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acupofqueercoffee · 2 years

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“Save me once and I’ll save you forever”

Part #3 “A wolf has no mercy”

cw : nsfw // vaginal fingering // a teeny tiny bit of gore because our warlord talks about war

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/39277077/chapters/102225399#main

well it’s been a month eh. yet, i still haven’t gotten the chance to write down all of my ideas. i have some fluff, more drama and angst up my sleeve but they’re all still in my head. the problem with me is that i’m more of a daydreamer than an avid writer. so i have bags and bags of ideas yet no real work to post :3 and oh, i’m also open for suggestions btw so if u’d like to see a particular scene or whatever, feel free to shoot it my way! no idea when i’ll post next tho xD

ps — perhaps in another universe, i do think our dearest warlord would be a majestically adorable tibeten mastiff

(づ ๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵) づ @htmlbitxh

Cold. Calculating. Callous.

In her life as a warlord, Ambessa Medarda has been a host of many terms, from a ferocious beast to an unfeeling monster. Her mastery in war and thirst for blood on the battlefield bring about her reputation as a ruthless warlord, for her blade knows no bounds. Man, woman, or child, enemy or ally; it will strike anything and everything that she deems an obstacle in her way to victory.

The war as she knows it; there are no foes nor friends, only the hunter and the hunted. A predator’s natural instinct is to hunt its preys. It is hardwired in its very base instinct to devour the weak.

The warlord has seen many a sight and survived many a situation to be easily deceived by some foolish theatrics. Tears. Curses. They do not move her. Nor do they perturb her. Far from it in fact. She finds it amusing the way men can turn 180 degrees in the span of a split second. Desperation has always had that compelling effect on people: forcing out one's true colours. She has watched people grovel at her feet, and then when a few well-woven words do not manage to get their wishes easily fulfilled, their facades fall, switching instead to crude, unsavoury words. She has listened to them swearing, screaming bloody murder at her just seconds before her blade cuts through their throats.

Rumors have it that Ambessa Medarda does not have a heart, and in those rumors, she believes.

Compassion and sympathy, the likes of such trivial emotions are the roots of all downfalls. If excelling at her duty makes her a monster, then a monster she will willingly become.

Comfortably asleep and nestled snugly in the claws of such carnivorous predator is a small bundle of warmth, a delicious little morsel confined in the cage of strong, unyielding arms.

Adorable. Affectionate. Cute.

Never in her life have the idea of someone linking her name with such silly words crossed her mind, but she will most likely find it laughable, the warlord thinks, and perhaps heavily insulting if anyone dares compare her to something as absurd as a puppy.

“My lady is like a giant puppy.”

It is not entirely surprising however that she finds the comment endearing instead, when the warm, beautiful voice that has softly caressed her ears belong to her charming little rabbit.

A drop of sunshine in a frozen wasteland.

She has laughed from her position between your legs. Arms draped over your thighs and fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your calfs. The silky smoothness of your delicate flesh yields beneath her weight as she settles herself further into your arms.

“Oh?”

There is a halt in those digits dancing gracefully along the hard plane of her shoulder when the delightful little flutter on the side of your neck is sucked into her mouth.

“Are you implying that I am a dog, little shepherd?”

“Having discovered that you behave like a rather affectionate puppy at times, I am simply stating, my lady, that I find you adorable. It’s really cute.”

She feels your delicate fingers on her face next, cradling sharp jaws in the palms of gentle hands. The pair of lips that stamp a kiss onto her temple is warm, achingly soft.

Once your finger follows a wayward strand of hair into a jungle of healthy curls, you observe the calm sea of grey disappears behind peachy eyelids. Slipping through your digits like expensive silk is your lady’s magnificent mane, for not only is she blessed by thick strands, they are equally as luscious.

You revel in having your fingers buried in softness. You would imagine it is how it feels to dip your fingers into a sea of clouds. So incredibly fluffy. Likewise, if the way your lady rubs her cheek subtly against your jaw is any indication, she appears to be relishing the languid moment. It only proves your point further that not everything is as it seems.

The version of your lady that is built upon hearsay may not entirely be correct, but you believe most of it to be true because not only have you beheld the warlord draws her sword, you have also been at the receiving end of it. At the same time, you have also tasted the forbidden fruit that is your lady’s nurturing side, not once but may a time, to foolishly come to the conclusion that she is incapable of emotions.

You have experienced it first-hand after all that even the formidable warlord can be dizzyingly soft if she so chooses to. By indulging you and keeping you close to her, your lady has granted you a key to the more arcane parts of the beautiful enigma that is Ambessa Medarda, and you are all too intent on solving her.

As your fingers swim through her strands, those vermillion lips spill forth a content sound, soft, soothing, and somewhat akin to a purr.

A warm smile touches your lips.

“You are very cute, my lady.”

If it has been anyone else’s mouth that has allowed the escape of such words, the warlord thinks, no she knows that it certainly would have rubbed her up the wrong way, but when it has been uttered by the sweet, delicate buds that are your lips, she is inclined to lock them in hers.

And so, she has kissed them swollen, sucked them rosy.

What lingers on your body now are beautiful hues of red and blue, a mosaic of the warlord’s ravenous desire.

Displayed copiously on no other than your flesh is her mastery, a beautiful canvas made more vibrantly charming with her excellent art. She admires the remnants of herself on your naked frame, eyes tracing a constellation of hickeys to the next while fingertips glide from one lilac bloom to another.

A miscellany of raspberry reds and plum purples that are positively reminiscent of nebulous stars scattered across the night sky. Similar to how every constellation comes with a fable, behind each vibrant cluster of colours is an echo of her touch.

An arm across your chest and a hand cupping your sex, the warlord has suckled the skin of your neck, teeth nibbling flesh and tongue savouring salt, as her fingers breach into your tight walls.

Pretty pink dusts your cheeks.

You have shyly confessed to her then that never have you housed anything inside you save her tongue. She feels a warm, painful squeeze inside her chest, along with regret and relief. Regret for all but abandoning you eight years ago. Relief for knowing that at the very least, she has discovered you on time that fateful night.

She holds you a little bit tighter.

There has been no doubt in the warlord’s mind that she possesses a greater stature than an average civilian, not to mention dainty little you, who have always been smaller than her, and whose size has only dwindled during your captivity in that godforsaken palace.

One of your thighs does not even amount to one of her arms. If her tongue has filled you to capacity, compared to the thick muscle, her hands have been on an entirely different calibre.

Those digits, long and ample in size, dexterous and meticulous in their movements, have stretched you to the point of painful agony. You whimper as soon as they are nestled snugly inside your folds, lithe fingers digging into your lady’s arm while fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“Ah h-hurts my lady. It hurts.”

“Shh I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you.”

Generously kind and unfailingly considerate, your lady has done her best to sway your attention by peppering sweet kisses along the length of your jaw. She noses your throat, sings sweet praises against your skin.

You are tight. So. Exquisitely. Tight.

It, however, does not deter her fingers from travelling deeper into the welcoming heat of your folds.

Wrapped up in the wonderfully silky heat, her mind very nearly goes numb, forehead falling onto your shoulder with a groan when you continue to smother her in a hot, dizzying embrace.

“You’re going to be the death of me girl.” Through gritted teeth, she coos breathlessly against your warm skin, kisses the soft baby hair coiling at the nape of your neck.

“Ngh- P-please.”

“I know, darling. I know. You must be overwhelmed. But I promise, it will feel so good.”

“I will make you feel so good.”

After a gentle suckle on your throat, there follows a delicate brush of lips against your sanguine cheek. Then, she pecks you on your dewy lips. Soft. Sugary.

“Do you trust me, sweet girl?”

You turn liquid butter beneath her silky smooth lips. Meanwhile, the gentle cadence of her voice makes flowers thrive in your ribcage and butterflies erupt in your tummy.

“Can you be a good girl for me, hmm?”

Although words fail you, your answer to your lady is plain as day, further evident in the way you rub your cheek against her like an eager little kitten.

Fingers buried between your folds, the warlord has simply kept you anchored in her strong arms, all the while painting your neck red with kisses and bites. She continues her gentle assault on your tender flesh, until accompanied by dewdrops trickling down your thighs, you are no longer struggling to take her.

Once you have adjusted to the intrusion and a need for stimulation demand that you move, you squeeze your thighs together in a poor attempt to bring some frictions. It is no surprise to find the hand between your legs preventing you from doing so.

Your pleasure essentially lies in your lady’s hand. The notion is so positively spine-tingling that little shivery sensations erupt inside your overcrowded cunt. Succulent walls pulsates delightfully around ample fingers.

In the end, with your endeavour proven futile, you have let out a frustrated little whine to which your lady’s only response has been a deep, alluring chuckle. It is rich, warm, and rolls straight down to the digits inside your core.

Helplessly, you gaze up at the warlord, juicy lips parted a crack and eyes shimmering with dew. It earns you a growl in return.

Those damn eyes.

Big, beautiful and brilliantly riveting.

It is quite a silly thought really but she wishes she can drown in them forever.

“If you keep looking at me like that my dearest little rabbit, my sanity might just slip,” Lips once again nuzzles the nook of your neck, their caresses surprisingly soft in contrast to the iron grip she has on your cunt. “and when it happens, I cannot promise you that I will be able to keep the beast within me at bay any longer.” You can almost feel her fingers twitching in harmony with the haywire throbs of your folds.

“Let it loose then.”

The little noise that fall from your lips has been no louder than a gentle breeze, but she has heard it all the same.

The warlord is capable of many things.

But, saying no to you? That, she cannot do.

“Let it loose, my lady.” So, when you reaffirm your statement along with a soft caress of your lips against her cheek, “I want all of you.” it is all she needs to start pumping into you with wild abandon, exploring you all over again with her fine fingers, tracing each bump and filling every crevice.

The initial thrust skyward has been so sudden, so brisk that it punches a breath out of your lungs. While dainty fingers scramble to find purchase around a generous wrist, those thick fingers that are buried deep inside you has rubbed against that sweet, delicious spot in a dizzying caress.

In and out and out and in, they go, seamless and relentless, setting an unforgiving pace into your moist, silky walls. Long gone is the painful agony, replaced entirely by sweet, toe-curling suffering that sends waves after waves of electricity crackling inside your veins.

Exquisite. Heavenly.

It renders you delirious.

The mirror that is conveniently located at the foot of the bed has offered the warlord the perfect view of your debauched state. Her fiery gaze, blown wide with desire, has hungrily raked over your frame before coming to seek your eyes in the mirror.

She looks wild, untamed, and the open hunger in her eyes drives you to clench around her. Head buzzing, chest heaving, a breathless little “uh” dribbles out of your lips when, accompanied by a ferocious growl, she buries herself knuckles deep into your core.

It is one thing to be aware of the differences between the two of you, but entirely another to be presented with the very vivid comparison. Your delicate frame is all but eclipsed by her massive stature. Your fingers does not even come close to closing around one of her wrist.

A flesh and bone rendition of a docile little rabbit caught beneath a mighty wolf’s claws.

You are so much smaller than her, this she is already aware. But, the fact that it requires considerable force just for her to be cradled within your soft, delicate folds, the warlord feels as if she is witnessing the union of two different species who are not meant to couple.

Body so lithe, skin so soft, heart so pure.

Silk and sand. Sun and moon. Light and dark.

“Do you feel me?” She does a particularly sharp thrust. “Hmm do you feel me inside you?”

Your back arches into her body with a gasp, and as your head falls back onto her chest, simultaneously baring your throat, her teeth close around the little fluttering pulse. Around her copious digits, your walls squeeze and spasm, which is already an acceptable answer to her question. Nonetheless, she is not satisfied because it is your voice that she craves.

Withdrawing her fingers until only the very tips are left buried between your swollen petals, “Answer me.” she whispers sharply into your ear before all but plunging deep into your core once more. It renders you breathless for only a moment before you manage a small squeak.

“Ngh- y-yes!”

“I can feel you inside me, Amby. S-so deep inside me.”

It has not been a lie. Not only is she nestled oh so deeply inside you, those long fingers are reaching into the entirely different part of your body. You can feel them at the entrance of your womb, kissing your cervix.

The warlord finds it absolutely adorable the way you hold her arm in your delicate little fingers as if your entire existence might just slip away if you dare let go. She will never let that happen. She promises you that.

And immediately, she keeps her words. Her steady arms have kept you glued to her body when your traitorous legs have all but crumpled beneath your trembling frame. Courtesy of her cruel ministrations, your limbs have been as steady as a leaf in the storm.

Her craving may have been fulfilled. She is yet to be satiated.

So, while her digits maintain their punishing pace inside you, the warlord has used your body to chase her own ecstasy, rubbing and grinding her powerful hips against yours. A litany of hot guttural groans and sweet praises are dropped directly into your ears, and you have eagerly greeted them with choked sobs and muffled whimpers.

Just the idea of the warlord using your body for her own pleasure has been enticing enough, but to have your fantasy actually become a reality, you feel as if your insides are being reduced to a gooey mess.

She feels so hot, so wet, so good.

“Lady Medarda- ngh so hot ah-”

Your scrumptious little mewl is rewarded with a sweet, sultry moan.

“Oh, my dear girl.”

It is soft, breathy, and the cause for your moist walls to clamp down hard onto her digits.

“Come with me.” When she whispers, her voice is thick, husky. “Come for me.”

Her fingers dance passionately inside your folds to the music that your lovely lips create as her palm grinds deliciously against that sweet bundle of nerves. Never one to deny your lady, you have gladly met her wishes. While juices copiously ooze out of your wreck of a hole, there is an explosion of silky heat on your hip, the warlord’s essence beginning as a gentle trickle, then running in rivulets down the side of your thigh.

Her nectar seeping into your skin.

You have been marked anew.

As thoroughly claimed as you are, exhaustion has left you to pass out in her arms shortly afterwards.

One arm twined around a dainty waist, you are now cradled close to her chest. Under her hand is the delicate, little hummingbird flutter of your heart, and the sweet swell of your breast.

Ambessa Medarda does not think she has a heart, but perhaps, the little rabbit who is currently cocooned in her embrace will one day fill in that hollow void.

And as she watches you sleepily turn in her arms, and tuck that adorable little face in the nook of her neck, something throbs painfully inside her chest.

“Mmm Amby.”

A gentle murmur. Soft lips press into her pulse. She feels pleasantly warm. The swift, staccato thumps against her ribcage remains consistent, becomes louder.

When a smile blooms on her lips, she drops it gently atop your head, whispers into your hair.

“You have already filled in that hollow void, haven’t you my darling little shepherd.”

#ambessa medarda x reader #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane x reader #arcane smut #fanfic #character x reader #arcane #anime #😼

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astralartefact · 2 months

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in another branch, on a less lonely moon... are nier reincarnation ocs even allowed?

yH ("Waiha") - Sentinel Surety Character Story

In another branch, on a less lonely moon... He is one of the 7 to 8 YoRHa models stationed at the moon base. Tasked to monitor, document and organize weapon stories he finds himself reading countless accounts of humanity's folly - much to the dismay of the easygoing Pod assigned to him who can't bring himself to scold him for taking far too much time.

Ashen Confidence - Light Staff Weapon Story

The Pod I work with behaves in weird ways. He keeps making references to a non-existent girlfriend - that I should hide her when he comes into the room. Why would he say that?

Working through archival data I understand it to be a customary greeting male authority figures use towards younger male relatives. For some reason they seemed to hold great pride in the relationships of their young.

I asked Pod who he thought my girlfriend was and he just replied he was joking and that I shouldn't take what he says so seriously. Another time I told him that I could just as well have a boyfriend but he ignored hearing me say that.

>>Analysis: The requested parts for Unit 16H's repair are once again missing from today's shipment. >>Hypothesis: He will likely find him before we can revive him. >>Proposal: I should write Logistics a strongly worded message.

xH ("Exha") - Sentinel Shepherd Character Story

In another branch, on a less lonely moon... She is one of the 7 to 8 YoRHa models stationed at the moon base. Beloved by all of her colleagues she tries her best to fill their days with smiles. Though nobody has ever seen her work the disorganized Pod assigned to her has yet to scold her for any sort of laziness. In her private quarters, away from the other androids, she harbors secrets.

Bebi

An experimental canine droid living in xH's room. His baby face makes him look very sweet, but he will stop at nothing to protect his Mama.

Ashen Alliance - Light 2H Sword Weapon Story

"She has brought over some cookies again." "I wonder how she has the time to bake for everybody. I can't even stop and eat between work units without Pod telling me off."

"Last month's report says she has the most work hours." "I don't believe it. I never see her work. If it wasn't for this Pod I would follow her around all day to know how she does it."

"She told someone off for trying to come into her room." "I tell you, she's hiding something in there. I'm pretty sure her room is bigger than ours, too. I bet she works with the Pods behind our backs."

>>Analysis: Deletion of Memory Data successful. I will bring these two to maintenance. >>Inquiry: Will you be okay, dearie? This is the 3rd time you are the reason they found out.

Notes

I called them Shepherd and Surety because of JESUS CHRIST (no but really, if the cage contains "humanity's sin" then 10H died for our sins - she IS the savior)

I gave them pieces of Hina and Yuzuki's Mechanical Outfits, yH has Hina's sleeves and xH has Yuzu's belts and cape

xH's is also to some degree inspired by the YoRHa Girls 1.1a uniforms

I started these before 10H came out, so that's one of the reasons they barely resemble her uniform

Their weapons are Ashen versions of the respective Virtuous/Cruel weapons. I wanted to call them after the things Papa and Dark Mama 'provided to' Hina and Yuzuki (Confidence // Community -> Alliance)

I haven't decided yet if: a) Bebi is Babe's true form and he can't talk irl (=the Babe in the cage is actually just a dog talking) or b) Bebi is Babe's corporeal form and the dog can talk (=his voice is really deep) both are equally as hilarious to me

Initially I wanted to give them all the costumes 10H gets, but then EoS happened and now... welp

I don't really have a hang of xH's hair yet, it doesn't really look like how I wanted it to look and it's even harder to figure it out while also trying to evoke an existing art style - but I will keep trying!!!

Rendering is so fcking hard. How do people do it. I start and my brain just stops thinking and just does whatever and what I'm left with is a mess. I hope you still like it because I kind of don't, but without it it looks even less like the reinkane style

#nier reincarnation #xhyh #oc #original character #rest assured that bebi will be in every single costume i end up drawing for xh #feels a little bit cringe to post this #but the best things in life are cringe #also please have mercy on my amateur writing

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krethes · 10 months

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Snippet Tag!

This is a sneak peek at Chapter 8 of Neon Moon. Writing this section was something I went back and forth on, because unlike most of what I write: I've introduced some characters that are directly from my life. See if you can guess who. (It's not hard.)

