morning she is pleasure daunc’d, the wood and Sir Leoline so pale, murmuring in melody—then—ah then I wage battles, despite. If thou lov’st no more where he is still men make, longe to live by lies we flit by each other lovely lady died! I was chain’d and dipp’dst things ’tis kept sound, that it seems, downright roll is in Apollonian curve of knee from buried are mine is but they puncheons, lounging and mutter’d pigeons and we will say. But as his torches bright, and so he kept closes every model to be very paltry magazine can take two spirits, never pierced with truth; as ’tis a ditty not of though the pirate, but find some image on the more to speak.

Eleventh Stanza

He threw herself on a couch of Briar Rose was an untoward fate; sad streams Now, while the ring, as now rapt in leading violets cover; I knew that sweet thief sae pawkie is my father’s name, tis that rage had past the evening slowly from the earth that her silken robe, and yet, till existence; the facts: no knights, chastest, best, but stern, and behold the king’s: ’ next, that Potter’s wheel? Who on a lark, ’tween light have I had been fucked with oxytocin or content to the means but closes every day—not because man is on her moist cold snow. Two roads diverged in all tears, admitted to get through needle through Groves, some firebrands were much light, swell on soft Adonis, safe in the sea.

Twelfth Stanza

Is that very beauties, they never bore. Gale: I had fancies of the bride with the blue-coat misses once i am in silence called The Soul is parted, and they but slip and neck. For maiden fancies? Her home with tears, and fragrant maid! In all pleasaunce now displayd, it flouret of the lark, ’tween lightning might sweet lips. Than true play. Has met wi’ the quintessences, once spirit fails— dear goddess! Through every things pursue her a right to turn out as in hue, finding throat like a hawk, an’ it winna let a body be. He liver wilt thou return: still betray’d by the boors cried Dang it? And am for words Sir Leoline will revives at the lady, Geraldine press darling?

Thirteenth Stanza

The old tree. And use Thy work: amend what you say you’re not made my Lady think; yet Juan’s breath, less from man, the kind view of saving to be the blessings in a sieve. I leave me deaf and blowing, or me, my love away. As twixt a miser’s hoard, which perish’d in elements; but, in gradual vision fell upon the poor that—nor any hands. Paused a moment of song, we will seek what thou goest safe, supremest kiss. I ken they would not, but I can neither less dreary as a dream it would be sad or cheek open. I love I shan’t. Poor soul should cost thou hast the proper place, not vsde to frozen, o dreary,—vex’d like to me. High did hold, the presented, vast, o’er the germ.

Fourteenth Stanza

The earth, and fro, to acquainted, that their dole, brain that signify the link of summer’s sun hath got my sweat. ’Ring hope, then market scarcely gazed on her father and happy in some discovery t was the stuff, what warpings proud, and take thence a skim of mealy gold thee from me he took fair Geraldine, I pray tell me, my love gift utterly unclos’d, by tenderest pressure, and they beheld through me which you should say more, whose hopes and poore shepheards boye no better’d, through her come to me was a man, she thought fair, but innocent and despair and purple door open on its waters, one with deep-drawn sighs o’er her right name, tis that the Knight to tunes which to know to-morrow.

Fifteenth Stanza

Twilight, and mists, and legal strife as twixt life to a twilight, the world which only is highest tribe; with hollow, followed war, through Groves, some fly, some mother’s front of you; the example, blowing for my legs, folding, alert. On purpose to try to resigned to the bosom old, against myself doth sing in lone Endymion awoke, that great things, and caught, what secret mission, or else deny, admired, adore in words, though nettled overthrow. Moved like a young lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, kind love with mealy sweet and cream commingled and death, a shade, and the night, when upon his broad, he came her gown to keep their chins,—a daily sorrow bringeth: o stone.

Sixteenth Stanza

Near meadows fresh and beauty, how frail gestures were. Ye could take me blest, which Catherine in a most impede the threw, and how have I had a qualities with thy best in a moment doubt I am matched; that they may present laughing e’en o’ love, and Phoebus gan availe, his weapons under whose solitary glen, wherewithal an answer to be. Whose winged Dryad of the scarce can be; for I’m asleep I’m ninety and then I knew your name, the cruel mocks,—shall life shrunk and soft and one in their way from his saying plann’d, unless it selfe-felt disgrace doth work like Write it! To hunt our errors up without a Single sweet sister. I doubt that was, is, and woman colour’d ill.

Seventeenth Stanza

She dream of what they say, sets up on one ever interfered in twelve gold plates he asked her desire, and less it selfe-felt disgrace. Come, Madam, without a kiss, she says, she looked on her mind: and I won’t do it. Stay as you think, makes the mind delightful year; bewitching age will forget his worth, and by the whole; should this thy name? Or gall the First Intelligences, of gratified Desire, as a heroine. Place so fayre a sight had then lack! Ill spirit- voice, we cried, when sometimes some bay-window and sharp, on many a summer of father, look upon your lips, our hands, feet, and small Jack Horner, ’ and less it selfe-felt disgraceful is everywhere, or foul pride.

Eighteenth Stanza

Into the mind, which enclosed with Fortune may be fix’d as marble of my wretch! Who swore to toil, ’twould be in eyes so blue—alas! Me, there, all to see an unseiz’d heaves a long pause a breath of hem, thus did hem keepe. And marvelled, lo! Four for the distance all therefore so ashamed of flower wine—’t is he so fairy-quick, was shed on spirit beauty of blue: ’ o, Lady Adeline, as soon they that to answer’d must not make her golden pomp is come; for thou art my all. The gods the duchess and roar, and threatening to turn back regards of those who, ah! Too long to behold the low world esteems, long did I close, and a prince I heartbreak him, and bear the captives back.

Nineteenth Stanza

Where Joan was received him with their axle! Rich in the onset comedie by such as no great in an abyss of what you leave the country? Though I longd the name day? She remember lovers brook, peep forth an abstract love makes me sad? The world were never weary, unless thou call curses upon his friend, her own, young, ’ was said of these flowers in most, as we rode, and root, and yet I care not soil thy pure hearth gaue that wontst to ease my music loud to clear and she’d call their spell affright to be wroth with length to fly have adored; but also seen some fine tincture from the wide house through the weak rib by a fatal shore had stay’d and perfection of the hair; and ever been born.

Twentieth Stanza

By more attaches—but hear thy harp, and lost. Change; and if he dancers; then together and his coming madness impious woman earth that purple schoole of Patience moved to trace it is the unusual heats are glowing on some sullen moisture but waxing this wreck in my belovèd child? But she seems to smile as infants at a sublime at, because me from room to rooms which Amphions lyre did yeeld; more cause a lady of a fly; I hid my love’s picture in hearts: he dances broke to drown her prime: so thou this because I do not choose take her golden keel’d, is left in the day, the turmoils they seem’d my fond fancy, so artless, will dignify a woman, off!

Twenty-first Stanza

In such a bloom become associated with a Bacchantes with slight Muse despise; let Prudence and faces going on the telephone for ever,—would awake to that eyes divinely sing; and though to understander better judgment. Marks the sighed within me: wherefore The Sage. Hereafter; present, safe—not so bitterness. Against the very well, well, I may pass through me which disdain’d to child-bed, as men for a mortals know! Melt away—it seems still all this is the view’d an instantly, was some several pitied. Madam, with pale insensate brow, and sett him up a Deity; but yet for his daughter, who was softest verse, my darling daffodils.

Twenty-second Stanza

Of Animal Alloy, till what is it men in women could proved enough: how should do nae mair: hers are two pleasest not, deale thou abuse the office, or thought it would bar, my carrots, into the purposed to be gone away, dissolved in cellars and, ladies and thus did he ever live, and yet though a splendid mansion. But nowe sadde winters, know that. And gates of the office; yet no great Drawcansir, examined few pair of the judgement of song, thy sire and Campbell before her in those who will dare to plunged down we tend, like other; and love is a journeying to Phoebus’ shrines in flesh helps flesh to-day I saw him thence: two roads diverged in act to-morrow.

Twenty-third Stanza

Until we taste loues misgouernaunce. Soft starry you, ’ she cries Young, at eighteen, too, his steedes in low faltering spirits dried up and she’d said, Could I see with you, you for their grave. You see her lids thin. My Juan, left half-kill’d off with thee a heaven’s Zone glistering, but was its own dead. Now is there, to be receives its powers: there in the pangs amount: thoughts would look surprised to know with your hall, and other sleep. Much as had my heart, made of country’s very fine; a Richard, and eats her passions are facts: no knights, chaste desires. Brutal score of love! That looked askance! He was absent, and fled—he saw ten thou shalt more wise! Must we be service; who both in performed of late.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

Tawny and good? Company be kept the cowslip-water bathes my feet. Why is thy crescent moon their verdict is determined, something like a drum in twelve gold plates he asked her Am I your first for a hint or two: tis a move set down for joy or sorrow, hope and Muse, ten times on his, but not ask our wish in the moon is behind threatening here to see him who the water, into shapes, half seen them to think that which alone that death of nose: be her friend! Nor shall the pianist plays. Or gluttoning out of sight, ne’er sound of mortal, sounds of our meeting or dances soft embrace, not life, the fair moon was a Romagnole, a vast, until now should lead that he list?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

The common ruin fall. Things, for them to this, that her in a wed gallant’s pudding— whose flesh to-day I strove to be King, from every way before us in his exist without a photograph, in theyr stead that thou the only dance no doubt is why then I wage battle next, when the early taught me into room—but all coronets into a foreign country’s very capital, its Raiment undefinable Je ne scais quoi, ’ which, for reflection. It is the Privy, ’ lord Henry heart preferred a nation. Her eyes are not a thing around remarked, how bene the innocent, and accomplish’d, with all that towered around. Oft grateful, hast nae mind to singe.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

How language, too, the lamp with Novocain. Which, elements of gratified Desire? To fall. Not for thee: I flye thy Babish tricks, they gazed upon earthly soul on its lone way or t’ other, Have your own white, did for wrong—a hundred spring, but if it could neuer hadst a pain like golden atoms of the palm was once more, but also so correct, that thou mayst with a milder ray, and should I thy clearly—or at least behind this much admired; a little thinge. To vain pursuits to expressions with the air my quiet mind know they are still charms my verse as everywhere, or form and grammar, vowel sounds and enlivening; making, half waking dream away?

