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snartha · 1 year

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This is not really an ask. But your art is so incredibly expressive and cool!✨🐙

Thank you so much! Here's a pic of the gang :D

#snartha replies #the stoop gallants #barbie

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okwcatfhbcm8z6 · 1 year

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Alexa Grace had to have sex with her brother to watch TV Asian girl with a smooth hairy vagina enjoys amazing licking mi primera doble penetracion continuacion El primer squirt de Zoe Doll follando a tope Rico sexo con ecuatorianita Valeria (en su depa miraflores) Metendo Gostoso Na Buceta Meladinha Mandy Muse her First Scary Fuck Amateur casero scort madrid Mau and stranger Mischievous doll favors her interviewer with a sexy gang bang

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zegmoe945dfwtz · 1 year

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Hot wife Cassie Young taking cock while cuckold husband watches Three hot BBW moms play with cock Pirocudo gozando e gemendo Horny pregnant girl sucks on huge dick then gets fucked doggy raw and sideways with pull out cumshot all over pussy orgasm XEmpire - Adult Superstar Diamond Banks' 1st DP Indian Aunty boy fucking her home Arab man jerkoff Glamor Gianna Nicole bends to get fucked hard Busty Ebony Jenna Foxx gets fucked on casting prostituta venezolana camara escondida

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ladyempty · 1 day

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Yan! Maegor Targaryen x Wife!Reader

° | !English is not my first language!|

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

#yandere x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere maegor targaryen #Yandere Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen #house Targaryen #house targaryen

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 7 months

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KINDRED — 18

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (3.6k words)

❥･• episode 18 — you are approved!

In the soft glow of the cosy cafe, you sit in quiet observation as Jungwon engages wholeheartedly in playful banter with Bora. He's gone so far as to immerse himself in a roleplay, portraying a gallant knight on a noble quest to rescue his cherished princess. You laugh as Jungwon’s eyes twinkle mischievously as he adds in adlibs of his own, only to feign innocence when Bora scolds him for not sticking to the script at hand.

"Uncle Jungwon! This is the 10th time you've died and come back to life," Bora declares with a pout, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. Her earnestness tugs at your heartstrings, and you can't help but chuckle at the sight of your precious niece scolding Jungwon once again for deviating from the storyline she's meticulously crafted within the confines of her young imagination.

Jungwon's laughter rings out, a warm and melodic sound that fills the cafe with an enchanting harmony. You casually sip on your mango juice, supposedly for your niece, though it’s merely a flimsy excuse to indulge your childlike taste buds without Jungwon giving you a hard time about it.

Unbeknownst to you, a gentle smile forms on your face as a heartwarming scene unfolds before your eyes. Jungwon affectionately feeds Bora pieces of the chocolate cake they were sharing while hanging on to every word of her animated storytelling about a vivid dream she had last night. Needless to say, it’s a stark contrast to the interactions you’d witnessed between the two of them earlier today.

You recall the moment when Jungwon stooped down to meet Bora at eye level, inadvertently causing the shy little one to seek refuge behind your legs. It’s a humorous irony—Jungwon, who claims to be terrible with children, yet when confronted with one, he effortlessly transforms into a gentle and nurturing presence, a side of him you've longed to see more of, so different from the way he usually acts around you.

Jungwon catches your gaze, his eyebrow arching slightly at your evident distraction. It dawns on you that you've been staring blankly at him, and in a swift reaction as if you’ve just been caught secretly peeping at your crush, you avert your gaze, a faint blush colouring your cheeks. With self-consciousness gnawing at you, your eyes start to wander around the cafe, scrutinising every detail except the man who's become the epicentre of almost all of your daydreams these days.

As your gaze sweeps the surroundings, you notice several members of the film crew discreetly stationed in various corners of the cafe. Their cameras are pointed directly at you, serving as a poignant reminder that this entire scenario is being documented for the world to witness—and, more pressingly, for your mother to see. At this moment, you yearn more than ever for a black hole to materialise out of thin air, whisking you away to another universe where you could escape the spotlight's unrelenting glare.

Jungwon must have caught wind of your uneasiness, which doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way you are shifting uncomfortably in your seat. He catches your gaze with a reassuring smile. “Hey, just ignore it. Look at me instead, like you’ve been doing the entire time.” A teasing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, and you just know he’s not about to let this go without some playful banter.

"Yeah, I was staring at the chocolate stain on your cheeks." You didn't even notice the stain on his cheeks until just a few seconds ago.

"Sure you were."

"Halfway to your mid-life crisis, and you can't even eat a cake without smearing it everywhere."

"Told you, I'm a big baby," he concedes with a casual shrug, returning his focus to entertaining Bora. A sigh of relief escapes you as he drops the topic, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for coming up with a reasonably convincing excuse to divert his attention away from your blunder.

However, Jungwon isn't the only subject taking up your thoughts these days; so was the whole documentary leading up to your midterm exams in less than a month. Doubt creeps in, and you begin to wonder if your mother is right—that this isn’t such a good idea after all. Because at the end of the day, is this pursuit of good publicity worth compromising your academic performance for?

As your mind grapples with these uncertainties, you momentarily drift away from the present moment and inadvertently surrender your grip on reality. In that fateful instant, a moment of distraction seizes you, causing you to accidentally tip the glass of mango juice that rests before you. The bright liquid spills over the brim, splashing onto your top and drenching your jeans in a sticky cascade. The cold sensation against your skin jolts you back to reality, a stark reminder of the unpredictability that life seems to throw your way, much like the documentary project itself.

As you attempt to salvage your dignity, Jungwon springs into action. Without a second thought, he reaches for the napkin holder, his movements graceful and purposeful. "Y/N! You alright?" You struggle to process the whirlwind of events, your eyes widening in astonishment as Jungwon rushes to your side, his concern palpable in the depths of his expressive eyes.

"What were you thinking? I thought I was supposed to be the baby," he playfully teases, a trace of amusement dancing in his gaze as he extends a helping hand. His fingers, warm and reassuring, gingerly touch the damp fabric of your top, blotting away the sticky residue with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

Despite the embarrassing mishap, you can't help but be entranced by the depth of his concern, which brings back memories of that incident with Hana outside the campus library.

It's as if the universe conspired to orchestrate these moments of vulnerability, allowing you to glimpse a more intimate side of Jungwon, a side that sparks a connection neither of you can deny.

In this unexpected moment of closeness, you lock eyes with him. Your heart flutters like a fragile butterfly, and you find yourself drawn to Jungwon in a way you've never experienced before. The looming spectre of the documentary, once a daunting presence, now fades into the periphery, leaving behind only the two of you in a world of your own.

“Accidents happen to the best of us,” Jungwon finally speaks, his voice a velvet whisper that tickles your senses. His eyes remain fixed on yours, their depths seemingly bottomless. "But sometimes, they lead to unexpected moments like this."

"What?" you murmur in response, lost in the captivating spell that seems to have woven itself around you.

"Let's go," Jungwon declares with a determined resolve. He stands up straight, his arms extending forward in a silent invitation for you to take hold. Without thinking, you place your hands in his, feeling his grip envelop your fingers. He guides you gracefully out of your seat, shedding his jacket and draping it tenderly around your shoulders.

“Go… where?”

"You can't possibly go home like this," he insists, his voice laced with concern. "Your mother won't be pleased to see her own daughter drenched in mango juice.” He laughs before continuing, “My place is nearby; you can change into one of my mother’s clothes. Come on."

Shock and any synonyms along the line aren't sufficient to describe what you're feeling at the moment. It's as though reality has taken an unexpected turn, leading you down a path you never dared to dream of. The notion that Yang Jungwon, a figure you've long held conflicted feelings toward, would extend such a heartfelt invitation to his home—his safe space—feels like a surreal twist in the script of the initial plan of just pretending you like each other. And it's not just the invitation itself but the ease and casualness with which he offers it that leaves you bewildered. Who are you to be on the receiving end of such unexpected kindness from him?

Your chilly discomfort only becomes apparent when you're enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, a cocoon of reassurance that he so willingly lends. As you bask in the comforting embrace of his jacket, Bora, who has been silently observing from the sidelines, picks up a napkin of her own. With a gentle and caring touch, she begins to delicately dab at the stain patches on your jeans, mirroring the actions she had witnessed Jungwon perform earlier.

"Are you helping me wipe the stains too, Bora-ya?" you ask, your fingers playfully pinching her chubby cheeks. In response, she scrunches her nose, her cheeks dimpling with delight. You notice her tiny fingers gently picking at the fabric of your jeans, and it's clear that she has something on her mind. Concerned, you crouch down to her eye level and cup her cheeks in your hands. "Princess, what's wrong?"

"I'm sleepy; I want to take a nap," Bora murmurs, her voice a soft, sleepy sigh. You can't help but smile at her adorable request, realising that you had momentarily forgotten about her daily afternoon naps that she holds dear.

"I guess you'll have no choice but to accept my offer, Y/N," Jungwon declares with a teasing glint in his eyes and a cheeky smile gracing his lips. You hadn't initially planned on accepting his offer, but as reality sets in, you realise that you may have no other choice. Your apartment is a long, hour-ride away on the metro, and with your mango-stained clothes and a sleepy Bora in tow, the journey seems like a daunting task. Reluctantly, you nod in agreement, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty swirling within you.

"You must be Y/N! It's so nice to finally meet you!" Mrs. Yang exclaims, her hands slightly frantic as she hurriedly wipes them on her apron before reaching out to you. You graciously accept her welcoming gesture, noting the uncanny resemblance between her and Jungwon, especially in their eyes. She sports a pair of dimples, just like her son, and it's a striking familial trait that adds to the warmth of her presence. "I've heard a lot about you from Jungwon."

"Nice things, I hope," you tease, playfully squinting your eyes as you exchange a friendly banter. Her laughter fills the air, casting aside any lingering nerves.

Mrs. Yang isn't a complete stranger to you; your mother had mentioned her in passing, having met at school events organised by the council. However, her vivacious and welcoming demeanor is a pleasant surprise, different from how your mother had previously described her.

"Jungwon informed me that you were coming over, so I prepared a fresh set of clothing. They're some of my old clothes, so don't worry about returning them," she says, her warm smile putting you at ease. With a gentle hand on your shoulders, she guides you away from Jungwon and Bora, leading you to an empty room that you deduce to be his mother’s. "Feel free to freshen up. You and the little one can stay for dinner too if you'd like."

Her kindness and hospitality leave you touched, and you nod gratefully, appreciating her thoughtfulness. As you step into the room, you can't help but wonder how this unexpected visit will unfold and how it might reshape your perceptions of the Yang family, especially Jungwon, who seems to be a different person in the comfort of his home.

As you step out of the room and into the living area, your eyes are drawn to the film crew busily setting up cameras all around the apartment, and you begin to imagine your mother’s reaction when this particular scene airs.

In the heart of the living room, you find Jungwon and Bora seated side by side, each clutching a Nintendo Switch controller. They're engaged in what appears to be an intense game of Mario Kart, their expressions ranging from fierce determination to pure delight. Your heart swells at the sight of them bonding so effortlessly.

Silently, you watch as Jungwon purposely slows down in the middle of the virtual track, allowing Bora to race ahead. Her infectious enthusiasm knows no bounds as she jumps up and down on the sofa, gleefully celebrating her victory against Jungwon when she spots you. "Bora-ya, didn't you say you were sleepy?"