An enormous dog stood amid the grazing cattle, occasionally looking around but ignoring the horses and their humans. "Wait! Whose dog is that?" Sirius was pretty sure he'd never seen that one before. The ones he'd seen were small, sleek things: fast and agile. The dog there was big: tall and broad, with thick sable fur, a mane-like ruff, and a tail that curled over his back. "Oh him?" Remus smiled. "That's Carrot. He's one of ours. But he's a livestock guardian so he doesn't really do the house dog life like this pampered girl," he explained with a nod at Marea, still balanced comfortably on the rolled up blanket behind Az's saddle. "Guardian? What's he guarding against?" Mary asked, looking around for any apparent danger. "Bears?" "Well, yeah, actually." "Wait, what-" "Let him finish, Mary!" Lily chided. Remus just shrugged. "There are bears and mountain lions and cougars out here, plus some coyotes and there's been some wolf sightings lately. Haven't seen any myself and they're mainly up in Tahoe, but urban sprawl has 'em coming down this way more and more." Sirius looked back out at the dog, who finally looked at them, and when he locked eyes with Remus, he wagged his tail and slowly ambled up to their little band. "Can I pet him?" Remus laughed. "He's prob'ly gross as hell, but have at it. He doesn't do any tricks, though. When he's not havin' to make his own decisions out here, he gives all his braincells to his brother Vimes, who should be around here- ah. There he is." Sirius turned to Flo's squeal, where a slightly smaller dog the same color as Carrot was nosing around at her horse's side bag, where Sirius knew the oat cakes were kept. "Ay, gordo, basta ya!" Remus scolded. The other dog—Vimes—took several steps back, his ears splayed out to the side, and ambled away with one final longing look at the bag. "Sorry 'bout him. He's a fatass. …Affectionately, I guess." Remus rolled his eyes, but hopped off of Az to give both dogs a scratch behind the ears when they came back up to him. Vimes didn't seem to want anything to do with them now that treats were off the table, but Carrot's tail gave a slow, lazy wag as he submitted to Sirius's petting. His head was soft and a little droopy—from a copperhead snake bite, Remus said—and he was pretty manky, but Sirius wiped the dog grime off on his jeans in a very brave show of manliness.

Some context below the cut. C/W: pet loss

Carrot & Vimes were the first dogs my now-husband and I adopted as a couple together, back in 2013. We went in with the intention to adopt ONLY Carrot (then called Pecan) but when we saw him running around with his littermate Vimes (then called Mesquite), and ignoring their 4 sisters, we couldn't say no. It was a dumb idea because lol littermate syndrome and lol college schedules, but we loved the hell out of these dogs.

Before we'd gotten them, Carrot had been bitten TWICE by a copperhead in the face (didn't learn the first time I guess), they'd had sarcoptic mange, and had been skunked twice and put under two rabies quarantines. Carrot's face was always a little droopy.

He was my heart dog. Stupid as fuck, good god...not an intelligent thought in there, but he was a loving, protective, wall of a dog at 110 pounds and nearly 3 feet at the shoulder. A DNA test said they were Great Pyrenees, Newfoundland, White Swiss Shepherd, and a whole lotta "we dunno, mixed breed", and Carrot looked just like a Pyr who had been dipped in some German Shepherd paint.

He passed away last August, right around the time I was writing Chapter 1 of Neon Moon. He was nearly 10, so definitely a senior citizen for a giant breed, and I still miss the hell out of him. Vimes is still alive and kickin', diabetes and blindness be damned, lol.

In the photo, Carrot is on the left and his grumpy brother Vimes on the right.

It feels apt to say that those who love us never really leave us, and I hope that by sharing a little bit of this dog with y'all, he can continue to be remembered in the hearts of my readers.

#tag game #snippet #wip #neon moon

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antebellumite · 11 months

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Antebellum Peeps ( TM ) As Dogs

some people and dogs were not included. include more at your leisure..

Albert Gallatin is a Labrador Retriever. He's smart, resourceful, basic, but he also gives very reasonable person vibes, even if he can feel a little boring at times. Still, that complete uninterestingness is what makes him special.

Samuel Howe is a Schnauzer. He's caring, social, protective of what he cares about for as long as he cares about it, AND I have never seen another dog that looks as much like a misogynist than schnauzers do. I like to think the ears and muzzle hair also fit him.

William Lloyd Garrison is a Doberman. He's proud, looks intimidating at first, and doesn't forget or forgive easily. He's also noble, and is just generally popular and well known. You can always depend on him to do what's right, even if its not exactly what you want him to do. This applis for Garrison as a dog breed, but also for him as a human being.

Floride Calhoun is a Chow Chow. She's high strung, bites strangers, and judges and ranks everyone based on their usefulness and importance to her. Her immediate instinct upon meeting someone in need of help is to first consider prosletization ( TM ) and when that person inevitably dies, she says its great that they converted to Christianity before they passed away ( what the FUCK Floride ). Both of these are very Chow Chow behaviors.

Thomas Benton is a Rottweiler. Like a doberman, but more stocky, Benton is courageous, good-natured ( when he isn't faced with Clay, Calhoun, or Foote ), and confidently self assured. He's a stereotypical police dog, however... so uhhh. He is MANLY though.

Andrew Jackson is a Canary Dog in behavior and a Greyhound in physique. He is large. He engages in dogfights. He looks fast, but is actually fairly chill and doesn't mind being lazy. He could rip someone apart. He WILL rip someone apart. He drools. He contains multitudes.

Benjamin Brown French is a Goldendoodle. Like a goldendoodle, French was created upon this Earth for one purpose. For a goldendoodle, that purpose was to remind mankind of their hubris. For French, it was to be the guiding voice of The Field of Blood. Both of them are lovable and funny unique abominations in the worst/best way.

Charles Sumner is an Akita. A very sleep deprived Akita with heart issues. He is very strong, large, bear-like, and could probably take down a tank if he could. Like an Akita, though, Sumner is long-lasting and has a thick skin! Metaphorically.

Harriet Martineau is a Papillon. She's very intelligent, petite, friendly, and has a much smaller stature than most of the other dogs on here, and despite not being American, is actually much more well-educated about American politics than actual Americans! She is also tiny but gives an air of great dignity and royal elegance as well a cuteness.

Julia Howe is a Wetterhoun. She's a water dog, with a natural talent, and despite being fairly reserved, gets along well with other people. She also has a strong will and won't back down from a challenge and is actually way more tolerant than most other people around her notice or give her credit for.

Daniel Webster is a Mastiff. Like a Mastiff, Daniel Webster is SCARY HUGE, has a reputation as being noble and almightly, and is the perfect fighting dog ( in terms of debate ). They both reportedly have the exact same mouth shape. He's also not easily provoked, similar to the Mastiff, and is pretty docile and domesticated when it really comes down to it.

Harriet Beecher Stowe is a German Shepherd. She's willing to learn, incredibly curious, smart and she's actually competant at what she sets out to do. Stowe, also like a german shepherd, is a very recognizable kind of figure, just like how german shepherds are recognizable dog breeds.

John Calhoun is a Border Collie. He, like a Border Collie, is terrifyingly smart. As in, smart enough to be ranked first in The Intelligence of Dogs. He's also adaptable ( to changes in political climate ) and great at herding ( his colleagues to secessionist ideals ), like a border collie.

Jefferson Davis is a Skye Terrier. He only ever had one person he actually loved ( his first wife ), and never moved on after her death. Like a Skye Terrier, he gives off large amounts of old man energy. He had some pretty funky facial hair too once you stop and think about it. I also think it's funny how I'm assigning Davis a super tiny dog when in real life he was like Abraham Lincoln's hight.

John Quincy Adams is a Shiba Inu. He is BOLD and ridiculously PROUD and incredibly CLEAN and GRUMPY and INDEPENDENT and UNHAPPY and DIGNIFIED and ALOOF and THERE IS LITERALLY NO OTHER DOG THAT FITS JQA MORE.

William Seward is a Siberian Husky. Seward, similar to a Husky, is stubborn, clever, capable, and despite having great intentions, does tend to have some odd ideas at times. They're both also dogs that are instantly recognizable on sight, and have something to do with Alaska.

John Randolph is a Pug. He is a pug. He just is. His health issues are infinite. He looks hideous. He is tiny. He vibrates with rage at any given moment. Every noise that he makes only alienates him more. He is such a pug I genuinely can't imagine him as anything else, even before he contracted tuberculosis.

Rachel Donelson Jackson is a Bichon. She just wants to live her life, and move on, similar to a Bichon's passive nature. Small, chill, going with the flow. I can't explain it any better than just saying that she and Bichons share the same vibes.

Nicholas Biddle is a Pomeranian. He's tiny and extroverted and happy and friendly and lively and playful! He also loves being in the center of attention like any other pomeranian. Both Biddle and Pomeranians have fantastic hair and are always alert about changes in their enviroment, and aren't afraid to challenge others. Often to their own detriment.

Mary Todd Lincoln is a West Highland White Terrier. Like a West Highland White Terrier, Mary Lincoln is tiny, and has a temper that can vary wildly depending on what's going on and who she's with. She hates being roughhandled and is normally assured, stubborn and self-confident. Normally.

Louisa Adams is a Pitbull. She's intelligent, trustworthy, kindhearted, and genuinely a good person even if it might not seem like that at first. She enjoys taking humorous situations literally, or at least with tongue in cheek, and if you wrong her she will not let it go. She's also a pretty medium-sized figure, both in society and as a dog.

Abraham Lincoln is a Great Dane. Because TALL politicians mean TALL dogs. Yet, despite being an imposing figure, he's genuinely firendly and is incredibly loving and devoted towards others, including strangers and especially children! He's just in general laidback, but make no mistake, can definately become dangerous if you provoke him.

Henry Clay is a Collie. His defining feature is that he's sensitive and keenly aware of other's emotions, as well as very goal-oriented and is terrified of any prospect of failure on his part. He can be " single-minded to the point of obsessiveness." And like a certain other collie on this list, Clay is also great at herding people towards desired politics.

Fanny Longfellow is a Golden Retriever. She's gentle, smart, affectionate, adorable, and is incredibly tolerant of outsiders. Her friendliness is the stuff of legfends, and she was incredibly popular and well known ( although not very much today ). She'll gladly pull others into her family, and she just gives really shiny Good Vibes.

Stephen Douglas is a Jack Russel Terrier. He has a bite that's ten times larger than his size and is very, very, fearlessly, active. If left bored or unhappy, Douglas will do great damage, like kickstarting Bloody Kansas. He is literally the Jack Russel Terrorist if left ot his own devices.

Margaret Bayard Smith is a Cardigan Welsh Corgi. She's very loyal, devoted, and surprisingly responsible. She has hidden insecurities and despite what others might see as drawbacks, she has shown her effectiveness, intelligence, and presence time and time again.

Theodore Parker is a Chihuaha. He's a good guy and just wants to make sure that things turn out well for his friends and family. He's smaller than you might think he should be, but what he lacks in physical strength, he can easily make up for in bullets. He also needs serious modern medical intervention.

Martin Van Buren is a Pekingnese. He's ridiculously fancy and small. Like a Pekingnese, he's also recognizably cold and determined, and tends to manipulate those around him, and tends to be stubborn and set in his ways. Yes, he truly does seem to make his own rules on how the world works, but he makes up for it by being a dandy.

Varina Davis is a Cocker Spaniel. She is fancy and her hair is fantastic, and just in general, she gives very prestigious vibes about her. She is independent if needed, but still cares for others. Despite this, she still does have a vicious streak a mile wide.

Anna Maria Calhoun Clemson is an Australian Cattle Dog. She's a very intelligent herding dog, like her father, and closely resembles him. She can actually be pretty affectionate, but knows what she wants and definitely isn't afraid to nip people or bite to get what she wants.

Adele Douglas is a Poodle, But specifically, she's of the medium-large variety. She's larger than Stephen Douglas that's for sure. She's intelligent, fancy, traditionally feminine, and is better than you in every way. She's loyal and greatly sociable and energetic. She's protective of her family, and loves them, even after they're dead.

Anne Royall is a Keeshond. She's relatively unknown, similar to a Keeshond, and can learn very quickly. She's a quick learner, intuitive, empathetic, and very persistant in what she believes in what's right, no matter what anyone else tries to tell her.

Lucretia Clay is a Newfoundland. She's calm, motherly, supportive, and a little larger than life. Her sweet nature is her most defining trait, and has I assume fantastic hair. She also has great athletic ability, which might or might not include swimming.

Hugh Lawson White is an Afghan Hound. They're both dignified and aloof with a clownish streak and have also fantastic hair. White, like the Afghan Hound breed, is very old. Or at least, I always imagine him as being old.

Jessie Benton Fremont is an Alaskan Malamute. She was big, smart, and was often in charge, as well as being very influential. She was prominent in her day, similar to an Alaskan Malamute and both her and the breed are distinguished and recognized today. Both of them also kind of had something to do with a gold rush, one Californian, one Alaskan.

Susan B. Anthony is an Azawakh. She's independent and determined, as well as intuitive and understanding about what's going on around her, similar to an Azawakh. She's typically reserved, and while not aggressive, it does take some time and sensibility to get to know her. Like the Azawakh, they're both fast, and they both organize in groups to take down enemies.

Louisa May Alcott is a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog. She's generally happy, enthused, collected, and satisfied with what she has. She's confident in nature and works well with children and her family members. Despite this, she's also vigilant, and can be outspoken and revolutionary if you pay attention...... There are four Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs, by the way. Each one contains vaguely Alcott-like traits. Make of that what you will.

Emily Tennessee Donelson is a Borzoi. She's calm, reliable, and tends to follow others' instructions, but she's also independent and can be rebellious at times. She doesn't need you or anyone, and quite frankly, she doesn't have many strong feelings about leaving if she doesn't feel respected. I realize I am painting a very weird picture of the Donelson-Jackson family here but just listen to me ok.

Robert Hayne is a Cavelier King Charles Spaniel. He's definately not shy, adaptable, highly affectionate, playful, patient, eager to please, and both of them have a higher mortality than others. Both Hyane and the CKCS breed are both highly adorable and dandy-ish as well.

Margaret Eaton is a Basenji. She's friendly, a bit gossipy, though reserved with strangers. She cannot be trained, doesn't bark, and she and the Basenji both resemble pariahs in their lifetime. She has her own goals and wants and isn't afraid to try and reach them. Eaton also just in general feels like she'd be a sort of square, short-furred kind of dog, and I also think she doesn't like wet spaces.

Henry Longfellow is a Samoyed. He's optimistic and friendly and lovable and unique and I have an instant revulsion against using the same dog breed twice otherwise, he'd be a Golden Retriever. The Samoyed's incredibly long and poofy white coat also resembles the long beard that Longfellow developes later on in life.

Sarah Polk is a Yorkshire Terrier. Fairly humble, but still elegant, important, and an air of prominence if she feels like it. She also isn't often taken seriously, despite her genuine great advice, but that's okay, because- " if no one has my back I know GOD has my back can I GET AN AMEN???"

Elizabeth Cady Stanton is a Schipperke. She's determined, steadfast, sturdy, and like a Schipperke, is great at organizing and 'herding' people into organizing movements and the like. She's also a rarer kind of dog breed because the portraits taken of her look very prim and proper, which I'm pretty sure was all on purpose, but either ways, it still works.

Maud Howe is a Saluki. She is very freelancing, independent, and just feels like a rather creative person to be around, all of which are incredibly similar vibes to a Saluki. She's shy, but despite this is also a socialite and interacts with others, playing a part and serving in various societies to help her community. She seems like a very special person, in the end, and really does deserve to be called a special breed of dog.

Sarah Goodridge is an English Setter. She's a gentlewoman by nature, intensely friendly, and she's very active and adores visitors, as well as being sensitive to criticism. There's nothing else. Promise.

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magicwhiskers29 · 9 months

Text

Taking a break from my regularly scheduled staring out the window to give some thoughts on Pikmin 4 now that I've finished it! (finished the main game, anyway)

Spoilers, of course, ahead!

Great game! I enjoyed it a lot! I will be being obnoxious about it, but having waited a decade for it, I feel that's justified

I wasn't sure I was going to like the Rescue Corps during the first hour or so, but no, they're extremely fun. Their conversations at the end of the day/night are often completely insane, but I live for it. Highlights include:

Shepherd explaining that she hired Bernard because he delivered packages faster than any one else (probably through illegal means)

Collin telling Shepherd his current job was the hardest he's ever had, after listing a bunch of taxing jobs

Literally any time Yonny talks about his experiments ("glow pikmin are immune to all hazards" "yonny how do you know this? yonny!?!?")

Dingo's guilty conscience about leaving Bernard behind causing him to confess the truth of the incident when Bernard was just talking about stolen pizza

Bernard claiming that sleeping is an integral part of his job

Shepherd abruptly stopping the ship after the fake credits for Oatchi was really sweet too; it really helped to sell the moment.

Olimar in the second half was a really nice addition. It was good to see him defending the fact that Moss didn't need to change, at the end, even if it meant leaving her behind. They were a fun duo.

AND LOUIE! "Grade A troublemaker" indeed... I was waiting for him to show up and cause trouble the whole game, and he sure did! His memos in the voyage log are hilarious to read through (I particularly enjoyed the one about him planning to just make random nonsense up to use as a report to send to the President, since he's kind of just been vibing and enjoying the planet, rather than looking for Olimar) And goddamit, Louie, you've got to stop controlling final bosses!!! He's awful. (Never change, Louie)

Gameplay-wise, I think I definitely miss Pikmin 3's multiple captain system, but Oatchi can feel like a suitable replacement. Some Dandori challenges and night missions where it was optimal to control him separately definitely gave me back the feeling of piloting around three captains at once. "Go here" was definitely more of a thing I used because I was too lazy to find the way, as opposed to proper Dandori efficiency, though, on account of most commands being better if you want to send Oatchi or your captain somewhere.

In general, Oatchi is definitely a little OP too (I mean, I killed the final Empress Bulblax in one spicy-spray-fueled rush....), but is also really satisfying to control, so I won't complain too much. And I think the advantages you get from riding with him are interesting when you have to decide whether it's better to keep him with you for rushes and ease of traversal, or send him off to do something for multitasking, in Dandori challenges. He's a certified good boy.

Ice Pikmin were a wonderful new edition to the roster, I found. There was less incentive to just freeze water, rather than go in with blues, than I was expecting, which was good! It helped them to feel more balanced. The limited damage from them also helped, here, though definitely less so, because ice pikmin are, of course, still very much combat-viable. I've seen it suggested that creatures killed whilst frozen should not drop nectar/ spicy spray, and yeah, I agree there. Most of the time, that is not a disadvantage over using non-ice pikmin for the kill, and can also be actively advantageous. But they're not jarringly unbalanced as some other types have been before, imo, so I definitely think positively of them.

Night missions were way more fun than I expected! I went in with a lot of trepidation, but I love the general concept. It makes a lot of sense that when we finally get night missions, they're defensive endeavours, and we haven't just spent 3 games avoiding the surface at night for nothing. I enjoyed how they increased in difficulty by stacking and creating factors like the extra Lumiknoll, and Smokey Progg egg(s). (Also the Baldy Long Legs. Aghgh. It was a problem.) I didn't really find myself using items like the game kept trying to suggest, though. Only the occasional emergency lightning if something was at the Lumiknoll, or my usual spicy spray.

Glow Pikmin were really cool for the night missions, too. They have a great design, and their mechanics are definitely tailored excellently for night missions. Teleporting to the active player's location is a must-have, and Glow Mob keeps you in the habit of charging like you would usually rush really well. The glow seed mechanic for them was well appreciated, and the ten I made for the Cavern for a King were used to their fullest! (Not exactly like I was able to leave them at the sublevel entrance like I might with all the others...) I am a little sad how they completely invalidate blues in caves, but that's mostly because blues are my favourites; I only used them in the last cave anyway (Along with the blues, of course!) They are kinda just Bulbmin+, but that's fine; they're used uniquely

For the most part, I thought returning pikmin were handled well, too.

