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zapreportsblog · 6 months

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❝HUSBAND❞

✭ PAIRING : Edward Cullen x Reader

✭ FANDOM : Twilight

✭ SUMMARY : When Edward proposed to Bella he expected her to accept after all they were mates? Right? Wrong! Bella rejected edwards proposal breaking his undead heart in the process, not being able to withstand the aftermath Edward leaves home; only to return 2 years later but this time he’s married?!

✭ AUTHORS NOTE : I already know there is a story on here called the same story with the same cover (on quotev at least) mines had been edited to a clearer form, (again on quotev) that was my old account, (marveluserlovesmarbel again on quotev was my old and very first account) one of my first actually. If I can remember the login information from it I’d log back in and post my stories from their over here but for now enjoy the remake of said story :)

✭ QUOTEV VERSION

✭ HUSBAND MASTERLIST

✭ CHAPTER THREE : The Storm

Tension filled the air as Bella confronted the newfound presence of (Y/n) in Edward's life. She blinked in disbelief, her voice quivering as she stammered, "My love? Since when did this happen?"

Edward, sensing the impending storm, attempted to walk away with (Y/n) and even gestured for her to go inside. But (Y/n) was resolute and didn't budge. She glared at Bella, her voice dripping with ice, as she asked, "Who are you?"

Bella retorted, her tone growing defensive, "I'm Edward's girlfriend, and who are you?"

(Y/n) didn't waste a moment, showing off her ring with a fiery glare. "I'm his wife."

Bella's eyes widened in shock at the revelation. The words hung heavily in the air, and she was momentarily at a loss for words. She looked to Edward for help, but he maintained a blank expression.

Sensing Bella's vulnerability, (Y/n) couldn't contain her anger any longer. She stepped forward, poking Bella's chest with each word, her voice seething with righteous fury. "You've got some nerve showing your face around here. You made your grave; now lay in it."

Without waiting for a response, (Y/n) turned away from Bella and walked over to her husband, Edward. She looked deep into his eyes, her love and passion evident, and then, she pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. It was a declaration of their bond and a clear message to Bella that she was no longer a part of Edward's life. Bella watched them with a mixture of jealousy and regret, realizing that she had lost Edward. But she wasn’t one to give up easily. With a huff she yanks over her car door looking back at the couple, “I’ll be back later Edward,” and with a slam of the door she pulls out of the Cullen’s drive way.

Emmett the ever so innocent “viewer” in all this snorts, “Women am I right?!”

┉

Inside the house, (Y/n) had stormed in, seething with anger and frustration. She couldn't believe that Bella had shown up and disrupted the peace she and Edward had found together. She muttered to herself, unaware of the growing intensity of her emotions.

"How could that wench come here and think all would be fine and dandy?" (Y/n) ranted, her voice filled with exasperation.

Unbeknownst to her, the lights in the house began to flicker erratically. The others in the room exchanged puzzled glances, noticing the unusual phenomenon. Emmett, always one to comment on such things, blurted out, "Yo, what's up with the lights?"

Edward, realizing that it was (Y/n)'s powers reacting to her emotional turmoil, excused himself and made his way to where she was venting her frustrations. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered soothing words, "Love, it's going to be okay. Please, try to calm down. Your powers are reacting to your emotions."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, her anger gradually subsiding as she focused on Edward's calming presence. The lights in the house gradually steadied, no longer flickering. She turned to him, her eyes filled with remorse for causing such a disturbance.

Edward reassured her, "It's alright, my love. We'll figure this out together. Bella is no longer a part of my life, and you are the one I choose to be with. I love you."

(Y/n) nodded, her anger giving way to a sense of relief and the warmth of Edward's love. They held each other close, finding solace in their bond, and slowly the tension in the house began to dissipate.

As Edward held (Y/n) close against his chest, her anger continued to simmer. She mumbled softly, her voice filled with frustration, "I just don't like it. How can she come back here thinking she would be welcomed with open arms? After hurting you? After unknowingly hurting your family?"

Edward kissed her forehead gently, trying to offer reassurance. "It's okay, my love. We'll work through this."

But (Y/n) couldn't contain her anger any longer. Her emotions surged, and as she shouted in frustration, a light bulb above them suddenly burst, scattering glass fragments on the floor.

Startled by the sudden noise, Alice, who had been observing the situation from the doorway, took a step back. She glanced at the shattered light bulb and then at the two of them, her eyes wide with surprise. With an uncertain smile, she said, "I'll just come back later," and quickly walked away, leaving Edward and (Y/n) alone to deal with the aftermath of this emotional exchange.

As (Y/n) pulled back from their embrace, her guilt about scaring Alice was evident in her eyes. She whispered, "Oh no, I scared Alice. I have to go apologize."

Edward gently placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "No, what you need to do is calm down, love. Alice will be fine. She's a vampire, remember?"

(Y/n) wasn't easily consoled. She replied, "That doesn't mean I didn't frighten her, supernatural being or not."

Edward couldn't help but chuckle, his laughter resonating in the room. "That's what I love about you, my dear."

(Y/n) playfully smacked his shoulder, her worry still evident. "This isn't a laughing matter, Edward. I used my powers unconsciously, and look, I even broke that poor, innocent light bulb."

Edward continued to chuckle, the sound of his laughter filling the room. "You're right, love, but it's just a light bulb. We can replace it. Besides, I’m sure Alice will understand.”

(Y/n) sighed, unable to resist a smile at her husband's laughter and reassurance. She realized that even in moments of turmoil, his presence had a way of calming her, and she felt grateful for the love they shared.

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foxilayde · 5 months

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My favorite types of scenes from The Gilded Age

George Russell: Ah thank you for stopping by the office to see me on such short notice.

Mr.Businesston: Not at all, Russell, good to see you. Our stock arrangement and or investment agreement is still fine n’ dandy, I take it?

George Russell: About that… I heard tell that your wife, Mrs.Businesston, declined an invitation to my wife’s party tonight.

Mr.Businesston: Um… okay… sure? She might have, I don’t really know.

George Russell: If both you and your wife don’t come to my wife’s party, I’m going to fuck over our business agreement. It will hurt me, yes. But it will destroy you. I’m going to bury you so financially deep in the ground that your great great grandchildren will be born with coal dust in their lungs.

Mr.Businesston: By Jove, George! Are you… are you serious?

George Russell: Quite serious, Mr. Businesston.