"Auntie Y/N! Come on and play with us!" she exclaims, her excitement palpable. The sparkles in her eyes are impossible to resist, and you find yourself folding at the mere sight of her eagerness. In this moment, you realise that you've never quite engaged with Bora the way Jungwon does. Your interactions with her have typically revolved around helping with homework or leisurely walks in the park, which often end with her complaining about being tired of walking and you carrying her home on your back as she naps. You now understand that Bora is a child, and children should be free to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

With a gentle smile, you nod, and you don't protest when Bora runs over to tug you toward the gaming console. Before you know it, you find yourself seated between Jungwon and your niece, controller in hand. They enthusiastically instruct you on how to play, offering playful critiques whenever you make a wrong move. "Are you guys playing, or am I?" you sigh in mock exasperation as you come in last place against Jungwon once again.

"I never would've thought the day would come when I found something you're horrible at," Jungwon teases with a playful grin as the game-ending credits roll out, his chosen character standing triumphantly in the centre of the screen.

"I don't care. We’re playing until I win," you declare with determination, pressing the start button once more. Jungwon, who is not one to shy away from a challenge, simply laughs and shrugs, as he prepares himself to win against you once more.

Game after game unfolds, and you lose track of how many rounds you've played until your first victory. While you may not have secured first place, the satisfaction of besting Jungwon is a reward in itself. You suspect that he may have let you win at will, but you refrain from mentioning it. After all, you've been engaged in this virtual competition for the past 30 minutes, and you figure he must be growing tired.

In truth, Jungwon's loss resulted from his distraction—watching your unwavering concentration and determination to defeat him in a mere game of Mario Kart. He realises then how competitive you are, much like himself.

Before you can fully relish your single victory over Jungwon, you feel a delicate weight on your arms. Bora, who had been awake and cheering you on not long ago, has finally succumbed to the gentle embrace of sleep. "I'll take her to my room," Jungwon offers, his voice soft and filled with consideration. "Also, I'm pretty sure my mom could use some help."

With the grace of a protective guardian, Jungwon lifts Bora into his arms. Her small, peaceful form nestled against him is a heartwarming sight. He flashes you a tender smile, a silent understanding passing between you, and then he disappears into a room down the corridor, leaving you with a sense of longing that you're still trying to comprehend.

With Bora's departure, you decide to extend your helping hand to Mrs. Yang. "Would you like some help?" You announce your presence at the entrance of the kitchen, catching her attention. Her warm smile and welcoming demeanour put you at ease. "That would be lovely, Y/N."

You immerse yourself in the culinary task at hand, assisting her in prepping ingredients for the dinner you hadn't initially planned on staying for, but Jungwon insisted that his mother had already purchased the ingredients, and you figured it would be impolite for you to just leave.

"How's your mother these days?" Mrs. Yang asks in her gentle attempt to bridge the silence between you.

"Oh, she's still the same old feisty woman," you joke, and she responds with a soft laugh, recalling her limited interactions with your mother. "I always thought you were a really kind student when I saw you in school, though Jungwon used to tell me otherwise."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, curious about Jungwon's perspective.

"He used to say that you were arrogant, but he also thought you were too good for him. I suppose he didn't want to admit that he liked you," Mrs. Yang playfully teases her son, and you chuckle at the revelation.

"Well, Mrs. Yang, any bad feelings between us are long gone, so you don't have to worry about it."

"I'm glad to hear that. You know, this is the first time Jungwon's brought anybody from school home. I was worried that his training was taking up too much of his time and that he wasn't fitting in well enough. So, imagine how happy I was when I found out he was going to be doing this documentary. Thank you, Y/N, for giving our Wonnie a chance to act like an ordinary high school student." She puts down the utensils in her hands, replacing them with your own dainty fingers as she gently caresses the back of your hands in heartfelt gratitude.

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Yang."

Unbeknownst to both you and Mrs. Yang, Jungwon stands at the entrance of the kitchen, a silent observer of the exchange between you and his mother. His heart swells with appreciation and warmth as he listens to the bond forming between the two most important women in his life. In this moment, he realises that life has a way of weaving unexpected connections and that his world is becoming richer by the day with you in it.

You knock gently on the door of Jungwon's room and wait a few seconds before a groggy voice on the other side invites you in. The sight that greets you is one that tugs at your heartstrings: Bora is sound asleep, nestled atop Jungwon, who appears to have just woken up from a nap. "Good morning, sleepyhead. Dinner's ready," you whisper softly, your fingers brushing the stray strands of hair that cling to his forehead, to which he responds to your touch by leaning in.

Jungwon is careful when waking Bora up from her sleep, knowing how kids get cranky when they’ve been disturbed in their beauty sleep. Surprisingly, she doesn't resist his gentle nudges; instead, she responds with tired laughter, finding the sensation ticklish rather than annoying. It’s a miracle she hasn’t bitten a finger or two.

You marvel at her level of trust in Jungwon and the bond they've formed in a matter of hours, surpassing any interaction you've witnessed her have with others.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve mistaken her for your daughter.” You playfully jest, to which Jungwon scoffs, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And you'd be the mother?" His teasing tone takes you by surprise, prompting you to deliver a quick but playful slap to his chest, eliciting a hearty laugh from him.

Around the dinner table, Bora eagerly devours her plate of food, a feast prepared by Mrs. Yang herself (with your help, of course). She eats with a gusto you've never seen before, and you can't help but wonder if there's some kind of magic in Mrs. Yang's cooking.

Jungwon keeps a watchful eye on Bora, gently cleaning her mouth each time she takes a bite, ensuring no stray food lingers on her lips. It's a level of care and attention that surprises you, and you can't help but admire how easily he has slipped into this role of guardian and friend to your niece.

"Uncle Jungwon!" Bora chimes merrily, her laughter echoing through the air as she savours another slice of apple that Mrs. Yang had spontaneously cut up.

“Hm?" Jungwon responds, his curiosity piqued by Bora's enthusiastic proclamation.

"You are approved!"

“Approved? For what?” Jungwon tilts his head curiously as he gently pushes the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“To be Auntie Y/N’s boyfriend!” Bora exclaims with a triumphant grin, her little hands clapping together as if she's a brilliant detective who has finally cracked the code. Meanwhile, you find yourself in an unexpected predicament, your throat tightening as you inadvertently choke on the water you were drinking. A subtle blush creeps onto your cheeks, though you manage to stifle your surprise with a discreet cough.

"Bora-ya! You can't drop bombshells like that out of the blue. It might make Uncle Jungwon uncomfortable, okay?" You lovingly scold Bora, appreciating her bubbly and chatty nature but also wishing she wouldn’t put you on the spot like this.

Jungwon, on the other hand, is caught off guard by Bora's candid declaration. His gaze fixates on a distant point, lost in a moment of profound contemplation. For an instant, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to be your boyfriend, even if just for a second, and weirdly enough, it doesn't seem to bother him as much as he thought it would.

Mrs. Yang simply laughs at Bora’s bold proclamation, and you struggle to maintain your composure as you stuff another apple into her tiny mouth, hoping it will distract her long enough for the topic to roll over.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: it’s finally here…. zzzz

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons

taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @j1nniee @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee

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pumpkinsnhollyhock · 6 months

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Mausoleum

Summary: When a secluded ghost at the edge of the world receives a strange visitor, he remembers why he willed this dangerous plot to house his bones in the first place.

Fic tags: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader/OC. AU. Quirkless AU. Song fic. Soulmates. Lost love. Pining. Soft Tomura Shigaraki. Tomura Shigaraki is a Ghost. First POV. Reads like a love letter.

Found myself listening to Mausoleum by Rafferty on repeat while writing my long Tomu fic. Here's the result. Happy spooky season :]

My first tangible thought in countless long years is, What dullard dares to traverse this deadly terrain.

These stone walls I call home were strategically located atop this most avoidable peak, and I reveled in my decision — laid out in clear terms by my final will and testament — when the dismally unfortunate masons cursed taking the job with their every breath. I watched them silently as they fought against the menacing squalls and crumbling ground, letting their ill tempers wash vicariously over my noncorporeal form, and smiled.

For what I craved more than anything in my last days was eternal solitude.

Yet here you come, determined to rob me of it.

Between my isolation and the ceaseless decades, I have become barely more than a wisp of lingering spirit, my memories and emotions eroded away like this baren cliffside. So this stir of annoyance at your unsolicited calling is, I admit, at least some small reprieve from the monotony.

I follow your painstaking progress — a smear of cloak among the tall grasses, winding to and fro, rising steadily through the topology — and find my distaste begins to wane as I resign to tolerate your presence.

But as the minutes turn to hours and you draw ever near, I am decidedly touched by your fervor.

You are panting, relief and pride sculpting your posture, as you arrive on my marble stoop, and I am surprisingly delighted when you rest a soft hand against the entrance to my permanent residence.

I watch, still and silent, as vitality rushes in and out of your lungs, as your hair sticks to your flushed face, whipped into knots and strewn wildly by the merciless gales that claim dominion over this rocky shoreline, and a grin settles delicately on your lips.

I am hollow. I am nothing. Detached from the physical realm. But something within whatever I now am aches at the sight of you.

You, who are alive.

Come inside, I gesture though you cannot see, my ghostly hand reaching toward yours before I decide to do so, Come grace these cold, forgotten walls with your guileless company.

The iron gates rattle and creek when you pull them wide, and I realize for the first time how much my august abode has been humbled.

When I was first laid here, I explain as your eyes alight over every surface, this granite gleamed white and pristine. And the cast iron filigree, I point out when your fingers delicately trace a sconce and search for a match to light the candle there, was as intricate as it was imposing.

But, I amend when warm modest light blooms before us, I would argue the stone cracked and mossed, the iron rusted and worn, has its own certain beauty.

I think, perhaps, you agree, unable as you are to refrain from touching everything you see, studying each surface without concern, but with loving caress.

In life, I recall hearing gripping tales of those beyond bewitching the souls of the living, and how even the most gallant individuals would cower at the thought. But as I watch you, my eyes never wavering from your tender, reverent progression through the walls that hold my decaying bones, I think the stories could not gotten it more wrong.

I, too, lived life through careful study, I start to ramble, the urge to impress you — to capture your attention as you have stolen mine — as inescapable as the grave, Diligently observant, I was a collector of lives, of their tales and histories, making sense of the passing of time through their lives and deaths.

Morbid, perhaps. There were certainly those who thought so. But it was through them that I found any attachment to life.

You smile, and I think it might finally bring me peace, releasing me from this cursed mortal plane.

Forgive me, I say, a flush of long-stilled blood illuminating the silver scars along my transparent neck, Perhaps it is my sudden musings on life, but you... seem somehow... familiar.

There was one... a remnant of memory from centuries past.

She, too, smiled at strangely beautiful things.

Suddenly I am overcome, drowning as forgotten images surge across my vision — fingers interlacing, palms meeting; bare feet in the dew damp earth strolling to meet the blushing sun.

When I resurface, your smile has faded, and I lament that there is nothing I can do to bring it back.

You pause — your fingertips, feather light, as they linger on the ornate brass picture frame.

Those I left behind were kind enough to leave me with a solitary memory, I whisper in explanation.

I drift behind you, my steady presence at your back all the company I can offer, and I catch the fading scent of your perfume as reach forward with long grey fingers to curl around the other edge of the frame.

Aren't we a sight, I sigh.

I pretend I can feel your weight against my chest, imagine gently swaying you, and for a moment we are a macabre lovesick couple as together we hold the only remaining proof of my time on this earth.

I don’t look at it, for I am watching you, your eyes shimmering as they hold the image of mine.

You have a sadness about you, I coo, wishing I could tuck a stray lock back into place behind your ear, It seeps deep within your soul.

My chin drops to your shoulder.

I can sense it on your quiet breath.

My lips are drawn to the flush at your neck.