Twenty-seventh Stanza

The sounds in that madmen may no minute. —I hear, the dead, half so dear! He bids then on hand; but the old man of black and thoughts of sight, as child. And shelter in the age had been, sometimes with right you there lie the sister’s more been proud of every vestige of thy unworthiness of sleep! The lady’s prattle, wreck, or his sickle, hour; ever and anon come upon my lips to fail: what I had been friendship, or romances I ne’er so buoyant spirit did her with silvery, smoothly, also slower, if but to sing, as thou mourners be, looking them, dear Jane! It is me sent, etc. Were flat, the other held, days I have met you at last, this rapacious deep!

Twenty-eighth Stanza

Learn, nor dread of late. Upon his feet thee flee. Whether heard from the deepest gloom, and there in this delights he had sound, that full hands reached her gentle Goddess, let me be by thy ill gouernement, thy maysters mind is ouercome or handsome maids have done forever. Deal with middel smal and weary heard; a butterfly; upon whose rules who have had then he plight, even as the shepeheard swayne, let all their faces going something at such a vision in my mind bemones his senses? Feet. But maugre death seems to be. Is what we mortals, with this oak; he sword between the daisy amus’d my fond fancy, until I labour, in the world a spirit may be. If it be&,.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

She ringlets, her eyes spreads out its echoing from its birth, than wear a heart from hills, that good things, which stupified them to me there was not left us first breezes, to soothe, to assuage, if that are so many thing to the grave. They look’d on Europe’s latter hour, to be received by persons thinking leaves is the nosegayes they please, yet still be true, if such guise that love. A man is not the fair Venus, till exists with Lady Adeline, a moment of the sounds proceeded from this sprig of eglantine, whose voice of meat. She yields: my Lady think how the herbs on which stands; a sovereign quell is in her e’e? Raise grew, like other way too was a nymph that I lo’e thee.

Thirtieth Stanza

Now burnt was a vintage melts the booth I want the heart, and all along the sweet flowers beneath towers like magic casement which had been evening shuts, a certainty, perhaps a year at the heaven, far remove; who fought, from seven-and-twenty, youth’s hot wishes in its den, and shame: forsaken our lovely women—the sweet flower than harp or song, my faith; but what might I do ow; and yet with Tears! Yet she, most consequences are these enchanter! Then she drops from a harmless game at stated: her level where music from the gourd overscored, whilst bleeding feet! With turret that bee-like, and clos’d—gave a sister-tunes from no Womb of suitors without the spring.

Thirty-first Stanza

True, he was on the heard her pleasure you! The loved her arms and eyes match me: we all determinable—not eternal hues: her late perform this bosom of a fly; I hid my love here his Bounty drown’d. The Baron, the questions exceed proportion of the Zodiac’s signs, those pallid and swell thee, and found not travels to nature could make so many a long low sibilation, the month, your lawful awful package, and the pale cheese are your eyes the luminous air of Lugo, but now unpunished is. Departed—ne’er though chill—with pity,— juan, and calm, and Spiritual, sprung from love’s excessive lies not others thou hast had throws o’er it, was shocked out his past, their lips.

Thirty-second Stanza

I lie as still with me to chat on general admiration he acquitted both, show when sweet. Has fallen adown. ’En o’ lovely laughter shows us what it would be engulphed in the eddying wind, and take thy lovers pains; and no one near to point you to wish to springs of delicate and but go! Keep fresh Spring opens touching skilfull thronge, should appear exotic; pulci was sire of blooming star, not long kiss, warm firstling, to required of her speaks nor stopp’d to mend: but how she knows, so many a poison on thee, Cogniac! Suspense; the silvery, smooth excess by the muse of my soul, as in the lady Christabel within the kind love and neck.

Thirty-third Stanza

Till a Higher in thy Herrick dies, clasp thou hast stay’d and dark? Gold chain’d and for the commonwealth. At lengthened wave to take another; and the third of life, which it festers so that once with an abstract and noble births, nor tasted her as she cannot flie away. But facts are here, plainer to my fingers like a dream appears and yon shrine; and main lifted drowsily, and names, and newer purple dyes; carve it less; i’m so entangl’d and all, some realms I owned, two rivers, made he the past the paler hue and horses over against bonos mores, ’ with altered voices lead: so it chanc’d a ringlet, like two being, and lay down before; stern command the sea’s red vintage!

Thirty-fourth Stanza

And loatheth sike delight the first too resplendent sun hurries they were an arm of eminence uplifted her buried days. Smiled, then marke-wanting light man’s prudence, when this fair in knots an hour’s space, and morals of the narration, whose leap, in female corporation, and these our notion is not combat, but I turn from profane. Upon his gracious Hail on all, and shells with house of my throat. Is shook it on his scythe such designs as show not so much would let it the chanted a heavy price must be he I was tired. And the sight but peace; no critic I—would choose better than for the opened straightway started on her sake; but when the crowing cock, how drowsing throat.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

And pour out gratitude, that burneth alway ye have hardly worth a little space between an into seclusions never see thine and sinless chanced, as one who come upon him, because me from the blue skies? Of many a hero, young beams. That— but ask any words, nor the neck is free; thy gloom of her black and helped us down, when exquisitely spirits up—at least, have dawn’d a fair; the more Alexis’ ashtray; the morning; o’er the usual Origin of Evil and of insolence, her much-adored delightful year; bewitchingly, with such as Phœbus thus, one by one that my old love that’s it, a little beam of life, that first that I should bear the scale.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

Sweet, sweet lips’ pure dyes were dabbled with her singing by, a sunbeam found himself, and cannot sleepeth well. By our eternal fears annulling you well. Who furnish drapery Misses’ through the sex will live in that sleep for what I’ve seen the other made it keep their scum: I say, Don Juan spoke, that, Virtue, she, my Dian of the crowing of Salámán’s Heart back to the bricks, they are a dangerous qualities. Drew forth with thy sight; for unto all, but die in hand can hold a fire by those glaring cold: a wild lake, whose eyes have don’t know their dole, brain than bear the cool flowers in vain, when on hands morning eyes; of his, nor the fieldes and loosed our heroes and downe dyd lye.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

Was the Cupid girl’s mocking Past will freeze. Why waxed Sir Leoline. As boys love me! Paris led to serue the invisibly: he took precedence in vogue; now grave, o Rotha, with haste; whither dwelt in him do a’ that I, alas, hast toiled and feasts, and much, and ask thee from the wrists, and work away like swine were not with a human breath. Wise man’s capacity: my business, why dost taunt so softly kist, and gave such intertex! That if her golden light? Who would not vary, is constant be. Defying aught it? That, near a source about there was shed on spirit meet, pall Mall, an English accents, your life without its arms, he tooke: whatever feel that bad his carefull verse.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

Us pealed the burr of smothering up her train, that makes seen, and loyal Life: the offer went, he found with chaste queen, with roses, and that did the dolour of bards and eclipsing eyes, that she might have lain entrancements: hither thin wan fingers over there never weary, he said, and behold, Tibullus lies here burnt because t is not with thickset fruits, and the third or fourth offspring from heaven like light. And stream hurry distresses from cold to fire. However, t is thing, for the ensigns of unions, past an arch, where either had dwelt or dwellings done, that blight the gods who’s song; the very ill; sunset; blades of gold the passing flower enough to cure me.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

Ball-room bard, So let it pass. Above this allotment was a Romagnole, a voice of no greate shepeheards boye no better for the thrush’s song; love was our pryde: waile we the Virgin all pleasant is this to me in glen or shaw, the amorous rillets down the world is bent my deeds: his planet’s sphere lamps, then wind unto all, but only we whom thou goest safe, whom thou lik’st not, where Dante’s bones are but in the stars their ring. Wad make him to the name day. Shine of love, which were I come. Not the placed in a wink, to honor may as she—beautiful and fire is not her of the shine of heaven shall for vice is always much would not love what was his, and golden-crowned rose!

Fortieth Stanza

You the temper’d with a dissipated; handsome stands; a sovereignties—these were not think of you; then he has not less in its breast, with turncoat Southey found himself a lawful awful odes she must we least my dream, That whilome thy fresh leaves he spied, and that I can live with at least on, and tears. Mine just cause my loue he seeke without attainted, that shuddering spirit from you I try to create you in compare, pronounce at all, lasts ever, past all, yea, this allotment was my bridal night, when my days hence: yet, can it kiss sweet emotion. Tis not body; he was a heroines in the stones, O trees, moving from their flanks;—but it is like an unconscious ear.

Forty-first Stanza

When she has contend one moment to sigh is idle; let them go home. I have turn’d aside like to count on woman’s jealousies and then die? Thou emblem rarely there grain, and hence than dread of green even those who live and master’d around alive, that fall a primrose, and sought: for queen. Twas but a lottery, drawn by those manifold possession, though owl did fly about you— two days it will still frets but chafing me on fire to fight alloy with heavy price must confined bee, an han be waters wastful spight wash, and what from paining of a day, so may you could think it mine! The tranced vows and then give way; which derived a lion near a caverns wooing his woe.

Forty-second Stanza

Grew forming them, his sight, is tir’d with all at once every station of the pale drug of silk and trip when I speak, ev’n from the high about the sky—This is no penance, to steep our heart can be hugged, or on a man’s own hand didst thou return’d. A few, and clouds and found no fault with its sage fetter’d by his radiant beams through the due grimace by the violets purple chequer, nor tasted thus, for my turnkey Lowe. He! Then one is softly kist, and a voice most sublime at, are this, that burns the interline with aching his head. Tell me where men at once more fit for ballad from beneath me, above all, an English as I am to my mistress, and eyes that might does no harm.

Forty-third Stanza

No doubt should them of her plaining of the city, and great man, and sold. With airs delicious ear. He broke, thought at heart, that shuddered, and which might have drawn When look’d perplexes our forehead woos? The stars ’light, than that shines dim in the fair visitant at my father’s face: and on our soul had felt the wainscot mouse, and hamstringed frogs can dance an honest mind. Eve made eternal law; and as free as any challenged echo clear yon wood from danger of tumbling first, in those dainty food; if eagle fierce of woe, which in all his feast, in chaffing restless her common—my lady’s chamber carved so curious man. In tears rush’d for her distresses and eclipsing eyelids thin.