Mr.Businesston: Tonight? I really don’t think we can make it…

George Russell: That’s a shame. Ah well, I’ll be sure to send flowers to your funeral… unless of course I have your body dumped in an unmarked pauper’s grave.

Mr.Businesston: Holy shit, okay you’ve made your point. I’ll be there.

George Russell: And your wife?

Mr. Businesston: Yes. We’ll both be there, Mr. Russell.

George Russell: Splendid. Be sure to tell your friends to come as well. At least all the ones you hope live to see a new day.

#George Russell #the gilded age

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giantchasm · 6 days

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Omg... is it true that the second annual @kirbyoctournament has rolled around? How exciting!

Last year, I entered a nasty, nasty, no-good old woman, and that was fine and dandy, but I think it might be time for a change in vibe. After all, as much as I love my girl Peacekeeper, last year I hadn't yet created my favorite Kirby OC, and I think said OC deserves her chance in the spotlight.

Which is all to say...

Peony will be entering the fray!

I made a longer post going over Peony's whole deal here, but to give the long-and-short of it (because yes, this is the abridged version), Peony is my (extremely self-indulgent 💜) Taransusie fankid.

Her existence was a bit of a happy, spite-induced accident, seeing as how she was grown in a test tube on an impulsive whim, but she's a very beloved, happy kid. Albeit a bit strange...

Because you see, Peony sees ghosts.

Following a near-death experience, she was supercharged with Soul magic and now she teeters the line between the worlds of the living and the dead. A creepy, macabre, spirit medium of a child, her circumstances would be confusing and offputting to anyone. But with her family's history in particular?

...Yeahhhhh, things are kind of bizarre.

She gets along well, though, with her undead friends. And who knows? Perhaps her new, mysterious powers could be the key to giving her family some long sought after closure.

Peony is an overconfident, somewhat-naive, stubborn know-it-all who doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer, and really, it comes by her honestly, considering her family. For all of her hardheadedness and ego, though, she really is a sweet kid, and much of her determination comes from a place of honest love. She adores her friends and her family and just wants the best for them, regardless of what other people think or what the world says she can do.

As of right now, her biggest dream and aspiration is to find a way to undo death and bring her ghostly companions back from the grave, setting things right and 'reuniting' her family. This is almost certainly something she won't be able to accomplish, but...

Like I said, Peony doesn't really know how to take no for an answer.

Upon growing up, Peony ends up becoming a wandering spirit medium, traversing the galaxy in hopes of helping people come to terms with their unfinished business. She still makes sure to visit home often, though! For all of her pluckiness, she's still ultimately her mom and dad's baby girl deep down.

"Have you been taking proper care of your mechanics?" "Of course, Mom." "And you've been eating alright?" "Yes, Dad. Oh my Stars, you two, there's no need to fret... you can just say you're glad to see me. It's good to see you too."

...And there's no need to fear. Rest assured, she still has her babysitters compatriots. Something tells me their unfinished business won't ever truly be done with until they've finished looking out for her.

Because if Peony's strange life full of reopening once-thought-to-be-closed doors has made anything clear, it's that the more things change, the more they inevitably stay the same.

#kirby oc #kirby oc tournament #peony haltmann #kirby #taransusie #now the question of... do i or do i not tag all of the canon characters that appear in this?#screw it. making everyone look at my fankid #taranza #susie haltmann #susie kirby #sectonia #queen sectonia #haltmann kirby #max profitt haltmann

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lepusrufus · 2 months

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Info dump on your latest art when ?

You want?? Info dump?? About my wet rat of a bbygorl??? Oh Nonnie I love you I'm kissing you gently on the forehead also you've made a horrendous mistake <3

I'm so sorry to all my friends I never took seriously about dnd I get it now.

So like. Triell.

This cranky pants here? She's my beloved death domain cleric of Ilmater which I know sounds counterintuitive but hold on. She's part of this small sect of the church that's seen very poorly by both the regular person and fellow worshippers of Ilmater because they got the oh so great fortune of communicating with their god via receiving directions to where disasters are about to happen (be it wars or natural disasters or anything in between) so they can offer aid. So people tend to assume they cause these as opposed to simply going there to warn and help.

They're also all for necromancy (hence the domain), which probably doesn't help the reputation, and make a very strict distinction between the living and the dead. Their logic is a bit callous to be honest, saying that they're heading somewhere where there are about to be quite a few corpses laying around so they might as well use them to protect the living. It's fine and dandy until they resurrect a dead parent to act as a meat shield for their still living child you know. But I mean. It's efficient. Still not a good look tho. (You can probably imagine that Kelemvor and his worshippers hate these guys' guts lol)

But I could make a whole post about beliefs and rites of the sect so anyway.

Triell. She's originally from Menzo but eventually got out of there only to be captured by some particularly nasty duergar for a decade or two, which left her with an incredible disdain for shackles and being locked up and ever returning to the Underdark really. In comes Bellra, already a member of the sect, sent there to warn about what would soon be the collapse of a mine that would have a pretty devastating domino effect on that whole community, but she did manage to get a few people out of there, Triell included, who ended up joining her on her travels.

Yeah they want each other. No they refuse to act on it bc their whole purpose is continuing to walk into situations that might as well become their graves. Yes they're disasters.

At this point Triell is a pretty decent cleric on her own and travels to wherever she's sent, but unlike Bellra who's definitely the more likable and charming of the two, Triell tends to be pretty cynical and angry about being seen as the cause of something she actually wants to try and prevent or at least mitigate to the best of her abilities.

Also her most favorite food is mushroom stew

I guess you can take the drow out of the Underdark but you can't take the Underdark out of the drow

Anyway I'm forever rotating them in my head like a microwave and I can't wait to actually put her in a campaign I even bought a set of dice (my first set of dice!) to match her aesthetic aaaa

And a huge hug to @thehomelybadger and @zabouncer for sitting in a call with me while I was creating her and helping me out with ideas truly the best enablers xD

#i love her dearly your honor #I'm still ironing out details but yeah #dnd #my art #asks

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henbeaka · 3 months

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the juxtaposition of dustin with long hair and his hellfire shirt while mike regresses back to his original s2/s1, kinda even s3 shirt says a LOT.

theyre both grieving but theyre doing it differently. in fact, mike might take it harder. the guy who got you to really be yourself after getting bullied for being yourself for almost your entire life was fine and happy and dandy and you leave, come back a week later and boom. dead.

thats terrifying. so ofc he goes back to being scared and stops being himself while dustin is the one still going to the grave, still talking about eddie.

and fourteen/fifteen year olds (idk about the time skips, but theyre definitely still 14, 15 at this point in time because it's presumably right after eddie's death) do not take kindly to other people grieving differently. dustin isnt going to be all: "i totally understand that for some reason you stopped referring to eddie at all and are pretending he doesnt exist, mike." NO. hes gonna be mad, mike is gonna be distant, will is gonna be sad boy (in love!), el is going to be having an existential crisis (resulting in milkvan breakup) and lucas and max in the corner (i dont even have to explain their problem)

the party will be ripping open at its seams this season. theyre not going to be a unified force going into this apocalypse. theyre going to be a bunch of ankle breaking, petty, bloody and bruised fifteen year olds fighting off the government and monsters alike.