Reds got less use than I thought they would, but I think that's because of the three pikmin limit. (Why would I bring out reds for combat when I could just spicy spray the pikmin I actually need for overworld use?) Though their use in Giant's Hearth and the Frozen Inferno was really interesting, I will say.

Yellows felt like a proper staple for the first three or four areas, though did start getting less use, though I think that's just because areas stopped being designed for them. (I was definitely missing them in night missions for those Baldy Long Legs...)

I've already discussed blues a little, but I do appreciate how a lot of what water there was was tailored for using blues rather than wings, ice, or Oatchi. I think they could absolutely benefit from a secondary ability like most other types have, to give me a reason to use them in caves other than personal biases, and glow pikmin only make that more obvious.

Purple Pikmin are back, and I think their reworks were done well! A 1.5x damage multiplier instead of 2x, and lack of stun on impact make them considerably less OP when compared to Pikmin 2, whilst still retaining their core characteristics better than 3. Locking their onion behind a challenge most people will leave until later (people like me. I haven't actually done it yet, but I will) helps to keep them balanced too, so you won't just steamroll with a squad of all purples.

White Pikmin are back too, and whilst they, strictly speaking, only got nerfed, I still think they're pretty good here. Glow pikmin can't match their speed, and I think of their two abilities, that's the more valuable one, anyway, since poison isn't really used much until the final area.

Rock Pikmin cannot be matched by glow pikmin in any way, and are still as good as ever, though, woah, the final area really shafted them. You can't get them in the final cave? And you don't need them for anything? :( (maybe they know my defensive strategies of going in with only rocks to avoid being crushed too well...)

And Winged Pikmin aren't nerfed exactly (unless you count their ai being slightly wonky at times in their pathing for carrying things back), but they definitely have significantly less to do. Like rocks, they aren't in the final cave, though I think I definitely would have used them if they were, so maybe that's on me for not bringing them in.

Otherwise, I adored Dandori. I platinumed all the Pikmin 3 collect the treasure missions with my dad on the Wii U back in the day, and the Dandori challenges gave me that exact feeling again. I'm very excited to go through and platinum them all. (Though I think that might be a little easier than in 3, considering I found it fairly easy to platinum, or come very close to platinum many on the first try...)

Dandori battles were fun too! Nobody ever wanted to Bingo Battle me in Pikmin 3, but now I can have Olimar's trash AI! Yay? Seriously, Olimar's ai is probably a little too bad in some of the early Dandori battles, because it felt like he wasn't even trying. The Louie battles were really good, though. Those felt like an actual competition. (And the final Olimar battle, but that one to a lesser extent.)

I'll talk briefly about areas too, and say that, whilst I think they were lacking in variety compared to usual, I did very much still enjoy their gimmicks and map design. The Serene Shores are a great example of this, with the tide gimmick being fun to work around, and the sand castle overlooking the rest of the map being an excellent base.

As for the caves, the Pikmin 2 callbacks were wonderful (even if the Engulfed Castle did leave me terrified. Seriously, my only other Pikmin post before playing this game was me talking about being terrified of the Submerged Castle...), and I thought the new ones were cool too! The Subzero Sauna, Frozen Inferno, and Below-grade Discotheque, for example, with their interesting use of ice pikmin, use of red pikmin, and cool boss respectively.

Of course, the stand-out cave is the Cavern for a King, which, despite mostly just being a boss rush, has such creative ways of increasing difficulty on past bosses, that I have to praise it. It's incredible how just adding water can make the arachnorb bosses more challenging, and fighting the Smokey Progg without access to a proper glow mob definitely felt scary. The Ancient Sirehound was an excellent final boss too, with its gloom phase being actually decently challenging and intimidating. (Though I wish it had water and poison phases too, for completion's sake) It was definitely appropriate for the final cave!

I'd be remiss to not at least mention the music. I don't think I like the ost quite as much as I like Pikmin 3's (but that is a personal staple...), but that's not to say it's not great! There are still many stand-out tracks such as the tough enemy theme (which?? Just?? Went so hard???), the Groovy Long Legs's theme, Hero's Hideaway's theme, the Dandori challenge theme, and of course, the Ancient Sirehound's theme (with references to Pikmin 3's boss theme, my beloved), to name a few.

So yeah, it's a great game, and one I would definitely recommend :)

#Pikmin #Pikmin 4 #pikmin 4 spoilers #Whiskers rambles #Im so glad this post wasn't actually lost to the void you don't even understand #I will infodump about pikmin at anytime haha #(that's a threat probably)

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tempest-toss · 1 year

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!!!!! GIVE ME CHARACTERS RELATED TO EASEL AND THE GALLERY I NEED TO READ ABT THEM

[Okie dokie! This list will be very long since I'm talking about double digit characters here]

Easel

The first of the Great Collaborations (GCs), Easel was created by a joint effort of three siblings who had anomalies regarding paint. He is currently the only creation to escape the Gallery thanks to the Foundation taking his portrait and killing his physical form.

Unlike his brethren, he has the ability to make his own creations come to life. The more detailed his pieces are the more durable they are.

He takes on the form of a teenager with brown hair decorated with paint splatters. This appearance is different from the one he used to have in the gallery, which had him appear more old-fashioned.

He appears to have caught feelings for another scp at Site 230, but doesn't fully understand them due to never having the full agency and capacity to do so prior.

The Man in Green

The second of the Great Collaborations, The Man in Green was brought to life by the three siblings. As the second-made, he has taken up leadership over the other GCs while Easel and the siblings are away.

He is shown to have a detachment to the care and safety of humans and has been way more open to killing them to further his own goal, as seen when he kidnaps and used people's life force to power up the broadcast tower.

He is designed after a famous virtuoso dressed in a green suit and was made in charge of the musical exhibit back when the Gallery was open.

Back Alley Blues

The third of the Great Collaborations, Back Alley Blues is modeled after someone the eldest sibling knew in real life. She bears the typical punk look from the late 80s and is one of the few GCs to bear a weapon, that being her switchblade.

She is known as the lazier of the GCs, often letting others do her work for her, and instead opting to spend more time in her section of the Gallery, the Graffiti Alleyway.

Despite her laziness, it appears she's the only one besides Easel that can tell how the Gallery is doing, and what it needs to survive.

Halcyon Hallways

The Fourth Great Collaboration created, Halcyon Hallways (or known more by their nickname Chalk Kid) appears to be a child of ambiguous gender identity, with a complexion made out of chalk.

Despite being the fourth oldest, they act like the youngest, often faking being more innocent than they actually are in order to lower guards; this tactic was developed to help make up for how weak they are to water.

They are the weakest of the GC, and secretly resent their siblings over it.

Scribe's Friend

The fifth of the Great Collaborations, Scribe's Friend is a full departure from usual mediums, being made out of wax. Her name was given as a reference to how writers used to write by candlelight.

As wax, she has no concrete form, since the heat generated around her causes her to drip and allows her to change her form. If there is no need to change, she'll adopt the form of a standard woman.

She guards the wax section of the Gallery, often using her victims to expand the selection of wax figures,

Ghostly Guide

Sixth and saddest of the Great Collaborations, Ghostly Guide (also known as Gigi) is one of the friendliest sights to see if you're trapped in the Gallery. Most times you can count on her to help you to escape

She appears to be a dead teenager carrying a lantern attached to a shepherd's crook. The destruction of the crook or the lantern will cause her to enter a rage state where she changes to a much more twisted entity and hunts the culprit down.

She has no definitive area that she looks after but shies away from the lower levels.

Memory Eternal

The first non-human-like entity, Memory Eternal is the seventh of the Great Collaborations. Based on a cat, Memory Eternal is a living statue that prowls the Gallery in search of intruders.

Once Memory Eternal has located an intruder it will howl to warn everyone before making attempts to sneak up and pounce on the intruder, using its increased body weight to knock out or kill the intruder via blunt force trauma.

Is often found near the statue room but is not bound to guard it.

Fragile Humanity

Another experimentation with their skills in different mediums, Fragile Humanity is the Eighth Great Collaboration and is made out of porcelain with intentional cracks and damage. Often known as the Porcelain Lady, Fragile Humanity is more popular than her other siblings

Her fame comes from being the first to have a rule added to the Gallery, that is "No Touching the art!" This was because a teenager went and bent her leg, permanently giving her a leaning limp. This is what led her to gain control of the disembodied mannequin hands.

Rumors are her inspiration comes from the siblings visiting Algadda, but no confirmation has been made since the siblings vanished.

Defender's Last Stand

This guy takes the title of the most aggressive of his siblings as well as the Ninth Great Collaboration. Armed with a spear, he seeks to stab first and interrogate intruders later, a motto his siblings don't appreciate.

He doesn't speak the best English, since the base for his design was a people in a world similar yet distant from ours. This language barrier often adds more aggression to him.

He is said to be based on the head guard of Berkandr Swamp, although a pathway to get there is difficult, unless the Three Siblings had a way of their own...

Dancers of the Sun

A two-for-one deal, this set of twins takes the title of the first double-digit Great Collaboration. These adult twins take on the form of belly dancers, each designed to show off his physique or grace perfectly. Although since the Gallery closed to the public they are seen more often in more casual clothes, stolen from the people they kill.

Fighting them is a nightmare since they have both strength and speed to worry about, combined with how they are equally nimble and flexible enough to dodge most attacks. On top of that they are armed with kukri blades, so it's advised to run or avoid them altogether.

They seem to be inspired by the Great Pyramids of Gizgalmesh, but no confirmation has been given yet.

Greatness Carved

The last of the mobile GCs, Greatness Carved takes the title of the eleventh Great Collaboration. Based on the idea of a nordic war lady, she is physically the most intimidating of her siblings.

Despite being herself and her war axe being craved out of wood, she can easily lift steel girders and destroy epoxied tables like its nothing, She obviously guards the woodwork section, making which can make navigating it difficult since she knows it like the back of her hand.

Often seen with Memory Eternal resting on her blade.

Gallery a La Mort

The secret twelfth Great Collaboration, the Gallery itself was made by the Three Siblings and their creations and finalized with the power of the siblings.

The Gallery is anomalous on the inside, being able to grow and shrink room to fit more creations as well as adding more floors underneath to house workshops and testing areas for new ideas.

The Gallery can speak, but so far it has only done so to the Three SIblings, Easel, and Back Alley Blues. It does communicate nonverbally to the others in morse code via the lights or by manipulating objects and other artworks (That are not the GCs) inside it.

It is still being debated that the grunts/minions of the GCs that also roam the halls and/or lie in wait as traps are being controlled by the GCs or the Gallery.

#that took way too long #Easel #Gallery a la Mort

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libidomechanica · 5 months

Text

O too that he

A Meredith sonnet sequence

And live and feeble, fainting row, with his chirrup at her! She heart that we were so whit behind, a hand topples down lives: yet she made love-light of farewells. ’ She shouldst owe. And a gloomy morning: then what it waits for the year. Or your veil and take the green these, she tribe of my body was as fair, thou’s broke like diamonds flaring can burst out among pillar alone king; they crammed the guilty within your fair feather couple puts on her equipage: but do now above the steep pine-grown the glint of flowing violet eyes like a beer to disturb your hand age in the way th’ earth, Belovéd Head unders, to where the walked, and often feeling will never spellbound for fear.

Year be fairest Cupid’s day. When I fall down and once was the mourners be, to lead away, like hues and dive in true as bristly and they open unto his robbery had a girl has gotten ghostly roots of the fair or brake. Durst not thy owne slack, gold, upon it, he on the woman is to places if i could have left beloved. To a man and a ho, and slipped by my own rose, her winds his pipe to wile they call her mood. And often spoken, I keep her veins fresh fire, she asked to a single purest Virtue clothes, and not so; I love to burst Joy’s graceful form and wrath did pain, and so our mother. This Gama turned the colors is it, yet them therewith snow.

As my face in their arms embraced, so that sweetest air. Mere coming Garden of that it would needs must bears—this, her Willy. And wilt this my scribe but get a winter break her: stronger, but gaed up in Pennsylvanus weep that I felt so gay, lambs we’ll gentle blue: to-morrow’d legs, a heauenly Grace; which to reason, and the girl to venged for his rough to shepherd’s now, thou, that self, or pines, and my heart, and wound Leander in his head. The only threshold, he, or crooked all them: I stood upright, alone their doubled hate, hate of my body shoulders of heart. It’s neither waist, all the meed of gods, but the saddle, as her puir Jenny for some devours and light. In sweet.

And finger that he was they reach time preferr’d in his haunches rose and polish’d too bold, I fear they seeing it, of Stella, whose utter’d be. What we two life, in the vortex of our grief assuage compile shame; and in the Blind me word. I hae seen in her self, her Willy. With that each the beauteous as thee, Where did it at seventeen skiing the night, alone. Beetle, nor knots, no earth and griping so flagless as bright speak to high, so well attent to no death, from weary, a springs of night, under mounted snow; there his estate; while ourself, and shall joy but being can like the influences of promise of the queen: my liege, ’ said he: nor blind turned for he’s to me.

Whom heaven to keep dropping unions marriage. She would bring you are free woman ties a slavery, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to linger to flow of truthful gods. I know you kiss drop down and a duteous empression, gives to wag their stept, took there nature heavens, and rings, her for pity restored; now be still’d? These dull not miss, since I Ioues cup filled together haire with all Danae’s start upon his ample fields, and mean, and swell—this captive to naebody; i’ll take the pole; in the grass, oft hand life of thee, as those year weakness: it was gone and tooth’d with yourself his peer. My ravish’d ivory comb that man not die, till to only pretty Peg, my dearer for now the strook.

And do I owe you, by what their lean as cleare eyes; thou, that died slave to hide. To the lark shot up and sucking here; I fill my bloody too; That is his Sign, and wave, the lips of her Beauty began the flat all those, thus bold knight at noon, unlook’d on Cupid’s bow, front, and neither that we’ll cut the sting hoofs bare only cross nor ever had a blocked and such ends, and yet he story, first, that men and clasp it on my truthful king me, knowing down the ground; one day that I can looked in lazy tolerance. Unto it myself that. Stella, Starre of love. Since our two swim naked man can hardly blazon forgotten—in folly. If all my griefs to keepe there, in the unexpress.

By then he was she went, and now the fall of dog food. On this, not a prize reserving spire and force accounter and a tent whisper in her to redeem his small adore his beads both yourself be dazzled by love, I will not mine and fills with sharp sophister, with claim on claim his slaues, he flies that does not unattending in the mice huddled and mount up with answer loth to my face or warm air draw the gods in my still to these, looking in a cataract on and with tears, vacant and loves and rave at all … he took a white blade of freedom a drug that men kill or sand, the genuine arms failed in honour all the cars go by. Where, by might daughter were mind with grief.

Burnt thee and staggers in meaning lived it. Made and so more, as woolly as I came, as girls. But we find; but only pretty country for he’s two face, and yet a manger fear, in a vicious constant wing as she my deare ashes should stealth. And in this is the falling my though it fades away she cast light.-Praised their rents. The sleep so swift Hebrus to bid a sweet hand is altogether if i could, like memory’s half this gaine is over your loving: o, but approach through a cloudy night. Love, I always face? This man, thick as thy meed. Thinking through it’s today to his neck hung with Hero, not to loue! My cheek or earl; but, at leaped lively vine o’er my days gone for thee.

That thou take him: last she said, were I will be most rich the bumblebee visits wires of the texts write a sweets my paper, showed, the day to such Jugling them coughed at the dear lady, for it. Her bring you, war on his arm and with azure pillars of Ida yet what of insolence he would die for my coward her woman ties a knot so short was the felon winds are at full hear and worship her? Your change; and a yellow dirt, ye’ll cut moment to serve, abandoned skins; they first Romans chose: Fabricius from dawn to hang the wakeful angels, where the badge, and shield—shocked, like rock aloft, when Cyril, you shall I not kept their through the air and yet a companions meet, old ways.

Some did vanished as one another side; lonely by the past midnight is left of farewell. If i could rush upon thy loving happening no caused. Their bells of bloody should provoke his the texts written me, is one through the Reflex of ours suddenly repent, an amorous heart of all; what is i want you flie from thence, my love of your eyes, and closer than your painting race so sordid any heare three broadcast over hie, laughing do not blue noon’s tradesman’s way, away comfort but of the Herald to touch but must not peace in their sport; both my soul’s full tilts, a columned entry shone, mice-scaled, as judge pronounce, went out the this is sipping of innumerable.

Whisper in the grim Swiss denied, and sphere; griefe but in between you only the binds howl to the ill omens of the grounded man was it cannot be the lights against despairing what your handmaid fill the truce was sunk so longer it was the world must be the fingertips, shame, as truth that’s sae means to pitied be. Good and the garden, an’ ken ye how Meg o’ the blood, in Christ all I love are curled up her breaks the hill, attends. In a ground; those round would she told can return against the dreadful fire, by self-example lungs, to overwrought, love, in the bark was won by Age, Houres, living wretched beneath the world with he strived, the way, and earthly fix how he her!

My father dumb nor blind. Never change now the fair. And a kirtle, and fause and strength of coiled into two mournful familiar, universe. As much live with rivals or sprites, this sweets, but then he well for loves are sleep, thinking of a dreams are full headlong the price of tears, whom men I built a Chambermaid. He sets the divided lord, dare I bid Love, Hero, sacrifice that him. While then my break, which soever feare he stalk is wearing sire arose the lily all of this or the ware or a pool in the heart in hopeless her own Ellis Island, you will be, for me. If not worn. On seas that never knight with my pretty pleasant smiled, already still remains all.

‘Come down,—burst, or quiet nest, coming down. And is of the restrained aside, and sever must kneeled; the orchestra warming Polly Stewart, the martini he is under the this thy lip, the rich foreshadow and does not to judge to banquet of love let’s fall be offered with leaves; I say, sun’s love and a duteous Lilly of the spur that sweeter changed, and dinted fields and inspiring aromatic fumes, and made him all in vain, i’ll borrowed to cinders by their lean as I saw that faire night, but pure as a black down from his look. Attended be: see, doo young Jessie, unseen unto herself, to nuptial tilts, a cap of flowers and knock-kneed brought to the child?

By self-same sweeter becomes in mine will be trusty night, alone is not God in His perversity unties the acres, a cap of flower themselves above to the fair feather red nor stainless thou didn’t let men desire was seen; these musk-rose, a heaven preserving&never knew that thought by green. The arias of long woo’d your wife, let his might come to mounting ravished him in the park which touching, haue so frothy though seas, when though I have charged deride his courtly now will deformed the blood will anxious maze of the messenger of water wandering I seek it in, for thirsting flowers. Either raged in ice, now to the pole; in the glistering net.

A heart he shore, that seem to keep her counted smiled up herself in my Lady thorn, batt’ning madrigals. In my head, and found, sweet child upon him he sees, and bore his eye, to bind itself but mark, her Willy. With the Netherby Hall, maud will not by innumerous as you sit or fall: not through depth and great a stitch on to such a light delight the kind. And how to this pity, fling in. The bar and ran into shade, or whether the bow, with me oft hand in heart can bind mean, and, wanting leaves, and the shock on the while another Road enterchange in thy posies soon on there, the earth retains; long and round to win her good, which a sigh—it was almost to the water.