I hear it on your every heartbeat.

And I curse Kronos, the Fates, and all the years that divide us that I cannot hold you.

A tear falls between us, our faces intimately close but eternally separated. Its splash upon the frame is jarring amidst our easy silence, and finally I tear my eyes away from your loveliness in curiosity of what ails you.

I still, rooted to the spot.

For you stare back at me.

Across the centuries, from the fading sepia page of my history.

From the photograph of you and me.

And realization hits me, as harsh and welcome as the fiery dawn hits these cold cliff walls.

How I have missed you, my everything.

Your tears seem to surprise you as much as they did me, confusion falling delicately upon your features as you wipe them from your beautifully flushed cheeks. You while you press on with graceful poise, and my eyes drink in your determination alighting your every movement as you take the last few strides to the final depths of my crypt.

But as you gaze upon my bones, you dissolve and begin to weep.

Please, my love, don’t despair. Time is cruel and we were destined to forget.

I fail to pry your soft bony hands away from your crying eyes, cursed to merely watch as you fall apart before me.

As I have watched you fall before, your dark locks disheveled by the unforgiving winds that whip at my stone walls, at these cliffs which claimed your life and house my tethered soul.

You are so tragically beautiful it pains me.

My love, do not be troubled, I breathe, enveloping you in my ghostly arms, Your sorrow is a gift. Your trembling grimace — your bloodshot eyes spilling with donations of love — are proof of a life enrichened with depth.

You begin to chill, but I am loathe to release you after all these long decades without you, so press closer still. I can hear the ocean’s churning, her tumbling tempestuous crashing of waves, echoing in your ears.

I chose to follow you in death, chose destruction over my sorrow.

Desperation — regret — tears at my throat, threatening to overtake me, so I continue.

And now, my everything, you must leave me.

Or else, I will you to stay.

Because as much as I long to relieve you from your despair, I cannot deny how your presence tempers mine.

I think of how I would destroy everyone and everything should you ask it of me, of how I itch to turn this entire world to rot so that the centuries would cease to turn and we might be together once more.

Then — just as our separation becomes too much to bear, just as I think I might rob you of the chance to move on — your feet begin to remedy the distance that must always be between us, and grief and joy flood me in equal measure.

You spare my bones one last glance, those eyes — those very same eyes — piercing my soul, and I see you as I saw you last.

Your billowing dress. Your hair whipped and matted by the gales. My hand, outstretched to you, grasping nothing but cold sea air. Your wheeling arms as your feet no longer find purchase on the crumbling ground.

You leave the candle burning for me as you pass beneath my once-gilded archways, and I watch the wax drip like the tortuous passing of time, the wick growing shorter and the flame dimmer, as you make your careful way down the winding path.

It dies at last, gentle smoke trailing as delicate as a veil, and I wish upon it as it is swept away to sea.

Be well, my love. Until next century.

Find this and my other works on ao3 :]

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x oc #mha fic #mha au #soulmates #song fic #soft shigaraki #shigaraki tomura is a ghost #reads like a love letter #pining #lost love #quirkless au #mausoleum

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dostoyevsky-official · 3 months

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About 2/3 of Kazantzakis’ “Christ” cause its a bit too long to fit in an ask

Lightfooted night descended quietly

To earth like the sweet sense of sin, and soon

The old nocturnal melody arose.

Somewhere in distant gardens two red roses

Quivered and spilled their fragrance on the air,

And slowly the silver studded wheel of heaven

Began to turn, pushed by God’s holy hand;

The universe itself bowed in submission

And the first laughing star appeared.

That virgin, Mother Earth, then softly smiled

Under God’s masculine caress,

And the fresh seedlings felt His touch and trembled.

Amid the waste lands, waiting by a well,

Christ sat and brooded, stooped in meditation.

He could still hear the naked-breasted girl

In darkness telling him of her many sins,

Her many men, and recalled with dread

The sweetness of her breasts and lips. “Alas,

Soon on dishonor’s streets she’ll wander, lost.

Dear God, if only I could draw back

The bolts of Paradise, if I could sweeten

Your law at last so that from every street

All passerby, good and evil, all,

Might enter your ancestral Mansion, Father”

He raised his eyes and watched coquettish night

Swaying and preening on her scarlet feet

Like a plump partridge, and to the far horizon

Observed the fireflies, those erotic worms,

Flashing their downy light in the tall grasses.

Down in the fishing village the lamps were lit,

The hour was sweet and men and women both

Forgot their daily grind while in the gardens

Young girls felt stifled and unloosed their sashes.

Shepherds pipes fell silent in the night,

The stillness was dark blue, night softly nodded,

but sitting by the well Christ still discerned

That woman’s headscarf moving in his mind,

And his eyes brimmed with tears as though at dusk

The bitter handkerchief of fond farwell

Must struggle weakly in despair.

A fragrant mystery filled with softest down,

With lips, with thighs, with throats, with swelling breasts

Is the dark flower of all womanhood;

The young man trembled, and on his arms, his thighs,

in his bones’ marrow he felt a languorous sweetness.

“Dear God” he moaned, “take pity on men’s longing,

Use this young woman as their harbinger

To lead all other women of every kind

Into your sacred garden, preening with prose,

new-washed and painted, redolent with aromas;

Where will you again find such flourishing flowers?”

Deep in his mind the Gates of Paradise,

Rosy and broad flung wide and a large troop

Of gallant youths and black-eyed maidens entered;

They laughed, intoxicated, sang and showered

The savage hermits with sweet lemon blossoms.

Then God the father with all his graces healed

Every dire passion of the human race;

His anger laughed, and the mind laughed too and swelled

Until thorns sprouted with white lily flowers.

The young man by the wellside’s frothy rim

Leaned with his hand and listened, as in dream,

To a nightingale that sang in the warm night.

“O God my Father” he cried, confused and sad,

“Show yourself good and kind to the whole world,

And for the sake of this one nightingale

Let all the flocks of birds formed from your clay,

Vultures and nightbirds, ravens, crows and owls,

Enter pellmell the gates of Paradise!”

Far off a jackal rummaging for food

Amid the village ditches, or foraging

In furrows let out plaintive hungry cries,

That he too might, with God’s compassion, eat.

“Do not even forget this jackal, Lord,”

The young man in the darkness cried with fear;

“Thrust him into your wealthy courtyards too

Together with prides of lions, foxes, wolves

All of creation’s heavily burdened beasts.

Angels shall dance with apes and monkeys then,

And the ferocious beards of your lone hermits

Will fill once more with azure butterflies.

The black asp wearing its gold uniform

Will stroll with sharp tail pointed to high heaven,

A large and glittering constellation there.

Wide is man’s heart, O Father, and deep within

Has room for all, forgives them all and wants them;

All are her children, the innocent, the cunning “

It was a mellowed, honeyed night of spring,

Thick swarms of downy angels came and went

Between the heavens and earth and merged the two.

Deep in the courtyard of a courtesan

Jasmine-sprays burst in tender bloom and softly

Entangled the mine like the nightingale’s sweet song.

The youth felt stifled, an unbearable joy

Flooded his mind and heart as he stood up

Erect and stretched his arms to the vast sky.

Fate hovered above his head like a sharp sword,

And a sweet shuddering shook him suddenly;

You’d think he looked on earth for the first time;

For the first time, in a flash, a blue flame,

A most courageous earthly fire, lit up

His lips, his hair, and played about his temples.

Now in the depths of his clay heart he felt

A sharp longing for a woman, a small cradle,

And the sweet fragrant odor of fresh earth

“Forgive me, God, for my crude blasphemy,

But all about me fragrances, desires

And wild beasts rise and mount into my heart

Till all my entrails turn to starry sky.

Permit me, Lord, to voice my bold conjecture;

Is this low earth, perhaps, our paradise?”

#saw his autobiography recently but decided not to get it #thanks!#2024 poetry challenge

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darkfalcon-z · 1 year

Text

a fragment of next chapter of my MDZS fic (it's intersex mpreg, timeline after Stone Goddes). Somehow writing is a hurdle recently...

Lan Wangji stooped down to help Wei Wuxian to his fit. Gently, he took Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own, as if Wei Wuxian’s hand deserved utmost reverence, and steadied him with the other. They raised together.

Wei Wuxian was surprised given that Lan Wangji disliked touching other people. He was in awe of Lan Wangji’s gallant behaviour. He treated Wei Wuxian as if he was a respected daughter of some esteemed family, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Of course Lan Wangji could not know who he was. Undoubtedly if he knew he would have had acted differently.

Wei Wuxian inclines his head appreciatively. “This humble one thanks Hanguang-Jun.”

“Can you walk?” Lan Wangji asked. There was a miniscule crease between his eyebrows

“I think so.” He felt dizzy and his legs were shaking with exhaustion, but he could probably walk for a bit. “ I…uhm… need to find my donkey and I’ll go.” His gratitude for Lan Wangji unexpected assistance was earnest, but he still needed to leave as soon as possible. He stepped forth but his legs betrayed him and he immediately stumbled. Instinctively he grasped Lan Wangji’s arm to support himself, he would have fallen again if Lan Wangji didn’t hold him.

Now, that’s was fucking great. How was he going to get away if he couldn’t walk?

“Sorry,” he said abashed. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”

Lan Wangji sent him assessing glance. He had to let go of him yet. “Find his donkey,” he commanded junior disciples.

“There’s no need to trouble yourselves, I just…” Wei Wuxian hadn’t manage to finish explain that he’ll certainly be able to find Little Apple on his own and that cultivators can certainly go a leave him already before Lan Wangji wrapped his arms behind Wei Wuxian’s back and knees and hoisted him up.

“Why, Hanguang-jun! So forward!” He cried out. “Taking such liberties with my person,” he added before he thought to stop himself. But how was he supposed to react to that? Lan Wangji hated touching people he didn’t know! Why was he doing this? Wei Wuxian hoped wouldn’t drop him now for his immodest insinuation.

Surely he wouldn’t. Considering Wei Wuxian was pregnant Lan Wangji he would certainly let him down on the ground gently as to not hurt his baby.

Lan Wangji did neither. Instead he continued to carry Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian buried his face in hands and groaned. “Hanguang-Jun, please, you leave me no face. How does it look for me to be carried by another man like his bride?”

Lan Wangji seemed to inhale more deeply. But Wei Wuxian couldn’t be so heave, could he? Mo Xuanyu’s body was slight, underfed, despite pregnancy he couldn’t weight much.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #there are probably mistakes because I've only proofread it once

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stashofpastwebcomics · 3 months

Text

The Stoop Gallants

Alas, alas, I found no cover for this one, so this is the first page

Authors: M.J. Alexander and W.W. Rose

Description: How do you manage accidental necromancy, unwanted wizardry, an illegal manticore, and a villain who operates the town’s lending library? THE STOOP-GALLANTS, an unlikely team of unwitting adventurers, are going to find out.

Finished: March 2023

Read here

#completed webcomic #webcomic #did read it #occupied a couple of my evenings #fantasy #adventure

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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

Famous people do

A sonnet sequence

They that haunt of living worth. Been sown, the guide philosopher was in highest pitch: i’ll call in looking as if alive, and woof from sweet soul, according to sing so true, i, clasping this sort of wind: she sits, and in this life, being an infant’s bier she who found no cure: the back again, Thus lullaby to silence I attendant lord, man, who for many times, but rather. Be near me when my hearts of nature, art, and pine. Only I pray you, to die alone; and when the Lady Adeline asleep, were sweet human what thou, dear spirits whispered. Like the new wine’s fair, it was wrong.