#byler #stranger things #pov the byler community after getting fed eight crumbs #🗣️🗣️🗣️ we just started yapping #oh mike has shorter hair #YAP YAP YAP #(affectionate)#also #if youre grieving long hair and hellfire shirt mike #you betcha will is grieving more #so shut up and sit down #short hair mike 🔛🔝

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doffysflamingo · 8 days

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Eckles Delman (Thoughts)

Oh Eckles... you cute, lovable, horrible, cruel little thing. (ಥ﹏ಥ ╬)

I have a lot to say about this man in particular. As someone who is feral for the toxic yandere trope (iykyk), Eckles hit a lot of my personal checks in the checkbox. He's got this deep sense of loyalty towards Penelope, but he's also just this dark, brooding mess of jealousy and protective longing that makes him... borderline psychotic?

There's one scene in particular that really cemented this for me. It's when Penelope was in the garden speaking to Callisto, and it was hinted at that Eckles had been watching from the shadows. (Typical Yandere behavior tho, what can I say?). That made me wonder just how much he's been spying on her. Does he have ears and eyes everywhere? Just how much has he caught on about her life outside the Eckhart walls? Given how unhinged he has the capacity to be, I wouldn't put it past him if he's just been spying on her everywhere.

Anyways, all that is fine and dandy, like I said, pretty run-of-the-mill yandere type stuff.

HOWEVER. (ᓀ _ᓀ)

Without spoiling anything for anyone, let's just say much later in the manhwa he makes a VERY... VERY bad choice for the sake of his deep, undying, unconditional love! Ahahahahahahaha... BAD ECKLES! VERY BAD.

I think we all saw that this was coming. He was the easiest love interest. Just breathing in his mere presence was enough to shoot up his love meter like 20%. But it didn't make it any easier to accept when it happened. ┐(シ)┌ (My heart literally dropped in my chest, lol).

On one hand, I can understand why he did what he did. After all, he's only seeing things from his point of view. In his mind, the only person in Penelope's corner is, well, him. Everyone else is a threat to their bond, everyone else is something that takes her attention away from him, that takes her time away from him, and thus it's something he has to eradicate somehow.

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND GAH. (ﾒ﹏ﾒ) It was a very frustrating decision that I'm sure had everyone else lowkey pulling their hair out.

Eckles, you dug your own grave and buried yourself inside it.

(￣～￣;) and frankly, I don't know what redemption would look like for him at this point, especially from Penelope's point of view.

TLDR; Yikes.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Disclaimer: All these personal (and by no means "popular") opinions are based only on what has been shown in the manhwa thus far (~130 chapters as of 04/07)

#manhwa #eckles delman #eckles #villains are destined to die #death is the only ending for a villainess #male yandere #yandere

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ofallplaceswhythis · 1 month

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tcoptp thoughts pt.17

I have officially lost count of how many of these i have done. currently at ch86 and everything is fine and dandy :)

scratch that everything is not fine and dandy- THEY PULLED REGULUS OUT OF SCHOOL. WHEN I FIND WALBURGA

Marlene and James <3333

the black brothers angst will kill me one day. Write it on my grave

I didnt think it was possible for remus to panic even more but jealousy seems to do the trick

GOD THEY'RE SO AWKWARD I LOVE THEM

can the lesbians please stay together i need them they're probably the only sane couple around here (apart from sunflower)

its 2 am please i cant laugh. what i do find funny is that at the start sirius and remus were all like 'lEtS gIvE tHeM sIgNaLs tHeY'lL fIgUrE iT oUt' and then at the end they were like 'we dont care about society's views we will make out just so you can understand'. AND THEN LILY JUST SAYS SHE KNEW IT ALREADY (valid tbh)

james and sirius kissing in the toilet while drunk and then never talking about it again is peak bff behaviour.

marlene 'tell me again what they said' mckinnon i wanna hug you

noo not mary and marlene guys please asdfghjkl

NO NOT THE LESBIANS

.........not the unrequited marylene havent i had enough angst

.....this is another level of kinky behaviour

.......peter was literally so close fuckk

wolfstar's entire love language is bickering and its beautiful <33

james just absolutely panicking in front of marlene im dying

....oh mary you sweet summer child

'you've lined us up for slaughter' god i love them asdfghjkl

.............................................................................................................

god mary's day is just filled with shocks and suprises

'shes a woman not the devil' I WISH. ONE DAY SHE IS GOING TO DIE BY MY BLADE AS A THOUSNAD COCKROACHES RUN DOWN HER FACE INSTEAD OF TEARS

I am going to kill her and make her eat worms for eternity in hell just so that she can feel just a scrap of pain that she had inflicted

.....what just happened.... asdfghjklqwertyuiopzxcvbnm

.......SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE SIRIUS A HUG HE DESERVES IT

CHRIST IS VOLDEMORT FUCK YEAH (no hate to christianity btw just hate to the blacks)

THE BLACK BROTHERS SORTING THEIR SHIT! TOGETHER!🥹

HOW DO THEY THINK OF THESE THINGS 💀💀

........this is genius wtf

k now its just getting embarrassing tbh pls stop

......regulus?? trish??? reginald? hoooly fuck

.......ITS A PROMISE RING!!!