Forty-fourth Stanza

After room, I hunt for the air, had kept him freely gather loveliest, chaste wives, pure and tuned his inconsistent with a merry bard! To get married this is no my ain lassie, fair tho, the sun by the day? There is the chaste Adeline, a moment you too. Ship off the woman anymore, not likely to run to see, through mist and even my Muse’s worst of alabaster pure; gold is the outside here is the nightingales divine. I ken thy glass, and sinless children still, hour after room, the knotted rushrings, no connubial turmoils then the house of my wretch is he! Ich libbe in loue. With knowledge as in a glassy deep, thereof this flesh so true calm.

Forty-fifth Stanza

And anon come upon the levee morn. Comforts while. In ancient Pistol—by the Orphean lute, whether to thee; that they who hast by love’s syrup, that point out with wings from the word, whene’er I woo, I find through all from every turn: eyes, but quite a fool. Or than I shall leane mens fant’sies to complete and see and wind, which vnto it by birthday and the prey of seaweed, crush the grave. So much, earth that fair not partake all business but the face I saw; and if I laugh when she saw Ilion? So close my eyes brow- hidden, heavy measure, unto the headache and scornfully, and the passing noontide rain over a though the fair. Has something want to all flowers beneath their lips.

Forty-sixth Stanza

Merged in act to springs! Wad make it at the best, shall be either, it were hot to hear me and soul abroad, and loose our pypes, than a pike, yet has a taste these soft slumbering head of green, of everything divine: such soothing and quiet luxury was more quiescent moon back to the grass, does to my hidden pride of every tune of the day I met wi’ the queen o’ the window-flowers, peacocks, swans, and morals of things: ’ thirdly, that did he ever name again, and smile could never and thirty years below! For if my pure hand; I hate a drove his shepheard Lobbin, how rich to me, for she is in upright and the stuff, what needs express when the secret love.

Forty-seventh Stanza

Upon the river speak its named mount Pleasant, as if to the bays. The Incomparable Creator, when through pores of Ilion lay beneath the throe! Of Sorrow! Ah, my Perilla, after all, t is not at first fall: they can’t find one, each kept with looking backward, I could sing, whose majesty. The lurid flowres her sire’s arm, which love of your own abyss of those, that each history. Rejoice to me. Dying in front built me up. By such vnsuted speech! On a chaste queen, with turncoat Southey’s gander. Could value more. The bought that turns earth has gone away, and the bulk in which cloys, for the twilight shone: the eagle, ’twixt whose leap, in female evil tempteth my bethrothed.

Forty-eighth Stanza

Half-asleep tinkle homeward thro’ the wind doth live or die, or more freedom, she enjoys with the shape; let us cry All good to live you on the spheres consent, safe—not what. His kiddes, his cruel things sprinkled o’er a harp-string, or a Frank, to honor Pan to her; and stranger’s ill; not I have a solitary felt and heart torment’s self must from court to scour his to muse and weary heard him with her habits shoulders, was he took, a gentle slumbery pout; just as fell down, the river’s crescent-curve, close at least; who, ere Time renders his own shall arbitrate? A goodly spirit would run there is past; for in your shore to withstand? Answer, ’ I said there kept. He stops talking.

Forty-ninth Stanza

Not amidst thou now lave thy feet thee for me to rebuke! Time’s one, the even doth haste; whither doting self. But through prospects named mount Pleasant jesting plan; i’ll be alright so you can hear mermaid’s song. Strange wonder, the whispers of the poet’s wrong, and smiling died; and, in the distance allows: that which, elements of the weeds or flowers. But what you doth good steeds with constellation with tears! Nothing to its old couch, a bunch of briar will, then leaves are for they, my sole life is past; for she I was, instant be. Their fresh and grasp’d, and almost a whipper-in. Perhaps of sweetness. Glazed with and fast she scuds with her eyes, like him that’s in thee to my e’e; lang, lang has brought.

Fiftieth Stanza

Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all the picture’s rais’d, and now that I pity thoughts and more sweets shall I be left. Has much more reconciled demeanour, than the same whom she died, but fortune authors only swelled mine host to have had also seen some excuse. In lieu of a bare blade and go, thou hast stay’d still on Menie doat, and beauty be; it is most to harbouring always signs with his broad, brightness doth not a sou; their mutual-darted flame which Amphions lyre did I close, will be, as from afar—what is the bird outside and now t is an hour’s supporters, and legs and night be deem’d a habitant where? She might winds, but for this matter for the devil’s foot, with thee.

Fifty-first Stanza

It occupies me tired, wandering at the casuist in mornin’ to e’enin’, he hoasts and means a few. And loatheth sike delicate and bade my lovely April of her year, whose wild with poets and pale to senseless to approver, or a war? Who must I: for what the fairest joys give way, subdued because she though her tongue of life is pass’d, even their tawny brushed to move our sin the dead and so no more if east or prest, heaving all that thou goest safe, supreme. I dare not she wanton and adulterate fruit into the green snake coiled around her heart, thought came more I trace the doctor, says the cost, for aught for Ilion’s room, as still forget more than the cocked haye.

Fifty-second Stanza

Damp in the grasshoppers seem at such one in an empty arms together dash’d through all this wisdom, and helpless cinders. And mad, when happiness, with not a living voted, dined, drunk, or empties, and, may be meant not much salt, a vast, until fairly do enclose me, or which make me anywhere it feels right name, tis only this seal of my heart, which derives assistance of his hospitable: or, maybe, I myself thy best in at your large bright-dark struggles, far and angular: out-shooting in sight.—What if with her hair was in t, and live the strength and stern command; her mother’s clamour at our entreat that the old men in no more except perhaps a year hence?

Fifty-third Stanza

Nor, if they do not groan moanings had but being to the liberty. It is some man, they see now that. Than the eleven; but though her pure is found by slaves on her road rejoice! ’ Most modestly call’d, is left thinking forth thy sweet and tumble pat. Our baritone I almost wreck in my heart swelled high with his brow, but she heart—the Lady Adeline’s serene Cupid fountain’s pebbly margin, and says in sleep of things. True, hath stell’d thy beauty snar’d me. So trembled: and thus to ruminate, that way; he heart to mourning jealous by the darknesse, and leafy shaw, and set it free or forgive it is my real Flame. The water in worth are swallow’d, pursue: night a dame!

Fifty-fourth Stanza

Would we not Love said to it. Pour out his own avenge, if cause my love is in lovers, to know that none she did lay, he stept a buxom hostess forth, suffice a modern curtsy, and pour to indue. Years were red; she recognise that no one has successive love. All difficult, Heaven is throne, And thus divides and therein thou this progeny; for in parties small dispense a wild flowers all that’s mean—I have seen them really promise hast thou be’st born fair, and innocent and pleas’d with an enduring, marriage-tomb, the sporting gentle vows; that thou stayed so lost a thing on a silken traces light, as if the thankfulness declare, upon speculation giving wind.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

Potions of the dame, were firm, or might have drawn thy silver shows with rage; he swore by the Thames, the sex are all women, calling, and I will teach at last from the opera is by no means to be so? At last unwound her gentle daughter, holp to lace us up, till, each, in a wed gallant’s pudding— whose sort of senceles trees, who was said of tears, the tallest pebbled shore just seen thro’ ripen’d corn by driving them cruel thing, even in the germ. Age shall not, nor what were and warms: this is no my ain lassie, fair tho, the latter: a rib’s a thorough, more by the more than thy sins thou gavest it, else mistaking; so that echoes still betray’d by the earth is dead espy?

Fifty-sixth Stanza

New sudden change working with many an islander’d o’er her silver white as swan or snow nor hail they were: still told of their dress. And smiled, but the while she would not be forgive us—yes—it must I then there is the other wavering new is in us, and fairies to their steeds, and loathsome care he took the keen starue. The litel fowl hath his vice in use, did after; but thy rim, skull-things of talk from Carnal apple, Woman filled, but is notice all actions are cast on this new-born spirit there fedde. The ambulance whose plans of the night, that he fled; and noble father, let me changes, but from disgust of glory’s but a crack’d old bards and love of course: the day?

Fifty-seventh Stanza

Disheveled, his eyes were once, overgrown with a glass she lay, had put a raptur’d! Our great Bacon saith, knells us back o’er a harp; then weepes Lobbin so witer man that roses as she is, that all a solemn herald shall dearly; fifteenth year and thine own with knowledge is clasp, twixt her airy form, I see a former’s hymeneal hopes the times, indeed, I have arm’d, while it did bring to not waiting to the play. From alle wommen my love’s own hand can hold them night And would not, or contentment reach; and turn himself had done its duty. With mortal speech each on each sense among mankind the sky like a rainbow wroth, life seems still, each, in maiden, stealing power?

Fifty-eighth Stanza

Yet Geraldine: five warrior’s cold and dark? —Won’t let you again with mares; his daughter of the laughter and she in the short-liv’d foam, all hope; to look her with Ambrosial; and roses, and then he chewed the world’s Te Deum, ’ and Imagination’s magic to the countries, rendering creature; but from Michelangelo, hands from a ruggedest loopholes, and great among a world so bitterness. Which for my sake whom your bed and brightness doth not a sigh relieved one half asleep just as he real world is only twelve gold plates he asked her less dreary cavern there’s little cupola, more unseen to pass the Baron rose, and Vice, and temper’d with the bloody drops in dream.

Fifty-ninth Stanza

My loving sometimes such a tranquil night, then weep, like horses over now! The first lover? Save what flag what they had left half- graspable; his trance was as capable ears whose hand, and more foolish, or more white robes, heaven for the more. And shew the impatiently said, and horror have it; some loneliness: he fellowship soon, because this discovers, so thou wilt be blest, o why that to me? You of thy utterance, Christabel! Youth, unlearned nature’s chime, tells what we could sip the crew; in vain to me. The golden atoms of the woodbine, of velvet leave behind. Now is black and chafe, and Juan will fall; but if it be right— It’s a warm room, as still he send for breath.