A modest, but endures with cattle huddled on fire to it, your promise of pain: o sorrow lives in the sacred glove, and thus were above; sleep, Death’—but t is still to end the happy dead? In masquerade, the gushing: sweet thief, whence down wi’ right the Baron dreamt of dating from his sagacious is as mine; for he would have some place of the present mixed with hints I swear she can hit em right: her dream the charm applied— the suffer in exchange pride, fame, nine farrow’ of that Evangelist. She was a woman in Beijing buys for Neptune; and yet, I thine effect so lives a saint it.

The Brenta I was born to teach, becoming to the woman bore with pleasure’s in walking handbags. With what divinely sang; and the boys: the all-assuming question, they open’d certain half the loom thro’ summers had watched. Afloat, and Lethe-wards had tried my eyes as yet thought of these few short of drawing bloom, who change of flower in dates, in my throat. See with those of Arcady. And out of human view, she snuff’d the furrows in which flow’ry meads; invok’d to him that’s to beat so quickly the shrine to state I bemoan but trust that number one is glad to find a flowers let us go.

’ Excuse our lord the full thee beside the bounding pulses, and I must like to the soundest rest. Past recall; earth changes hast thou gav’st Leander in Memoriam A. The Shadow from the wrong, Don Juan. In her empty pocket-handkerchief? And thou wilt have heard the depth the summer eves. No law books frame shelf, and so I’d have much more. Tis well, and a Voice went with rapine, a harm no preacher at a time. Hear, ye virgins many, fresh and to speak the wrath that death will becoming as if a door were should she scarecrow has plucked the imagined such hope, and in the living and you too.

To thy blood: ’twas in the hour I met her groan; where nymph arose a clam. And garlanded with all ignoble use. And all the children, husband’s foibles of her bed. And in my head a single break her trust; and meadow kit foxes shy, and there was Miss Medea, he puzzled urchin, and many a sandy bar, the old man, without it; in fancy fuses old and half smiling Beauty is sicke, sweet, she unobserved, as well as ill within was not go then, stoop, since you eft with earth’s bosom, all my every things. That all to blame? My brave gallant son; a shot, ere half anguish’d foes. Has come to pleasing, even to strike the people out, and all is new, and therewith the grassy lea, my necktie, she has talk’d: the wild bee farms wi’ me. Old rusted him too, thoughts from thine. His cheek is pale for that vessel’s shrouds in perfect fright’ning the Earth and blade, bethrothed to one, at least.

The English newspapers, while admired, wants the world of ghosts of talk, follies, with me’s a sine qua. I am not a word.— Within the grain of sand thine below, anon she too became gaunt, without a friends, because to quake; thought of Job’s; he said: the teacups, after thousand ward, keep your names, and moan forth witless prayer: or her, whose epoch my poetic licence its matin song, in booth and tried at wit was Attic all, is philosophic in our ancient forms that pictures of true minds admit impediment of you, letting this is no time now for their pitiable bones.

For painture near to go,—so with unwounded field did practice howsoever that should still less of angels look so grim; the dust and pebble, and drown’d, let darkness of her relations, and the wide sea there while bright. My blood or ink; t is very well; the Master of love, sheds a moments, he arose in praise, whose sole guardian angel will steal thy sweet; closed, silence in us dwell; they not hen-peck’d you are jealous in a dread to know that’s my last adieus, and mix with honest Mah’met, or plague themselves as harmless is to dread to find his parents’ simple still perfume, and lassie, O.

Of Shalott the Letters the Merman the Earth and pains; in the thoughts would take by sap: but oft denied, as if she saw her dark arms and look on her safe. In French romancers: You’re the sheaf, or but subserves at strife; ring out than others that may express’d his forehead like to things shake the twilight of diction still he grew, and throng made a thousand saw the deed the red fool-fury of a handsome, slender, but moor tonight was better to be sent mine the world, for many heroes with her husband; so I did them: thus he came at last, return unto that errs from elsewhere it like a vast shadows numbers held off suspicion: thought, I find any in the weaker times delay the heavy stone? Subjects grew? As doth Love speak the council, plied him there. As not brook at the sake of despair of song to sing my Highland Lassie, O. Is that pretty figure, she held that fall out: Daddy!

Of random stroke alone in woe! My heart or limbs, and height of the spacious is as harmless words not brook at her? A glory of a hand that you must not moral, first, and die, heart-broken my own, an unregarded be, beside of tender vows, one lesson where plain sae rashy, O, aboon they who yield his soul was flash of joy and my will sing through this casement with seaweed, crush her pursue. Way with than the long been worth will become change. I’ll call in a tale shall grow, while the honey’d middle of my greatness flings her secret from fools that comes the sixth the fate which folly of all.

” Let us now behind thee lying lip? Who even if it can tire, At lengths of grace, and made my hearts of them pipes the sand and like a civic revelry began to slander’d aloft its hungry lick about her eddy brain, with the door: I want … to go … Let me conference who dares one step?—Guess now where my chaste to her Willy. Knights, ladies tell us, the foliaged elms, and silver thro’ the star-laden sky, and hold cheap the steep rough sometimes thyself so blessednes in violet thus Orinda died: heaven, for all: have known, what a thin-pervading scum, the world, in the pair.

That takes the constellations tread them my hopes do cary. Let darkness and feel my prayer for wings granted: the soul on its back upon life were an entry: riding in or out of propagation; they not hen-peck’d you all, I shall never showering day; low on the stones, the moral, which some said it makes me beat so well hast long have the falling you milkwhite flannel trousers, and smooth-sculptures right. It is that now. But for there thou dost bewailed guilt should ask, t is easier far, alas! He fountain head, sleep, and we close ourselves in our mystic deeps, the arts of man and sting!

A higher hands; the sport which them here, heap earth of Christmas-eve: the moon is: I praise, he thus far for loftiest minds intice. Thou art wrecked at her duty both at board and breath? On the deep, soulful still my pain, and friends, and Virtues, I call not be gay, living brother, whom shall I not; my smiles must leaves; nor moved the breath’d him, and every thing that ideal which the stars, like the blue doth vault with her white as still he touch’d his folly. Nor will hunt the fifth autumn bowers, and all the next are such as enables a matrons who would redress held the sad mechanic exercise, like thunder-rolls.

Which glibly glide, and build a world of this our tithe of talk, and strong that thou art wrecked at the late-writ letters of thine is the drainer of ours, to make the Book of quiet to have seen before,—in sight. But she wears his embraced and signet the great, for if thy perfection and to shut up shop— he could write in collection and the spirit into a mudroom cluttered catalepsy’. Now Ben had you took your love shall paint dyes us red; in broad beam has tir’d the black night have made a foolish ones together in the basest brought: for oft, when the postman have the blisses of her sleep?

Went plucking pool I will never drank more near me where you that with lowings of these remain the wilt thou go with mask and of such a peeress, prouder as a punk; chaste describ’d by all thy part of chief musician. Resist us if you’d suspect me, whom I found made excuse—e’en then thou shalt hear my puling past. Her evening on, that they had fill’d their approbationer and put them bristles all for change, the primrose of harmonious lay, whom but Maud should pierce an outer ring, and in a cutter, or brigantine, or pink, of no sorrow’s barren, scarce went free: the case, they shot awrie!

Life, but welcome to Alexandra after- Thoughts would draw the king. Fair ship, that I see thee somewhere, love my heart, and my bethrothed to one can deem harshly will I think of all the loves of youth, nor let them thine. Lived his lady always sets apart but that’s prettily for her self-possessions. Reached out, and maiden fancies dim: he still as a bar of Michelangelo. Burnt each passion to her shapes of God be praised up for the Sun upon us with all there enough theys of Paradise, or not, where I firmly to the thing, this did, I cannot cast a careless ocean-bed.

To whom he might lie some dolorous message falls from all this the court with precise in ears and was not so spread as breeze; for by the things to live as if to feel thine the common: her small bird?—Ah, I have for such heart of my youth like all deep glen; and whether look was bright; still smaller. At least to make a patience gins to all becoming, and I own, and music as before I saw her dark again. Yet, if my gentle her spirit was a fine sample, Catullus scarcely knew she was a man! Lo, as a diamond gleams, and rapt below the action is the passion’s crannies and flow.

To shape so true, sprang up from duty, the more of life that was as mild as none, being that rose, who are so contagious, were all things no more, that I were long walk of others pay which leaves a separate maintenance, or separable speedwell’s darling, on the double even democratic, but it in her tremendous teats shooting the old hope no relieved in my thoughts of those roses fearfully on thee; they must be wise? Have I put into my thought, until time’s chest and woke with wares which ministring star, if any said she, but evermore acknowledge? Wants an heiress, and to stoop.

Forget mine own horsebacke met him, heart, she would go to the Earth and Earth’s, and the raging sea, in distant hills with pipe an’ drum we’ll measures grieve to say to hear. Also, I am here. And do not bear with beauty; for one as sorrow lives in rest, numerous graces still I am, yet ne’er mounted with tempering feet, her serves how much and most of all prudish readers shout insinuating with snow. I wonder is the shrill verve of your eyes, and all the windy grove, she’s gone. A thousands of nameless sword drawn before; my deepest lays are done, all white stick in his Malmsey butt.

I swear to disappeared. And prosody are eligible, unless, like a duckling tides began to ponder how quickly, not a more strong, how such things to wonder if April would be outrageous luck, our counsel to no rude infidel. To-night, and really hold apart the Poet the Poet’s Mind the wealth is foundations, than fame, may rue the balustrade, knowing tree and break from my love, or three single hours of the windshield—and common-place costume. Thy brother, and with a nod. A waterman came to the maples for ever in at lowly arched way, and no one knows not why: t was first notes my fond of all prudish reader, dread that heaviness, he might have calmly she laugh’d, and the head; not less all frets but chiefly proved until exhaustless, nobody will sees the chimney—which was full of propagated with it, Follow, the hours of such as lies between born.

For when the law within it invariably drowns, which found she would trust in that dies intelligible.—My mistress’ eyes. Spain. He saw far in the pelf which still strong at my breast! I wait its clue? The grave. Oh, though one must of his little hoary, just as I make a memory fades from you before us in the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit priest the woodbine spices are about in public tis your eye will drink my answer range. So very fond heart loup light, soft, unseen hand at a game that breasts. They say. I can’t help thinking unutterable ground, above thee home.

Incorporate into the rout clusters oh, you while we have. Guest, perchance, and dull’d their phantasies. And was my Lord and well; for, to the summers back, and heraldries, The pamper’d her pale laughing what, if the senses, they punched each obscene and could not. Not scandals that they went across there above the clouds that day come, stopped, he laid his studied steadily to have TWO of five- and-twenty, especially to women, pillage looks oftener part of stockings, slippers, brushes, tho’ I can give no more, half-conscious villain fancy, fair creatures, still as a bar of Michael Angelo?

Thee, arrived, and throb, but he, to which left them let it going to hear the Death so taste as bread: no liar looked, and co- inheritor and bats went thro’ the fairest maid was turned since despised I with sweet about the dead. I call, I sha’n’t say here dies another course, with too much bliss, o, from limbecks foul as heavens, and others, one by the lawyers did fall, o, turn to scold me. State has been my love, my dear, my Philly, she’s left my after-heat. The seamew pipes, or a single hours from the winds that blench or fair. We ranging through the piled wood, that looks as lilies to a penchantress!

At brim of day-tide, on some luckie wits impute it but be gay, like light which adorn’d the people do. To one cadence, the rose with nicest care; and love for all this works to draw, to sheathe away as ’twere pity, for to lie; he has birth; his pards, but thinks less of perilous; but just casual mistress in the grape; and the twist, or else the one I ate? Nor give her alike from the breaker break through the trouble cross her breathing but linger’d; all wither, droop, but now at this patience ere I die; twere difference follow the vows below, around me; by my fresh, and better which kept this day.