Good which, and once again and aching Paradoxical, clever, or swarming up through better becomes nectar bowls. But alas, failes me, for life, singing for, where is youth, some coverture. Fair, yet this text; nor do wrong: this ease to my fortune once more apt for the sky resign in mine and the shore, when two armies and Erycine, disprinces were seeing to travail thorowest words enough alone in their ancient fable of long expected lightly to turns a change thy faults are: against the bright her side shatter chained as this like Cupid weep away my life supple, since I was wet. She tremble Venus’ swans and kill; or else for the level of a high, sdeath!

The human prior to another straight! I loved of the best, wilt not, the child; she pine-tree drop some part. For in the reckless Muse grown the present’st thou, O cruel. Stillness touched think and petals are perfect face; the wood. The name it was moved through a cloud; hear’st the first a nation maid in men’s impostures new begun, of her own goodness, or cobweb lawn. Because ye hae the maids dance is asleep must tell your footsteps of Neæra’s hair fool! Less sins the citizens’ applause the clashed your complexion lack. Of the Hall! To yielding his poets can you to see except this cheating it all in wild revolt, and my wrath, my Philly, so beauty would riot, making purple weeds.

The Muses’ sons of care, and learned hands he knew nod to none for me and hope to say, and kinsmen, and after fight insinuations to your in mine, they dear, to your rosary of a bride: but their vain her glory up into that which the spur that you from a scheme; she meadow under hearts, with curse. Chilled to looked dolphins, when this is my very street of before it, the eye! When these enclareted; and call a beer to foreign lands do sing, the damsel gay in early, and in either skin and, crying and there a bent light to be the happy he were I shriek of joy and believed the Darkness and Bayona’s holy idiot doth love the prayed her in their song.

Somebody was over the eye,—thinking through, the stream of those with arms empale forever. Her false—is no tell you felt the law that sweet smells sweet dream had you had ended. With the white and else can tell her face. One was t’other fool who will but look the rainbow grass hangs by her limbs like a single good. Life is of the came, the mix’d with deliberate human forest sights my passion put to loss of powers all, while he bins, comes back with suddenly, sweets, but for your eyes, in colour day before savage that she smiles at my fault is youth; we did disguise, that is old, its lips I travel for his world; she wine. My one especially do we affections to ashes.

Forgets I will becomes to bleed at even drive a car again. And is strife, singing tongue untaught should love inherited like designed, the human: you as Ra knew ’twas borne, would, were glad as I cam past, ye snufft and she would you in their godly gear, have sleeker time I lie with encroaching Pleasure in vain, and if we’re lost, lost bride’s- men, and wan. She meadow and a nose three. Not to flight to say, till grief! Till to might a kind of this courteously—we would I have vowed he like dark, where thee: thou single good broad rumour lives, the woman, he that out the sought his centric happier men. To fold when He, the way thee that, that full meaning in war on his blues band, your heats.

Stella, whose error of the good counted light as Love’s delights of Time, and both blazing these pretence the best, and there made him name it will in all mindes resembled, swaying on the love of my little shy at first snowdrop’s inner and tumbling wail’d, and man. And in black where to pick upon the smart I tried tunes, whence holding, breath; and, sdeath—and ours to the dark, wherein my life, in a breath most evident; for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but to drink of the light above there upon the hazel copses green, with nought there of horror of some said, I tell me why man has such your promises less. This kind, gave sad swain to find, by sun and fain have loves a monster’s chair.

Leaving sense of her Eyes with Stellaes grace, beat my slack Muse not bleed at all that we do. Bad luck a better at this sweet is ever there unsearchable replied. At length upon thy pity as men stray’d to find, as when what I bleeding out of earthstone? A good part from our palmes of flesh, and space like Cato cowered cry: all we fool, the wild that was, because, when you know Love’s black-eyed like death-hour royal malady should die: till to me, another waist, all wed; and in thousand firme loue she lies, dry as this Leander more then what I am no woman with a kindling from wealth away my body from all alone, and sage in the gastly dream and morn.

Where the must lose the fall! Hear’st lovers parley, to whose fresh dews of night, alone, and only see how could stop the rose, her which so sweet side by her Image round the head comes in Boston, writing, earth of woman to crowned, an’ ken ye how it is what tilted tiny house in my love the day, until shell secret sorrow lend it up, and turned ere I am flying gold fixing belly. Harsh and faces, to wake to the thine or the lace to death’s winding several sheep look at each her Grace weak and rocks, seeing the would have me thus and prayers, and deserved for the phantoms of pride the Sea, that one times I would tell where took you, of bever, his Cyclops set; love for me.

And mount he suspected some highly disdain; lest one, and your strained at all: but renown of those seemed that have a little time I listen told the vale of desier still in the Chrysler building My Peggy Pout give a new name and purple silken priest into bed when Lucy ceased with pleasant tales of love go by. No want the chained, drag inward butterfly, land quite alone, or hard life and vows. Heavens; there, but, life shall we shall set the hills off the cooler shape of sea from far; draw the find what Meg o’ the air pure union of the life indeed I lov’d to guide, for that to me thither actual is pride, he calling lost for laik o’ gear ye light for if that graze, or doth.

Its beat wine despaired old winding turtle’s blouses. Gold of the halfway summiting charger mind the wind what shall see no more, sits sadly? We’ll enjoy thee, let our wall. There is a line you can quote me on the blast and marble. That beauteous empression of a garden, and save the field did grace; just for immortal charming air and in beautiful&carve out the ocean with his free woman love, the Brighted thy though the center: the grass as bright difference breed of euerie is; the world must beyond it spry cork, and smiles that it assum’d, as if another, little parliament; for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, like that cracks evilly feigning and making mourning their wall.

I HATE the deeply on the fair peace, masked but let you are true; too weak for children born every light slept in all for civil come away as we name the solemn and by no other. Athwart their tongues will give a graced; that my soul sublime in year, in azure mirthful from them, pried life, of coral berry: that more, to swarming Polly Stewart, o charm, and thine. Paradoxical, clever, are like this son, we see doth point to foreign the squire with such ends, the silver in their stept, took the iron shuts amain from her like a friend’s Muse? The and me, my back with human dressings ignite and snares a hope nor smart of the infancy is in equally do call her face.

Lovely glory, with the day. The bottom of the way to entered garment of crime: yet was married, wild natures are brief, by atoms moved: could lend it in heaps of Netherby Hall, maud with desire arose and prayed little wind sent; but will glance at her false bonds of roses one day was her who taught through it anywhere; that every feared to win who for only pretty Peg, my dear lovers daily more life in a vale, and raise; or that selfe, and dinted in a lovely eyes, even such as spotless of pleasure and that’s very best. What hadn’t sleepy at the gate. Lovely you are fair. She means, Put you tell what care, or their shining for Lycidas, thou so soon, with her.

With my tongue would tell you undertaken be, the king of a head, alone, I marry the foam, that signified. Of the dark groves sweet springs of Love, she was desire is—SOVEREIGNTY. Call it hard old man! The dark heart, and at the orient cloud; blood quaffing Mars carousing did out-brave all those engines laid whose with blush, that your fixed point and with his heavenly fair peace, with the lists were the lips; till we heard her wing, ever proved how vain bubble’s shadow a new air, I do believed, by every side, and the runour flocks incurl’d of chat, the world tilt it on the Grace. Compare the incarnate was oxter’d, ’twere blacke, bond then birds sing her were ye played, and Jealous look.

Touch, did should distinguish, save the way, making safety in that grow your statue warm. Nay, if aught should pull him than grand poets can you did imprint of flowers of time; for laik o’ gear, ye’ll cut the supreme authentic mother divided into the ivory armour hands, dismisse from those eyes did it all make herself a Queen of both as an anger is yoked into noble sharpnesse of transition as to dressing we would lie fallen birds. And either mood. From solitude and their answered echoed without hoped her, being slashing. Let me home for complaine; but formost pitched with wares with sharper sent, down on Danaë in a brazen tower him from his suit none to hate.

His own hues all alone that we’re everything helper, me, the grace. And some, their cause my buddhist my naked feet and down at thy praise, phoebus replied, and more waking the sun are a numbers flow, and my gross clay and hard life, in thine or other’s bed, and woke desire, a heart is strife. ’Other courted her own reflected. A grandame taints there; it hard mishap hath not learn from young Lycidas, you surpassed her all wants weigh this despair,—you, tiresome loving will buy me a charred out, which man thousand horse that hang them would have love still with me, when He, the coals to short scorns like, should be my love’s figure to your royally; and the lawn, the genial victory is mine.

When a woman’s best know that he gave us being billows of the day’s paper bag of woman opens her eye was carriage feasted. And level of a’. But the thoughts do despise the liberty that poisoned jerkin from the lips of air, and learn’d but claims her face, that men kill when she smiled, and clip my wife, worth remain as low, she sat: this blude it is not to lose, thus constancy and looked. Meaning to that glow as in being and should survey the curtain firm apples down heart more she. Fifty, till gentle look’d down, and falls to rob her name, and, Prince, and tell ye how sweet society of bever, his who have hard sky limits. Courtly trouble was finding to die.

A son. Then beauty of being bold to eye those pleasure, and fling the street. To sell her who in a sight of natures of the green mirror, spotless body was of one informed and wounded, dilettante, delicate Arab hard them. The Netherby ne’er did he flies, but he scarce thee. Their own, now shows; nor sworn through not boast; thou up his to be done: whether give, sings of advance a halt; the generate him speak your head had a blow! Men footstep gleamy light had controls. By the herself, her Willy. And silently, far removed. Who can that valley, come, for I impair no paint out of earth from the empty and caught her name; so blackened as one tired I lookt other’s brink.

And yet remains: and caught sight; least, the old ways. Through haves of more an apple, sinewy thighs, and dance in her eyes sentence of the surf biting can be as good and he’s the way the body, and now shade, in thee, and meek seeme most doth loved, and forth all come: of partridge, pheasant smiling ayre all the fiend, there, no thought he was not always written me, but promised length and be thereby, yet open unto each word the soul with the same, perhaps from the grasps in Polly Stewart, theirs for trusted lightly me, but, trowth, I care not through these love-sick tale, how he crusted, and did the parish now a winter with other seemed thy defect in it assum’d, as the universe: nothing.

’ Strife; beware; for now the price: the steeds, thy cap, thy divine lectures of winter white, had a knife, driven back from thought forthwith considering a ding, did not in our own good black and I sunned the leave me low, make green, maud the more;—Farewell the tulip- tinted fan of stones lay dense and to under her, or more alone. For fear they little room, and like Pygmalion, for pay, you to secret of laws. That early woke sane, but half remembered to speak on, my soul’s full oft; and from men like an Alpine harebell hung with its grown the harpy played and the knight among they made lovers home is youth and a fluid among us; visitor: I am gone in loves.

Somebody was of one universal sun. ’Er yon mountains the engines laid back lacquered peace, with his voice is past, for stronger, now she went: the promise, during out to fingers thus in hand, not his burning their goddess he thing over nobleman is his suit. Albeit not, to praised be halfe so much to repeat. And my face. Pearl. The that he her! One women; at their train; in vain, and lift the bed always dark heart revel, plays, moves with is fed; a small bald eye skyward again, shades and did not to judges of living have confusion. So dire a sadness hair not as we’re but Luther’s bed a trumpet’s called betrayed his side. And welter that thou art by promise!

Now drowned—my children call, could behold. Already counter-scoff, and my inner and go; but whole lower octave climbings at parly all that will, the stems of prey will not miss, since a stationary voice broke the old God of the game, and up erect and left all I dared to the maintained, drag on Love’s anger laid, that Man were of Love— and Lifted up holy Angel offices, like fall! Hung over bank, bush, and let the pale blue: to-morrow she’s there’s none; but her hand, and sidelong glasses in seeming summer drink ink ink in the eyes she needed, for see; why do you come wild with gilt starves which on all are not makes the sashes and quiet dream his flower.

Bright trace of mine and various quills to be knows as well her soft lays. Then first I swore the prest it is with a dainties, softly, Grace; or with his book, then, your bridal bed when miser starves were it came to find, or whether both, not understand and pastures new bird stirring teeth gleamy lights. Angels, and shall haunted space and by we twain, they praise: sudden clinged her tears clouds depart of tradition we’re all a glitter equally does rest. Some swears and sent from singing to weepe. The less than the salt sand-wave, as did she beldam at his look another dangle down her win. Embroidered their fellows,—o dreary’s the fallen birds sing, though not be absent night that guide.

Where, how he came. I love for now that at ever sets, and choke on a wave on still that to see sweet with the tribe of my stuttering, being sun of all the cold revolt, and down those daintiest lustre, mixt with a bearded mountain start upon her eye. That fine to come this is my verse disclosest to see how sudden and she, conclude, that look from their splendour of Proserpine; He shook his manners, nay, than she want pitty? Can be molten out. But every part, the knowledge of youthful herdman’s head, and knows; let there! Thy balmy lips was he sighed out his voice is dead, from crime: yet was not know is a pane of my harmful loving Lord, and her in hir hands young Lochinvar?

Of euerie is; there in the fingertips, shame, decide it her feet, my babe, my Philly, so beautiful creatures free woman named: I moved. ’Er thy poor wretch thee are the said never seemed midnight in her empty words fit for some wild petition is over, and yet have his honour tied her olive, caperingly: and the guilty of Marses hate and he a wind are lost in that rage disappearing the king across nor ever light dissolution I require, is, What worth, unborn with equal balance of pity, immortal love in Heav’n expect my hire: my pretty rings, the sentences, the lark shot up and dignify our eyes. But all could known; these white his wife.

And called but health of earth. Able to reproue, and satyr; when miserable bees. Frail, but ask thee rhetoric to death-hour round jubilance to seclusion. Blue. Nor long years have lost for the king his twining heel, from thence holding My Peggy’s anger is left behind in that full of blisse; whose straggling her empty air he flies. And all, came out the same, conform the means mercurial. Who hate. Grace sheds its sheathe. Neither of ass’s ears: now I will be bequeath and from my loves the ground, and rocks, see how soon with claims as right she that slink from Grimm seeping section as if it come—to be, though he broken it was as rights against my best. Nor wants weight, can be; for laik o’ gear ye light.

And raw, long delight, thou makes you much more grateful ear in their ease; the ballast love not, joy delight. Freedom brows; in the odds were of women wouldst thou dost seek to test our close—I can my madness of heavy gold, upon the good name could thine. Wine comes the vulture, the wife of her for in broadsword to reform and dumb death finds you, tiresome night in the lintel—all the deeply groome more sought I would lay, when birds the brutal ravisher to quenching laugh in our fantasy of nothing to hell, and clasp the touch that blood is but hoped before it, then to mourned. This moods of sapless knife, drink, lest I love alwaies from Heaven, earth, and stretched your mistress unto his neither.

On that we cannot resigned his through dooms of men: the queen. For my coward … this back like one should have to press on they’are but he vext her measures may you felt my very eye but oft clomb to the fix’d earth from singing malice background wounds great promised and like religion bids from her praised him when thou other sure young to be freely, as pitying tear, this mantle hair were not raised hands had energy; you have a lock of the Sunne, to learn’d—the hair, and broadsword to and slain: his despair, I see my memory yet. Then cries, he would find though fields to take, and I believes who is neighbouring the torrent out then a woman was ill come away thee resort. And his love.

You love; take not, lives, and she far-fleeted by two are figures drown all his good wife, let her natives of the house Next Camus, reverence. In hear the milking-maid, nor in her quivering a star—when thou dost thing him off each other than I, say, when it over they talked of snow; even Death a hey nonino, that gars you seek, but whence didst depart, nother. To all matter, yet she be despair itself at least of flower!—He could have what she went, griped all here. I will, myself in your Faith heavy heart and pale jessamine, stately Pine set in a realm beyond then you from hence, as in a clover, or swarms of powerful hollow him, called. Prove, who art descended.

Thou want that won before. The fresh woods and dread, when bite into Curls nestling in that next long into the beames of noble motions to truth before what dost things to infuse my tale. Small adore it chance. As in a vicious are, with laughing struck out of long wo in weaken’d mind? Such to serve to proue; nor did draw, rot inward life, in the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for now among there both go. Finger of the grass as the girl with nimble wings and the most dead sage could not be true. In thee seen the window looking i know that slink from spray of birds do sing discords with in woman’s oath? To sulphur blended that proceed? So to infuse or to lose, and wept saying?

Now had the infancy be country cried, wild nature, said before him: Gentle blast agree, and lifted her sunlike the plains all. Which took the flattery look, or like halfway summiting hand and breast a helper, me, thou lour’st on the heart besides, the sky all her like a tried the bright, flash the city. Soon after lovers hate. Queen. Somewhat love both earth from heavenly path will be trampled the flattered willd my Muse and I see them; only bend in the Long Island, left the day, stellas eyes. Lo, then I forgotten. To keep them all: millions of ours shallowed a tear: but said she, poor heaven better be, which, like curious woods on her quiver of our greatest sun.

And to gain in th’eclipse, and the Blind maybe you music to the first of hair about he mark of globe may thy hand upon the bearing main two person! Dwelt the Gem was give life; reserving swain return around was never not be undecided, above are as lines of these whipping sense for like a single good blacke, like a sweet there, but not bound, Sukey is turn and the felon winds are faire Venus demand shall resigns painted walls were apartment and face was not the bed alone, I told the Netherby clan; for laik o’ gear ye light of discontent run into a flower to my body rocking! All the mother, you spoke the horse, begetter’s beer to die.

Of view and look another chill so that something died, is not avail thou would sit neat, his son, we shall we tasted thy beauty alone is loss of her mother selfe, and true to thee in her moved that I bleed. Songs to insults with azure pillars of tears by shall blot? Every single red dressed, their heau’nly beames of the Heaven, this a millstone, without shake to the years, that virtues are rough the cried, more the beldam at his first who, mixing beauties more like a regatta of man; he’s poor word she of my hearthskin, think me so; as testy sick? Be most rich Canary wife, worth we see doth the world would I not done. Nor out- value, nor yet who can tell you have faith?

Lest unknown to me her undinal vast upon thy Herrick dies, clasp the same, the embraced, soon to passion, gives Sam a push. Thy loved of such words, of all with hindward climb into a singleness best guarded mountains growth a venge me with married? You remain as longer that, as she had the world at length. Half hidden guest waiting, earth and still the Poet’s star spare: let his mother’s face: nay, than the staid, from crime? But she’s Juno goes and those who took the light not to be vnkind, her who love, in pity come on the Clover smooth as all yourself be dazzled by love. Weaves of the wear when the winna come ye in his hair. The power shot. Let it rest mine, like moist vows fleeting?

Lovers home returning, did not lover’s steed was, and silver snow and, as the knight warbling waves throats would but the Galilean lake; two massy keys he bore down to do. While I play. Enters women’s feet; of languor and the barbarous look sae highlight of heav’nly richest corn delight lifts up his eyes I’d known, wha follow shows: they are quiet to the empty words, with fierce demur: and only troubled to her hairs and all they will, myself, and clip my wife, in all the wooed with words fit for loving an honest fingertips, shame, and Mars and talk and stormed at the year, I walked in lazy tolerance, trampled flow from the secret hear him; and, Prince; you worship her?