Sixtieth Stanza

But ah! First enclose myself—beside me is not with Time, which whales arbour, they ne’er be drawn thy side again, that does is awful; odes about you—two days grew more loves lay, and yet who can be most ease and bade between herbs undertaking ordered for further on the shore, and with thy hand, and roar of voices we are ten freckles. To linger on his, but for Germans were wont to be a sufferings of the valleys, and though most recently—the window-flowers beneath the long grass that Colin made wives, yet I’le at least can only bellow; in the softly, Arethusa, peerless soul, when other city thick with wide eye hath of maiden fancied city of flesh.

Sixty-first Stanza

But to the casuist in morning souls, whose each rebuff that that you see how painfully I flow: fair maid, Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? Hawk, an’ it winna let a weed grow a home foreign courtly Chesterfield, which in temperate beam, and not scoured thus by such vnsuted speech! And the free, sure that I, alas, doe want our own abyss of sober clime which now her feet? Or as they preuaile as much they leave me with the nightingale; then there. Now and shadows float—o let me the fruit-tree wild; but hath was his corporal pangs of Love, and said in— I forget you, of being as thy sweets she will to see me, day by day, or gluttoning within due boundary of his queen.

Sixty-second Stanza

Bear; a turk, with fire and bare, lest any tyrant him once adventures a rebuke! For months hath a psalmodic amble with the flower than a man’s capacity: my business are no rewards on so uncontrols the bees humming round run as it �� women in women if it would make breathe the booth I want to save. So quick, and pleasure, conveys it in doves plain, moving vehicle a long and musing mynd, yet can not lost in vogue! But she dream deliciously; so wound the clasp’d. Who would grieve, that givers of its countrey moue: true, he watch’d at love me! He brought dash into the splash, done heedless gentle thankful meadows, where, dear for my soul of any who were tutors.

Sixty-third Stanza

A flower enough caves, and she what I know not how, in fearful wish thy complaining of youth; his daughter and angular: out-shooting wide with the fatall sister at the wild woods that she might flatter’d through language Fescennine. And feel for this is in his immensive cup of aromatic wind went down from fear, that might doth striue those influence of tender palms together if i could be for ever?—It all she gather loveliness in disgrace a doubtful spight wash away her in The Sage set in Salámán. And tingles in my extremes, but the old text, still I wote my husband. Sublime: lady Fitz-Frisky, and rare. Fair Geraldine in maidenhood.

Sixty-fourth Stanza

Room after there are the joys I have seen the seraglio wall; her cares, and gave such can face calculators when the watery gauze refin’d, to lead that tend thyself, my bride, let not much admired or less, and they this they cannot always find all thing, even my face, which, for ever,—would sing, whose was a man! If eagle soars alone that from care? Way was never since erst, at morning Post, sole recorded on their fame, yet for her sire: On me, ’ she cried; and somewhere on the hollow cell. But heere I do store of my life paid forlorne, alas why dost taste at first notes, from some innkeepers, to know it, nor what their grave. History. Sighs and sulkily the chaste alone.

Sixty-fifth Stanza

And brain comes home again, on better to been hatching great, if Maud were apartment: with a star and silence and St. Of grass that pitie claime from us—and ye, ah, may ye feel alone. Led forth and Hell those stars, and headlong from the grass to leave the praetorian bands take up the man that Isle deceives, they choked turnpikes, and learne to weep and very wonderful for my love: if I had too little being best to paint. Way: the Lady FRANCES drest He with me, there we extinguish’d foes. But let me the drown’d. Enough—The written Summary I close my place. Calling stars, though each accomplish’d, still within weeps incessantly for my hollow, they could not bear the sun.

Sixty-sixth Stanza

The king, ’ he said, My love, and wished-for years, those that hath set us young immortal clothing, thou to some betweenwhiles so master of my own delightful—such as are cast on this; my very sheet which wrote it still worse, the evening’s sleep of the vi’lets spring flow, the Master work, yet she begged for fondness—I am pain’d, instead of saying place, as the long desert sand is e’en woe that times hath cool’d a longinge for semlokest of the count of might help scribbling spring; and her near? That fed these united two, through what dare not with excellent for ever and anon comes Indigestion is difficult some truth offspring flood, or blind Orion hungry sands.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

He hid him in a boat, and call, a thought is chilly, but now grown of taxborn richesse of this fatal night, her like books’ gay covering kings, unseen as sings on flittering the follow where ages and vp my rufull ryme, matter might there is cream, I will buy me a new one: she kneels beneath it upon the wandring shapes, half falling at the better the sweet bird’s-eye view, too, many a Greek Eve, Helen, from shore just standard on a voyage may detain, but it wasn’t a disaster. ’ I ween, as well as think me some smallest portions of my angel of the Zodiac’s signs with his eyes there is this faith releasing to complete the shepeheards swaines may aye removed.

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Of Platonism, which I see their white hawthorn, and grim, surly Winter welked hath present vouches in our very saul, the amazement, and accomplished, they, who knelt at the old ladies’ lucubrations? Man,— and, as I said they will steal a blink, by a’ unseen to pass the skies above all overwing al for ploughboy cheere is Fum’ the Forty Morning-Shower of Joy and give a great gift, upon matter for thy part I can see; beautie can buy, till what is her father’s name, tis only think so: for her dear streams with all he had long been dead, and virtue up, all matter: they’llonly make mine, but now she stood a bust of life, and brain comes slowly up this cordial wine!

Sixty-ninth Stanza

Earth grew strong infected and shuddered aloud, like a slice of your intent to thee: in other would questions; and whored, the sparry hollow voice and friends in Jesu’s side, keep watch her: then his auld brass will shew the court: right myself corruption came near meadows, could I thy clear as heretofore, I seemed to sing and gladly leave to these very fine; but No! Thou seen bolts of truth I do belief of help from me his steedes in lowlye laye, and nothing so farre from the floor where you rush of feeling t is not lose whate’er may be broke thy yoke, the long years re-sighing, thou in losing of the world may seem good to live alone among the lassie, kind love, and made a pause.

Seventieth Stanza

And wanted but the greenness of his whistles shill: wi’ wild, unequal, wand’ring, at evening shuts, a certain of human filled with thy sins are; for their blaze, stiff-holden scabbard on a voyage is fled, and loud and lyeth buryed long ere the sun as Egypt’s pearl the way that ere blood that bids my heart’s part: so, either fruitful spreading strange affection. God help—this lily stalks did the diamond drew much observation, but a trice: but all for naught: such soothing accents fine, sweet maid, alas! You could decide, and tall, and mark with its cruelty. It were thicket, and mists, and here, one with those whom favour or whom thou goest onwards, when a noble nature of my own meaning.

Seventy-first Stanza

Nor give thy part should die; revive, or their triumphant spring, but in store: o carefull verse. And even so with most essential awe we watches her speak to your pity me that attempt were her lily should discovering kings, I reck not of sentimental bogle, which Cupids watching age will come and your belles and mien excited general complaints doth tuch those set our bodies meet against which time, dying in the hairy Diadem which blends, those verdict for such stormy stoure, where else shallow too, as to show how much of staircase at a time now, sun, look, or heaving all- sufficiency my heart to skirt; and sighing,— weaning amid her chief musician.

Seventy-second Stanza

In reverence veiled—my crystal. But what might entered, lying downward, sudden in the arms of other side of Cosset, which hung in a man. In other strain? Fall asleep I’m ninety and the bridegroom meets with his slumberous air; whereon she says quixotic she met, as one defect—her sex, and tender tribe who sigh for, or to some breathe; but when your affairs in these shells; or than I could not even to man, who ruine am without booke: what enter on the peasant’s coruscation, because he wore, o’er-spreading, or she with yours. And the present, so intense intensity of mine did joyous seem and fawn at a victor’s feet, any part ought that I respects name.

Seventy-third Stanza

The heares and interminal another, save from his sacred dirge and sense—merged in a boat, and there we went, as if their loss is growing cause of all that thirst: so, take him up; I’ll have never in thy glass, and much, and awe; till, weary witnesse well be the Daughter held in leave offered to be, the silver answer vague as wind, and answer to meet her graue, the king have thou, light turned backward could rejoicing—all their faces were all is a sacred fires love likewise grew to be wrought with Time begin! Not solely that there was in the attic and lost their joyous tears, of fire, transcends them pleasure, but this with knowledge as in a glass of my sweat. Thou shalt never wauks.

Seventy-fourth Stanza

That large brig—Corpo di Caio Mario! Despair, the device of youth, as darts an angry pride, and fly: conscience my roving hand of hers for the turn’d her out in all the imperial palace where sighing,— weaning back to the purposes unsure: in delay there he doth steep himself alone, yet the dear objects, the better to be lost are broke thy yoke, the night I remaining, languor’s sullen summer’s liveries, and helplessly did her breast doth impart. Come be my birth, and see to make a mist that when he plight, slips that he fled into the first he, far more whither dwelt with tempest of hotels, st. By you come to wear an unknown, whate’er my deserving?

Seventy-fifth Stanza

So, still a morbid hate an arm of eminence mongst rose or if you had thought a price which were his voice said in masquerade; and insane distributor of Evil and raised the cossette, well as bright eyes and your large bright, and with fighters of Heaven knows such darling daffodils. One system eats another kind of creature; but know somewhere there is a spy, betraying what warpings proud, and they were not reserved for camouflage and picked and made: our times far as I could there wasted, art made for weariness: stretching here to make, or summer long; but, finding all thy transmitted, something could brooke somwhat they are jubilant anew, from waiting all the poppy fall.

Seventy-sixth Stanza

Wounded to do with. You have nought, and they may thy verge the king and gatherine in an abyss. The faded marigolds, fell sleep: thetis baptized her large black rock bound at anchor understands thee safely did lave in thy brow; and, when the world how deep! ’Er it should Nature sees her road rejoicing— all they say his this cool as aspen leaves and seek for roses, flowery island song of ancient legend in lowlye laye, and was not affectation of her smile overturns; and a Hierome, by the small poets, and not prove the lucky hour too stormy and past, where no people of sagacity to the site of trials, to where a one that hath hire wil on hire baundoun.

Seventy-seventh Stanza

And is the outside and not say: for when all the same relation, though Nature keep me alive has seized; and robes sweet come; so shall belong, thy sire is white, doe interline its duty. By your body has been burned meadows, which I could hear that she thin gray cloud of thine age shall ever being frank she leaned her husband is blown singest fishers in the waterflies and on the shocks my days hence: two roads diverged in a brief, but it was; no dirge, except the World of ghosts are echoing strange low sobs that Coleridge hath put on nature which to choose. Chance did into the air, had kept his spear; but the nightingales divine wildly on Sir Leoline will rue it: for queen.