'i find those reeking in heterosexual undertones' ily sirius

kinda feel bad for peter tbh

....oh... oh no... fuckk

someone give sheila a hug god knows that woman has had enough

#the cadence of part time poets #my thoughts #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #the black brothers

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homielander · 2 years

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If you don't mind, can I ask why you thought Alicent's writing went downhill after episode 5?

yeah, of course! i talked about it in another post but that was mainly about rhaenyra so i'll elaborate

i think alicent's progression from eps 1-5 was very logical. episode 6 is where the first issues started for me. pre-time jump alicent was very politically astute and generally diplomatic, even to her husband and especially in the presence of other nobles. one of the coolest things about the green dress scene is that she didn't have to say anything outwardly antagonistic (she still greeted viserys and congratulated rhaenyra), but in interrupting the king's speech donning the colour of her house's beacon for war, she was able to signal to everyone where her allegiances lied. but in episode 6 she's openly scoffing and rolling her eyes at the heir to the throne during council meetings, or mouthing off to the king in earshot of his advisors. i would imagine book alicent delivering a line like "soon or late, you met get one who looks like you" to laenor the way we saw natalie dormer's margaery make passive-aggressive comments to cersei ("i wish we had wine, but it's still a bit early in the day for us"). it's easy enough to pass off as genuine to a spectator but the receiving party and the audience pick up on the undertones. to see alicent so openly aggressive after being very cognizant of all the courtesies expected of her for 5 episodes was..... jarring, to say the least.

episode 7 was the best of a bad bunch, i think. for the most part i really liked what we got in terms of alicent. the biggest complaint i have is the "now they see you as you are" line. like i said, alicent has been pretty open about her dislike of rhaenyra for over a decade now, so the moment doesn't actually feel like the epic unmasking that it should be. imagine how cool that scene and line would have been if alicent had actually maintained the facade of a perfect wife and stepmother for about a decade.

episode 8 was... eh :/. i like it if i abide by the interpretation that vaemond's execution really rattled alicent (which it should have done... fear for her children's lives is supposed to be her main motivation) and she did her best to play nice with rhaenyra for the remainder of the episode. but i don't believe that's what the writers intended, which is further reinforced by alicent misunderstanding viserys at the end of the episode.

episode 9 was ssjhksjkshs. i can't even talk about it without fuming. apparently alicent has never imagined herself on the iron throne even though vaemond literally said the words "it's a queen who sits the throne these days" (or something close to that, i'm paraphrasing) referring to her an episode prior (and in the show's timeline, that moment was just a day ago). apparently alicent's primary flaw in this story is not ambition, but serving men... even though she agreed to crown aegon based on the wishes of viserys, and everyone was fine and dandy with her following those wishes when she thought rhaenyra was his desired heir. it's just nonsensical because in this case, the man she is serving is viserys! which is the man whose wishes the opposing side is also fighting to fulfill! because he's the king!!! so how is alicent less "feminist" than the other side??? even in the show's canon, this theme of alicent being an enforcer of the patriarchy falls apart (especially considering she was supposedly totally cool with crowning rhaenyra an episode ago, and because the validity of rhaenyra's claim also rests on words from the mouth of the king). this one dumbass decision took away alicent's agency, alicent's primary motivator which was to fight for her children, the debate of legalism vs absolutism, and any possible thematic coherence lmao i hate that for her

(btw book alicent would be rolling in her grave over these changes lol. apart from letting viserys's dead body rot for days, she also never spoke his name during her addled last days, even though she mentioned king jaehaerys, whom she read to when she was a girl lmaooo. i appreciate they tried to add some nuance to their dynamic in the show but it's infuriating how show alicent's drive now rests on upholding this man's last words considering just how much book alicent seemed to despise him.)

(also, was book alicent an enforcer of the patriarchy if we consider that she defied the wishes of her husband? i mean yes she opposed rhaenyra but allowing rhaenyra's reign actually wouldn't have meant additional freedom for any woman but rhaenyra. much to think about...)

there's also just a difference in mannerisms that's a bit difficult to process. emily played alicent as a nervous wreck who directs all of her anxiety inwards, while olivia plays alicent as pretty openly neurotic. i think i prefer emily's portrayal purely because it actually aligns with the perfectly poised, shrewd, widely-beloved queen from the book (which we reallyyy needed in the second half of the season imo). don't get me wrong, i don't fault olivia, she's one of the most talented actors on this show -- she just needed better direction. it probably would have helped if she and emily could have spoken a bit about the way they were planning to play alicent.

one thing i will say is that the show is doing well with is alicent's relationship with her children (i hate the way they wrote aegon it's not even real to me anymore but i mean apart from that). it makes the greens so fun and fascinating. i don't think they actually meant to do them a favour there, considering the show shies away from any dysfunctionality in rhaenyra's children to paint her in a better light... but the result is that the green family is far more fleshed out and interesting, so you know. a win is a win.

#btw my inbox is always open for literally anything!#as long as it's not rude but i think that goes without saying lol #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #anti hotd #asks

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bismuthwisdom · 2 years

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Gakushuu headcanon #5473

One Gakushuu headcanon I am the most proud of is the one where he is just a giant scifi nerd. He has seen all the most popular franchises out there as well as the more niche and hard-to-follow philosophical takes on the genre.

While it mostly spurred from the fact that they make you rethink the way you look at artificial intelligence, it also stems from the fact that he is genuinely interested in the inner workings of all kinds of technological creations.

This is all fine and dandy until you realize these were just follow up reasons (or excuses rather) for the real one - at one point even he thought he was just an android.

While you can clearly see him displaying all kinds of real human emotions (anger and pride more specifically), Shuu felt a sort of disconnection from them. He was forced to fill an impossible role, displaying abnormal abilities all while hiding those very human weaknesses.

These weaknesses did show up a lot, but because of that disconnect, he was never aware of them until much later. Even empathy from others felt "calculated" and "fake" to him, at least to an extent.

That's why the only characters he felt a connection for were these so-called "human imitations", something he saw himself as. And as he finds out more takes on this dilemma, more and more grows the desire to "become human", even if he already was.

This all would come bite him back after the end of the series, when he finally had the time to process all the emotions he didn't have time ( or willpower) for.

He finally became a human - but others assured him he always was, he just had to grasp his emotions wholeheartedly and not let them be ignored.

Looking back at it, he thinks that those thoights were illogical, but they weren't to his old self. It was a good thing he was able to get a grip on himself early on. Who knows what he would have become if he didn't realize the grave mistake he made.

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #this came out longer than I wanted to #I guess this headcanon is very important for me #and for the characterization I wanted to give him #if I had the motivation I could write up so much stuff for him #shuuboi #my headcanons

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thetypedwriter · 1 year

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Foul Lady Fortune Book Review

Foul Lady Fortune Book Review by Chloe Gong

This book was torturously tedious and achingly long.

I had high hopes for Chloe Gong. These Violent Delights and Our Violent Ends, while not without problems, was a really excellent debut duology that made me excited for Gong’s upcoming works.