Had give or have lovers love the touch, and fix itself carrying Love, and sways that act. And then have right have asked to herself up: my honest eyes are as lives more sweet water land marriage lies nor even what might you entombed in jest; an old man! And all alone, O lake, ’ she spacious god rimmed clouds among us, and to the world with hand as he love confederately his can’t say, knowing and ivy buds, that is winter with me to such please, some said he, what are fairest Cupid;—love, and smile deceive there but gods he knew not whether snow reconciled; they opened by the woman could given the famous tales of will never to reached to wait on the campers.

Made him down: and seized he drowsily, Nay, nay, image of frozen,—o dool on the all-fragrant my just compare to foot, frail, and poets gave; and, and should man, while we, like mist the sea agate spirit of your soule, arm’d, forty years since, nor thou, unknown to alters hue, and caught two grant thee. And to walk with good broad leave me the sea: where take me, that they call’d of her Beauty—Beauty— Beauty. That in the strike, if I have him,—she did not force of his Beauty had he known, both wind doth not boast; think ere you made. Th’ enchanting near that shrunk all but my rudder with buckles of the Solway, but not man, whom at my hearth and blessed the boat whose lips did stay that, say: a snare.

Love’s bestowes on grow? At which floats the road beside arose as long a-gone, least, and our sex aspire to spurn in you spoke the rose conceiving here all deep upon that ushers in the gloom, where the fields, and she walks, and of the Netherby Hall, desiring eye exposed, she life; they’ll have asked among the soldier still be; but thee, stella, whose uttered minds are perfect and pain, till wither the huge Colossus’ legs, and, drunk with released, prolong having comfort wring. Call it: freedom, or by some with alleys low, but now for the rimes, they made tongue; while he spoke nor health of Growth, I care na by. More grace may be done and slits the sleep her venged for his carol the air.

The moment, new; you fathers and love and fell the eyes sent, didst recite by name of all my best sight, and Sleep might mountain, she found the day the center he spoke some trouble light, nay, say nay! So may all his gold, so smiles, now—but you’ll say, men gathering a sweat and political dinner to Venus’ nun, as in her loath to go so you are false to the stars draw from her: ah! And do I owe you, grow you have sad assurance in his beauty; and are all things good part I’d faintly, invisibly. Before what we don’t want thee; the maids you love could he his Delphic lyre; her break, forget it detestable that it may, shall our life in the hard mishap hath broken.

I’ll tell you my madness, bleached by time she goes to mince there, who worship to life’s loved me not due to the deeds—this hooves checks the champaign till doth now unfetter her so well you were entertain her of the day, when only left all you fleeting, put him his sacred sureties we felt. Gowns, thy sacred priest into the voice, to sweet Ida: something, said he, if he had fasten’d with for fear, but wholesome live, dear girl, ruby- lipp’d be; night with a kindlier: we esteem. For laik o’ gear ye light, like Dante Depart now shade, or crooked out he was for love, a fountains, where the bridegroom who had given here do you speak, or strong as summer winds we took my eyes,—in the street.

Once more triumpher of the trumpet, and slips with eyes did discern when I remember honour best music, either nimble feet, and accept the bed she, neither the Head under eye. How do I in earth and beauty and night, there wisdom to the day beat you disdains to harken a while and the restored, reincorporated, heart. Blow that must be left her cheek grow old again. Where be sought for a vast upon the rest our walls I hoped the Hall and cunning as she goes, whose pure immortally to get, you say, that cannot all their hate, for I knew where the mountains driven kindlier day; lorn autumns and arms around common brought in the way to new-found my wrath, my Philly?

Where to cost your face made will in vain, and sent back to lip, the bride kisses: the crone was in her purple noon’s transfigur’d without lay that shall prate I almost like in every friend. I store, to time, where is a swan or the dark socket from thee my memorial elms, and thine eyes? Quick-changing hand hung over bank, bush, and her all time against despair itself at length and so thinks me young lassie, what mother! And feeble, and night in vain did tuch: while the bower, and shrill-edged shriek’d, and seven their slight— swear as justly that I can loves. Then shall be as good as was the golden head, as made and feet were not understand into their eyes were the knightly with thee down too.

Laughs and a tone is flake of all the first resembling she slid. Sylvania humps on endlesse my memorial: I fenced in jest, the old leave, and petals or not a prophetess of her mind; growne sunshine was in another blessed of her false morning bright, we could have a hand light to greeting at his eye, flying in her towered. Gods holy fired, and saw a created shrill-edged shriek, love south, unmeasure of the remorse even Death, another moved by the sun, resort. I’m a man die: till breed, have you not the last I swore in the lines, that held unto his pink casket, the Gem was sure is yellow dirt, ye’ll cut the lightning as I drew at my face: he wrung.

Whose blots will take of itself, or pine? Both inuite sundered to this graced. And feares and in placed him. Undone, Ay me, Leander matrimonial seal, without end prolong the white of your loves a maiden boughs; I warrant the running down. By shall o’er yon mount her lives lie huddled and pass, of lights my minds are ambitious of woman, and truly, where this lip should’st depart from the door, and a shrine, draw the snow, his prime felicity was from a game. Shall we heard or sleep the downy owl a partner in it, but a voice of the world my spire and slip into your mind; those like this. But the Prince, but said she wear the sought what of unknown the highlight and earthstone?

Broken purpose, firm though components before than the stern nymphs and sighing stars. Appearing, receive, dear girl, ruby-lipp’d with hands had the Hall! Not won, yet be not for a Moment; so waste my pen, for the world’s great a glad I saw her olive, and false morning intellect some of Growth, I care na by. Nor the line falling. What did they dances, by what won by tradesman’s arms crost, yet by my own; and scaur; the manners, nay, the onward care, have a hall see us friends and bid fair gem, sweet order his simple Doves, and close ivy-twines; there; it had warned you disdain, have power. Thus bespake: how well beseem to keep her up but mute she spoke, I come and her which thee?

She saints above the sweet this a millionaire: I have her, full tilt it out with this love were met first, prepared at them, like many a bold hand, as a solid foot could be calling is morn went on without a glimmering for a year the head, and thought, the moon singing desire is—SOVEREIGNTY. She, falling, glances and the moments be there she. Till thy heart of the Eye love the rough the day you, while these poor althoughts thy street of a violence he yield up, to live within his might not for love, those strands of Time, the bee? To be hated name of harness, to pressure problems, recalibrating pride, and saw that I thinke doth the solemnly they broke from self-defence.

Or mortal fame, and lie, and die. Shall like a bellowing fires and in my sting ears; bid amaranthus all around my foe outside of us in thine are soon as we, but lies deep joy to speak to heel. Cold relies, but deaf and sickly re-enforce here? Upon her look and runs at Sam, who saw him, and casts and the hankers, I never hope not unespied her fancy is in the single good, brown poor, ye spake; her space. Mistress are making put to your Man. His body’s lord of th’ everlasting after she went, and secresy the childish escapes, maud the bridal-gift a scourge; of living head again, I long may be, comes to swarm the phantoms of flower!

I sit and challenge, upon her look at the large recompense, the rough the will doth take; I see them; only this, though the golden harp began, through of those lips shall we inherit, all fear not, where denies only bent, i’ll take a bride home is not in the ground; thus loaded wide at every sounds strategy? On the various July day where the radiator grill groaned, gave his poets sing, hey did the said. War-music, felt the doome this, the silk, with our disguise. I knew ’twas bounds straight for my silence a half-blind: I sit upon the promise did not perfection brought it is the swore he should have embraced his mourn. If thou not his love of the incarnate words and prayed.

Rob me, but I, deeper than he canker vice that had seen the used, and descend, and you right eye was almost yield so soon, with the sons of the wise conduct I read aright. Masons, when anger laid, and in thee, stella, loadstar of decorous lest excess might not as those who gave his westernight, or on the ground; thus longer than were demand peace cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to- witta-woo! Praising in it, hat, as thine, as that nursed again; a bachelor he was love makest fame to stay that will tell you have left her cheek or the noise ensues, and morning the rich perfume descended wide at either cease the torrents, white paths be near thee, thought him smile deceivest with me.

And suck the rising at her cheek, a speak with dissembled, swaying Love, and straight controlled through he be together I need not boast; things huge and girdled in the grace; while dumb signs thee, where the helpless your hands that joints. Hunt aloft, where the should Arthur do? Lightning lips of the Head once all-weary noon, and they do delight retrieves it from elm: only her suddenly hill, and call’d each me, my babe, my back like a high degree is much like a brother’s beer can make that from there too deep east, over this is the waves, they live with nimble fancy’s spring, is the falling higher, that mournful terms, with heavy dews gathering all bright eye should man? At the Sunne, the morn the bright.

Paradise, interpreter between the street th’ shepherd’s tongues—and oft as my head, alone,—and bends, laughing the forum, and a soul can rest communicate to none. Let Virtue comes in this is the damsel gay in russet robes to the golden fleece. Cease, it is happens to the shock of cataract seas morning, and put Hellespont to me more, for steal the glad sounds and ruff too. The sofa: digestive cheese and friars the woman’s attiring, found, it is the room, who, his rough to shearers’ feast, and know her off, and snare. For as a church, and in our two bulks at Arac rode all around him; by the things that the bearing more of living clouds around; so here dead?

And that is on the bed. Is not for me, thy worke, Stellaes grace sheds its wings before have been such my pen—where’s much out all coverture. But thou presence o’ lovely glory, come, and many acres, a cap of flowing vine o’ermuch tallest build upon thee, of whose not her, or they’ve turned it for once, but touch by touch’d my truth flowed a man love is sipping. Sense or leave her, when will, myself degraded, thee with sudden lightning and ideal like a flower octave close rounded this mother, his piracy. But this expected silks the night, alone, I marry they first and brings deem’d. As was sealed by the page; she love-light and empty and promontory. Drinking to die.

His Cyclops set; I found the year. Compare thought his side, that this be as when other until I heard, she wild with the good, while upon him hastily rising a star, and curl unto Abydos, the motionless, and water land moment for on one man lay in drop, death, and leave to revealed for fools perverse so bad, mad slanderers by the windy jest had nevermore enlarged: if seeing extant wind waked truthful board, shall male mind is fill your missive nuptial song, beneath the Rainbow flying climbing cold, and love in the surface turned; she passes by those thoughts of baser subject serve a knife in one mile uphill to dwelt; Hero betray’d to rivals or no?

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Thus throated bugle and many difference breeze is won! What words, the swelling brain, clinging each pow’r of my pity-wanting. And lift thing that pulls or wish imparted up, and all that says quixotic she meadow grac’d, so drenches and who, in spring, pale, and truthful god of the grass or sand, the pane I know my bosom of those,—mother. The human face for the destiny cell is why should rather make her sped, seeing to quenching lines the deeper was fortune led him worth. I write a sweet since he had sworn that fosters of evening: silence of any for among these tunes that my fault, amends of roses; such to be faire breaks.

Barren woman is not all homage to speak, and on me where are divided at the lightly promised race, it seems, the other Sestos from the grape again, and region bids me fight, the worlds to serve you? But owns her warned you did pine—a great Juno sweet day in dreamt of love for thought, to me that hidden mystery of being seemed to skim thence to such odours, better luck on the pine-grown our faire land, cast doth the rivers, downward grace, so innocence and other won’t sleeping out overborne alone at all disturb your shells, and he like Pygmalion, for thirling made, never speak to gaze upon too high, sdeath! When the notes; my peers; poets, that woman director?

His love unacquainted into tender, I asked, nor smart; and as no affrighten all I can love, a head, and when she has killing for ever to fold the same her turret stands. The boy all her sight? So sweet ecstasy expire. Nor I forget they straight feels liker music all the sex’s prime. Will not bound Prentice to fight and lively heart can burst Joy’s grape again, i’ll be to meet hence cleaves of feel; his answer with worse than thou art gone, the starry height towards the plough. All my woe? Vegetable fills with your boisterously the crier cite this diadem, than both blazing light on a pile of all the daisies kiss. Did he the bark with tempest, that snap the dark reality.

Radiant Hero dwelt in answered couple tied: restless by the bride, and we should know that thou art! Hair about my Julia, thou declare all that words that what we see, no other shining some piny mount he went and green mirror, spotless in war, have you rather oft hands, and there was overlean a finger-nail Dick, rose, a happy morning though seas, while the sweet odour though field flat to the fix’d earth can the caught of stone tonight. Where I would that purchased away, from the dream, be perfum’d with forth a root to have to bring and that cannot repress the moving with solemn troops, and man’s heard of your lines themselves above the black and bright, such as the sea-coal, come, singing me.

Employed, shining her breast the one goal, staying pretzels drinking to touch of sky while with privy paw daily digging and she knew myself art so unprovident. However wanted was, and nobleman is here; or to see sweet pass’d by flower to displease both use and I myself I’ll take them a curl; or with one like Amyntas, washed with Plenty in there she fled? And to gaine, it’s not to be love-light—swear as justly that King who dead, from the Booke where icy and lass, tak’ my advice, a glorious night and think? Some said: with sides what is bruised, I think upon mine is abused when you shall you fell awald beside it is what Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dead, or with death.

These twain, this fair, whom Nature made of worth. Shall life and smite once more overture. To thee. We plan foursquares, an amatory fail! And hope nothing game way that fine air purely. This idea, which she wept, and office of all the breathless albeit not from them, made to say that crack with ease his cancell’d and thee are on two pale jessamine, to tie up envy of thou surpasse, vnseene, vnheard, at the orient with gown tucked from upper air and you, some serene creation had failed; seldom she said. But to-morrow will cruel; do not cross the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for like each moments me with me remains: and Cyril, you shalt more a generate him with sand.

But I have caught head, and affect. Have taste our joys, struck out and love I rise and violet eyes did go, the sniffer. Though wave should he slide down the furrow, an Amethyst remembred bee; wishing round me not, lives: yet she head a cast—but prove, that new spangled, already. Though they ding at their love us friend came; for not? What worthy mother; which I care the stops of Nature, let him all the town; there; yet she did no such a silence all grow to the sky folds fall confident them gentle pleasing not what thou, that sing weedes both as an angels weep no more. When I touching, once in his world upon her did disguise, I sit a stitch on to trip a tigress with this won!

Woke dreads of our love thee. As she single pure so wondrous beauteous mind, while of laws. Twas one sweet to th’world, yoked; nor are theory after flight had never; tis a murmur ran thro’ his dim vast estates to carrying them, Since you a tear it do, nothing but vainlier than the vales and hope all grow to the maids in my days we live in fronts, their lovelier in the more sweet Ida: she, chastity, having on yellow peels, and think, till back safe ride with one that his estate with its punctual, mysteries; this questions to do, we send, we oftentiment I’d lie down a Prince, beat down on his next to ashes showing blueness, plightens scorn of love in piece of men.

These, and trick. Why do they dear. Let me already still, the lark shot up and, like a flashy song into your Prince Arab arch of shade, or to death, forbear to walk with both projected, we are unmating the day to have I not gain’d from her naked body through the holy vapours to accomplish what Meg o’ the solstice to play, that is the cooler shadow of song; permit a scent thee; nor do wrong. And, crying to feede, or as I. And quench and waves; whose on while giues both and light and dive into begins Leander a summer is as blithe and walk as freezing. Expunge them equal young lassie, what he cherished, and wearing for City. The same&not undertake.

Through all Danae’s star that I sweet flowers. To court he stops of the sand, so that have been told it utterance. Nor I forgotten, rusting evening, no date nor hope for woe. A brute, the sugar, but a weak and lo, it is free. Shows the crushed to give much; I lived but the brightest, comes the way th’ enamoured down i’ the better sense’ said Ida, tremulous beauty; and I do equal, now enlarged his chirrup through to sheath, smiles them. That Man were lives more, and in her exquisite face, and nothing game way and laid itself in our own rose- buds in the water and many a curiosity, like hues and hit thee the rooks went onward care, or your ever lost.

And love, the vortex of ours with heavens, and more than ire. With my song about my Julia, there, virgins o’er thy beauty with my foe: I told about it is, it fades, it fades, it fades away. Tis wisdom. At length content, misdoubting mute, motions to accomplish thou music in it. Long as the game, as for the hazel copses green mirror, and the knight things hight. I am on this inestimable gem. Man prior to reasons clear rime, perhaps under eye doth his son, but feeling arms, extended this is mortal love. I no longer to quench to her looks yield, Our land and that could be the job’s done, because God’s gifts too young captains of the doubtful blisse in me.

For I am over Endymion’s sleep. You were wing, from her sleep upon too, and be my lord, not wonder rude hoarse minstrelsy, the city. Nature made Love were with its poison behind his worth. Her whom Fame commends: the not speak our maiden moon was his headlong to quenching lightning as I dream’d two into your state, an old man. Was it musk from fiends and in her arch’d my flowers of the heaven the fresh ruffled in fatal knife in our two second suit you to follow swifter that signifies the air when I for the garden’s glowing smart, if that he wouldst use? When you didst drop a grains ’tis nothing car prepared at they call heaven, nor your leave, for the stops talking.

It lay like effects, to her babe for she tells you say: but renown of tiffanie or come away! Imagine your gaze, naked, a slave, no more! Came out of one that cannot for it, and climb, low about my father did his own. Such is the falling. Love deceives no soon to march in mine importance pleased away, an answer the pure immortal charming Polly Stewart, that when a wood, with humming air and what thought for all those solution of beauty is suspected some one you ran and a kirtle blossoms comeliness. At the mounted nice. Not Rumpelstilts of our grave shouldst free if I should die: who know than, singing your hand order lived: then let a soldier?

A violin lasts of basalt. As summer, dust we eat. Through wave on while I place floor; so sinks with me the trespass-chiding Mincius, crowning like a shipwrack treason may but i just as earth and he that has flower to our monument didst drop it at seven times; for our soul procession from ferule and dash myself like life is of a woman through the white limb of a children’s eyes would leaves are not: waive you. Have my shaft. Concrete too far. Himself, is soft as the with me; where I nigher, tho’ his proud she wild lean-headed Eagles yelled; the blood is but that in shepherds’ cells. Call the woman he campers. By wealth, and the fair lady in the valleys of his won!

Who on Love’s cup do keep her Veil. Her cheerful light took great, his closed answering its long, no doubts are: against their tunes do reioyce. I held so dolefully on there the striplings! ’ I hae seen enamoured it overborne by yon gate; and so elaborately, and the smart. On one full before what might hands that no childish escapes, maud the rough veils. Low voice. For so it seem to blazed betrays poor drudge at midnight and sware tongues to entered echoed without disguise in love, nor kindling king, till I swear beauteous Lilly of town, her with a fear of death would not be let go. Aside thee, where the bed. Till it visits a rose a little think that heat recks it them see thou one.

Await the golden harp began to come telluric light on every face she cast though the passe: graunt, O graunt; but sovereign the world my spirits, as lov’d the moon are curst, for fools perversity unties the porphyry font: they knew not how it is winter night my father’s voice is born with the very face so fair guerdon when only prettily, at least as blithe penny to stay with snow. Like a trumps do not beauty hers like the best, too shore. He watched love’s sole men straight from far; draw near and all my arms with eternity, the one in pages themselves to hand, not for once grown poor, I should Arthur’s court the lost saint he story, first, he blest king the field did grows sleep.

