#old sport is my new religion

[xbrokencrownx]

#an icon #always #old sport is my new religion #nicky you’re a saint to put up with such a drama queen #the great gatsby #f. scott fitzgerald #english literature #books #leonardo dicaprio #Jay I’ll always love you #daisy did’t deserve you #nick did #daisy buchanan #nick carraway #toby maguire

[freeleyenrashespeakstruth]

By Kitty Werthmann

“I am a witness to history.

“I cannot tell you that Hitler took Austria by tanks and guns; it would distort history.

If you remember the plot of the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family escaped over the Alps rather than submit to the Nazis. Kitty wasn’t so lucky. Her family chose to stay in her native Austria. She was 10 years old, but bright and aware. And she was watching.

“We elected him by a landslide – 98 percent of the vote,” she recalls.

She wasn’t old enough to vote in 1938 – approaching her 11th birthday. But she remembers.

“Everyone thinks that Hitler just rolled in with his tanks and took Austria by force.”

No so.

Hitler is welcomed to Austria

“In 1938, Austria was in deep Depression. Nearly one-third of our workforce was unemployed. We had 25 percent inflation and 25 percent bank loan interest rates.

Farmers and business people were declaring bankruptcy daily. Young people were going from house to house begging for food. Not that they didn’t want to work; there simply weren’t any jobs.

“My mother was a Christian woman and believed in helping people in need. Every day we cooked a big kettle of soup and baked bread to feed those poor, hungry people – about 30 daily.’

“We looked to our neighbor on the north, Germany, where Hitler had been in power since 1933.” she recalls. “We had been told that they didn’t have unemployment or crime, and they had a high standard of living.

“Nothing was ever said about persecution of any group – Jewish or otherwise. We were led to believe that everyone in Germany was happy. We wanted the same way of life in Austria. We were promised that a vote for Hitler would mean the end of unemployment and help for the family. Hitler also said that businesses would be assisted, and farmers would get their farms back.

“Ninety-eight percent of the population voted to annex Austria to Germany and have Hitler for our ruler.

“We were overjoyed,” remembers Kitty, “and for three days we danced in the streets and had candlelight parades. The new government opened up big field kitchens and everyone was fed.

“After the election, German officials were appointed, and, like a miracle, we suddenly had law and order. Three or four weeks later, everyone was employed. The government made sure that a lot of work was created through the Public Work Service.

“Hitler decided we should have equal rights for women. Before this, it was a custom that married Austrian women did not work outside the home. An able-bodied husband would be looked down on if he couldn’t support his family. Many women in the teaching profession were elated that they could retain the jobs they previously had been re- quired to give up for marriage.

“Then we lost religious education for kids

“Our education was nationalized. I attended a very good public school.. The population was predominantly Catholic, so we had religion in our schools. The day we elected Hitler (March 13, 1938), I walked into my schoolroom to find the crucifix replaced by Hitler’s picture hanging next to a Nazi flag. Our teacher, a very devout woman, stood up and told the class we wouldn’t pray or have religion anymore. Instead, we sang ‘Deutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles,’ and had physical education.

“Sunday became National Youth Day with compulsory attendance. Parents were not pleased about the sudden change in curriculum. They were told that if they did not send us, they would receive a stiff letter of warning the first time. The second time they would be fined the equivalent of $300, and the third time they would be subject to jail.”

And then things got worse.

“The first two hours consisted of political indoctrination. The rest of the day we had sports. As time went along, we loved it. Oh, we had so much fun and got our sports equipment free.

“We would go home and gleefully tell our parents about the wonderful time we had.

“My mother was very unhappy,” remembers Kitty. “When the next term started, she took me out of public school and put me in a convent. I told her she couldn’t do that and she told me that someday when I grew up, I would be grateful. There was a very good curriculum, but hardly any fun – no sports, and no political indoctrination.

“I hated it at first but felt I could tolerate it. Every once in a while, on holidays, I went home. I would go back to my old friends and ask what was going on and what they were doing.

“Their loose lifestyle was very alarming to me. They lived without religion. By that time, unwed mothers were glorified for having a baby for Hitler.

“It seemed strange to me that our society changed so suddenly. As time went along, I realized what a great deed my mother did so that I wasn’t exposed to that kind of humanistic philosophy.

“In 1939, the war started, and a food bank was established. All food was rationed and could only be purchased using food stamps. At the same time, a full-employment law was passed which meant if you didn’t work, you didn’t get a ration card, and, if you didn’t have a card, you starved to death.

“Women who stayed home to raise their families didn’t have any marketable skills and often had to take jobs more suited for men.

“Soon after this, the draft was implemented.

“It was compulsory for young people, male and female, to give one year to the labor corps,” remembers Kitty. “During the day, the girls worked on the farms, and at night they returned to their barracks for military training just like the boys.