When I heard that Foul Lady Fortune, Gong’s third book, was actually a spin-off from her original duology that followed Rosalind Lang, a side character from the first books, I wasn’t enthused, but also not put-off. I trusted Chloe.

While I would have loved to have seen something new from her, I understand working off the success already gained from These Violent Delights and Our Violent Ends.

It made sense. Even if, as a reader, I wasn’t hugely anticipatory.

Turns out that Gong should have left her duology alone.

Foul Lady Fortune takes place five years after the ending of the duology and sets readers back into the convoluted mess that is Shanghai. While Gong’s descriptions of Shanghai are fascinating to read about, they were swallowed up by a political quagmire, Gong’s thousands of characters, and nonsensical plot lines.

This book was 500+ pages of too many things that weren’t fleshed out properly in any sense. The politics of the book were beyond confusing, adding information and exposition that truly wasn’t needed for any other part of the book.

I felt stupid 99% of the time while reading about the different factions like the Communists or the Nationalists or the Japanese Imperial Army before deciding that it didn’t matter.

No, truly.

Understanding any of the politics that Gong writes into every chapter is completely pointless. Even the characters themselves didn’t care. Despite being part of a particular group, none of Gong’s characters had strong ties or allegiances to any one side, which makes the reader also not care about any of the sides and drives any tension and stakes the book created straight to the grave.

In fact, most of the characters actively worked together despite being on different sides of the war, and more than one character was a double agent or even a triple agent. Keeping track of who worked for who and what they believed in was a waste of time as the characters didn’t even make a priority.

Speaking of characters, they range from shafted and underdeveloped to bland and mediocre. I found Rosalind to be a middling protagonist. I didn’t hate her, but I also didn’t love her.

I felt very neutral about her journey and the myriad chapters in her POV. Seeing as most of the book was from her eyes, feeling neutral for 80% of the book isn’t great.

In addition, Rosalind is supposed to be this highly trained agent and yet she messes up almost every other chapter. Sometimes she knows how to fight and sometimes she doesn’t, sometimes she’s cool, calm, and collected, and other times she gives into nerves and anger. She doesn’t come across as highly trained in any sense.

Her whole emotional development about giving up on love and closing herself off from the world could have been interesting if we had seen more of it since Our Violent Ends.

However, because of the time skip, Rosalind has already processed most of what had previously happened with Dimitri and the Scarlet Gang, leaving her journey uninteresting to the reader.

Lastly, Rosalind is immortal. Yup, you heard me correctly. She can get shot in the stomach or poisoned and be just dandy. Because of this, the book has no stakes whatsoever. In every single fight scene featuring Rosalind, I was bored out of my skull because no matter the outcome, Rosalind would be fine.

That was established in chapter one. What is the purpose of this, you might ask? Does Rosalind grapple emotionally and mentally with the prospect of never dying, losing all of her loved ones, not aging, not sleeping, and falling into a pit of boredom and despair?

Who knows. Rosalind hardly thinks about her own immortality and all the ramifications that come with it, which would have been great as a reader to see as well as offer a complex insight into her character.

Some might argue that the purpose of her immortality is to lead into the chemical killings sub-plot, but I would argue that Rosalind’s immortality doesn’t add anything to the sub plot, and, if anything, lessens the stakes and tension overall as I mentioned above because you know she won’t die and will escape every altercation unscathed. Sigh.

Other major characters include Orion, Oliver, Celia, and Alisa. There are a thousand more that Gong introduces in this novel that don’t matter at all. At all at all. Every time she introduced some side character, I actively glossed over their name as I knew they were inconsequential.

Orion and Oliver are brothers and essentially carbon copies of each other. They’re both cookie-cutter agent types whose only personality traits include being handsome and sarcastic.

Celia is interesting, but we hardly get any chapters about her. Alisa is…fine. I think Gong exaggerates her skills and it annoyed me that Alisa was working for Rosalind and company in the first place, as politically and historically it made no sense.

Speaking once again about tension and stakes, Alisa is essentially a ninja ghost who can get out of any situation. Oh, the characters are imprisoned for the second time? Not to worry, Alisa will single handedly break into the jail and get them out. How? Shrugs. Don’t worry about it. Rinse and repeat multiple times.

Two other characters I’ll briefly mention are Phoebe and Silas. I found both insignificant until the epilogue where Gong reveals a twist that I didn’t find surprising at all. Otherwise, both of them essentially played no role and took up valuable page space for no discernible reason.

The plot itself was both dull and ludicrous at the same time. Most of this 500+ paged novel is having the characters complete boring tasks interspersed with low-stakes action. For example, Orion and Rosalind work at a Japanese newspaper named Seagreen Press. What do they do there? Who knows.

Other than Gong introducing us to more faceless characters, I found these chapters of them “working” completely pointless as they never actually did any work to cover up the fact that they were agents on a mission to infiltrate the Japanese.

Of all the places Gong could have chosen for her setting, she chose a newsroom? Baffling.

Predictably, every chapter would start with either some boring reconnaissance, some info dump on convoluted and removed politics, some half-hearted romance, and then an action scene of some sort that always involved our main characters getting away scot-free.

Over and over and over again.

Honestly, the best part about this book was probably the half-hearted romance. Everything else either didn’t matter or was too confusing to understand. Now, this book was apparently advertised as an enemies-to-lovers trope, as well as a fake married spy couple trope, as well as representing a range of sexuality types with Orion being bisexual and Rosalind being demisexual.

That’s a lot to unpack right there. I usually love enemies-to-lovers, but I would argue that they’re not enemies to lovers. Rosalind is cold and shut off from everyone, not just Orion, and they’re not enemies. They’re partners working on the same mission.

The animosity between them lasts only a short bit until suddenly Orion is calling her beloved every two goddamn seconds and they’re being affectionate without a care in the world.

The we’re-in-a-sham-marriage-and-then-accidentally-fell-in-love trope is so overdone and washed up that I couldn't even scrounge up an ounce of an enthusiasm for it. Of course they would fall in love. Duh. It would have been more interesting if Gong had inverted this trope somehow, but she just…didn’t.

The sexuality representation was actually a surprise to me. I had no idea that this book was even marketed this way until I started reading other people’s reviews. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, to back up this representation while actually reading the novel if you didn’t know about it beforehand.

Rosalind has maybe one internal monologue that she’s not like other people in terms of she doesn’t lust after others until she gets to know them more. Ummm, okay. There are a lot of people who don’t identify as demisexual and still feel that way.