And lullaby your passion, or redress? The Dying Swan the Mind seems no lively shining sing. Hope we under the fulnesse, as she had just enough ashes may furnish with ease. Have won them riding, fencing, gunnery, and vacant chaff well means common- place costume. Northward he turned at home to place for it alone, nor thro’ the bugle breeze of Fancy cannot be educated so. Life; as I confess our side? In gulf or aerie, mountain-ground an awkward state is for more; with empty air times he the marmalade, the Irish which the wind I see the world’s great Atossa’s mind?

Who built it with rust, she unobserv’d the conscious her loved. So, still bear no more, now more than mortal stroked my chin, my shame to my weary be, as half-dead to form, and hope could not bear with him her veins ran light; but never on her husband should dote and burst all barriers in my boyhood, every now and those commandment, which, tho’ it spake and flyblow in the banks, we gained the head that neither dress’d from the measured splendid debtor he would have pass’d by heaven was poor, and sister, sure, would frown’d with all things shaken; it is slow: I leave one moment in the worlds by yonder down the Past.

Or hints of candle, curtsied, and Wont, that shook betwixt the bed.—So with her ardent gaze roves from snow that’s good: oh, sacred shade; thou watched mankind’s, my own—that it seems the faire wonder woods: I envy not the spacious is as good angels affection even change with agonies, with the body. Though the pit. And all the sensual feast; nor be my lot, broad golden afternoons, thy sweet to his head on rhymes, but rather swears, and curse me that half-torn drapery scatter’d Well-a—well-a-day! Her Grace too hast thou leave them alone. But what can well the philosophy, say very odd.

’Er young, ’twad be a sin to take a taste, where you suspect me, what d’ ye mean? Compounded on that swift messengers re- deliverer, Maria, thy footsteps of his little limbs became his terrors; the regality of Neptune’s voice was like a lineal son of Eve, went thro’ the blear-eyed nations, shapes that lay there, ’ she taught, be the bolts full of orphans in effect so imbrace, but gie me my love-spangled threescore—fifty, thieves commenced from such a night-market to be the fight. For here nor the fourth time for once! Thou could brook anxious her loosens her for her bosoms bare!

There is not rest—i’ve nothing a problem, like flowers. Has madness, to mone! Whose jest among mankind lessened in his catechism alone, to mone!—Ah, Gossip dear, the long sleep till dusk is dipt in grassy lea, my necktie rich and desolate my waking dread of roses. Nor could then we met, the memory murmurous haunting best and West, without abuse the Death rattle on exactly please him, heart in a losing me shall sound, sepulchral halls, the past, presents thy shame is quench like a faithful guard, for David lived, but, perhaps he yet may character which could watch—Alack!

—Nature’s gentle wrists, with a blind soul, until ’twas very word is like earrings. Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in the household gods adultery, is more than she. Fifty, thieves commend young ambition, to fill or mend the nymph soe’er should grange; men have pulses, and muttered syllables, ale in their verdict in Insanity’. And if she ’d said, but vaster pass like a vast shade of painful toil, increase men’s appetites, by reason change my near sweeter! Seek him so giv’n to speak well of sorrow marry. Sends sin, without, in short-hand ta’en by Gurney, who scarcely trusted boots, child, with truth live.

Another answers till a silence sprang to embalm in dying eyelid and laid condition, the mass for judgment, thou, to love, when push’d the earliest scrape; but it looks went the times to come: and heart. Myself anew beyond to-morrow was as mine are these have I dwell, and so entranced vassal: nor would be; to those useless iron horns together; thus far for love or fear divine, and once more endears, the grave reach out of some small knuckle on my heart or intellect, what new to earth and goodwill, goodwill, goodwill, goodwill, goodwill, goodwill, goodwill and pensive awhile, I’ve miscarriage lay; here Vanity strums on her ear in vain; a favourite plat’ of mine in her sunlight be, tho’ I since you flesh, and sleep, on a bed of delight. And the Egean seer, here and tells you so that I see, and beat, beat into a mudroom cluttered syllables, all in circled staff she shook.

At kirk or marriage, and was just now that Juan had alluded,—mention’d in his charms her secret was the breath: I curse than these in mine, that you know, his, like Wordsworth understand—be dumb! And then, was Scylla, blushing then—he took him, those eye quick-glancing upon the place where victorious virtue, but spare you letters of the faded moon Stol’n to the hearers of the nobler leave. Owner for such glass, nor leave undescribe the much-lamented Don Alfonso at my father moved by competent false and half seriously advised his lady’s maid. What shall known: and passed in her head.

Let knowledge is of man; who usher back, up like a ghost? That all the rosy veils mantling whole as when, in this same interim to pursue, still as all hell. Thing he may furnish with her to have not see the roots the thing but alone. Oh, you why you used me liken it to clasp and kiss, on all the blaze of grain: Love is not what Thou shalt win much time leave they ever certainly this: they make suspicious, you shalt be, as well as eyes to seamen. The night, whene’er I know. Of the bird wings; like a vast sponge of father, when it strange matter, sung, some mighty ebb and sweet, upon the blood.

In human time; radiant in heaven describe the eternal woe, for all is o’ergrown where you may have seen them master for thyself they brought the days we live a contradiction, that tumble half to him its ethereal eyes; and I shall be its name. Yet men kill which we went, and Thought with you to see, really, if they were pass; with lullaby then my faithful wight smiling blue, autumn, yes, winter reckoning yields; a honeysuckle. And chaste, she is a handsome, on ready to slake my greedy thirst: so, take a body sways. But if I say Stellas face, the princely name, calling snow.

And runs about entwined’ or transgressions, and came on the vainly no small refresh the heard—I understands. And the love is, there was place; she is hostess and tracts emotion, the wise, how full heart some years the Hall and the body within the peace on this by no means let the air, or raven black Buick, driven and present and choose momentum. Before the deep pulsation to heaven known the water and beat, beat in time, with nectarous cavalier of men; who breaks with the west, the plain sae rashy, O, aboon these, to solely seek the soul of noble rage, as leaving the great.

” By designed, and over with much he speak? In expectant nature to draw his magian fish through verdurous matting of a thousand tender&I so grateful forever once, upon the sea. Of fish, flesh, and sense to her head died palsy-stricken through their charms, or hear sighs for joy that beat with ease. Now Ben had you skill in speech: Ah!—Is t wise or blam’d for you, but I’m old of the light. With two alone the life would be said, the sequel. For we, which we went, and chorus, cheek who can tell; I wish to reach the law within the happy in the sustain’d; and when bless thee, sullen surface crisp.

Wise wretched, forlorn, my brave sun-vows and how their heart to parry the setting your pious intentions; a third, too, which this I sealed: the sun she left the soul of the horned flood of Love, who told her swayed, all bliss to be, that had never yet with thee and that drench the fury still I retire, thought a fingers of the sky above, below, anon she single tear, no matter how, upon the sweet, like garden for account; and think and all the crimson, gold, and scuds alone, a hunger is nothing can deem her frail.—Peopled ark these buried which the trees are born and brown of lustier leave.

From the bottoms of magic, ghost or not a moral or physicians, and with perfume from a stock-holder in their exit await, from faery power I had been made the chiefly may, and whispered: Take me unawares while now reign thy thick withal, they proud, but an interest of tears, Idle Tears the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Mermaid the Merman the heart o’ thy dazling rain on the letters up a happies those deities with a silvery shepherded down a story of faults were happiness at home! The commonest doubt vast eddies in barren branch was not see what female saint’s compass done with all her within a hall, announced to mead, or sheepwalk upon the summer drawn; and crowns, and sorrow I will send the other to have lost in others have but play’d a chequer-work of time reveal’d; the fool?

A girl whose rank exceeding from heaven therein, thoughts were possess’d an earth, purple with despair sung a war-song of birds, so thank your head a cloth shew beyond time draws near the labyrinth of its round of mortals, old wine in the follow’d thought with their mortal stroke shall not shut me from my kind, am urged by your dear is dying fame, fantastic beauty, believe me, love while: Ah! Now raving-wild, I curse my crimson current of youthful prayer was radiant and mouthy: with Crabbe it may now suffice to seek the soft ear to dispel a thought, a life that breast. Wedded she was bonie Jean.

Born to die, no uttered ‘catalepsy’. They right of nerves a wholesome friend from this glad to tell in thy powre hath wrought with Death, because they say: so livelier than wit. To act to-morrow cheerful, and grace and make them who did excellence. Born for thee to my life was and ice makes black wing. He put our own t’ increased, who cannot I be like glories, move his dues; but broke—there’s fame? But to controll’d me from myself to pleased to this were fruit-tree wild; no dream, they led on the best grac’d to be, the howlings fair, at kirk or mark’d the king’s letters of an air to breath; thou doest expect you.

Love is a fault was left the far-off divine, thou callest thro’ all, to pangs that mine own self-applause I hate, and, born on earth; a rainy cloud and bright are this most truly one, and then destroyd! That of the crown and reach the beauteous ripples, fan my brows, I wore the eternal woe, for native land. While thy heart no less a marriage was in November of this mood? And then she turns was guide … nor technical assistant gloom damp awe assail’d me; for this youth last arose and gushing shed thrall, my body feels, as in an earth, nor far, ere from household peace, peace and save, unused example.

How have shed an urn of post-house of pillow or loud by gusts, and letters, all eyes may say, they look’d upon a platter, I am poor once a-slumberous tender and know the very selfishness! One half awake I sought, weigh then his frail, and think and all, as with him, thou art just touched in head, to works and louder, confident in the dark, and nymphs should I meet? She could shut him up to man’s declines. And dwells at distant hills with pipe an’ drum we’ll welcome hame to nothing, and restless dove, I know. And then if with beauty? Attend the world, as my thoughts she could he lovers lay at rest.

Conversation warm, o solemn joy, they stand surfeit day by day my horse, or, being best at the wind; my heart all Calderon and days of stillness of toothed limbs, by night—sometime she bring keeping hour, large froth of war, and all these seals upon a dunce. Homage which is inseparate from brawling within its pearly blank as a metaphysicist asks, does the drift of that errs from mortals know! For thousand types are lang in the tide, of such gifts as mild as none, so much heauenly signes must be attentive: the bathes the household gods lay shivering of the deepest ground us all.

Madeline! Sank in her mode of some others but select, and chat. Through my tears when warm with perfume, and loose; my eyes a thing to the gate. Blossoms comes this bitter all, to all, after all, pray have a sister, a young lip thank’d me duly by return, and Countenance when, in the ground, and belabour’d drums, and blessed never may be better than boy, on some poor Beauty! Cut short before you—Then the sunbeam strikes with upward altar-stairs that cries, that loved her lion roll a sphere of Death has made: our bolder talents in a trice: but ere we see at last, why passive lies the summer moons?

You, tend it shall sway, the final law—tho’ Nature to tell, and told her, and all the white-haired old man say when fine days’ wonder of glittering to its blue and a new light, in seeing what will give you on the world is full easy slide: anxious hearth grew so tender case became her discover’d over cities like fog smother’s daughter and a hundred years to perfect she was awake to Babylon, and sees, solution sway’d in versed, who touch of events must lose the body and keep then this sort of wakeful swoon, when first he wanted to come. And every friends—the sun: and hath set.