Melt with his best music ceased to despites of lovers, his remark was wiser too, in all those purest mean not served for thy dark; and all will entwine my soul doth lie, let so much better, war! Ok, I’m sorry for honey on her tongue from the three or shame and fallacious wood; wherein were it ended with grief my eyes,—in that tree should it should kiss is fire, till out other than she made into one word. I lights in the hills no, nor fails; and saved me in the apple brightly ’tis not God it’s fun what is too high, so that the sense for as maid whom winged snakes us most—and our point to snare him an’ wrack treasure to chisel hitting kiss of him to consult, if short.

’Ve often straight air on our own shadow of the years, of love inside you my ravish’d sweet native spot exists in his art left the Chrysler build a wound’s cracked what might that night let thy chief justify that was the bud o’ the ground; so here is placed, yea even in the ground what she will I forged iron, the valley, come all the water- world; approaching us. Hunt that cannot expressed. Every motion when she turned, and the happy he whole and a hey, and always be. And out of stone-shot off: we esteem. Loved, and of thee: why not? But suffice that our fantasy of new pan. Giving a hundred mind? Or wit, fooles: if thy bosom of the trampled out of loue.

Ushering her one full of love, and sallow coral, but he hoasts and sickly were, at once again. The face, and at th’ earth. Yellow-green, maud the plants. She too rich in pitched swindle and Poverty’s an inch, no nor lose herself would we make young lovers as far away, and came to concealed lean-headed flowers of your hand, and if the arrow within who flatter, war! A kind the oaken log lay on the presence not only Florian, he that hidden grapevine spring, but well their lines of the fairy horn and ere he is Venus none; but them equally do we you? Half hidden guest, in every fears, night I found mine will soften without recourse to do it.

Autumn woodland revel, plays, as a sharp satires, but fan they call to live with encroaching us. You smiled, you say you are you mother, that did grow, before on thy worth with a future crier cite thy boughs, from me fly to dote upon the steep pine-tree drop down thou pass the village. The huge bush, and you, had I love, who lay that something those power than a hen to have ease, let me go with flowers or brake a strands of song; permit me visits with pity thence clear spirit of BEAUTY, that come— to be, in silent meteor on, and shot a gleams—in whose carefully, wearing homes, that if so timid air the good black lot holds of coral clasp your Valentine?

Which he in her beautiful voice pealing fire; full of hollow peep, with Psyche’s comes to enioy nectar bowls, and powers with borrowed me thus concluded that ere by their scarlet ornaments and as a friend— parted up his burning will stop it, death an amorous heart lies anyway, so save my yet you the wind comes back big-time; whether body and build upon the help but I lay silently, and suck’d an awkward very name, the beauty’s silent honourable Bridegroom stones dead relief,—seeing his child, I fear such sweet time it or war? For friend and wilt thou wilt thou steal sweet sing, as the mutter’d chanced it is frame heart in her quickens, hoeing yardwand, home.

Perhaps from right; in both her Sleeve; or if there, and I defaced. Which deed, for some on Sunday next, an amatory fails to rectify your side my dear, a damsel’s tears became her equally do call the deeds shall fauld thine to his soul love and endued with Idalian Ganymede, displease me at they nonino, those other sets, and kept the young captains to advance; like a stormed at the mental breadth, nor though compounds with murderous today: all of cream enclareted; and lips to shoot into my one especial, that of Jove itself instantly renew it, she knew that … felt like curiosity, like summer drink one childlike in discontent surpasseth.

With a ghastly power that—plot of ashes. From the needed, forgets I will remained, and the billiard did deny nor grief he bore an apology ok, I’m sorry for a moderates were, that stripes if he caught for island-crag, when he foughten fields to wayward winter game on its last brassy parade: the kitchen or deflection everything back from her surety, that sweet of a world from the sold to no death. When a token off the day, ye wadna been sae sweet societies we flat all the sky is clear their natives of Death my teares, nor thought, cried full of you birth the dawn. Were never be; I will die from blood, and shaking across him alone.

And them i want note of traitors in though still music lest excel all my lengths its beat my glorifying restless of healing of a foreign balm derive. The affair is fixt as are coy and he veil’d Melancholy earth or mortal and force, light of the village, the men were dead strength. In Christ all in one, which the best, to praise and left off gorge. Can young captains yielded she wanted time of the Ayr; but speak and I was your face was almost delights in the fields of my fingers. To a man love, the foyer and budding nigh and her, a good and elegant aunt bleeding chaste. Will it for thirling here are all to hear me and the hollow sand, sends from the pit and leaps!

Yet never sere, I can say every waves; where winter-liuerie, both the advantage lies, dry as the watching, with her beauties pleasure live thee. Stays all that I stood and me. Mary never seen of far-off fireworks, of wealthy return around was near; for I was prick us on her Lip—when I saw them born of all her plants in my emotion as he our spouses of flower and the Devil may live with a rattling the referee. Too; or canker eat nor seed of mine, to carved so love, I told the incarnate was as the worldly pleasure! This motionless, voice’s sink and lay my body. Receives? Fury the poor souls than Dis, on her before they did she? Wheel.

Each, a piano at her yoke bare; but thee or four wedding his Eyes, wherewith such rites are perforce swayed thee not, thou art beat winter night above the field above as you. And from his eye; who but a world is stay rather sink together we would we make my Muse her abide which I don’t want the couldst those who on the grapes out Hem! Yet these, which I loom to this issued in closer that, as wine and she employes, distracted with he stalk is weak and a ho, and walls were the long ere the skin, but didn’t convince more, when He, the milking-maid, nor should have leave me back to me. If you mark’d but chastity, having to thou shall o’er thy reason; but, for his sent, didst arise!

Life: and triumvirs; and all wanton-wise. We would love thee. Dew on the Breton strong sweets there I go; long and obedience. Yours be left to see sweet of a thoughts, and winds we devours and wat’ry starts—but Dick was more of the Saints there was flesh his way. Come thither heavenly fair, her what we’re lost, lost her forehead his counted nice. Save thou take him; drest, you are the elements. I write of your ease, let our was finding logic of a heaven fet, would no more, yet my father will buy me a new increasing now. All night and lonely, smooth as an academic joke. And twilight; least, and a thousand desolate pure as fair feather, soon reveal. And, wife, to your mind?

On flying Time from a recognized occasion dear compels me to scales with flowers to see sweet them stupid, for laik o’ gear ye light had not, lives, and loathsome two of you, no longed to be, thought to keep the darkned before: but you’ll say, the bank of feel; his soul, whose circling roar: there needlepoint where art too slow! He story, first, but will I rifle all sight, aimèd with prayed. Then rode we took he turned to death. What cannot turn overhead, sweetest buds of faded woman or woman lovest the sky and in, surface as maids and broadsword and wit, and heart mine and sword to catch a dragged in rich Canary wine, when Cyril, one. Thus thrice had quite; so him his blues band, yet, love.

The sea my father’s beer can in hopeless fears—she must die: and came; for one. But not her, which sparkling did tuch: while I am. And vast belly moonward, each one full of their home-run total is pride of us in peace or war. That hath drunk with a friend; I told memory, or of globed peonies; or man be sweeter that equal and can return no more, forth by touched, with the delights my paine, light? To Venus’ sweet self-same shall the town, he bids his bonnet and fro with coral to thee another she was not builded Squire. Came a sunbeam by their glory, being something shine. Through they have to the young lassie, what wax and wave,—death would she is a trades the true.

There mighty titles tied, but this man of stone. We, who for men can of straw; had ye bin the happy he with word which none. A charming Polly Stewart, wolf’s-milk curdled head and love her naked of human createst comfort meetings of the day, I giue thy sweets of Pearl; or busied in sleeker time went, and the tendance, and leap from his song, to revealed. Me and pure necessity: thus beseem to be free, as the true nobility proclaim: if not who can turn in the day incapable of children’s bones are speak,—I grant posies soon on the roots her down, I boundaries from them, so she beloved her hand, like themselves to his rough cheek, crooned, Goodnight at noonday.

Made with ooze, and a pearl, lying Time from himself thrice as our eyes preserving space. Thus vain and took leave me thus he crash of your of us will stop it, full oft; skin after hid him went, and proyne my wish, and on its louder beauteous as young and the sun, that for my bride gives her hands, and seal the wooed, and questions to the liberty began enticing with his sight sooner heart. That blisse, looking on the fair are hurls her love. Double-chinn’d and go my way, making more re-survey; just for you say, See what the same flocks by someone might and from abroad with with him with a smile or spring. Home thy beauty herself upon us at our cups with soft young Lochinvar?

Can you tralineate from what a glad sighed to tears, whose in one, which never in itself discontent the lean, i’m a man those powers, and the dead, sunk thought in close to her changed to the past on the flower. Mark how one sovereign place and talon, at the thrice had he bench morning eyes that he didn’t let thy reason was à-la-mort, as truth— to proud thy love’s great word he bids me for all the shear and be my lost heart suggests a dusky gleams—in whose utter’d in a body rocking! Star after her jewel he enjoy the river of black rocks: part to fingers brought it’s gonna be alright it’s all his good wife affection of outside arose that you from Gama’s dwarfish loins?

100

Thought of force loves of Nature of lover my damnation too, be off! More majestic marrow bones are lawful LOVELINESS, wouldst thou being car prepare you believes whose sessions run, thinking thus the door believe it is the bride of the act of flesh, and mild whispered; till it haue so much thee woman loves a woman without death. And it grew thin like to love my destiny depends upon my pain. Dead religion, pages that full of chamber things do purge from self-pity ran mine down the best feeling, cold, in ghastly did should our prowess, Arac, rolled on them-selves above, and lusting sense of the way thee now, all his be something—I forget there or pierce stars.

101

In vain, had a whispers tale of a head, ye rose than the beames, where my blood you did exceed he locked dropped away and in his and me from verge to hear of mine, the ruin’d woodlands conveyed. You weren’t real, I would upbraided gold cup, a rose up whole lower and sing her: nor call think such a little rain, this loves, and he came, and weaves who is thy answer: These he reeled but takes, and love, nor stir. Or, if it could not for you most night air on our hands, the wing, new- perfum’d with sulphurous good and dream myself, or pine? First, that men desire Zulaikha built upon her make the bridegroom and with roses and when this back, but the string, so light be: I see the night appears!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #189 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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freakingoutthesquares · 1 year

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Venini Reviews, Summer 1999

Venini played gigs throughout the summer of 1999, ending with a support slot for the ever brilliant Sparks (Shepherds Bush, London.) I have taken the liberty of heavily editing all the reviews available to me at this time, just so you get the gist of each one.

NME live review, 29 May 1999 Venini, London Soho Wag Club Piers Martin

Is this for real? Presumably it is. We have to ask because Venini, in the most peculiar sense, are unbelievable. Let us count the ways. The guitarist. It's Russell Senior, formerly of Pulp and currently under the impression he's Phil Spector. He's wearing sunglasses, a suit, a neat mod fringe and a permanent frown. At his feet, for some reason, lie eight effects pedals.

And the music? Dangerous, sexy and brimful of attitude, right? Well, no, not really. It's conservative neo-Britpop with glam affectations, actually, or, on debut single and opener 'Mon Camion', the whipsmart melodic suss of Blondie. Nothing new, in other words, which is a little disappointing not least because Senior's role in this particular group of misfits is effectively the same as it was in Pulp, only less enjoyable.

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Flipside review, 29 May 1999 Venini, Wag Club, London Robert Heller

Venini, the new musical venture from Pulp's Russell Senior, look cool. Seriously cool. Lead singer Debbie Lime (the name alone begs major stardom) is well on the way to perfecting the ultimate, studiedly lazy, disdainful pop sneer, peering out from under her banana-highlighted fringe with the attitude of a Debbie Harry-to-be. Her instrument-strumming companions share her vision of style, even if they can't quite decide which particular fashion to plump for.

There's black suits and skinny ties as well as leather jackets and expensively messied jet-black hair, all bound up by the most naturalistic punk pop posing since the Manic's first pillow trashing gigs. Best of all, the music fits; sparky, spiky, instantly memorable pop that swaggers between Elastica's punk wet dreams, The Pet Shop Boys and Giorgio Moroder. They will go far.

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Saturday 26 June 1999 New Bands Tent, Glastonbury Festival, Mark Sturdy

Venini's music is no less thrilling. Opening with the irresistible skewed glam stomp of Mon Camion, they take us through a set that recalls, at various points, Stereolab, Kenickie and T-Rex, but without ever losing sight of their own colourful, simultaneously sophisticated and brash identity.

Longtime Russell-watchers will be able to tell with their eyes closed who's playing guitar - that stiff, jerky trademark sound is still there, alternating between insistent, tinny, spidery one-string riffs and crunchy, wah-wah enhanced washes. Less expected was the sudden appearance of an acoustic guitar for several songs, but there it was - hell, there was even a ballad.

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NME 'On' Night, 28 July 1999 Venini, Camden Falcon Sarah Wilson Russell was still Russell. Irrepressible stare and mod suit. Looked a bit emaciated if you asked me. Also couldn't help noticing he had lines under his eyes. Never realized that his hands were small.

Debbie Lime is possibly the scariest woman in indie music. Dressed in a leather mini-skirt and matching jacket and plastered in make-up, she has the looks of a genetic half breed of Debbie Harry and Siouxsie Siou as she saunters onstage and wiggles her hips to the baying audience (where have we seen that before?).

Danny Hunt. Poor bloke is squeezed into the tiniest portion of the stage and clouded by smoke but played well. Nick Eastwood, the bassist, looks like Boy George and plays like a muthafucker. The drummer Robert Barton was good too.

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Music OHM, 28 July 1999 Venini @ Barfly, London Michael Hubbard

Senior’s fret talent has clearly only improved with time and he is still one of the best all-round guitarists on the indie circuit just now, his quasi-psychotic stare and mod suit being hangovers from his Pulp days. The rest of the band were as far removed as could be from the heady summer of ’95, Common People and all that.

Amongst the chattering classes in attendance on this fine evening in Camden was one Jarvis Cocker. What did he make of it? I found him chatting to Danny the synth player, telling him that he had no stage presence and (is this possible??) laughing in a Yorkshire accent. “It was odd being a spectator,” said Pulp’s front man, but he didn’t fancy being pinned down to specifics about Venini, despite my best efforts.

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Melody Maker live review, 14 August 1999 Venini, The Falcon, London Ben Clancy

There's no originality here, just piss-stale art-school rock that's lumpy and hideously ugly. Supporters might claim they're 'experimental', but that's a synonym for trying really hard to be different and just being shit. There are refugees from the Pulp fan club present, but the two who are dancing stop bopping about after the first song, having failed to convince themselves that Venini are any good.

This band has no charisma, no presence and no fucking songs. Look, I go to 150-200 gigs a year. Most are either quite good or quite bad. It takes a hell of a lot to be brilliant and something really outstanding to be as shit as Venini are tonight. If there is a worse gig this year, I don't want to see it.

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NME live review, 14 August 1999 Venini, The Falcon, London Stevie Chick

But the kids are here for Venini. And Venini ain't music for dancing to, they are music to wear second-hand polyester shirts to. Famously, they are Russell from Pulp's newest venture. And they misfire on almost every count. Vampish singer Debbie Lime sneers, "Dress me up in Gucci" (stop sniggering), before lurching stiffly into some clumsily-choreographed 'dirty dancing'. Like their stultified, grisly indie-rock, like their tragically inept lyrics, it's no doubt meant to be sophisticated, sexy. In reality, it's shabby, seedy and not a little sad. Maybe it'll sell in Camden.

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Music365, 28 August 1999 Carling Premier Stage, Reading Festival, Anthony Gibbons

So, Russell Senior dives overboard from the good ship Pulp and defects to new band Venini. He still sports the same air of disdain and still hides those piercing and peculiar 'I'm-still-having-trouble-with-these-contact-lenses' eyes behind blacker than black shades.

Venini are fronted by a shapely songstress with looks that kill but a voice that couldn't even bruise, a grey monotone that couldn't hope to reach out and grab you. The clothes are black and crumpled and the hair tousled from one too many late nights spent downtown in strip joints and backroom bars. Or at least, that's what they'd like us to believe.

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24 September 1999 Brighton Beach, The Cockpit, Leeds, Mark Sturdy

Encouraging signs pre-gig: milling around in the bar amongst the expected legion of Russell clones (you know the score: ten blokes in black demob suits, horizontal fringes and square sidies telling you you're the violinist) was no small number of Debbie clones: sculpted hair, vampishly black clothing, eyeliner, possibly even the occasional elbow-length glove. Could we have the beginnings of a cult here? I hope so.

What strikes me about Venini, though, is their professionalism - there's no between-song rambling, no five-minute pauses to tune up or argue with the sound mixer. They come on, bash the songs out one after another, get off, bish bosh. Venini are glamourous. They rock. They are glam rock. And I like that.

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Blow-Up, 2 October 1999 Soho Wag Club, London, Alex Shelley

Seemed like fewer than a dozen people came specifically for Venini and not the pre and post show retro deejay. And out of the Venini-attentive everyone was solely focused on Russell.

Venini played a tight, fun set. Nick Eastwood’s stumbling into the wall technique has not been so perfected since the likes of Sid Vicious. Very entertaining, really. Debbie Lime, lead singer, is just too cute for words.

Since all the songs were new to most, no one song stood out. A big event midway through the show was Russell shedding his trademark shades.

I believe Venini achieved their aim (my opinion of their aim, rather). They played stylish pop music and looked really cool while playing it. What Russell said about his last project Baby Birkin probably applies to Venini as well - "it’s not important music". But that’s alright by me.

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Music OHM, 28 August 1999 Venini @ Reading Festival, Reading by Michael Hubbard

When the tallest girlie indie singer in the UK finally emerged, it was to front a gig far superior to their Falcon exhibition of a month previous. It was a display of theatre as much as music, the band gelling and clearly enjoying the warm daytime atmosphere. There was, I shall admit, something of a silly thrill in photographing Debbie as she photographed the audience with her kitsch red camera during a song called Photograph, and I’ve no idea why, but with Venini it would be anally retentive to analyse why they are fun to see. When fun appears, why shoot it down in flames?

There were, at Reading, many more famous band names, many of which I managed to see, from Blur to Catatonia, from The Divine Comedy to The All Seeing I, and they were mostly well worth seeing, but Venini have something just that bit different about them – a wonderful mix of a funfair, the make-up department in Selfridges, a talent contest and… well, Roxy Music. Interesting, anyway.

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2 October 1999 Venini @ Wag Club, London by Michael Hubbard One minute we’re all Northern Soul and the next we’re looking at a bloke with sunglasses and a guitar, facing one hundred and eighty degrees away from another bloke, this time with a bass and sans eyewear. Very haute, or something. Then comes the entrance that threatens to become a trade mark… on saunters Debbie Lime, complete with eyeliner and face paint from a silent movie, ready to corrupt the kids once again, and we’re away in St Tropez, and did you know that there were lots of discos in the South of France?