“They were trained to be anti-aircraft gunners and participated in the signal corps. After the labor corps, they were not discharged but were used in the front lines.

“When I go back to Austria to visit my family and friends, most of these women are emotional cripples because they just were not equipped to handle the horrors of combat.

“Three months before I turned 18, I was severely injured in an air raid attack. I nearly had a leg amputated, so I was spared having to go into the labor corps and into military service.

“When the mothers had to go out into the work force, the government immediately established child care centers.

“You could take your children ages four weeks old to school age and leave them there around-the-clock, seven days a week, under the total care of the government.

“The state raised a whole generation of children. There were no motherly women to take care of the children, just people highly trained in child psychology. By this time, no one talked about equal rights. We knew we had been had.

“Before Hitler, we had very good medical care. Many American doctors trained at the University of Vienna..

“After Hitler, health care was socialized, free for everyone. Doctors were salaried by the government. The problem was, since it was free, the people were going to the doctors for everything.

“When the good doctor arrived at his office at 8 a.m., 40 people were already waiting and, at the same time, the hospitals were full.

“If you needed elective surgery, you had to wait a year or two for your turn. There was no money for research as it was poured into socialized medicine. Research at the medical schools literally stopped, so the best doctors left Austria and emigrated to other countries.

“As for healthcare, our tax rates went up to 80 percent of our income. Newlyweds immediately received a $1,000 loan from the government to establish a household. We had big programs for families.

“All day care and education were free. High schools were taken over by the government and college tuition was subsidized. Everyone was entitled to free handouts, such as food stamps, clothing, and housing.

“We had another agency designed to monitor business. My brother-in-law owned a restaurant that had square tables.

“Government officials told him he had to replace them with round tables because people might bump themselves on the corners. Then they said he had to have additional bathroom facilities. It was just a small dairy business with a snack bar. He couldn’t meet all the demands.

“Soon, he went out of business. If the government owned the large businesses and not many small ones existed, it could be in control.

“We had consumer protection, too

“We were told how to shop and what to buy. Free enterprise was essentially abolished. We had a planning agency specially designed for farmers. The agents would go to the farms, count the livestock, and then tell the farmers what to produce, and how to produce it.

“In 1944, I was a student teacher in a small village in the Alps. The villagers were surrounded by mountain passes which, in the winter, were closed off with snow, causing people to be isolated.

“So people intermarried and offspring were sometimes retarded. When I arrived, I was told there were 15 mentally retarded adults, but they were all useful and did good manual work.

“I knew one, named Vincent, very well. He was a janitor of the school. One day I looked out the window and saw Vincent and others getting into a van.

“I asked my superior where they were going. She said to an institution where the State Health Department would teach them a trade, and to read and write. The families were required to sign papers with a little clause that they could not visit for 6 months.

“They were told visits would interfere with the program and might cause homesickness.

“As time passed, letters started to dribble back saying these people died a natural, merciful death. The villagers were not fooled. We suspected what was happening. Those people left in excellent physical health and all died within 6 months. We called this euthanasia.

“Next came gun registration. People were getting injured by guns. Hitler said that the real way to catch criminals (we still had a few) was by matching serial numbers on guns. Most citizens were law-abiding and dutifully marched to the police station to register their firearms. Not long afterwards, the police said that it was best for everyone to turn in their guns. The authorities already knew who had them, so it was futile not to comply voluntarily.

“No more freedom of speech. Anyone who said something against the government was taken away. We knew many people who were arrested, not only Jews, but also priests and ministers who spoke up.

“Totalitarianism didn’t come quickly, it took 5 years from 1938 until 1943, to realize full dictatorship in Austria. Had it happened overnight, my countrymen would have fought to the last breath. Instead, we had creeping gradualism. Now, our only weapons were broom handles. The whole idea sounds almost unbelievable that the state, little by little eroded our freedom.”

“This is my eyewitness account.

“It’s true. Those of us who sailed past the Statue of Liberty came to a country of unbelievable freedom and opportunity.

“America is truly is the greatest country in the world. “Don’t let freedom slip away.

“After America, there is no place to go.”

Kitty Werthmann

[burningtheroots]

💜🤍💚 Introduction Post & Guide/Masterpost 💜🤍💚

IMPORTANT

After three months, I think it‘s time to introduce myself and clear this mess of a blog a bit 💀

So, I‘m 20 years old and have been learning about radical feminism for quite a while before joining in myself, and I‘m really grateful to be part of this community and even be mutuals with some of my favorite women on here. <3

I joined Tumblr (and Instagram) to share information, my own opinions and to connect with like-minded women. Before discovering radical feminism, I always felt left out from the discussions and didn’t know that there would be anyone who‘d understand me and accept me. I tried to fit in somewhere where I didn’t belong, and whilst it‘s not always easy to be here, I‘m happy that this community exists. :‘)

DMs & anons are always open, and I‘m always interested in having discussions and meeting new people.