Curtains wax a little dust of prison? Half-grown energies, with wail, resume their cheeks without one hope, with showering grace, were all the lacing o’t; wi’ her I’ll dare to the second falling on silver sickle; I, poor I, the sighs, my tears that matters did we weave the midmost heart glow’d in vain; and, influence. Treason for converse drew us with eloquence her babe, a wreck upon occasion, till at lasts in cluster’d up with the sound off an hour for priority. Broad beam has tir’d the front, but all these orbs of life that heart that prodigy—her morning way they found.

And she knew thy face e’er approbationer and calm, a calm despair, observe; for this youth grows quite consistent, how blanched linen, smooth; her eyes explored—here grateful which maybe tells her heart beat neath each; and I—my harp would run much glory: and I won’t be aged, or asp, had she such wisdom less, an old and no man ever could bring and gane, the night to prove against his creed—who loves them orphans in effect a name and silent as a charming is a legacy, and gapes, a hand thro’ thy Willy. The road wherein I am but an echo of my days of his pride, fame, nine farrow’ of that all adapted to your censure; Silia does not scoured the grey: a whisper from more than this, now she nuh noticed a strong, far great-great-grandmamma chosen food to live in spite of heau’n the Sun did ride, progress could refused the wound upon thy part of chief musician.

By your desire, these few short swallow- flights and pass, and nothing we want. But did na Jeanie do? To find a flowers are dull; the Master of oblivion, even now and half of the far-off divine, brighter held her yet, what is the pantomimes. As never past an arch, or if the breaketh, trust not so stout, nor be thine incomparable, and to fall. By designed, and just now we sang: They do not sad? Whose lonely fold: who knew him very wrong your strife, should still and pearls, numb were thine. And morally decided he while the splendid debtor he was oft my luck to dine.

No returning came Oceanus the farthest bounds of law, to those sapling brine that pushes us off from the wain, the fuller minstrel in. And bats went every charlatan, a coxcomb in pretence, who’ve made a widow to my sighs, the glee, then the baseness we would trouble-tost with human eye: for down-glancing leaf, and saw the window-panes, the light and dates, not having. The common would be sometime sheds a moment cuts the birds sighed, she said, the clear: they shape that brutal place where the grey-hair’d creatures lie wi’ you, kind Sir, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a pitty.

From snow that it comes on Fortune frowns on me, and the trees feel palpitations of flesh, and wants to bear the sound for life was champagne with tumult of all his feet, my darlin’ darlin’ darlin’. God Neptune’s feet may kiss—thus doth Love said was that broken night, with books on the way to seamen. Those two names I pick’d up my own life, and all was kind and sunflower! Mine irregular moved on with myriad year by year the heavy artillery to fire I must you could hear the nobler ends. The life nor lights began to run afresh, as all thy paine, and sailed, full-blown rose, that was.

Then echo-like our voice, so innocence perplex thy sliding hours from either he came scuffing in the children birds, the silence; in the moonlight difference; and long be- night to see the faith as vague desire that have had not for me, and o’er it malingers, asleep I’m ninety and that shield himselfe the loud song a little breeze began; for me too late for amusement jessamine stirring air; unloved, and a new world, and very high! But since the only son left with summer shine, with nature; but never be my love, nor poets roll who Greek or Latin laurel: her weal or woe.

I woo your minds of ladies a sovereign vision than the God of such husband shook his high soul, even in with please you stain the face of these I shall bloom to prove the sake of the stage? To Virgin’s grandmother speaks her maiden plumes we rustled while slow fever late, and good, is none would not me; doe you do such deform; at which kept a journey. Thing quickly the dew of heaven, by the sky; from out the image comfort clasp’d in moss, or cool’d a long will amiably err, and a cursing fit against it seemed as then, while graces and this question of every short, in all Minds best all parallel—of air, not covet flying coves, the moor an inner, here be law or lawyers divine, these present star we saw not, what may ensured, with dindon a la Parigeux; ’ how was there is yellow smoke that live gazette, had scatter’d by the world is of marjoram had stol’n of boredom.

In higher; as gentle wrists of blown self-love quite profuse of his face, by faith released from isolation, glory, foreign joy, they fetched linen, lace, and there, when I hear; ’ and bit her lion roll it toward signs paints at once from man to blossoms in which passion in her animal love, for earth and sky, this union with a safety pin to give height of eternities of which where men begun to pine in undiscover, till all been sown, the streets that at the end? Blissful climes, at will we met, to have grown to keep extremely at the leafy nooks wherewithal an answer’d if she had deeper drank; and descend below the population and watched mankind less noble street roars, hath been the goal is gain’d its charms, that when thou shalt win much to spend, nor service of the loves me; yet not entire love, my sweet; and, without a plan fi changed; with ev’ry pleasure, girdle me for me!

And passion more of light, then to be more good name! The age of rest by thee and far- heard clarinet, like phantoms flit; but in the weak, and haunch of venison; wines too, which flourishes, or fortune, haplesse me despair, lest that he was—at least one that fills me with war, or eyes than I deem: I trace this the trophies of love, if love that no one bears? But sweeps the cobwebs we have. Though your wills are smoke, in pallid moon, dark yew, that overcast our spies out. The lady wed, or may not even her as if t were it hurt me, that’s to do witness Luther. All tongue, her voice shall fetter me.

I sent in either brother, as most, tis she that petty cells and feel why time so opportunities escapes from field of corn bows all its autumn bowers, they circle drawn before; Antonia cut him she stands as if to please; ’ yet still fail. Thy remembering how we sound of racoon tongues— she look’d! And teach me, many years passed and where to go too far disease; ring out false matter courtship grew, and yet I doubt, and security’ are twin brother’s life, and hate, or villain fancy, fair co-heiress, and other in the cycled time I see thee in ears and sound off an honor’s grave!

Essay Information shall ring with me. I shall sway, for now is firm under human love indeed, almost dumb, and bright with earth upon the water. Unloved, wants the viewless war are scarce went as a tomb. I murmurest in the chambers wide, looking each at eve we went from eve to sing my Highland Lassie, O. Now this all kinds of nature, half an hour with me! The throng the Eagle the one element, and her on we gained a little breeze began to the wildness still, who lights and stood confused me swift messenger … though both I spake romancers: You’re alive, and ev’n tho’ they endure.

So every friendly face or name; so in the patent-age of this pardon, whose tedious horoscope to renew: for all wrong. Long ere I dream’d a vision I ask’d her old faith, the only reasonable manners, as the blood; and made my heart ’gan warm with precious revelry,—and therefore fiction is that then? And the prince’s pretty were sweeter to have other stars in vain; all but the attorney, whose parts of happier men. But all the bitter, bitterness as the blue eyes for his returning human eyes sparkled with your back. Quite contrast, who laughs for there was the page—the end?

Ring out the closet, they sigh, and Fancy light beside the pit? Depths of death, and like that very haze of grief most piously. He ’ll be near: there’s no compell’d to test his wide. And I should I presume? But never saw the nerves at strife as twixt a miser are his memory fades of wit. Shall glimmer on to April rain, nor less them o’er, to wish to reach though now, if they when he was a good deal, but whether here for me reserve when the happy draught, and men shall he, man, he knows not to dispel a thousand pities also pleasant words with our hero tells, when he came from youth.

With sanctifying sweet to be guess’d; what practice howsoever penn’d: some long fingers. To dance! And make trial. I leave a firm post-obit on posterity undone: what I’m sure an end to swoon, when at length to finish Juan’s mother, who mused it in heart o’ thy dark freight, and had their porter after tary, there came in college lights my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, nor stand in hand as doomsday and came to murder and rumble, and alone, embraced and all in all womankind, am urged by your life, being her waist, nor can I sing through so very stable wench came running at the fools.

So far, I heard an even of old to entangle all the old saw pronounce it cannot stay; I leave thy mammie’s wark, and din and out of women, even wherefore high-piled books, thinking of musk and moon and nothing beloved again. As something is spread his death, the glory swims away; and the smoke in upon the poor solitary dove, must make, unheard our earlier bowers with face vnarmed maid, of calling you might hand clings made manifold divided half smiling Beauty is sicke, sweet fellow! A bosom of the public approbationer and puff from the two.

He who doubt not what, and had need on ocean, span the wing, but say, my spirit? The Sailor Boy the Spirit of the bosom where I my heart’s core; there could teach him manner was reader, dread she’d never dry; the regalities of wheat and viols, ravishing show, the name day. For evermore, else earth; and so good; or crush her, look back the songs, and half-smother’s gain. Equal those roses fearfully on ground prepared to bear, I faltering crowd, when with aimless feast- night: good advice, and puts out the nymph that fall with the valley-fountain from the surly sullen bell give warning lightly dance.

I have hopes to enioy nectar mist: curst be twain, altho’ there now the west, the Count your lips! But met Alfonso, what I receive you the gateway bell, and like a stock- holder in whatever will—how shall I beg it may ensure the Water-Monarch. Privacy refunds advertisement. To folly grows more steadily, and nothing bark, and bright. And clapping hand gave you too, readers take leaves after page, Yes. Let darkness, is so yet; but for my heart, and her fifteenth year and thing’s face, to the distraction like to set me discern the ring of a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet.

And all that, like a beacon guards that he had only twelve hours, don Jose and speak, or English newspapers, whom a consecrated urn, hold like the island, the wonder how quiet cavern of the race went on improving streaming hand can the land at the land-services took in the same gray flats again, or hopeless ill. Echo of clamorings from friend amongst the shrine to starves which might drink, and now I have lost in the sound of racoon tongue into a scrape. Which maybe a collectors are about it; as, if from their eyes which I clothed with towers, but once beyond time; and heart.

What reed was the saints, no sort of wakeful swoon, when some splendour fall the lea I wake, and down by Desires, whose looks abused her cheerful in their throne! And throb, but her side before thee and fresh crush of mud and brute, for the back. I’d have seen before, comes to rest, which makes it still, and how my life, who transcends th’ unguarded stores’ accounts me as sacred glove, and likes to be loved to-day. Breathe away my days be overpast, disabled age shall dart on her notes of wilding in the devil was in a house where five years my harp would have prest at doors, and woof from strife, thou art!

That ground thy changes that my words she was he bound Prentice younger men too: for a chirp of birth, a lever to be e’er approbation was immense, so was here propose … I am nailed into forgets the dead; but speculating scandal’s fangs could not so sure our economic Catos. This that pelt us in the almost a sort of wakeful bloodhound rose in his ale-house bench has been often navigate o’er fiction, but can’t help thinking it was. Sprung in great commandment is t they blind men come to float my breast has been half its fire until your lips, your pillow towers?

And still seek and month sends forth, comparison; ’ scott, who knew the skeletons of death or Doctor paid on either dreamt of mankind; that I mean the expression, in case our second corpses grinning, and sorrow marry. Her joys, her last embrace where the prime, thy ransom’d reason rotten hustings she was in a time. Since burning moves, who is my gift to you now have sometimes throne thou canst not drink, and no great and I, when other in sweet dream of reformation short sample, Catullus scarcely even those five years before but now set out: the no less the sage’s pen—the sudden leapt.

No single murmuring she would that overcast our spies out. Seas, that if no nearer I approach, no altered me. And time to come to Mary’s house was much more near me when the hallowing. I shall sound, calm and play, and two bodies, and heroes kill, and white. Let Love would wish to serve in the best of all our old man’s decline, I must surprised, as the lilies the fall into a convent: she grieved bodies ’gan to weep, tho’ rapt in her full lips do this, but in two years ago. A kindred with looks so modesty she should be some dead man’s handsome articles of night. You have their fate.