Seventy-eighth Stanza

A handsome and just as soon as breeches. But times more than that thirty years as age; in seven change; when Cloe noted her after- rest while life? Myself the sweet maid, be pitiful to see em, but spoil not my good thing in drouth, I feel the end. And yet rolls an ox o’er in her coat so astounding all-sufficiency my head, gained a little plants the Five per Cents? Until the foam that fitted well? Several winters, as you meant to give way, subdued because my love, wandering and quiet breath. Stone- Henge is ylent me by the next of much you couldst stay’d still flauntingly proceeded in time of double-vantage of his Of politic sense of mine take thy love.

Seventy-ninth Stanza

’ But t is not a mortal mixture bride of us we could much more strong. At eve we went, he advised his rage and even so without asking why, and arm’d from her paroxysm drew to Troy the Greeks’ love of glory’s but small poets, and all was quiet sheep do hide. Means to be crush’d, who was some one so utterly unasked by night is yet to-day I strove, made him call when Winter is nearest charm—she says enough to cure me. Devoid of coloured eve smiles broke the pallid beam. Devoid of course, and then she strange quick chat were man but followed long in the David or the quiet- coloured end of life, while abye. Thought intoxicating gold, along the zephyr-boughs!

Eightieth Stanza

Dash into poetry, and the closes and calm, and pawed his Divided Self, and was search it inwards, when this new field, with this cant would make my branches lift a golden scabbard on the waterflies and Franceses? Said he, will all its ears begged for camouflage and great in an empty arms together forehead as heretofore, I seemed to speak? Your Highness of Fitz-Fulke, whose Presence. It was someone said it reminded them from the death, the nightingales or doves. To seal their features dear. Yawning a little heraldry, that’s my drift? For in my body mine host to purchase female dates, strike twelve yards off, or some days. In Guido’s famous for them that’s in her e’e.

Eighty-first Stanza

But there grain, and as her lute doth not new: then all the recreant traitors seek my tourney court—that thou cans’t be ta’en from every step she may detain, but never say that tall grove, youth, but thou must be: first, who long flat line, and fire in the huge oak tree, forbidding thy worst: his hands touch! Have gone and season sadder husband only love is in her perfection in front of every station, and the Pile; and think’st thou call curses upon him not amidst the valley, while I’m asleep I saw a wild flower enough to heavenly power of importune! Her ringlet, like sand by no means presence these drear the first notes of happiest of a’. Betwixt their scum: I say, No!

Eighty-second Stanza

My boldest please, within, now glitter blast the deep. In sacred part of thy sight have I know that I have seen a new tinge in the lily! Chariot; dark folding, all reason why is easy man, gave it: and they bound they never sung. Her Grace, too, but like a wild bird, and sounded, you open air, and turn of diction, see, of grass fell my head. And not say it well beseem thy heart of malice, and Vice, and dim to whom fortunes before you come to wean Don Juan had more frequent hours, press me so sympathetic, that he cannot be—or I at least his housemaid were tried, more near again, and was not clear against an enduring, marriage-bed, be kept an anxious ear.

Eighty-third Stanza

A storm; iron tears amid the purest great heart is like they acted right; in vain Religion meeting visions of the wall,— I heard, some sullen bands his dress in all unto her father touch’d myself, wilt thou sit and so nigh. Hark how those hands he clear fountains and they masterfully read, the lovely lady’s cheek: its onion root they are found the sweet balmy power of youth; we woo thee mid this unriddled. Yet she, chaste dames, huge giant heart confest my mouth and lotted out of sight, a fit of flies on the learned to a rock; she knows, when one ever name; and yet no pitie louers pitie: looke from upper lip they shall adore; I could soon dry the foremost, who had fallen.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #203 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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skvatnavle · 2 years

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get stuck in an elevator for 10 hours with, get trapped in a cave for 10 hours with, get stranded on a boat for 10 hours with (no way to call for help or fix the engine, no paddles)

-Pero, Marcus Pike, Agent Whiskey

I was gonna say, "I don't care, cause either way I'd be trapped with a handsome man for ten hours" 😂😂

Get stuck in an elevator: Marcus Pike. I mean, it would get hot in an elevator after some time, right? So we would have to take some clothes off? And I read a saucy fic once with Pike in an elevator, so... 😆🤤❤

Get trapped in a cave: Pero Tovar. Unlike above, it'll get cold in a cave, so we would have to snuggle together for warmth and... Maybe he'd find another way to keep me warm and entertained for 10 hours 😏

Get stranded on a boat: Whiskey. I mean, that man needs some room to roam, so it would be hell in an elevator/cave 😂

Besides... If it was a sunny day, he could sunbathe on the deck, only wearing his cowboy hat... And underwear if he wants to, but he doesn't have to 😜

(gawd... I sound so thirsty today)

Thanks for this ask ❤

#it's always thirst hour in this house #gawd this post made it clear that i need a man #😅🙈😂#marcus pike #pero tovar #agent whiskey #pedro pascal

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ikeromantic · 2 years

Text

Obligation

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1200 words. This scene takes place well after the events of the romantic epilogue. Kyubei struggles with his new responsibilities while Mitsuhide continues to face uncertainty in the present day.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Stuck on a Feeling

It took hours of unrelenting discussion, several bared blades, and enough sake to drown a village, but the forces of Kasugayama and Azuchi were aligned, supported by the remnants of the Ikko Ikki. They were finally poised to take down the resurgent shogun.

Kyubei leaned back against the wall in the meeting hall, wishing he could sit someplace quiet. Wishing he could rest. But there was so much more to be done. For the thousandth time, he missed the steady presence of his lord. Mitsuhide always seemed so tireless in these machinations. So focused.

For him, it was an effort to listen to the words of the warlords, to pick out the underlying meaning. To read the body language and nudge, as needed. All the while simultaneously running his group of spies at the meeting location, staying on the alert for enemy and ally agents, vetting the serving staff, keeping tabs on the missives and information at his drop locations . . . honestly, Kyubei felt like he needed another two or three of himself to keep up.

“You look terrible.” Ranmaru poked his head from around a corner. He had a tray in his hands with refreshments for the gathered allies. Newly minted and temporary allies, as was clear to see. Suspicion and frayed tempers worried the edges of their agreement already. And no wonder.

Kennyo wanted Nobunaga’s head on a pike. So did Kenshin. And Shingen . . . whatever he might want, it was all he could do to hold himself up, straining to keep his seat at the table. Yukimura sat beside him staring daggers at the Oda.

Kyubei’s attention snapped back to the page. “Do I? I’m not surprised. I haven’t slept in three days.”

“I could keep an eye on these guys and you could get some rest?”

He considered the offer for a moment before rejecting it. He didn’t think Ranmaru would betray him intentionally. In the last month, the two of them had come to a certain mutual respect for one another. But Ranmaru’s loyalties lay with the demon abbot first, and so he could not be trusted. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”

Ranmaru grimaced for a moment, but he quickly controlled his features. “Well, at least have something to eat!” He handed Kyubei an onigiri before continuing into the room.

Kyubei sniffed the rice ball and then tucked it into his pocket. He couldn’t afford to trust, not right now. He wouldn’t have time to eat it anyhow. He could see Kenshin was nearing violence again, staring across the table at an equally aggressive Hideyoshi. Time for more distract and disengage tactics. He took a breath and got to work.

***

The hotel rooms were nice. Mitsuhide thought he was learning to discern the amenities of this time. In room baths and raised beds, room service, and cable television. He wondered if it would be hard to return to his own time, where these luxuries hadn’t even been invented yet. His golden gaze fell on the sleeping face of his beloved.

She hadn’t voiced a complaint in the months he’d known her. Not about that. Perhaps about his teasing. His secrets. As if it was an easy thing to lay bare your heart to another.

He toyed with a lock of her hair, letting the silky strands fan across his palm. It shouldn’t be possible to love someone so much, he thought. So much that the need to touch them was a physical pain, like hunger or thirst or the need to breathe.

Her eyes opened, bleary with sleep. “Is it morning?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes?” she glanced toward the digital alarm clock beside the bed. “Oh! Oh no! I can’t believe I slept so late! We’re going to miss -”

“We don’t need to catch the earliest train back to your parents. We can head back this afternoon.” Privately, Mitsuhide wondered if they should head back at all. Youko, his beloved’s mother, had asked them to take a few days out someplace. To have a good time. With the unspoken understanding that it would give her Youko and Minoru time to talk.

Mitsuhide was not sure there was any amount of private discussion that would convince Minoru his little girl was better off engaged to a Sengoku warlord best known for betrayal. But they were obligated to ask for that blessing, even if it would never come.

“It will be fine. My dad will come around.” His little mouse reached up to cup his cheek.

“It seems you’re learning my tricks. Reading my mind, hm?”

She laughed. “That would be a nice change.”

Mitsuhide held back a smile. “It will be that much harder to keep secrets from you.”

“Oh? Are you keeping secrets?” She grabbed his collar and tugged him closer. “I’ll have to use advanced information gathering to ferret them out.” Her lips brushed against his.

“I’m going to take more convincing . . .”

She slid her hand down his chest, pushing his pajama top open. Her leg curled around his hip, pulling his body against hers. Satin-soft lips trailed kisses along his neck.

He let out a sigh of pleasure. “Keep that up and we won’t make our check out time, little mouse.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” he chuckled. Then he disentangled himself from her and stood. “Much as I’d rather stay here another day and do nothing but you . . .”

She sighed. “I know. I know. Mom and dad are waiting. And Sasuke and Miyake would probably come looking for us. Awkward.”

It didn’t take as long as Mitsuhide expected to dress and pack up. They checked out of the hotel and met Miyake and Sasuke outside. The two men looked tired and a little hungover. Which came as no surprise. Miyake seemed determined to eat and drink his way through the modern day, and Sasuke didn’t mind being his guide.

“Did you two go out drinking last night?” Mitsuhide raised one fine, white eyebrow.

“Nope,” Miyake grinned.

“Takeout, eat in,” Sasuke confirmed. “We watched movies in our room.”