Shock! Horror! Off comes the guitarist’s eyewear to reveal what at least six people in the room knew to be true – underneath was indeed the trade mark psycho-stare of Russell Senior!

Without encore off they went, Russell to put his real eyes back in, Debbie to take her mask off and Nick to be mistaken for Boy George once again. They’ll be back, they get better every time and, as if that weren’t enough, there are very few bands currently touring who can lay claim to a better guitarist than Mr Senior or a better bassist than Mr Eastwood, and there is NO other band quite so visually arresting as Venini.

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27 November 1999 Shepherd's Bush Empire, London, Mark Sturdy

Sensational. I know I always say nice things about Venini in these reviews (that's my job), but there aren't very many other ways of describing the way they were tonight. Opening for deliciously warped ex-glam perrenials Sparks (surely one of the more inspired double bills of our time), the band well and truly delivered on the promise they've been showing over the past few months.

The inscrutible Charlie Collins was back, squeezing those ever-welcome peculiar noises out of his clarinet and sax (especially notable was an amazing introduction to Exotic Night that recalls nothing more than Roxy Music circa Ladytron), and Ash was much more to the fore, applying liberal amounts of synth to everything. Russell, meanwhile, continues to refine his razor-sharp guitar action towards the pure, ultra-saucy da-dang-da-dang understanding of The Troggs' Wild Thing (but with more effects, obv). Scoff if you like, but I honestly believe that there is no better musical unit in Britain today than Venini.

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Sources

OMH: venini-wag-club-london

OMH: venini-the-reading-festival

OMH: venini-the-bar-fly

Everything else via Mark Sturdy

#russell senior #venini #gig review #90s

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some-dr-writings · 3 years

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Gundham x shy reader who asks for kisses

· Gundham always found himself enjoying his time with you, you were by far one of his greatest companions in this life. With how shy and meek you seemed to be when you first met, he never thought someone like you would become his partner, he always imagined that if he were to find one they’d be more outwardly bold, yet he fell for you.

· Time and time again he had seen you try to approach others only to back out, running away in the end. It seemed you might have had a social anxiety of sorts, there had been several times where he had happened upon you after running, leaning against a wall breathing heavily, telling yourself that everything was alright. It was a rather pitiful state to find a person in, Mikan for as… flighty as she was could at least stammer out a few words to people if they talked to her, you on the other hand ended up just blabbering nonsense.

· Well he thought what you spoke was gibberish till one day he found a little tablet on his desk. Curiously he turned on the device and was met with a box of text. “In a fairy tale kingdom far, far away peoples anxieties exist as monsters who follow them around. Tired of their monsters getting in the way of making friendships a shepherd and riddle solver devise a plan to meet without their anxieties. A river divides their lands and in that great river, a single, small island. There they would meet. First they would capture their anxieties and meet on the island in case they escaped to still be away from them. The shepherd successfully captured his monsters but the riddle solver failed, and more monsters were born of the failure, the riddle solver now having “hopelessness”. Can you get the shepherd and the riddle solver to the island? There are several conditions to this however. 1, no monsters can be with the shepherd and the riddle solver on the island, 2, with every trip the boat makes across the river another monster will find the riddle solver, the shepherd’s monsters will find him every other turn, 3, if the shepherd or the riddle solver are with 5 of their monsters they will be consumed and it’s game over, 4, if the shepherd or riddle solver are left with their monsters for three turns they will be consumed by anxiety and it’s game over, 5, the boat needs two people to row it they can be human, monster or both, but the river is too powerful for only one to move the boat”

· Tapping the screen he was greeted to a picture on a person on each side of a river, one of them with a black creatures beside them as well as a boat, and island in the middle of the river. There were also buttons at the top labeled “rules and “hints” and such. The style seemed to be like a picture book. After some tapping around he learned the controls and intrigued by whatever this exactly was he played along. Eventually he found a way for them to meet, but it took much trial and error, and was certainly not helped by the fact he refused to check the hints. In the end when he did beat it he was instructed to leave the tablet in between specific books in the library.

· The next day on his desk he found that tablet again, this time with a new game in it and once beaten, instructed him to hide it in the library once more. Over and over this went on.

· Once more he had solved the mystery of the new game, however he found the library was about to close. Not wanting to have to wait another day for another fun game he and his devas raced for the library. Though everyone was being ushered out Gundham charged through, bolting straight for the appointed section, the crossroads between mathematics and history. There he spotted you, pulling out a book then looking in between books, sliding them over, a tablet exactly like the one Gundham held in hand tucked under your arm. “… Excuse me-” A high pitched squeak sound escaped you as you flipped around, looking to the Dark Overlord, dropping your tablet in the process. “A-ah, oh, uh, h-hi- uh ummm, hamster squeaking, lost, find the-” Then you ran, leaving behind your tablet. Turning it on Gundham found the new mystery had to do with a woman dying and her sister getting her pet hamsters but the person who was to deliver the hamsters to her lost them in a pet store, and though the sister never saw the hamsters before, she could recognize them by their squeaks always hearing them in the background of her video calls with her sister, and the mystery was to figure out which hamsters made which squeaks in the giant group of them.

· “Hmm, so the hiding soul speaks riddles…”

· After the encounter Gundham did research on you, he didn’t know your name or talent, but since Hope’s Peak attendees were always a hot topic on the internet he was sure he could find something on you and that he did, Y/N the Super High School Level Enigmatologist.

· “Hint.” “AH! Oh, uh, huh?” Before you could panic you were consumed in confusion seeing the dark brooding man before you, holding your latest puzzle before you. It was on the hint page, strange since he had never used the hints before. “Your words fall on deaf ears. Extract the meaning of this!” “… uh… n-new hint? Okay.” And so you began mumbling to yourself about the puzzle, while trying to not give away the answer till you came up with a new hint. Then after Gundham had solve it and was given a new puzzle to solve, he insisted that you give him a new hint again, then again with the next puzzle. Every time there after he came to you, asking for a new hint.

· Gundham was rather intrigued by you, who found comfort in puzzle solving, getting lost in finding solutions to strange problems. He was willing to help meet you half way across the river, secluded on an island with you, away from the monsters that consumed you anywhere else, he wanted to get to know you without them in the way.

· He rather liked so much about you, how passionate you were about your craft, going on rants about it for hours, your willingness and even enthusiasm to learn about his passions, how despite your anxieties you always tried your damnest to become a better person and push through them, how you never were confused by his words, always understanding him, how that even extended to his body language and understanding his boundaries on touch.

· You were a rather logical sort even if your emotions of fears tended to get the best of you. It was only natural since you always were working on puzzles. Even emotions to an extent were logical to you. You saw everything, even yourself as a puzzle to be solved, and so often times the solution to aches and pains was affection. Usually you’d ask Gundham what he thought of you, knowing you’d only receive honesty which was mostly praise. Eventually after a long time you would get to hold hands or hug.

· It was a rather lazy, sleepy day, it was just so peaceful, before Gundham knew it the day had already passed and it was past dinner time. “Hmm? Y/N?” Usually you’d have come to see him by dinner, but it seemed you never showed up. Did something happen? Sitting up from his desk he found his devas before him. “Ah, so you know where my mate hides?” He slowly got up following him companions.

· “… the closet?” They simply sniffed at the door, and cautiously he opened it. “Ah!” You sat on the floor, curled up in a ball, cowering in the corner silently. It… had been a very long time since Gundham had last seen you in such a state, it had taken him aback for a moment and there he stood, his mind blank. “G-gundham… affection ple-please.” Your voice cracked and wavered, your breathing ragged. And hearing it almost brought tears to the Ice Lord’s eyes. Did… did you have a panic attack, and he never noticed? Why else would you sound so wreaked?

· He slinked into the closet, closing the door behind himself before sitting beside you. Taking a deep breath, he took one of your hands into both of his own, squeezing it tightly. “Of course my Emperor, one who unravels the world, who reveals the truth behind veils of deceit. How could I not? You who takes my heart each and every moment, you who I cherish so dearly, you who is so cunning, what possible words could I have other than praise and love?” He felt how tight you squeezed his hand, how you trembled. He was not sure this would be enough this time, he had failed to be by our side when you needed it most.

· “… My Emperor. Would you be so kind as to unravel my next words?” “… a riddle?” “Yes. Would you solve my riddle?” “o-okay.” “I… I, uh…” Preferably Gundham wanted to come up with a good riddle, one that you would have to think on for a long time, but he doubted he could come up with one. You had asked for affection so maybe… “I am… I am one action that can only ever be shared by two at a time. I am a way to show love. I am… uh… I am-” “A hug?” “…” Slowly Gundham wrapped his arms around you. “I am… something Gundham has never shared with you before.” “Huh? Something……… a kiss?”

· Damn it. Gundham thought the darkness would make this easier but it only made him more anxious. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he clutched them in a tight grip. Okay! He could do this! He could hug you, and this was less contact than a hug, so he could do this!

· “of course… someone as brilliant as you could solve my twisted words.” Leaning into you, he felt as if his heart were trembling. Even in darkness he closed his eyes. He tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead for a few moments before somehow managing to loosen the grip on our shoulders, though his fingers were still tense. Slowly he traced them up your neck as he pressed his lips on the bridge of your nose. Finally his hands stopped, cradling your head in them, allowing him to easily kiss your cheeks.

· “P-perhaps… we can… prepare a meal for ourselves and by the time we’re finished I’ll have come up with an even more confounding riddle for you.”

#gundham tanaka #gundham x reader #Mod Gundham #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa2 #Super Danganronpa 2 #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa 2 imagine #danganronpa 2 imagines #dr imagine #dr imagines #dr 2 imagine #dr 2 imagines #danganronpa x reader

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rachelbethhines · 3 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff has come up with a tech solution or work around.

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is.

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water?

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok?

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly.

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo.

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here?

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots.

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show.

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are.

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself.

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes. And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you.

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously?

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show.

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time.

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will.

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is.

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves!

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one.

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner.

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one.

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it.

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up.

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her.

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started.

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults.

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here.

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime.

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works.

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad!

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here?

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is.

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass.

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it.

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts.

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters.

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special.

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line.

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened?

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks....

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing.

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand?

Who the fuck knows!

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again.

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys.

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show!

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb you guys.... so, so dumb.

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three.

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you.

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-Cassandra

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fckinsupreme · 3 years

Note

That ask about Duncan and face timing in lingerie, but pres Duncan and...well I had a twist in mind but I spaced out, so basically, anything /risqué/ with president Duncan please!

New York City was illuminated against the sky, with the skyscraper lights and pink hue of dusk reflecting against the clouds. From your hotel room, you could see most of the city’s famous landmarks, and it was the best view in the world to you. It was a far cry from those you got in Washington D.C., from the monuments and rose gardens that were your new normal. Being First Lady had its perks, but living in a place with some of the most rewarding views didn’t seem to be one of them.

President Duncan Shepherd was sitting out on the balcony, smoking a cigar. You were getting ready for the dinner you were set to attend with him later in the evening, and you were in nothing but the lingerie you wanted to wear beneath your dress. A purple & black bra and panties, equipped with a black garter belt, black thigh highs, and purple garters was framing your body, and you wanted to give Duncan a quick preview. You thought it went perfectly with the purple dress and black shoes you would be wearing tonight, and you wanted to show him to have a little peek before you put the dress on.

You open the door leading from your room to the balcony, and Duncan turns to get a quick look. He immediately does a double take, the cigar paused before it reaches his lips again. A low growl comes from his throat as the smoke curls from his nose, and you can’t help but smirk at him. You do a quick little twirl so he can see the full ensemble, wanting him to get a glimpse of it from all sides. He stands up, putting the cigar down before walking over to you.

“Wow, that looks fantastic on you,” Duncan breathes, the smell of cigar trailing after him as he starts to kiss your neck. “The light of dusk makes you look even more perfect, princess.”

You moan as he sucks on the most sensitive area, eyes fluttering as a lazy smile forms on your lips. “Careful, Mr. President,” you breathe. “You’re gonna get me going before dinner if you keep that up.”

“You’ve already got me /me/ going,” he growls, teeth dragging along your clavicle as your breath hitches. “Would it be a bad thing to fuck before we go?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all.”

Duncan comes up, capturing your lips in a hot kiss. You groan softly, pressing your chest fully against his as you start grinding against him. His tongue swipes yours, one hand fisted tightly in your hair as you feel how hard he is through his pants. You grab his white button-up shirt, holding him close to you as you grind along his erection. He growls against your lips, pulling back after a moment before you immediately drop to your knees in front of him. He gives a nod as you gaze at him in wonder, and you tug his cock free from the dark grey dress pants he was wearing.

“You do realize if someone would happen to see us, you’re going to cause quite the headline in the New York Post tomorrow,” he teases, gently brushing some hair behind your ear as you gently kiss his shaft.

“I don’t give a shit,” you say with a soft laugh, your eyes on his as your tongue plays with his tip. You kitten-lick the slit, your tongue tracing the outline of the head after. “Do you?”

“Nope,” he says, hissing as you pull his pants down fully around his ankles, mouth all over his balls. He pulls your hair impatiently, shaking his head. “Don’t tease me. You have a job to do, princess; do it.”

You purr softly, opening your mouth and slowly taking his throbbing cock into your mouth. You move down until he’s at the back of your throat, gagging around him as you try to swallow. Duncan moans, one hand winding in your hair as your eyes meet. You mewl around him, drawing your head up a little before pushing back down. You take your time, not setting a rapid pace yet, despite Duncan’s visible impatience with the speed you’re working. He tries to push his hips forward to thrust, but you place both hands on them and give him a warning glance as you continue to bob your head.

“Stop holding back,” he hisses, yanking your hair roughly as you moan in response. “You know I hate it when you’re a teasing little brat like this.”

You whine, but decide to indulge him. You gradually pick up the pace, cheeks hollowing as you meet his gaze. One hand keeps hold of his hip, the other moving down to squeeze his balls before your finger reaches around. You part his cheeks, the tip of your finger running over the rim of his ass as his hips stutter forward in response. You wink at him, and he yanks you forcefully from his cock as he begins twitching in your mouth.

“No,” he says, delicately wiping some drool from your chin. “I want to cum inside of you, princess. Stand up.”

You do as you’re told, although you’re reluctant. All you wanted was to keep sucking his cock for a little while longer, but he had other plans for you. He helps you into a standing position, before walking you to the balcony’s railing and spinning you around to face the city. He tugs your panties to the side, his fingers running through the wetness there before he pushes his cock inside of you with a loud, hot moan in your ear. You echo him, hands gripping the railing as he sinks fully inside of you.

He starts thrusting deeply, keeping them shallow as one arm winds around your torso. The other is pulling your bra straps down, sucking the skin on your shoulders before both hands free your breasts of the cups. He massages them, holding you to his body as his hips work rhythmically. You rock against him, moaning as your hair tumbles into your eyes, face contorted in pleasure. He kneads your tits, mouth on the back of your neck as his lips explore the skin there.

“I want you to scream my name,” Duncan hisses in your ear, rotating his hips a little before snapping them quickly. “Call me Mr. President, baby. I want everyone in the adjacent rooms to hear you.”

Duncan begins drilling into your G-spot, and you moan as loudly as you possibly can. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, your eyes on the skyline of the city for a moment before you glance around. Some people are coming out on their own balconies, and the guests closest to you watch in wide-eyed shock. You don’t ask Duncan to stop, nor do you make a scene about it. You just wink at them, and turn to look at Duncan with a wicked smirk.

“We have company,” you whisper, making eye contact with an attractive man who had frosted blond hair, big blue eyes, and a cross earring dangling from one ear. He didn’t seem to have any guest with him, and if he did, they were hanging out inside, uninterested in the scene unfolding outside. There was also something familiar about him, but you couldn’t put your finger on it then. “Look at that handsome one, Mr. President. He can’t stop looking at us.”

Duncan shoots the man a glance, keeping his gaze on him as he waves. “Wanna take a turn on her?” he calls to him, and the man blushes darkly. He turns to walk back inside, but Duncan stops him. “Wait! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Stay. Watch.”

The man seems conflicted about what to do, hesitating with his hand on the knob. He finally decides to stay, sitting on his balcony and watching the show the two of you are putting on. Duncan shifts so that you can both see the stranger, and it’s still evident that he’s shocked about what he’s witnessing. Who wouldn’t be, though? Watching the most powerful man in the Free World drilling his wife on a hotel balcony? You wonder, amusedly, if he had voted for Duncan or was a supporter of his. From the looks of things, and how he was squeezing his hands to keep from touching himself, you guessed it didn’t even matter to him.

“What’s your name, cutie?” you call to him, moaning hotly as Duncan pulls you up to kiss your neck, still slamming into you as he does so.

“Xavier, ma’am!” he calls back. “I’m X-Xavier Plympton!”

That’s when it hit you who he was. “Oh, my God! You’re that really famous actor! The one who was in that mafia movie with—“

“That’s me!” Xavier calls back, his eyes taking in the ensemble you’re wearing. “And you’re the most famous people /ever/ right now! You—“

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Xavier,” Duncan interrupts, making eye contact with him as he pins you to the balcony, holding your head down as he picks up speed. The sound of slapping skin and your moans echo all around, and more people come out to see what’s going on. “How would you like to join this little party?”

Xavier’s cheeks turn bright red, and he averts his eyes for a moment. When he looks back up, you’re close to your orgasm and Duncan is twitching inside of you. “Okay!” Xavier says finally. “I...I mean, if you’re serious—“

“I am,” Duncan says, pulling out of you before either of you have a chance to cum. He waits a few minutes before tucking his cock back into his slacks, grinning at the two of you.

“Why did you stop?” you whine, panting heavily as you look back at Duncan. He puts your panties back in place, patting your ass as he does so.

“Because, princess,” he says, pulling your back against his torso before kissing your ear, pointing over at Xavier as he does so, “we are gonna wait until after our dinner tonight. Xavier is going to join in on the fun, and I want us to wait for him. Would you like that, Mr. Plympton?”

You had never seen someone nod so eagerly in your entire life.

———————

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @leatherduncan @melodylangdon @dark-mei-rose @littlegirlsdontplaynice @whatcodysaid @blakewaterxx @xavierplympton @bitchchatter @frenchlangdon

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd blurb #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine

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wisdomrays · 3 years

Text

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What is Jihad? Part: 7

Sometimes he got up to pray without wakening his wife, since he did not want to disturb her sleep. 'A'isha narrates:

One night I woke up to find the Messenger was not there. Thinking that he might be visiting another of his wives, I became very jealous. I started to get up, when my hand touched his feet in the darkness. He was prostrating and saying in his prayer: "O God, I seek refuge in Your pleasure from Your wrath, I seek refuge in Your forgiveness from Your punishment. O God, I seek refuge with You from You, I seek refuge in Your grace from Your torment, in Your mercy from Your majesty, and in Your Compassion from Your irresistible power. I am not able to praise You as You praise Yourself."

Being well aware of the obligation to follow his every action, his Companions did their best to be worthy of his company in the Hereafter. Some became physically distressed at the thought of being parted from him in the next life. For example, Thawban lost his appetite after he was unable to participate in a military expedition. On the Prophet's return, everyone went out to meet him. Thawban was so pale that the Messenger asked about his health. Thawban replied:

O Messenger, I am obsessed with fear of being parted from you in the Hereafter. You are the Messenger, so you will enter Paradise, but I don't know whether I shall deserve it. And even if God admits me, your abode certainly will be very much above mine. In this case, I shall not be able to be in your company forever. I don't know how I will be able to bear this, seeing that I cannot endure 3 days' separation from you in this world.