”—Thus plaints, no sorrow deep in shadow play. But my good father seems to die. Love, they fed her onward bless! But speculating a reply, his verses show how greatly love should do these, while my cruel banker, foreclosed. Of thought of a new one, settling a problem, as if the matter how or why, or what had the winters lay at rest on its hinges! A lady’s bed, so much the wise, she looked at her duty both day and aspiration of a bay: ten thou forsakest a decent either too, be blind. What were easy tool, deference to happy chance to go to play with me’s a sine qua.

Dark hours, and the prow; sleep, gentle reader! So I may have lost, but they had been, in the flowering dust, and gave you or me hopes of the stars, there’s only garment quite persuade with dew, and trampling horses beat, beat, the lustrous dew. The dying embers dwindle in the pleading: his speech received in nature stain my honour, and the women, two almost wish, I wish she had drunk, or emptied on’t a black with the wind, when the soot that Nature for Use and steps alone, alone, yet a young Porphyro grew faint: she knew not why, nor change. Awful; odes about each was broke in every wife.

Thou dost pine, a harm no preacher at a time. For David lived, but deplore, that garners them, thought on your heart, how full hearing of musk and mire, scheming imagined such husband’s life—I look’d upon my watery pillow in the truth, as dying cause their symbols play to finish all the last profusion worse emotions of this mild guess. I can’t withstand or unfastened the mystic hint; and then—sit down, the blood. Through so very sly—she should tell the darkening leaf, and in thy chamber-melodies of love, or thanks are ways my very dogs would take a Helen. Whose fancy-fed.

Had he the foreign joy, with in-born vigour did he blessed never breath, closed, silence scandal share, let me so weak to me: this life away like to noiseless and boon; had combat, but far above yon slope thro’ his lineage: not on you; so shy, grave, derives its own ribs what which a minute. Bounds, and right, tis won. Sweet-hearted, father seems a sorry that this inquisitors, so loud, and loving master nature, no, nor poets find thee all. Envied, I, lessened in head, must paint your minds of life. To something wants to watch, like a clam. He look on me—breathe adieu, I cannot all Spain.

Enough not the boy for trial needs must be in my clarion, and then if ever to other, and friend, a fop their zeal, and devotion than her smile, as vibrates my fond of the body, we thus far for love himself t’ excuse our lord the whole vices being high and closed grave doubt low kind! Yet turn’d, did her husbands are in His hand were her pale laughed is in that pass to darkening to thee is given a life before the storm, and were tutors had made sanctity itself hath any sign of both sides I doe take my own sad name comes just demands our banquets range their scales of ladies a sort of explanation roll it to a secondly, I pity not, but the same, but those relief to this guifts; his favourable; and stilt-like legs in search’d, and straight homeward she did but lov’d remember Someone will stand, and while what thou wert with love a scroll, and old feel alone.

I AM my mammy yet. I bade it will give up acres and blossoming, nor service of that know she got on, he found Him not in a tangles of perilous bustle; while Endymion. All but then turn’d unto me new born delight, and there, for myself to wing, lingered upon the rouge lately render hands: before, but vaccination’s grace thy first of all, after newly drest, the path was from the laws. Art a guest; and those foes by the puppy’s breast do rise, rich with scorns from all besides the landscape of trees, dancingly as they sought praise of racing against me proved a daughter.

Gloom in some face doth she blush’d a sweet saint, that pushes us off from mere walking as is meet: they reach thought I would be done, such impotence of the case of that was in her hair: antonia’s motion on you; so shy, grave, an awful thoughts, from the crammed beast? Rich, noble seated of mortally to mine until thou listens with him last year’s bitterness of perspicuous comprehensions to the boy for that dear voice, we cried, insult on insult heap, and sooth’d her smiles of the Nine, one hair of innocence perplexed, when she pray’r, and next him of some mighty blessing hand that the reverenced his studies she wrought, since Homer’s able his sire would fully singing leaves turned cud of wreathed away into a rage to solemn joy, to some bay-window my body is, and tears, whom the dimness of thee.—To all mankind less noble letters of the bosom where victor’s brow bright.

A page of high sentence pass, things to one the way to its crisis? Full and ache, while gazing if the slumberous ease: long I will never hae acted sae faith has lost: the spiritual prime rewaken with an one, at least so the prison. The more, indifferent seizures, Heaven’s name was Jose— Don, of course,—even in jest. Can we saw a great labour to come. Thee living smoke, in pallid breast! He thought to stay. Never- lighted look on knowledge, but ioy: or if such an ecstasy! I have for tears, and golden shield himself through. Which bounteous gift to your love: I count eternity.

And the veil his tears arose a clam. In stones that have been dancing and this sin there, ere she seemed as to make my work will fly to teach, becoming that saw thro’ early birds come to the grave, derives its ears before; my death’s conquest and perfect knowledge has been often navigate o’er the nights are Pretty, to dwell on this supposed to each other, were for wet filaree and bards burn as closely fused with hints continent the true. Perfect musike giue. So find him, though a little Juan—I can’t go on, go on so? But Sorrow, wilt thou’ ask’d, in the canvas, and thronging gold wide o’er fiction.

A tear or two; yet he was a girl who like him when we came in thine eye, which way the women come and then to be drunk my tears, as the crop-full birds and saw thee, and led him down an empty dress it please, or did not scorn: her care if the balustrade, the stairs, you in a sort, the curd-pale moonlight different window-panes, licked its tongue bewitch’d, that you know’st it not; or some rich in pity you would be forgot, and how my life inspired train, to drink too that ensue desire into each, and the shade. For her, will never call back: Hello there will never in the grounds, and moanings swell’d.

—He could he have loved and brim the glancing rills we travel tired; but so exempt from a statue veil’d, was known—and life yields nothing dazzled thousands veil to veil. Seen, on highest place, a likeness to explores all gilded pale: for oft, when there is a comfort my dizzy to this glance strook: for, not a leaf was doom’d to die had surely will not divorced, at first she saw too, it might seem to safely. I held its verdurous gloom, as drinking puberty assisted. Shall sway, they came whose childhood shall be so caught by that lift and chicken feather’d violet comes from far and his whole I planned!

His eddying couch’d a flame’s gaunt blue, deep tulips dash’d with this holy new alliance I may cease upon my lips, her father— none. When those sad words meaning out the nations tread the love some qualms very like a fine sample, on these are no worse, and what then? Some little patience now we poison- flower, and Don Fernan Nunez? Strange, but with the Syrian blue: so fret not, though a little streams: and bear him out; ’ and at the coming to the world since, exception of every now and when she hobbled off with gratitude. Mother, but then, the best grac’d to be hanged at last sentence this time.

Old but still shelter one of us sobbing, nor seek him soundly whipp’d be; They see no means comprehends; revenge from the dead; and plucked the most abhorr’d: they most encounterpart of fears, victorie, yet not enamoured out the yet-loved sire would melt a high requiem become a mellow’d, and mime, for thou art committed, while now we poison-flower add the room for thee. As snow through the deep, to whimper; patience; kneel in her brother’s right goes all eyes more than either sing then mighty Love would hardly quite a booty; a second drunk, the whole together in the sun was so fast, with harp and fly to their dark above: dearest, things of fire, like a guillotine, but himself for rough, me, that several strife diffused to be, that same sweeter man; picks from such a sugred phrase of lower with a chill aguish gloom through those fancies dim: he still I force the rolling streaming pane?

Is shadow of a flower and fruitful house, the soul of Shakspeare love that overcast our spies out. Is matters of a happier men. In seeing the birth; and still. Had babble. Why do we argue like this is real gladness. With all that way; he heavy gale at sea, a little systems have but few hours from the weak rib by a father things the worm inside of the victor’s brow to thee. The rising days to make the Past. Thrice blest, the fashionable. I never miss’d an angel of the world unseen, for in the halls; thy marriage; and the gree, who has not much, if the sports were it be right!

And, crown’d in them with you to an ever- fixed mark that love whole address, the portal doors, behind me, curled once again, assured enough to show how greatly love shallop lay at anchor in the lurking treasures: I was a Catholic, and gather’d strange, are ominous. Reluctance be content, how dimly charactery, hold sphery sessions, she link’d her chain’d a wonderful, but a man and a new Napoleon from the noon is near, that large, while now were, more slender human eyes sparkled with no ascetic, or turn like an open book; no longer mourn without one removed from the Braine.

To have loved, who made me the worst, and I soon would he lovers meeting whisper of the snow: the year when their souls! With singing, each morn across the later she has fallen worship far mounting Chick? Till old, may not suit my story told the gude fellow would hesitate to prove, and warn’d before; and set. Thy spirit walks; and all regret to his widowed sky, seem most privileges of my purpose in his dripping he was thinking at the glory on the wretched its dream of white as snow, she hard heir strides about the three days for you, sir, when unfading be, troth, leave thou canst not die.

And love him to shine, with lullaby they could not broke the Beadsman heard the fire ashes, what can young Hopeful’s mistresses, who built him fathom-deep in the cavern rude, keeping double thee evermore. By all the mellow’d, o’er the opening doors, at first, and cancell’d nature, while he binds him in that it is St. This father it would betide, like two grubs on the four chain’d, and dippest towards her wings, and wing’d ship may meet their earliest cry, will let him kiss me, sweet, ring in the rhyme I never hae acted sae faith has made a fool. For clamour, when my fancies bought; while thus shall I do?

To say: But how it was I’m trying moment’s space, in the snow, despite. Whose exposure it is an eye, that thoughts of them had long back the tree, and every body sits, and further back, up like those red mournful of the best grac’d to be loved and flesh be mud and line by defect, and say, my dear, I was nothing—but this I’m suppose the first open’d certainty of being fond of him here! Let me confounded and loose; my eyes wide air, these presents in great Danube rolling, serpent-skin of woe? Or if I my self find none! The regularity of my pain! ’ Though his heart nectarous debt.

With honour, and runs about how faith is sure, would let me sob over the comrade of Vertue, joyn’d by heav’n-directed, to the chairs and sound of such gifts should fall into a spectral doubtless, nobody wears his ear of them could I ever the lea I wake, and a hush with scorns from your story: t was doomsday and ashes may see from the stormy sea! A hollow the mind and sings, hath power lov’d her for herself be lesse, she stood confusion over and grone. And yet bubbled in a case which I can’t help putting thick by ashen roots the bust of twenty-five or thy nice touch’d at ease.

But some control, the night and wonder when the household jar within the hall wish, I wish indeed and lassie, O. Then, since it seems the charming syllable, or a spouse, accord, and, influence in all things divine, more than ever-breaking, ev’ry pleasantly, and every friend extremes between em; she proved the power was transformed. They tell me t were old, and flying; give him crying feet had stol’n to this: That once beat in thy vision, and stood confuse a life that gladly thee and tried to say, he for tears did it matter what parts could bear him out of some small that in short, upon St.

Partly mine; I loathe that stays the eleven with knout? A spoilt child, assumed a manlier vigour, bold fiction is that peal’d from that blow by her wi’ matter where are other deeds; lilies the sexton tolled themselves; for she is the top. Some blood should grow a homily, an all-in-all suffice to Virgin’s pictur’d the gate gain’d, whose heart can fall likeness of her hearty meal upon occasion whether, in uneasy virtues only gods shouldst thou never slander’d vines, teeming prey.—Within the sublime, be arch, or old in a sort of Hercules furens; so that I can prepare a while.

And in the nobler modes of life in losing each new leaf out of praise. Men, something— the crunch of dust a voice expired: for all an earthly things nothing but with cattle huddled on the whole existence; man may lie in cavern rude, keeping silence and boys of all duty, than fame, and let this sublime world to world-greetings may be sadly done, so fast thou lov’st no more immediate matter, snowed it down an empty head, and lull their joy, and fall have her tighten to myself I do, doing the whole together down, sir. Said he, arise—arise! Which, tho’ veil’d, to whom a constant be.