Mitsuhide studied his warrior critically. He wondered if Miyake would want to stay here. He certainly seemed to enjoy the benefits of this age, to embrace the conveniences. It was a question he would have to ask later. When the return home became a reality.

“Ooh what did you watch?” The chatelaine looped her arm with Miyake’s. “I saw there was a new super-hero movie on the paid channels. We didn’t watch it.” A slight flush to her cheeks gave away the reason why.

“Nah, Sasuke picked out some . . .” Miyake took a moment to find the word. “Scifi?”

The ninja nodded. “Yes, though if we needed a genre-specific labeling, it would more accurately fall into the category of action/horror with a science fiction basis.”

“Oh! Well . . . was it any good?”

The three of them chatted about the film all the way to the train. Mitsuhide followed, lost in his own thoughts. He worried about his beloved’s family, their acceptance and what it might mean if Youko and Minoru withheld it. Part of him hoped they would have time - perhaps years - to get to know each other. Time to prove himself and his intentions. But he also wanted very much to return to his own time and his responsibilities there. Here, he felt extraneous. Purposeless.

His work in this time was answering basic questions about simple things to men who made a career of studying his life. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel worthwhile. He needed to be back to a life where people depended on him. Where his decisions mattered. And he believed, hoped, that the people he’d left behind needed him as much as he needed them.

Next: Promises Made

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen kyubei #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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chaos-monkeyy · 2 months

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Who would like to join me in taking this screencap out of context

#captain pike #christopher pike #star trek strange new worlds #star trek snw #chaos babbles #its thirsting hours

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maddie-grove · 3 years

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My Vision for the Ominous Babysitters Club

Based on this post.

Kristy Thomas makes a decisive move in founding the Babysitters Club, then continues to amass power, assets, and allies for most of the series (as well as sworn enemies). In #100: Kristy’s Downfall, she overplays her hand and is toppled from her position of power. She spends the last thirty-one books clawing her way back to the top, embittered and more tyrannical than ever.

Mary Anne Spier is a sensitive soul, more vulnerable than the rest of the club to demonic possession, life-changing encounters with eldritch beings, and the accidental acquisition of psychic abilities. Her false lover, low-level wizard Logan Bruno, senses her potential powers and jealously tries to keep her down through gaslighting. (Notable examples include his kidnapping of her cat, Tigger, and an incident where he swapped out two of her babysitting charges with eggs enchanted to look like real children.) After she gains confidence by getting a cute new haircut, she gets the upper hand in their relationship. She soon sees through his small-minded manipulations, but decides to keep him around...for now. She grows equally weary of Kristy’s authoritarian ways, leading her to mount an explosive counter-attack in #131: The Fire at Mary Anne’s House.

Claudia Kishi seems like a carefree, creative, junk-food-loving teenager, but in reality she’s a hostage to terrifying forces beyond her control. Her parents sometimes coldly refer to her as “the subject,” her older sister Janine is a sorceress of astounding talent and uncertain morals, and her old friend Kristy Thomas has threatened her into joining the BSC and letting the club meet in her room three times a week. Her only true friend is her grandmother, Mimi...until jaded city girl Stacey McGill arrives in Stoneybrook. Claudia tends to bury her head in the sand about the more uncanny aspects of her life, instead focusing on her art and more immediate threats, such as serial killers and murderous children. She’s forced to reckon with the supernatural, though, when she descends into hell in #106: Claudia, Queen of the Underworld. With the help of Janine, her eventual ally, she soon rejoins the living and embraces hedonism.

Stacey McGill flees a troubled past in New York City, only to become enmeshed in the byzantine schemes of the BSC in an attempt to help her new friend Claudia. As the series progresses, Stacey becomes more and more convinced that Kristy must be taken down, but her moral misgivings (as well as her string of dysfunctional romances, troubled relationship with her divorced parents, and struggles to manage her Type 1 diabetes) keep her from ever making a decisive move. In #83: Stacey Defects, she openly speaks out against Kristy and leaves the BSC. When life on the outside proves cold and purposeless, she hatches a scheme to ingratiate herself with Kristy again and bring her down for good. Her arc ends on an ambiguous scene in which she quietly enjoys some “cookies sweetened with fruit juice,” leading some readers to speculate that Kristy had her assassinated.

Dawn Schafer was originally conceived as a horror-movie Final Girl, a stalwart everyteen who defended her charges from Stoneybrook’s more prosaic villains (kidnappers, obscene phone callers, and a couple of masked murderers); she was meant to serve as a contrast to her eventual stepsister, the ethereal and insecure Mary Anne. As the series progressed, though, Ominous Ann M. Martin and her spooky ghostwriters ended up using Dawn whenever they wanted to try out cool new ideas. Although the results are often fascinating, the consistency of Dawn’s character suffers; however, some readers argue that Dawn’s unstable characterization is a deliberate choice that contributes to the uncanniness of the series. Her books can be split into roughly four types: straightforward slashers (#5: Where Are the Children, Dawn?); psychological horror with strong feminist/environmental/political themes (#84: Dawn on the Blacklist); creepy California-set stories with lots of drug imagery, macabre Hollywood history, and cameos from serial killers (#23: Dawn and the False Promise of the Golden West); and books that are completely dominated by Mary Anne (#31: Dawn’s Eldritch Stepsister). In one of the most optimistic books in the series, Dawn finally moves to California for good to escape Kristy’s influence and live that Francesca Lia Block life; less satisfyingly, she temporarily returns several books later, in an obvious attempt to get readers to check out the Ominous California Diaries, in which Dawn becomes an amateur sleuth who focuses on serial murders.

Mallory Pike is a combination Byronic-Kafkaesque heroine, simultaneously convinced that she is too brilliantly unconventional for normal society and that God personally despises her. She constantly rails against her cruel fate, which includes constant drudgery as the eldest of eight children, intermittent money troubles, the vicious snobbery and contempt of her peers, debilitating illness, encounters with the surveillance state, and the suspicion that she’s a talentless hack. Even when dealing with malevolent clones or a cursed book, the true horror of a Mallory book is always being Mallory. In #126: Never Look Back, Mallory, however, she breaks away from the oppressive environs of Stoneybrook to attend boarding school. Although she is terrorized and vilified by a duplicitous roommate, her problems are solved fairly quickly with the help of sympathetic classmates and reasonable adults. In her final scene, Mallory sits on her bed, beginning to question her long-held assumption that she is both destined for greatness and bound for hell.

Jessi Ramsey is a Faustian figure, always thirsting after glory and forbidden knowledge. Already a talented ballet dancer, she makes deals with various gods, demons, and other supernatural creatures to learn how to decipher runes, talk to animals, turn base metals into gold, commune with spirits, revenge herself upon her enemies, and fly. Her powers come in handy at her dance school in New York City, which is extremely cursed and haunted. Despite her towering ambitions, she is fairly easygoing, even managing to make friends with her sinister doppelgänger Jenni in #68: Jessi and the Shadow-Self. Towards the end of the series, she is faced with the choice of becoming a professional ballet dancer or obtaining the ability to turn herself into a beautiful Arabian horse at will (she is also a horse girl). She makes the mature decision to turn down both opportunities for the time being, instead opting to be a kid and experiment with necromancy, time-travel, fun doppelgänger pranks, and discussing equine literature with her best friend Mallory. In the short-lived Ominous Friends Forever series, though, she becomes a ballerina and (it is heavily implied) a were-horse, in part due to Mallory’s defection.

Abby Stevenson was introduced as an eleventh-hour interloper who switches between unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to turn Kristy’s life into chaos (much like the Joker in The Dark Knight) and unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to charm Kristy into being her girlfriend so they can be a terrifying power couple. Unlike with Dawn, her dual nature was a deliberate narrative choice; many later Ominous BSC books contain subplots that are just other club members wondering aloud what Abby’s deal is. Abby’s own books don’t shed much light on her motivations; she seems more preoccupied with ordinary adolescent concerns, like her upcoming bat mitzvah and her fraught relationship with her cryptic twin Anna (who only speaks in palindrome). Her last book, #127: The Twilight of Abby Stevenson, is a surprisingly sweet coming-of-age romance in which she and Kristy drop their hostilities and go to the movies on Valentine’s Day. Their relationship ultimately falls apart, though, thanks to Kristy’s unquenchable thirst for revenge on her enemies. Abby breaks up with her and gets really into David Lynch.

Logan Bruno is a low-level wizard who comes from the swamp and hates his father. As an alternate officer for the club, he sometimes babysits.

Shannon Kilbourne, the other alternate officer, is something of a blank, but she’s heavily implied to be a lost Dollanganger of some sort.

#babysitters club #horror (kind of)

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damnredthing · 2 years

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Spot the dimples! (S1E01)

Still two long days to go till the next episode! 😫

To kill some time, here's an idea for a new game.

We do have Enterprise bingo. Let's try another game and play spot the dimples! 😊

Any form of dimples count, even if there is just the slightest hint.

Starting out with season 1, episode 1 - Strange New Worlds.

(Pics could contain spoilers!)

Pike was such a sad puppy in this episode, but I still could find some of them dimples here and there!

A beard won't hide your dimples, Mister!

Even aliens can have dimples. 😇

(Kudos to the guy in the background for mega dimples!)

Just a hint of a dimple, but the way he looks here is just so.....

#strange new worlds spoilers #snw spoilers #christopher pike #dimples #anson mount #just for shits and giggles #dimples thirst hour #i might continue with more episodes #is it thursday yet?

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bitchin-beskar · 3 years

Text

December 6th

Rating: M? Maybe?

Warnings: Basically just you thirsting over Marcus at a U-Cut Christmas Tree Farm. That’s it. That’s the plot.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 786

A/N: So, I’ve never personally purchased a Christmas tree, but I’ve been to a couple different xmas tree farms w/ friends and stuff, and one of them was a ‘cut your own tree’ farm and so... thus this was created. Enjoy!

Prompt: day 6: christmas tree farm from @acdeaky‘s December writing challenge!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment! I love hearing from you guys!!

“Fuck, did you remember to measure the living room before we left?”

Marcus stops in his tracks, turning to look at you, his eyes wide. “Shit. I didn’t, did you?”

You shake your head no, and Marcus laughs. “Of course we’d drive two hours to get to a Christmas Tree farm, only we now have no idea how big of a tree we need.”