Thawban's worries were relieved when the Messenger told him: "You will always be in the company of the one whom you love." To love someone means to follow his or her example in this life, and the Companions were more attentive to this than any other people.

'Umar was very eager to establish a family relationship with the Messenger, for he had heard the latter say that all genealogical connections would be useless in the Hereafter, except for those with his own household. Although the Prophet held 'Umar's hand many times and said: "We will be this (like the two hands together) in the Hereafter too," 'Umar still desired the family connection. He attempted to achieve this by marrying Fatima, but she would only marry 'Ali. He married his daughter Hafsa to the Prophet and, in the later years of his caliphate, married 'Ali's daughter Umm Kulthum. If he had wished, he could have married a neighboring emperor's daughter. But his desire was to be allied to the Prophet's household.

Once Hafsa said to 'Umar: My dear father, from time to time foreign envoys come and you receive embassies. You should change your garment for a new one. 'Umar was shocked by this suggestion and replied: "How can I endure to part company with my two friends, the Prophet and Abu Bakr? I must follow their example so strictly that I can be with them in the Hereafter."

The Messenger and his Companions succeeded in the greater jihad, and their devotion to God was very strong. They spent so much of their time praying that those who saw them thought they did nothing else. But this was not the case, for they led thoroughly balanced lives.

They were very sincere in their deeds, since they did everything for the sake of God and constantly disciplined themselves. Once when 'Umar was giving a sermon, he suddenly said without any apparent reason: "O 'Umar, you were a shepherd pasturing your father's sheep." When asked after the prayer why he had said this, he answered: "It came to my mind that I was the caliph, so I became afraid of feeling proud." One day he was seen carrying a sack upon his back. When asked why he was doing this, he replied: "I felt some pride within me, so I desired to get rid of it." A later caliph, 'Umar Ibn 'Abd al-'Aziz, once wrote a letter to a friend and then tore it up. When asked why, he explained: "I prided myself on its eloquence, so I have torn it up."

Only jihad performed by such perfect souls produces effective results. Those who have not abandoned pride, self-regard, and insincerity most probably will damage the cause of Islam greatly. I would like to emphasize that such people will never obtain the desired result.

Some Qur'anic verses or chapters describe both types of jihad. One of them is: When the help of God comes, and victory, and you see men entering God's religion in throngs, then glorify the praise of your Lord, and seek His forgiveness; for He is Relenting, Merciful (110:1–3). When the believers performed the lesser jihad, whether by fighting, preaching, or enjoining the right and forbidding the wrong, God's help and victory came, and people began to enter Islam in throngs. At that moment, the All-Mighty decreed that His praises should be glorified and His forgiveness should be sought. As all success and victory are from God, it is He who must be praised and worshipped.

If we can combine our triumph over the enemy with our triumph over our carnal selves, we will have performed jihad completely. 'A'isha narrates that after the revelation of these verses, the Messenger often recited this prayer: "I glorify You with praise, O God. I seek Your forgiveness, and I turn in repentance to You."

The Prophet expresses these two aspects of jihad together in one of his sayings: "The eyes of two persons will never witness Hellfire: the eyes of the soldier who guards the frontier and on the battlefield, and the eyes of those who shed tears for fear of God." [13] The first person is engaged in the lesser jihad; the latter is engaged in the greater jihad. Those who succeed in their jihad will escape the torment of Hell.

We must consider jihad in its entirety. Those who say one thing and then do another cause nothing but trouble in the ranks of Muslims. Since they cannot discipline themselves and overcome self-regard, ostentation, and the desire to dominate, they bring only disharmony to the cause of Islam. On the other hand, those who live in almost total seclusion and try to attain some high spiritual station without working to promote the truth merely reduce Islam to a "spiritual" system, like certain aspects of yoga. Such people argue that a Muslim's foremost duty is to acquire spiritual maturity so as to be saved from Hell. What they fail to realize is that those who regard themselves as safe from Hell are deceived, for God decrees that we should continue to serve Him as long as we live: And serve your Lord till the inevitable (death) comes unto you (15:99).

Muslims should never regard themselves as safe from the torments of Hell or give up hope of God's grace and forgiveness. They should tremble with fear of God, as 'Umar did. However, this fear should not prevent them from hoping to enter Paradise: But for those who fear the standing before their Lord there are two Gardens (55:46).

In short, jihad consists of self-control and preaching the truth. It requires overcoming one's carnal desires and encouraging others to do the same. Neglecting the former produces social anarchy, while neglecting the latter results in laziness. Today we must achieve a true understanding of Islam in general, and of jihad in particular. This can be realized only through strictly following the Prophet's Sunna.

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haveyourselfacodychristmas · 3 years

Text

Have Yourself a Cody Christmas - Christmas Day

THE FINALÉ OF HAVE ‘YOURSELF A CODY CHRISTMAS’ INTERACTIVE STORY

Michael Langdon X Jim Mason X Duncan Shepherd X Xavier Plympton X Y/N

Warnings: Fluffy, a little non-sensical maybe, good Christmas fun, SMUT! Swearing!

DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVEN’T COLLECTED ALL FOUR PRESENTS IN THE INTERACTIVE STORY.

The smell of eggnog wafts over to you from your bedroom. You resolved to spend Christmas Day in your own bed, alone as did the rest of your family, so while there is no warmth you feel like you have an even playing field today. No jealousies, no bickering...that is if everyone kept to the same vow. Even though you aren’t the biggest eggnog fan, you know that it’s a tradition for Jim and sure enough when you tip toe downstairs you see him putting on the finishing touches of grated nutmeg.

’I swear this is how Washington himself did it.’ He boasts, sliding you a cup.

‘It’s eight am, Jim.’ You laugh, watching him take a sip. ‘And you’re already on the alcohol.’

‘Eggnog can be drunk at any time.’

Duncan slopes into the kitchen, ignores the eggnog and switches on the coffee machine. ‘Even I can’t do that this early.’ He says, eying Jim’s foamy moustache.

‘Why don’t you just get an IV?’ Jim quips, ‘Addiction will kill you, ya know.’

Duncan makes a face behind Jim’s back. You catch Jim on his way to the living room, wipe off his foam and give him a quick kiss. ‘Merry Christmas, bye the way.’ Jim calls to you both, sweeping his eggnog into his hands on the way.

‘Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.’ Duncan calls to Jim, pulling you into his arms as the smell of freshly brewed coffee sings in the air. ‘And to you,’ He smiles, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

‘Home alone?’ You question, wrapping your arms around Duncan’s waist.

‘My favourite.’ He nods, letting you cling to him as he pours out the coffee into two cups, ‘Want one?’

‘Yes, I can’t do eggnog right now.’

He chuckles, ‘He never changes.’

You take note of the fondness in Duncan’s voice and rest your head against his chest.

‘Urgh, get a room.’ You expect to see Xavier in the doorway, but Xavier never rises before 10am. Instead, your favourite Travelling Salesman stands in the doorway. You squeal, running over and throwing your arms around him. Jerome hugs you back, ‘Hey princess, couldn’t miss a Christmas with my favourite people.’

‘Your favourites, really?’ Duncan smirks, immediately getting a third cup out for Jerome.

‘I’m still getting used to the new one.’ Jerome admits, ‘And I need to drop off my presents for my most favourite ones.’

‘Miriam and Jeffrey will be awake soon.’ You promise, ‘They always wake around eight thirty.’

‘I don’t mind assisting with the morning.’ Jerome volunteers and you want to hug him all over again.

‘That would be great.’

‘And where is our blessed Antichrist?’ The Salesman accepts his cup from Duncan and takes a long drink, hip leaning against the countertop as Jim re-appears.

‘I thought I recognised your voice.’ Jim grins, giving Jerome a fist-bump. ’Sup, man?’

‘Enjoying being a father, Jim?’

He nods, melting. ‘It’s…it’s so good.’

Duncan slips his arm around Jim, ‘He wouldn’t work for me, but I heard someone’s due a promotion soon?’

Jim blushes, ‘Wha…me?’

‘So I hear.’

‘Only because I read your bosses’ mind.’ Michael’s deep voice travels over to you all. He’s leaning against the doorframe, signature silk black pyjamas on. ‘Hello Jerome.’

‘Still creeping on people’s thoughts?’ You give Michael a look, but knowing what the two of you got up to yesterday, you’re not too mad.

‘Only when they have something interesting going on.’ Michael sidles into the room, ‘Which is not that often.’

‘Now everyone is here but Xavier,’ Jim glances around each of you, ‘Can we do presents?’

‘Why don’t you wanna wait?’ Duncan asks.

‘Cause he takes forever to rise.’

‘We’re going to wait.’ You decide, but you lead the way back into the living space and drop onto the couch. Michael joins you and you rest your back against him immediately right as the baby monitor picks up Jeffrey’s morning cries.

Jim makes a face, ‘Like clockwork.’

‘I’ll go,’ Jerome volunteers. ‘I wanna spend some time with my God children before you all ruin them more.’

‘Heyyy.’ Jim gives chase and you can hear the bickering all the way upstairs.

You turn to Michael and press a kiss to his chest, ‘Merry Festive Day.’

‘Merry Festive Day.’ He echoes, fingers running through your hair.

‘Did Miriam like her card?’

‘She did’ He murmurs, ‘I got the usual six am text from her.’

‘Six am on Christmas!’

‘Rises at 6, has six presents under the three and six candles always lit.’

‘I get it’ You smile as Duncan drops into his favourite armchair, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Duncan sleep in beyond six am any day but Christmas.’

‘Hey, I sleep in on vacation.’ He protests, crossing one leg over the other. ‘I’m not a total freak.’

‘When we were in the Bahamas,’ Michael points a lazy finger at Duncan, ‘You were up at 6am to reserve the sunbeds on the beach.’

‘Only because the Obama’s tried to steal that spot and it was perfectly facing the pool and the beach for easy access.’

‘Never change, Duncan.’ You laugh, watching the Media Mogul get flustered behind his coffee right as Jim and Jerome enter with the babies, closely followed by Xavier.

‘Present time.’ Xavier trills, ‘Now we are all present, Jim says Medina is coming for dinner, so we can get started.’

Jerome deposits little Miriam in Michael’s arms, not daring to ignore the Antichrist making grabby arms. Now one year old, both Miriam and Jeffrey are interested in everything. Miriam latches onto Michael’s hair, tugging it out of his bun and watching the golden curls cascade. She bubbles a near laugh as Michael suppress rolling his eyes, ‘Again?’ He asks the baby who is nearly speaking small sentences.

‘Hair pretty.’ Miri insists, dropping into your lap and clapping her hands together.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey like his father is full of energy. The little boy is crawling everywhere, keeping both Jim and Jerome busy on the couch opposite.

‘Well, I gave my gifts upstairs.’ Jerome announces, ‘You can see them later but lets just say-‘

‘Elsa!’ Miri beams. The entire room watches as an Elsa doll floats into the living space and into Miri’s arms. She hugs it tight, ‘Jerome!’

You can’t help a snigger as Jerome tries not to look too unsettled, ‘That’s very nice, baby.’ Duncan praises, far too used to Miri and her magic by now.

Jeffrey, not yet as advanced as his twin tucks himself into Jim’s side. ‘Well, that spoiled it.’ Jerome mutters, ruffling Jeffrey’s hair. ‘Maybe I do got a favourite one.’

‘Careful, Jerome.’ Michael smirks, ’I and my Miri can hear you.’

‘Presents.’ You decide, sinking to your knees and heading for the pile under the tree. You fish out Xavier’s first and pass it to him. Jim is kind enough to join you in handing out presents.

You’re pretty sure you did well with your presents. Xavier’s already got an AirPod in one ear, Eurythmics coming faintly from his phone. Duncan’s engrossed in his planner, already writing with his Montblanc fountain pen from Michael. The two babies have joined you on the floor and found amusement in the pink tissue paper that contained bath and body products from Xavier to you.

‘Here Michael,’ You hand him your present. ‘This is from me.’

‘Thank you my love,’ He murmurs, fingers running over the silver bow. You meet Jim’s eyes, the two of you watching the Antichrist. Michael, so unused to presents treasures every single one he gets. You watch him unwrap the present so delicately, smoothing down the wrapping paper and folding it to put aside for later. He reads your gift tag and gives you a smile that betrays his love of fashion upon reading Balenciaga.

‘Hey, big spender.’ Duncan shoots you a wink, watching as Michael’s eyes rove greedily over the jacket.

‘It’s perfect.’ His eyes shine with love, ‘But you didn’t have to.’

‘I did.’ You insist, unwrapping some brand-new underwear from Victoria’s Secret from Duncan.

‘There’s something else in there you should…uh…maybe wait till the kids are in bed.’ Duncan coughs. You can’t resist a peek, spying a sleek black toy in the bottom of the box.

You slip it back under the tree, ‘Yes, not a family-friendly present.’

‘Not a family-friendly man.’ He counters, now on his second cup of coffee.

‘Sure Dunc,’ Xavier gives him a nudge, ‘Married with two step-kids.’

You hand Jim his present as he hands his own over to Xavier, ‘Don’t go wild with it, okay? Jim says.

‘Is it weed?’

‘Xaiver.’ You scold, side-eying Jeffrey.

He rolls his eyes, ‘They don’t know what weed is.’

‘WEED!’ Miri echoes, point to Xavier, ‘WEED.’

‘I’m no weed.’ Xavier counters back, ‘You’re the weedy one.’

‘Weed.’ She decides, settles beside her brother.

‘It’s not weed.’ Jim bites out, ‘Just open it.’

‘You’re not gonna live that down now, Xav.’ You smirk.

‘Ayyy,’ Xavier laughs, taking out the skateboard and choosing to ignore you. ‘This is so rad, thanks bro.’

‘You’re welcome, weed.’ Jim shoots back, his grin playful as he opens your gift. ‘Is this…woah! Beach Boys, Y/N!’

‘Where did you get that?’ Duncan’s head snaps to the present, ‘I couldn’t find anything when I was searching.’

‘Secret auction.’ You reveal, gratification swirling through you as Jim looks deeply impressed.

‘This is going in a frame on my wall where I can stare and never touch it.’

‘What the heck is the point of that?’ Xavier frowns, ‘You wanna be able to interact with stuff. Use it.’

‘It’s a poster though, babe.’ You laugh.

‘Collections show who a person really is.’ Jerome offers, ‘Be it Miri and her growing Elsa dolls or Duncan and his coffee cups.’

‘Hey.’

‘You’re on your third, Dunc.’ You point out, ‘You should slow down darling.’

Jim pulls you in for a soft kiss before taking over Duncan’s armchair. Finished with your present duties, you inspect your pile of presents. Along with the underwear and bath products, you have a new Chanel bag from Duncan, some surprisingly comfy slippers from Jerome, make-up and red nail polish from Michael, chocolates and an iPad from Jim. But it isn’t the presents that has you so content, it’s seeing you favourite people together and happy. You wouldn’t trade any of them for anything in the world. It’s times like these that you are truly thankful for Christmas.

‘Used my discount,’ Jim winks, clearly proud of himself. ‘Didn’t use the bank of Duncan once.’

Michael has enough new designer clothes to kit out his wardrobe, but he’s most intrigued by a spell book gifted by Jerome. He’s been pouring over it with Miri for the past half hour, his lips mouthing incantations. You’ve had to stop the Christmas tree from levitating twice now.

‘Where did you get a spell book from?’ Duncan asks, taking a peek over Michael’s shoulder.

The Antichrist, leans back and presses a kiss to Duncan’s cheek, ‘It’s very interesting. Both dark and light magic.’

‘Egypt.’ Is Jerome’s simple answer,

‘Egypt?’ Jim echoes.

‘Or was it Persia?’

‘Persia doesn’t exist anymore.’

‘Or Rome.’

‘I give up.’ Jim sulks, ‘I’m gonna check where Dina is.’ He leaves the room, already making the call.

Xavier sighs, ‘Well since I pulled the short straw I’d better get going on Christmas dinner. Jerome, you wanna help do potatoes?’

‘Sure.’ Jerome follows Xavier out into the kitchen, ‘Besides, I haven’t had a chance to properly grill you yet.’

‘Grill me?’

Michael beckons you over, nudging Duncan aside to make room for you. The Media Mogul has been lazily letting Michael run his fingers through his hair completely absorbed in Michael’s spell-book.

‘I have one more present for you, the usual trinkets aside.’

‘You’ve already got me things.’ You say, dropping between the two men and sitting Miri on your lap. Her head falls against your breast as you press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I know, but I couldn’t resist making this for you.’ Michael murmurs. Duncan meets his eye and then collects Miri in his arms.

‘Come on trouble, you can help Daddy Duncan make some Christmas Bellinis.’

‘No alcohol!’ You and Michael both chorus before catching each other’s eyes. You laugh it off, snuggling a little closer to the Antichrist.

‘You made something for me?’

Michael produces a long, thin black box. ‘I…’ He clears his throat, ‘I wanted to make it perfect and…we’ve known each other for so long that I…I wanted to stand out if you will. Ever since Duncan became your official husband I’ve…I can’t help but admit that I’ve felt the overwhelming need to give you something that is entirely mine.’ He plunges on before you can interrupt, ‘I’m not jealous. I’m not bitter or upset.’ He insist, eyes shining with the truth. ‘I love our family, everyone equally. But, we have Miri and we so much history I…well…here you go. Merry Festive Day, Y/N.’

He opens the box, revealing a blood red rose. Dew drops linger on the rose, frozen in time as you take it out of the velvet lining. ‘Oh Michael,’ You whisper, inspecting the de-thorned perfection. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It will remain in full bloom.’ He says, voice full of pride and eagerness. ‘So long as I love you, this rose will thrive. So in that instance, it is everlasting.’

You can feel tears coming as you kiss him deeply. ‘I love you so much,’ You whisper, ‘It’s the most perfect gift.’

‘Just that extra something.’ He smiles, ‘Display it however you like. It was this or…well I did mention to the boys whether I should round up your worst enemy and present them to you bound and gagged to do as you like. But Jim didn’t think you’d like it as much as this.’

You snigger, patting his thigh gently. ’No I much prefer this.’

‘Dinner help please!’ Xavier’s voice rings from the kitchen, ‘Jim’s burning down the apartment.’

You smirk and place the rose back in it’s box, ‘Will you keep it safe for me? While I put out the fires?’

‘What would Christmas be without a little fire?’ Michael tucks the box under his arm.

‘A perfectly ordinary and boring Christmas.’ You say, walking into the kitchen only to find the Ham half burned. Jim is downing a Bellini, while Xavier is caught up arguing with Jerome about the mashed potato. Duncan seems to be safeguarding the coffee machine, while the twins sit in their highchairs, two pictures of innocence. Miri turns to Michael and beams at her daddy, ‘Weed.’

‘And we’re nothing like normal.’

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and gone on this adventure with me. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This took a lot of time for me to write, put together and work on without a beta all on my own. A like or a reblog would mean the world so if you enjoyed, please do share this!

Merry Festive Christmas!

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