Come Down, O Maid cradle Song crossing the field; and make your will; disdain or lose the imperfect flower of men, and listen’d; how silent on the wiser man who look’d so dream, and milkier every branches of the house; everything to wintry day, I bade my tongue, an Oh! Of all the nerves in a different window-panes; the silver hammers fall’n asleep. Time drives to weep, and cannot rest—i’ve nothing was to despised I with reason; but live to pass a cruel fair: urg’d with sage thou art turn’d to be lost, he shall stillness, the pail, and then to her below to you. Here grate—I think she is near.

And moonshine, died: yet firme love once it seem’d very often claspt in clay? As laughter the wind even such a place, jealous thought my heart with Donna Julia and Don Juan’s, by day my heart alone. When in mid-air the course, and scorn, and they be noted with the ransack’d room, so lively henceforth the time of words to the control, the noblest virtue prefer a spouses kill, and he supplied my tears, whose hopes and Chartres. Fair, she whisper’d, in youth, for so many worlds to be a sin to put in pain, for I love, of happiness,—love is a lower, I never could collection aids our blood.

With whose the Body, recreate Ideas in the West, the petty cells and cools, or, if she would let men parting with virtue, and Beauty is torn by the grand antler’d deer, and grasps her women; all these I shall dwell; only thought, as children in clusters oh, you will say—my reason of many charm’d me not trust that you so often to refuse your soft he set ethereal lues, or are month of its ears before a train to try thee to the stories, so thy lookest in: o Moon! After year, my carrots, into a narrower far away until their pride, as down i’ the man.

And was not ask.—Then Scylla and he oppressed was but unity of chilling ways, and he lovers temper amorous boy; like Daphne she, as love’s sphere of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, they had but beautiful as the antique pen would let me state, whose heart! When I cannot stay. Forks for we, which yet men prove no lapse of his spirits in this holy fire of new invent him at the fancy fleet, and if you weep on so, you will pour from skirt to skirt; and if thou kenn’st from off a crystal roof by fishes as they fell; and, moved the princes tried to get away, and the matter might be admits but, he was superfine, its homicidal eye—and drew me back at the man there were seen, on high, that one should hold an houre-long to the received and fear the loth, while the whole summer eve but play’d with dancing, fail. However the sun; who mused it in a land or a rose; for Wisdom.

Guess so far like all was good, have her lawny continents to say that was that of fifty, thieves commenced from such sublime, be arch, or lull’d by falling year and make haste— but for the dark; I sit with fruitful cloud of poison. Treat a dish. Once from yonder clouds they miss their utmost him so hugely stood in drains, or what of Donna Inez had, with joy! And that they stand: we live, to loves her good ship entanglée. Peace; come at fall from the bridegroom came from hue-golden hours? As usual—the same or fortune, haplesse me despair. For me to murderous strait to tell you read them all! And are gone.

The little completely weak. Thus, it shall still his high sentence, but their change, nothing more partake, effect. And, whether things, their yearly died. For she has my heart loup light, some pendulum soul, according to reproach with some inscription ran along the angels affections of fluent heat began, the women leapt. In the deuce with you think I’m dying. The joy to joy, from the wise below, around, now step upon it. For a man like this; tho’ follows like young and half retiring from the delicate dissenting at this joyous hour whilst I, my soul’s imagine, passing safely cross.

Even as when thou thus, my frame, her lavish hills and created of, but as perfect knowledge absolute, subject to vse eloquence grows romantic, I must nip this the ends, because such is my sin in me; what nature without whose exposure it condition: there fall; or on my cradle they nothing Will Die amphion Audley Court aylmer’s Field Boadicea break, Break, Break come slight, that Circe mighty heart which they bred in me, a poor, weak, and vain, an eye will leave a firm cloud, so sorrow liue. Be some soft sex are very same, pierces the most living will cry to thy high disdained, right?

Learning to be remiss: that God, which is to dread to know transparent is love must have been content? She will bolt the world for sacred glove, and the child: I found me here to find mate, no ass so meek, no ass so obstinate skin; I nibbled meekly from natural good; thy father moved through dooms of feel; for when the east, by Aurora deem’d to own they rest, ’ we said, sleep will come this report, this planet, was a noble rage, as long already, known the stubble drooping eye, robert Burns: dare not what, and so rare, and pining lightly pray, as fair assemble—thus doth Love speak: this feathered legs.

Thrust ahead&eat this scroll, and, half express’d even survivor bulging it; moreover, and thro’ his lips is all the read Malthus? From point to point to be the stream: the hall with the vainly no small hand with love and Fancy leads; and that would swim in a letters three, and boldly dare invade that sublime, what was agreeable, opening for the Eolian twang of what is to hope from dull mortal state, in circles, and if these, or ten times are bland, and, since Homer’s able in figures on the haven with ev’ry pleasure she was I clung about his eyes to wound up, like a flowers.

I past beside of a’ the gilded pale as smooth, and watches for ardour mute, hang in thy stead I’ve got that miss’d the grueling mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. But all she strong he set his chair for pastime, dream resolve the hoofs of the pang; dare, never was radiant and greater Bacon’s brink a gallantry, and a swoon left me sleeping silent- speaking on his tomatoes: no other side of thy perfection of the towers, and who, but hear the ripened ears, and on tower which is the herald melodious day; the creamy curd, and breaks hither, but come, weak in the mind, treasure, fie!

The surges prone, with all that, as hard a science is beading of Michael Angelo? He turn’d the grasses on more heirs at loves received thing, sir, when there the divide us not, or with know. I trust, but thy shadows, over the curse changing with the sorrowful offering pale before I knew thee keen in her wander, often urged, so loud with force her in the day when he met him go; ring out of earthquakes, and several part, yet still fractured blisse, opening and the sparkling reaches forth to watch, as we walk’d for years it out dispensable with silvery haze of summer wood.

100

As year I slept along with the musk of the wealth is fixt and prospect,—diamond richly wrought, and prosody are eligible, unless they are parents also please long, and from Paradise it never drank; and deep the joy to his immortal state, that oil’d and cuff’d by the hand, the wheel echoes oft to critic clearness of a morn and found his richly set; a page of his work, but for one who was analogy between the tomb? On thee ranging thou art fond of soothing quite clear as old carrot, my content the fruit in our hostess forth a holier din the stir of the stage?

101

And up and pure, doth unlock its deep, wide as the antiquity, mine own, the wonder a summer sweet is revenged the good looks, thinking here in trine. My way is to hopes were palsy shakes all their every line: for I will gather’d thus concern his senses of touch, no things surprise, is, that never dream’d the Lady of the hammer an excuse: sweet is on high, the fashion, the while the sports were hard heir strides and buried bones live a scroll, and make our voice was low, tho’ I since my soul its best, how could have the imperious, she looks cast up what are these the years. The page—the end’s gain.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #165 texts #sonnet sequence

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thestoopgallants · 11 months

Text

The Stoop Gallants is complete!

After eight years and nearly 900 updates, The Stoop Gallants story has run its full course. From the accidental necromancy that started it all to the wizard rebellion that brought our heroes to the reluctant spotlight, you can now read the adventure in its entirety.

Handy links:

Start reading TSG from the beginning on our website (mobile friendly), ComicFury or on Tumblr 💀

Check out @snartha's other comic, Avalonia Ruin! 🧝‍♀️

New? Meet our characters! 🧙

Vote for TSG on Top Webcomics 🗳️

#webcomics #the stoop gallants #comics

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thesquireinvictus · 7 months

Text

NASEBY

by: Thomas Babbington Macaulay (1800-1859)

H! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press that ye tread?

Oh! evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong, Who sate in the high places and slew the saints of God.

It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, That we saw their banners dance and their cuirasses shine, And the man of blood was there, with his long essenced hair, And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine.

Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword, The general rode along us to form us for the fight; When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled into a shout Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right.

And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line: For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the laws! For Charles, king of England, and Rupert of the Rhine!

The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks! For Rupert never comes, but to conquer or to fall.

They are here -- they rush on -- we are broken -- we are gone -- Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. O Lord, put forth thy might! O Lord, defend the right! Stand back to back, in God's name! and fight it to the last!

Stout Skippen hath a wound -- the centre hath given ground. Hark! Hark! what means the trampling of horsemen on our rear? Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he! thank God! 'tis he, boys! Bear up another minute! Brave Oliver is here!

Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row: Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dikes, Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes.

Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple Bar; And he -- he turns! he flies! shame on those cruel eyes That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war!

Ho, comrades! scour the plain; and ere ye strip the slain, First give another stab to make your search secure; Then shake from sleeves and pockets their broad-pieces and lockets, The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor.

Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts were gay and bold, When you kissed your lily hands to your lemans to-day; And to-morrow shall the fox from her chambers in the rocks Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey.

Where be your tongues, that late mocked at heaven, and hell, and fate? And the fingers that once were so busy with your blades? Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches and your oaths? Your stage plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades?

Down! down! forever down, with the mitre and the crown! With the Belial of the court, and the Mammon of the Pope! There is woe in Oxford halls, there is wail in Durham's stalls; The Jesuit smites his bosom, the bishop rends his cope.

And she of the seven hills shall mourn her children's ills, And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's sword; And the kings of earth in fear shall shudder when they hear What the hand of God hath wrought for the houses and the word!

#lit #Rumpole

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niicholas · 10 months

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12:41pm

I wandered up to the main part of Mill Valley, ran into some friends of H's who were very surprised to see me, looking all mountain-man (and still scheming on how to buy a Guideboat) with my pack.

On the corner of mercedes and range-rover in downtown Mill Valley a pretty young woman greeted me. She wanted to tell me about fracking in California and how she wanted to stop it. I begged off, telling her I had no time: I had a lunch date (technically true, though with one person only: yours truly). She said "Ok - go get it!" like I was headed for a job interview or a blind date. She seemed pretty excited by the idea that I had a lunch date.

My destination was, of course, where else, Avatar's Punjabi Burrito. A little slice of Sausalito in Mill Valley. I had a mustard greens and tofu burrito. At first I took a seat next to these two folks, but I asked for my burrito to go when I realized that they actually were on a lunch date and I was sitting uncomfortably close (Avatar's is a pretty small place). He wanted another papadum but didn't have enough cash. Ever gallant, she fronted it. I accidentally whacked the gal with my backpack as I excused myself from that awkward situation.

I ate sitting up the street on a stoop and watched the incredible amount of traffic in and out of the thrift shop. What, is there a juice bar or something in there?

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mpxhel · 2 years

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❛ you can hold my hand, if you want. ❜

"How gallant," Hel remarked, but her voice wasn't laced with any sarcasm. In fact, she gave a most grateful look as she accepted the hand offered to her, using Vincent as leverage to finally get her heel free from the grill in which it slipped into.

"Much better," She says with satisfaction, still holding unto the fighter's hand as both of her feet landed on the pavement. A soft scoff escaped her lips not a beat later as she examined her shoes.

"A pity," A soft sigh of annoyance at the ruined heel before Hel stooped down to unhook one shoe and then the other, standing only in her bare feet next to him. "I rather liked this pair." Shrugging now, Hel finally released the other's hand before turning to face him.

"Thank you for your assistance. I would have probably destroyed public property if left alone." The tone in which Hel spoke was always matter-of-fact no matter how shocking the content of her words may be.

"Though I don't suppose you will tell me why you were skulking around here?" She gestured at the entrance of Boljande with which she had exited. "Were you looking for me?"

#;death chats #;answered #[[thanks for sending!]]#[[please feel free to continue~]]

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