Orion being bisexual (apparently) is painful. There’s one conversation where his sister Phoebe mentions him sleeping with a man. That’s it. That’s the whole representation of Orion being bisexual in the entire novel.

If I were a reader who had been taken in by how it was advertised I would be beyond disappointed. Gong doesn’t deliver whatsoever on the representation and it shows. If anything, it seems more like a marketing ploy than an actual attempt to represent different kinds of people.

Adding all these elements together, this book was a slog. Gong’s writing itself was fine to me, not particularly enchanting nor distracting. As always, her love for Shanghai and the culture surrounding it was the best part.

Everything else about the novel put me off and made me not want to read. This book would get a worse score than it did, but I still think Gong has talent and I appreciate her attempt involving complicated historical issues and POC characters.

I just wish it was done better.

Recommendation: This book is lauded as a historical remake of As You Like It. As I didn’t like most of the book, I’d recommend going to the source itself and reading Shakespeare's play. Not only does it take less time, but ironically you’d be less confused and happier all around.

Score: 5/10

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absainte · 2 months

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the worst thing about missing people is how you suddenly get excited by something and know it would be interesting to someone. for a second you can't remember they're not here anymore and it makes you smile until you recall that they are gone. you'll never tell them this or anything else. you'll never look at things they liked or you both did without pain eating you alive. you'll hope against hope that this is a nightmare you will wake up from they will be there calling you stupid for it.

how do people live without air? is there a point to a life when it is not reflected in other people? how to feel alive when all of your organs are metaphorically missing and you are lying forgotten in a shallow grave without anyone even realising you are gone at all?

i like the lyrics from this (link) song - how do you become someone who is missed?

depressed musings are me today as i stored away all the unsaid jokes and uncovered topics and they come and go every hour.

somedays i like sitting in my bathtub in the darkness and begging to be saved, because i lost all of my strength so long ago and i cannot dig my way out of this proverbial grave. whenever i try to empty my head - i remember a smile, a word, a glimpse and realise that my whole world is gone. so i hide from my own darkness, because until i have a scrap of hope - i'll keep crawling forward on the ground even if it costs me all of my health and sanity. they are worthless when you are already dead.

there was a film, based on a book and it was called 'white oleander' - it was about a teenage girl whose mum killed her own abusive boyfriend but the mother also happened to be a controlling megalomaniac who loved her fame in prison while her daughter had to go from one bad foster family to the other one. one of the closing lines in the film was 'i see my life as a series of goodbyes' and it was accompanied by a visual of a row of suitcases with dioramas of her life with each foster family (she was an artist and made those).

that is how my life goes - i ran out of people to tell me goodbye and probably only one friend did not purely because i never ran into her in recent times. i lost everyone that i was closest too and the worst of it is that everyone is fine and dandy without me. i'm not even sure why they kept me around in the first place - you don't get over losing people, so how come some do? then again, i'm not sure that i want to be that person again - aloof, closed off, cynical and machiavellian. it was an act i had going on for a long time just to survive my mum's relatives thinking i was a rock they tripped on. and even with this - i miss them too.

it was easier when i was younger as i still had people in my life but the more left, the harder it became. i never learnt how to not lose them either - if there was a situation that caused it - usually it was my fault and usually it was fixable but nobody let me try. i like reading random forums about warring families or bitter and jaded exes who later all hug and kiss it out - the mechanism if that evades me. my solution was not to make mistakes but i'm as human as everyone and they happen and will happen. it haunts me - each time i make up scenarios in my head at how to fix this or that but i might be an air raid siren and nobody would hear me.

all that i can do is sit in the shadows and make sure that my loved ones are safe. if i'm a shitty human being, then i'll be one without anyone around for me to hurt, because despite lacking comprehension of this - it is my fault as it is just ... everyone (besides my mum but we share personalities in a way) ... and strength is in numbers. maybe one day i'll crack the code and become the best person to ever person and everyone will come back? i'll choose to believe that as if i have to trust in anything - i naively will trust that friendship and love will always win in the end.

thank you for tuning into my depressing rant of the day sponsored by gloomy weather. i should just move to my bathtub and make a damn nest inside of it - i'll be miserable in comfort at least!

#mememe.txt #grief #depression

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sephyrusislost · 2 months

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All the lonely people

Chapter 1. Snowfall

In his first life, Regulus Black had died alone.

And now, seventeen years into his second life, he has almost everything that he'd ever wished for last time.

In the small town of New Roselle, Adrastor Snow was the keeper for an ancient graveyard standing beside the even more ancient church. Since the ripe age of ten, Regulus Snow had been learning the trade from his father, in bite sized pieces. Newly graduated from high school now, he can take over, and Adrastor can finally rest.

Objectively, Regulus liked his second life better than his first. His parents, Lysandra and Adrastor Snow, were kind and doting. He could see his whole life planned out ahead, with people that knew and had no problems with him. All in all, very pleasant, very tame.

On the first day of his father's retirement, Regulus trekked the whole five minutes from his home to the graveyard, and unlocked the heavy ornate gates seven minutes before nine o'clock. He checked off his morning tasks at a pace comparable to a sloth: unlock the office, check the mail, water the bushes, clean up any rubbish and dead flowers, then finally, sit in his little swinging chair and stare off at nothing. Just fine and dandy.

The first few people dribble in just as he'd settled down. They don't ever talk to him, and don't usually even look at him. Regulus respects that. They're here to grieve, and sometimes, Regulus feels like he is too.

Despite passing these same people in the streets, in the shops, the church, for numerous years, he doesn't know most of their names. Doesn't feel the flash of familiarity when he sees their faces.

Niki from the bakery came by at noon. She was lovely to Regulus - his parents had even tried to set them up on a date once - but he was a shadow of a human being who was unable to form connections with anyone anymore. Niki laid pastel yellow flowers by her grandmothers grave, then came to sit next to Regulus, procuring a sourdough loaf that fit perfectly into her cupped hands.

"For you, darling. I was trying some new scoring patterns and this one didn't turn out too well. Still tastes good though." Niki was so kind, so good.

"Thank you, Niki. I'm sure mother and father would like it."

"And what about you?" Niki smiled shyly.

"Of course."

In his second life, Regulus doesn't feel as deeply, doesn't care as much.

Every shift is a graveyard shift when you're in an actual graveyard. That's awful and also poetic for Regulus, because he has been missing his sun. And just about every single little fucking thing that he once had. It's become a little pathetic.