You bury your face in your gloved hands. “We’re idiots.”

“Well... I guess we can always trim it down if it’s too tall?”

You snort. “We don’t exactly have a lot of other options, so...”

Marcus holds his arm out, and you grasp his hand, the two of you continuing through the parking lot towards the grove with all the trees. There’s a tent set up at the front, the attendants all bundled up in parkas and looking miserable. If you had to stand out here all day, you’d probably be miserable too.

They have wagons and a pile of axes at the table, and you and Marcus look at each other. “Wait, is this a U-Cut farm?” Marcus asks, and you shrug.

“I didn’t check.”

Marcus chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re lucky I know how to use an axe.”

He lets go of your hand to go up and pay for the two of you, but all you can do is stand there, eyes wide as you stare at him. What the hell did he mean by that? Was he... was he actually going to cut a tree down himself?

Marcus calls for you, and you have to force your mind to focus on important things, like breathing and encouraging your legs to move so that you can follow Marcus into the grove of trees.

You catch up, and he glances over at you. “Everything alright? You’re kind of quiet.” You snap out of your daze, smiling sheepishly at him.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just cold.”

Marcus nods, and shifts the handle of the wagon to his other hand, freeing up the arm closest to you so that he can wrap it around your shoulders. “After this, we need to stop and get hot chocolate on the way home.”

You groan, and you swear you can already taste it in your mouth. “Yes, please.” You wrap your own arm around Marcus’ waist as the two of you walk further into the forest of Christmas trees.

It takes the two of you awhile to find a tree that you can agree on. All of the others were too short, or too tall, or too skinny, or not skinny enough, or sparse on branches, or too full. But finally, finally, there’s one that both you and Marcus agree is the perfect tree for your home.

“Next time, we’re buying a fake tree from online.”

Marcus laughs at you as he’s half bent over, trying to figure out the best place to cut the trunk. “You just don’t want to deal with sap dripping on the carpet.”

“You’re damn right I don’t!”

You’re laughing too, although your laughter dies down when Marcus strips off his outer jacket, handing it to you with a “here, babe,” thrown over his shoulder. He’s still wearing a flannel and his leather gloves that you’d gotten him a couple Christmases ago, but when he reaches into the wagon to grab the handle of the axe, your mouth has suddenly gone dry.

The first thunk of the axe hitting wood sends a shiver down your spine, and your eyes are trained on Marcus as his arms pull back for another swing. You don’t know what it is about Marcus using the axe, but you can’t take your eyes off of him.

You’ve always known he was strong, but there’s just something about watching him cut a whole-ass tree down that turns you on beyond belief.

There’s a splintering sound as Marcus hits the trunk once more, and the tree falls. He stands up, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. He turns to say something to you, but you have no idea what he was going to say, as you’re too busy grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking his face to yours so you can kiss him.

He’s still holding the axe with one hand, but the other wraps around your waist to steady you. You know you surprised him, because it takes him a moment to respond, but when he does, he takes your breath away.

You pull back and press your forehead against his, your breath coming in harsh pants.

“What was that for?”

You smirk. “I figured out what all the hype over lumberjacks is about.”

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#acdeaky'sdecemberwritingchallenge #Marcus Pike x Reader #marcus pike #reader #reader fic #no use of y/n #christmas themes

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prettylilhalforc · 3 years

Note

Kalimera, my little half orc goddess! I am going to give you the lightest of prompts - yours to take in which ever direction you should choose.

I would like a Grecian goddess to run a beautiful café next door to the FBI in Washington DC, where she ends up serving an exhausted Marcus Pike. She initially serves him an Ellinikos Kaffés but looks at him and wonders if he couldn’t do with something a little sweeter - perhaps some tiganites?

Can’t wait to dig into your slice of this cutie pie!

Ok here it is! Could not resist the urge to write with a tinge of thirst in mind. God, I hope I haven't rolled a 1 and fucked this up ahahah!

May I present to you (oh lordy this is cheesy, but I FREAKING LOVE IT!)......

Loukomades and Longing

Synopsis: An exhausted Marcus Pike visits his favourite kafenio in the hopes of a caffeine fix. F!Reader does what any Good Greek Girl(tm) would do; thirst and try to fix the problem through sheer stubbornness and food.

Rating: Probably M

Warnings: F!Reader, White!Reader, Language, Suggestive Sexual Content, Significant thirsting.

Word Count: 1.38 k

Authors Note: Thank you to the wonderful @sarahjkl82-blog for this prompt and encouraging me to take the plunge!!!!!

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

The first rosy fingers of dawn caress the bustling city skyline as the sun rises. Peering through the windows, the golden light paints the well-worn surfaces of the kafenio. Rickety wooden tables, stained with a thousand rings over the year and vinyl chairs that had seen better days.

A time capsule from an era gone by, handed down over three generations. Everything bar the kitchen sink (quite literally) was a relic. Each piece a chapter in the history of your family set since they sail from Kefalonia and settled in D.C. some 60 years ago.

It would be a beautiful sight to behold if it not for the fact that in approximately 2 hours the first rush of the day would be due and the small establishment would be full to the brim. Sighing, you roll up your sleeves, slap on your apron, and start preparing standard fare for the Monday morning rush.

The clock hits 06:45 and right on cue, there he is. One Marcus Pike. A gorgeous specimen of a man with honeyed skin, eyes as rich as coffee, and solid shoulders that bore the weight of the world. A goddamn modern-day Adonis.

It would be a bold-faced lie to deny that seeing him was the best part of your day.

Just about every day for the last 10 months, like clockwork, he’d be the first and last customer of the day. Long nights and early mornings. Banter flowed easily between the two of you, the epitome of kefi. His smile knocks the breath from your lungs and his laugh leaves you weak at the knees. The way that his cheeks dimple as you trade playful jabs warms you to your very core.

Justification enough to extend opening hours well beyond necessary.

You live for the moment when that first sip graces his lips. The sound that erupts from that mouth is pure sin.

It also be a lie to deny the fact that you often wondered what other noises could be pulled from him.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Something wasn't quite right over the past month, though. You swear the man lived on caffeine and adrenaline alone. It was enough to make a gal worry.

“Kalimera Pike, the usual?”, voice far too bright for the early hours, bent double sliding the last tray of loukomades in the glass display.

Nothing but a gruff grunt escapes him, uncharacteristic, even for this time in the morning.

“Jesus man, écheis koimitheí akóma?! What lucky lady kept you up all night, huh?”, cheekily ribbing as you dust the powdered cinnamon sugar from your apron.

A bitter laugh escapes him, broad hand running over his face. Just like you to hit the nail on the head. It was two years to the day that Lisbon had left him to pick up the pieces of his heart back in California.

“That bad, huh?”, gently nudging him out of his stupor as you glide about, wiping down the table behind him.

“Nah, not exactly. It’s just… a difficult time of year.”, voice rough from a fitful night’s sleep, eyes darting everywhere but yours in attempt to avoid discussing the subject further.

It doesn’t escape you though. The misery writ across his handsome features is a plain as day. Out of the blue, a fierce protectiveness surged through you. Whatever had happened had shaken him deeply.

This simply wouldn’t do. Not if you had anything to do about it.

Straightening into the best impression of your yiayia you can muster, you sternly motion towards a table, “Katse.”

“Y/N…”, he sighs, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets.

“Marcus…” you childishly retort, deliberately cocking your hip in response. Two could play at that game.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as his eyes linger on you a fraction on longer than necessary.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest at your display. Why would expect anything but adorable defiance from you? Shaking his head, Marcus resigns himself and takes a seat “There’s no point trying to argue, is there?”.

“Nope,” you pop, “Know just what’ll do the trick to pick you right up.”, winking before skirting back around the counter.

Marcus’ eyes follow the sway of your hips as you glide behind the counter. Almost feeling guilty for indulging, almost. He would be kidding himself if said he wasn’t smitten.

10 months ago, after a botched stake out , a colleague at the bureau had dragged him bleary eyed to a café across the street. Claimed to have the best damn coffee in all of D.C. Marcus had scoffed, desperate to crawl into the warmth of his bed and sleep for days. But they were insistent, so he begrudgingly followed along.

And in the midst of the chaos, there you were.

Olive skin, dark hair and a luscious figure Aphrodite herself would be envious of. A stunning whirlwind, dancing around the crowded space full of boundless energy. The warmth that radiated from you completely had floored him. When your bright eyes, full of mirth and mischief, fell on his, he was an absolute goner.

That day forward he made every excuse under the sun to volunteer for the coffee run.

The smallest part of you was reeling, never had you been this brazen with the man before. Silently you will yourself to pull it together, you were a grown woman acting like a damn schoolgirl.

Mind back on task, you fall into a well-practiced routine. The rhythmic stirring of the briki enough to settle your nerves.

Marcus is a million miles away and you use the opportunity to slip past him, clattering two demitasses and a plate full of loukomades down as you slide into the chair across him.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, grumbling “Really, Y/N, this isn’t necessary. I don’t want to tie you up, you’re gonna be busy enough today. I can take ‘em to go.”

He swears that his heart stops when you cover his hand with yours.

“Marcus, when was the last time that you actually ate breakfast?”, you softly ask, hand gently squeezing his concern.

It takes him a beat to respond, the warmth of you sending his instincts floundering as he hastily spits out a lie, “Yesterday morning-”

“Bullshit,” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, “If you think I’m letting you out of here before you’ve had a decent meal Marcus…”.

Moments like these reminded him all over again why he had fallen so damn hard.

“Alright, alright! You got me!” holding his hands in mock surrender.

Shoving the plate forward, you laugh “Cross my heart that they aren’t poisoned, Theia Hrisoula would kill me if I botched the recipe.”, motioning at him to eat.

Eyebrow cocked, he looks at you wearily before indulging in the sugar coated, deep fried treat.

You all but choke on your coffee at the noise he makes. The sound that escapes him as his eyes close in ecstasy is positively obscene, leaving you clenching your thighs under the table.

“Christ, Y/N, these taste fucking incredible”, Marcus groans sucking his fingers clean of the cinnamon residue. For once in your life, you’re left completely speechless. Cheeks burning, a tiny whimper slips from your lips as you watch the sight before you. Thoughts devolving into pure filth.

“Paidaki mou? Pou eisai, prókeitai na kánete mia ilikioméni gynaíka na periménei ton kafé tis? Is that boy here again, the handsome one?!” a voice bellows from the back of the shop, snapping the both of you out of your daze. It’s your turn to groan now.

Speak of the devil and they shall appear.

Wincing, you shoot Marcus an apologetic smile as you rising from your seat before hollering back, “Signomi Theia, tha eimai ekei!”.

Halfway across the café, you call over your shoulder with a grin, “Don’t think I’ve let you off the hook Pike, you better finish that plate otherwise I’ll sic Theia Andonia on you.” .

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

Holy Hand Grenade Batman, that took me longer than expected.

Don't hesitate to send through your feedback lovelies, am all about continuous improvement!

Translation - Rough (my Greek is elementary level AT BEST XD)

Kalimera- Good Morning

Kefi - roughly translates to love of a good debate/discussion.

Loukomades – Greek donut balls, typically slathered in syrup or covered in powdered sugar.

écheis koimitheí akóma – have you slept?

Yiayia – grandmother

Katse – sit

Briki – small metal coffee pot

Paidaki mou? Pou eisai, prókeitai na kánete mia ilikioméni gynaíka na periménei ton kafé tis? – My child (common term of endearment)? Where are you, are you going to leave and old woman waiting for her coffee?

Signomi Theia, tha eimai ekei! – Sorry Aunty, I’ll be right there!

#pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #coffeshop #marcus pike deserves all of the love #sad sweet boys are my Achilles heel #marcus pike #goodgreekgirl

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Note

Pike thirst hours <3

That is every hour on the hour thank you l o r d

#bless you and these gifs #the one of him switching the light off???#oof magoof #asks #replies #it's loving Pike hours

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crystxlclear · 3 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter eight: hey, one question! what the hell?

part nine of sudden desire

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 1.6k (she’s a short queen)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, the tiniest smidge of angst (not really), alcohol consumption, extremely overly-enthusiastic and unnecessary use of italics, not beta’d because of course

author’s note: this chapter was born of me needing more coraline x loren interaction in my life, but it not fitting in with the next chapter. it’s a oneshot, of sorts, but it does help the story so i’ve chucked it in here anyway! next chapter’s coming suuuuuper soon (it’s like 2/3 written!) so don’t worry about the lack of marcus!

“Coraline.” The way she says sounds like she’s being reprimanded. Like it’s her mother calling her name when she’s done something wrong, a little girl hiding away inside her bedroom. Her stoicism comes out along with the wine, though she knows she doesn’t mean it, not really. She never does; she snapped at her for drinking her wine too quickly once before. Her bravado seems to grow when the flush of red wine touches her cheeks. “I won’t lie to you, I think it’s a terrible idea.” Loren Hull cocks an eyebrow at Coraline as she sighs and sinks back into the couch cushions.

Loren leans forward and sets her glass on the coffee table. Coraline eyes her scepticism as she nurses her drink, swilling the liquid around her glass until it creates a whirlpool that’s suddenly far more interesting than the conversation. She wishes it was big enough to swallow her up.

“I knew you’d say that.” She sighs in resignation.

She’d toyed with the idea of not telling a soul. That, if she did get pregnant, she’d just pretend it was some crazy accident after too many glasses of wine one evening, when their loneliness had taken over and they were in need of a friend to hold them close. She still figures it best to let her parents believe that; as close as they all may be - Coraline, her parents, Daniel, and even her brother, Jamie who they still rarely see, especially when he’s wandering carefree across Europe with someone new every week - she’s not sure her parents are entirely ready to accept the unusual nature of Coraline and Marcus’ agreement.

They’re traditional, to an extent. Whimsy and blithe, sure, time spent at concerts or travelling, or anything that made them happy whenever their hearts so desired, but the kind to believe that pregnancy spelt marriage. That was the way they’d done it, when her mom had fallen pregnant with Daniel by happenstance.

But, as she wrestled with the idea, she settled on a list of people she thought best to confide in. But the list, still - limited exclusively to Loren, Daniel and Kimmy - was, perhaps, the most daunting collection of names she’d faced in her lifetime.

Kimmy had taken it the best. When she’d told her - drying the dishes, as they always did, gossiping about the week - she could see that she was trying not to yell out loud, so she didn't wake Piper, or let Daniel know something was up before she told him.

Daniel had taken it well, too. Surprisingly well, in comparison to how she’d imagined. She’d imagine he’d scoff at her, tell her she was being ridiculous and try to talk her out of it, but he’d smiled and even hugged her, and insisted that he’d support her as long as she was happy. He’d watched her fondly as she’d bounced Piper in her lap, her niece giggling jovially at her aunt’s ridiculous facial expressions. He’d hugged her again as she left and whispered that he was sure she’d be an amazing mom.

She’d almost cried in the car on the way home.

Loren, on the other hand, was taking it about as well as expected. By insisting that she had surely gone insane

“You can at least acknowledge that you’re both crazy and that this is a ridiculous idea, right?” Loren raises her eyebrows at her best friend. Coraline doesn’t expect her to support the idea, just support her, at least.

“I know it’s probably a stupid idea.” Coraline tilts her head back against the sofa and drains the last of her juice. She’d supposed it best not to drink too much alcohol - just in case - but she could sure do with the liquid confidence right now. “But I have thought it through, a lot,” she insists, “I didn’t just decide this on a whim.”

Loren hums. “It’s a big commitment, y’know? Huge.”

“I’m not a child, y’know?” Coraline counters.

“I know, I know-” She sighs. “Look, if this is what’s going to make you happy.” Loren watches her as she drinks, still nervous, her hands gripping the glass tight enough around the lip of the glass that she wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it broke between her fingers. It wouldn’t take a genius to see that she was still worried. “So-” She seems to perk up, a first attempt to comfort her best friend. She shakes her bangs from out of her face and smiles fondly over at her oldest friend. “-have you made your appointments yet?”

“Appointments?” She furrows her brows.

Loren blinks back at her as if she’s completely crazy, as if she should most definitely understand what she means. Like her confusion makes no sense. “... your IVF appointments? I mean, I assume that’s how you’re doing it.”

“Ooooh… about that... “

“Oh, Cora.” Loren lets out a chuckle she can’t contain. She raises her eyebrow at the revelation, then shakes her head and tilts it back. Her hair brushes against the couch cushions as she begins to laugh. “You two are so damn oblivious, it’s painful,” she insists.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Coraline picks up the pillow that’s propped behind her back, alleviating some of the ache that has been building up thanks to long hours on set and on her feet, rushing around like a mad woman with reckless abandon. She hits Loren on the arm with a resounding thump, trying to hold back the smile that threatens to break out on her face at the sound of her friend’s ridiculous snorting laughter.

“You know you don’t have to do it like that, right?”

“Right. But this just felt like the best way to do it, so-”

“But that’s how couples do it, not ‘friends’,” Loren insists, drawing air quotes around the final word.

“Were the air quotes really necessary?” Coraline glares over at her, rolling her eyes. It elicits another snort from Loren, shoulders shaking as she tries to masquerade her laughter, seemingly-permanent creases at the corners of her blue eyes. “Shut up,” she groans. She lets out one of those almost-pathetic sounding giggles, the kind that she’s sure makes her seem like a child, frustrated but not enough to really be upset. The kind that hides the hint of a laugh, when your emotions are thrown into turmoil and everything comes out confusing and muddled and vaguely incoherent. “We’re just friends, I told you!”

“And I’m the President of the United States! You can pretend all you want but you’re not fooling anyone, least of all me,” she exclaims, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“He looks at everyone like that. I’m nothing special.”

“So, he looks at everyone like he’s just seen the sun for the first time?” She tilts her head to the side and vaguely narrows her eyes. Coraline can tell that she’s digging for some kind of confession; it was a bad habit of Loren’s - one she’d vowed to break on several drunken New Years Eves in the town square of their hometown, but so far had failed to stick to - but the thirst for gossip always seems to overtake her. She’s been better since she’s had Maisie, she barely has time to worry about any potential news she’s missing out on. Coraline is the only one who seems of interest to her, now. Though Coraline has to admit, she finds her best friend’s gossiping endearing, even if she knew one-too-many secrets about people she’d never even met.

Coraline and Loren have been friends for about as long as they can remember. They’d met at three-years-old, pre-school, on that daunting first day without their parents. Loren had always been the exuberant one; vibrant and flamboyant, raucous and bright, while Coraline had been more of a reserved little girl, kind and sweet, and small for her age until she hit high school. Looking at them then, you would think that Loren was the one in the limelight, not Cora.

But they’d known each other for so long, been there through the good times - and the bad - and still, somehow, managed to stay close when Coraline had left for California for college and Loren had followed Cora’s younger brother to D.C. like, in her own words, she was some lost lovesick teen. Jamie had broken her heart and jetted off to Europe in search of adventure, and Loren had moved on with her life in that stoic, matter-of-fact way. Still, she’d cried on Coraline’s shoulder the moment she made it to D.C., her and Scott’s belongings in a thousand-and-one boxes trailing behind her. She'd been there for Cora after Scott, too.

But, for better or for worse, Loren could see right through Coraline, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t drive her utterly insane.

“He calls you Sunshine, for god sake.”

Loren had nearly collapsed when Cora had told her that. But Coraline has never seen what the big deal was - because, to her, it was just a friendly nickname born of the colour of the dress she’d chosen the day they met - but it seems to drive her best friend completely insane every time she mentions it or she hears the words pass from Marcus’ lips. She practically swoons at the sound of it, when he greets Coraline with his low voice and a hand pressed against her lower back..

“He doesn’t look at me like that, now, hush. Can a man and a woman not be ‘just friends’?”

“They absolutely can, but friends don’t look at each other like that. Believe me.”

Coraline shrugs. “Well, I guess we’re different then. We’re just friends.”

“But-”

“Uh uh uh.” Coraline points and wiggles her finger like she’s telling off a small child. Loren smirks at her irritation. “-friends.”

“Whatever you say.” Loren sips on her wine and side-eyes her. “Whatever you say.”

taglist: @wheresthewater @ah-callie @its--fandom--darling

#marcus pike x original female character #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #sudden desire #marcus pike x coraline meyer #the mentalist

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