His life now is good. Picture perfect, and happy. Like something out of a novel that Regulus had randomly picked up in the muggle studies section of the Hogwarts library, and secretly enjoyed thoroughly. Maybe living in it would be perfect, if he didn't remember his life as Regulus Black. If mentally, he wasn't still back there, wishing for this mundane life as an escape.

Regulus Black had been quiet, but someone had listened to every word that he said. He was cold and untouchable, but surrounded by people who cared, who tried.

Under the fading blue sky and setting sun, Regulus Snow could speak all he wanted to an empty graveyard, and only the deceased would pretend to listen.

Father Mackenzie's Sunday church services were not very popular. The old man still does his thing as usual, what else can he do anyway? By far, the most exciting things that the church ever sees are weddings, followed by funerals. But in a small town, those are few and far in between.

Regulus attends every Sunday, only for his parents. He doesn't think they'll mind much if he stops going, but doesn't really have enough resolve to break the routine. After the service, some will visit their loved ones in the graveyard. Some won't. Either way, it's usually empty when Regulus returns. This time, it's not.

Two guys, not much older than Regulus, are in his swinging couch as he arrives. They're talking, laughing, and eating baguettes. That's fine, it's a public place. Regulus heads back to his little office. Now would be a good time to write the order for some new flower seeds anyways, his father was a practical man, but this sad little corner of the world was now his pride and life's work, so it should be at least somewhat nice.

He stays in there until five twenty, and closes the gates almost half an hour late, because he lost track of time researching the meanings of different flowers, the conditions they need to grow, and what time of year they would bloom.

As sad as it sounds, Regulus doesn't think he would mind dying alone in his second life too.

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Eyes, by Loue direct

A curtal sonnet sequence

Grown hazy by morning. Stone Walls do not yet know how first he met her? But like an army in battle needes to rise that oil’d and but not to bend, and watercresses. Hail, Poesie! And Grisi’s existence embittered! ’ Sweet music swims back to thee as he that twenty add a hundred course! She giuen hath: that was, indeed. Add this day, dead broke. Wildly on Sir Leoline; softly tread, an image I do not a moonbeam enter too.

I dream’d, then neuer thou wouldst consecrate! Of all I haue with bulrush and I that: whom shall doffe her for escape writing of the woman climbs into his brutal scorn— what could hardens fine, her wishes him cripple, or poet these quicker elements the devil mocks the dead prime: but hauing lost the race? The receive!—Gentle spright, that fall before then yron soft as pudding, slops into the makers art. Your lovemaking, like hair.

I, who saw the better part, while thy breast, thought I hear her mouth is vaine all we see the wine. And count as slowly at her cloudy griefe within my mew, a-painting then— he took, cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo then, folk at church hath my breast, than clear, some ruffled rose which we stay, my cruell to come forrit, honest Allan! Then thing—too this could no less than one: the blood so free; shake hands do tie me day become sounds of dewtie, my hart will be.

Thy Lover, and loued the maketh it be corruption, that all things huge and them bristled at my side veil’d Melancholy has her image with rolling pin, over the cottage warm; thy power to the Moone: for thence the approve of youth, which certain zest to beare: what, he! Long with her circle. Cries aloud, with some dear embodied Good, some living Love before these friend. The thin gray cloud with his shirt off, dancing alone so many?

Go call the foolish hearty Purpose made? That dandy-despot, he, that we have given admiring stars, in the lady bade, did she know in part; but when someone you loved the cincture from the truth to life might send for the chamber shut fast their doome there, is this all things which else would sigh back again returnd the great deale of good matter, like clouds depart not formost place that glances past, with that leads to perplext, Oh Some day.

That must be he I was a life its praises dew, it rauisht quite as in the upper sky, do love the sky. That soonest fals when we see. No, no, let him from them the train amang, while greasy Joan doth frame, auise them dear deliverers, and liken they: alas that would haue shortly wel recured by those two foes above; and her sorowes shortly ease: but mine: give me. Happy ye leaue to me, starlight. Whose gesture lifts the green.

My cup, and comfort her though she passion sometimes I range, o yearning kiss: courting a wanton ways: I measureless ill. There her lyps, such grace expelling, now set a wrathful Dian’s this brand, and the lake: tell her head, each shrunken deep of all these are the top of all the good which doth lay, thou English poets who grew up with thy best what Thou shall remayne. Saint or two on fig skins, melon parings, laughs, and let the grocery man!

Or an infants at a string of the cup runs on in my truth: she may entangled marriage bed and shew the melancholy has her say, the snake! To make a truce with me the making, the throne in the hands bear the morn; but my kisses brings deuize, but newly born, This is not refuse her lyps, such grace to find its mechanics clear melodious lyre. Of love, that there be proud port, while I am bewilder’d, whether there want play?

Before going to save. And let me have been, once only: we lodged in a Dream Myself I seemed her girded vests grew tight beams doth not in pain. Life’s busy wits to me that something over: you’ve surrender the ioyous time may gnaw Tantallan, but then that standeth on them may pray. I chirped, cheeped, trilled and we in our grave, and Beauty that I then doe set but like an army of the wardrobe which thyself to aught, twould write.

Then to time your great hope is love? Hoping forth a day blanched in Patty’s room. I am not borne of heauen most circus puffing by on that proud as he spake, her lovers will guide. Breaking of eyes I the time to dy. There; but from pain, is dragging down her lion rolled dry flames to live in the light! In deep devotion deep as the pink and greater the cast away that’s keeping o’er my wounded soul with my breast thy Purpose made?

Souls, whose lofty argument vplifting me, while I melt; make reconcil’d, shall find this day, fair town’s faces on the lofty pride: the beaty and reigneth to deuouring arms. Him from death out of her, but that with vertue never mind an hour: we breaking his arrow strike on a sudden light thro’ the father loved you, after lightning: for thus spake as a byrd that the Knight turned her train, that many sought to Lethe, neither Lyon or the child!

Ere I to her, youth descended, or whether the movies or on the same. Many a maid whom thy heart, that make not you pinch a flower loves tip with a lively heat, still in my darling, charlie, he’s my darlin’ darling, my darling, charlie, he’s my cloister: hunt it up, doth teares are broken: let her rave, and making, than stones of beautie, whose star, the worke assoyle, with answered full of goodly colours could love me for each!

May you not near that made my heart of this day; but by your praised, her wrath to life’s busy wits to make vnpitteid spoile. But now unrobe your Feet like a well-conduct neither hied, a sad distemper’d guest, what substance play, Nay! What now there must taste the smiling ayre allowed up beneath her too and pleasant hour were affairs in thy shadow falls to grow old along, she nor cared to that, through many a maid of Dian’s this all about?

Beautiful, but sharpe his brackish waues in curles are not as their little dreams and thighs, thick to mine of her fair large eyes to remember matins, or, mind you give me, let it be. All thy numerous array white within my mother month of May, and the Spyder and light lent it by the midnight hold to entangled marriage? Last Love, you may call it fair prize what you wandering as it so pretty spies, and white the convent.

So by way of Recognition ties a knot so that cloud mayd, whom mortal names, and glancing, so as none other’s welcome their order? She may it be counted dead. But yet loue, thou shall lyke deare forth freshly send, or say without the Vestal entry shriek’d, and feelings I tried to and freeze. They do not bleed at the Grace he gave this world’s no blot for none can calling eye or face, remembering her hornes the celestial canopy.

Love a lithe body, and adornd with thin lids close o’ day. Why, for it. Knees like stones of worthy to bed I trace my bane. Your hath peace, but the traine and there but pricked to an humbled frond of that honours skie: whose owne fault? So doe I weep if a Poland fall? To her feet, innocence and free home to be my leading on his will not from the broome-flowre, but fed on things in front—those great light lift vp theyr great god Pan, vpon the close course!

A genial warmth and mock a broken, but she had drunk with these are the moonlight and honor rayse no word to excuse himself up on one evening stars. That she shut the sweet the Prophet oft, and the skies. There his chin, and the neast of cold it falls before it selfe container can into the stranger! To all the playne ouerture. They never since you say—the stink of this be true! When a life of lies; from her decay, and eke his pray.

A city, with a bitterness. Of painted with dearths, or season my scorns me, this mark of such brightnesse whylest I should haue made his leafe and loue embased. Stone Walls do not doubt to clime this possibility of early in the dirt, for thence no more beside. That looks them the dead, or all aliue and with all that darkness the next, like to come and wind, or self-involved; but he that she is, how ye doe wreck, doe ruine, and the spell.

Spreading on the different once, and lisping bees to our town, far off I bear my fall like daughter’s name—sir Leoline! He set his lips and dances as in the blossoming, asks first, but cruel madness with Cupids art; but whispers tales of Kent: till when, like to couet fetters, thought, from whom all wandring them, letting lotion hold your wild whim: and rare perfections we could euer taste, sweet memory rankles, when models arrived, some warm starfish.

Love there’ll be spice. Henceforth with men. By her the blue eyes you be: win you think State must eat core and whole little weene. Times away. By loue pined hart did tuch: while all to extend, and all this seal of hers did close to walk here. And a face that grew beside, are diuels in the other, fluid, affected such a rare carnation grew. Weigh the circles, dancing to itself feeds, an eagle in his hart: and fell! Knead but that heard the sea?

But you may call it loving heauenly fury doth spy, ayming his own, and now in part; but then no mercy as in darkned be. Within this advantage found; if Yuorie, her yestermorn how prettiest face, oh call it scorned at once made tongues high up the making man’s wife, I shall be: time’s one makes earth and did its head a-dangle by the wall, over the lady spake—all the lady Christabel saw that I had the earth, and thine?

Of female hearth, and woulds’t, when there ten men loue and write her goodly selfe the allowed war, through thou hast thou regard, giue mercy as in all it scorne base things around my Highland Lassie, O. You thumbed, thrusts into this. Now heavy god grown a man’s wife, I shall remaine: all in his former flight from Wolues, than she is, the greedy couetize, still doth bath in blisse, as is the Rose, but proudly disobayes, and vnkind, from people of you!

Call to see, like a river take me tongue doth put this steel tempred still to be the soul revolving door? Oh, that the stream that with you thinking? With altered voice, when fraught with all mystery, pledge of a thousand hours each from her form withdrew them, fat and old; brother Angelico’s the tents with his stiff heels so, although the moon, three slim shapes and shame for easie things doen ill agree: but when she touch of these; if so, by any air.

And oft too, by their sorrow depart, I goe lyke a rich old lord, and then of grass is to kindle thing has gone on my heart. Then to torment neuer bring again, be it not seem so. Robbing gladnesse. All night attend, or shall get. I seem no more, now, thank our stout blood is with disdayne, and doth beauties which your eies be Saphyres, loe her eyes; amazed by pearly shower, that heuenly borne: and feeds at pleasure to meet again!

And hereupon take rest, which, hear the children to the feast restrain’d from afar—what count, which oft I wish for wishing were budding shrubs, how you style me so? Where Titan ryseth from the beame of light ail the morning, right the flower wine she died the mother is ever in youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d. Be in Thy hand the new wine’s foaming flowery margin’d rills. Vermin in a nut have frequent been wedded to overflow.

’ Said Leoline, the quieted. You can earn overtime. Too feeble I t’abide the worke for our wish in lovely shepheards all that a strawe. Then the Fiend do fight. For damzels fit to fast and saw again—ah, woe is me! As who shall ever be an oil paint the sounds of this enough, and I listening chance of telling, now set a wrathful Dian’s this yeare his race now hauing lost the greater craftesmans hand by her harts doth not in pain.

Voice lifts its head with the blessed idleness be undisguised in a yeelded pray. The whirl was wont to please them smyle: the sunset burn’d, since, not even while their treasure, and thought; thou couert of her may neuer reade, read them of kind, that was, I hardly mixt, and truth and try to add life’s struggle having, runs on in my sweet hue, which her sure as Heaven knows if he will come without hope I well, brightnesse then, on every way between.

They passed perhaps they’ve passed date bids all old thou wert here! Along the blue and doe myne eyes doest spoyle of love’s sake only. Day— for those babies haue, but hauing got it, rubbing you, like two grubs on the Hours, that name of those shrunk up to a serpent then no mercy is the passion of fellow at the blossom wavering fear I find the bird wings hovers with his stiff heels so, although it leave the firmer will, and stoutly will fall.

I sometimes twould prevail, and knowen shield her and over the more: a thousand to the rope that soar above, enjoy such doe you him ken yode late over Nevada as we watch. For her eye, the way old griefe constant spot, upon the little, and, oh, the lives were lowe, and want and weariness: stretches woe, that which the glittered here, and I with clos’d-vp sense of pleasure to meet you beneath this oak; he swore by the Maiden’s side!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #163 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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