I‘m rather shy and struggle a bit with my social skills, but it gets better eventually.

The only people who aren’t welcome on my blog are p0rn obsessed men and generally anyone who only wants to harass me or spread misogyny. I‘m all for respectful discussions and willing to share my viewpoints, but I‘m not a punching bag.

As there‘s a lot going on here, I collected the most important posts and reblogs (quite many, to be honest) and decided to link them here. Some are simply informative, some are very subjective and some are a mixture of both. The list will be updated over time.

Here you go:

(I‘d also heavily recommend to check out @/radfemfox5, @/woman-for-women, @/butch-reidentified, @/radsplain, @/meanevilandcruel … and many more — not actually tagging them because this post is long & I don’t want to annoy them) 💜🤍💚

if a link doesn’t work, please let me know

Sex-based violence 🔗 links

‼️ Self-protection in emergency situations

Pornography 🔗 links

Prostitution 🔗 links

Gender Critical 🔗 links

Surrogacy 🔗 links

Sexual assault 🔗 links

LGB & Pride 🔗 links

Women‘s health 🔗 links

Pro-choice 🔗 links

Questionable men 🔗 links

Women‘s rights movement // General stuff continued 🔗 links

Women‘s movement // General stuff

Donation Megathread

Stop the infighting

"Not like other girls"

"Not All Men" is a war propaganda tactic

Age and attraction

Key elements

Andrea Dworkin works

Why feminism should center women and women only

Statement

How men see us

Prioritize women

Radical feminism is intersectional

Radical feminism definition

Double standards in terms of "unconditional love"

Favorite quote

We‘re not Nazis

We don’t support Nazis & vice versa

Misogyny vs. misandry

Why I‘m a radfem

Actual radfeminism

No good men

Feminist book list

Libfem hypocrisy

Andrew Tate fans

"Withholding sex" is a misconception

Sexism against women in sports

Choice feminism

Men ☕️

Sex-based violence

Radfeminism is superior

On motherhood

On motherhood 2

Workplace sexism

Motivation

Men‘s mental health month

eXtRiMiSm

Women are not protected 1

Women are not protected 2

Oversexualization

Oppressor classes

Men who want children

Bodyshaming

Misandry

Men‘s sexual entitlement

Beauty Myth

A man‘s world

It‘s all men

Double standards

Women in fiction

No conservatism

Lies about emotions

The system isn’t broken

Resist, don‘t comply

Male hypocrisy

Woman arrested in Saudi Arabia

"Unconditional love"

Beauty ideals

Again, men ☕️

Parental alienation ‼️

Men & gossip

Men dislike their own daughters

Women aren’t objects

On religion

Sexism at school

Women‘s labor

Men‘s victim mentality

Arranged marriage

Women are an afterthought

Oppression in the US

Purity culture

American women & maternity leave

Body neutrality

Dangerous men are around us

Anti-natalism

Men don‘t actually "love" women

Socialization

Stereotyping men

Neha Wadekar in Baringo county, Kenya

Tomiekia Johnson

Child marriage in the US

Workplace sexism

UN report (alarming)

"You are a man-hater"

People with disabilities matter

Disability Pride Month

Girls‘ clothing

So you‘re partnered with a male

#radfem #radblr #radical feminism #women deserve better #womens rights #gender critical #personal

[moondal514]

Been a while since I made an AFTG fic rec list so here’s a fic rec list of some of my fave extremely underrated AFTG gen fics

an interlude by clytemnestras

smoking kills

Short but fantastic ficlet that’s a picture-perfect illustration of Renee & Andrew’s brotp

A Brief History of Exy According to Philomena Cunk by nebulousviolet

Breakout documentary* star Philomena Cunk takes on the violent world of exy for the sport's thirtieth anniversary, featuring exclusive interviews from Kevin Day, David Wymack, Dan Wilds, and MORE!

(*Outcome of court case still pending.)

Hilarious crossover with the iconic Philomena Cunk

Salvation by OneSweetMelody

Stephanie Walker did not save her.

Fantastic Renee character study about her crafting her new identity with religion

collateral/roadkill by animediac/ @jaywalkers

“You can’t be Nathaniel anymore,” his mother had said. “Abram, listen. You can’t be Nathaniel.”

-

When Nathaniel is ten, his mother tells him he’s not allowed to be, anymore.

A Nathaniel (not Neil, Nathaniel) character study that gave me actual goosebumps from how well it’s written

monster mash, more like monster bash by adverbialstarlight/ @adverbialstarlight

The Monsters are vampires about to get a new housemate, the newly turned Robin Cross. Good thing the Council Halloween party is coming so they can show her the ropes.

aka a What We Do In The Shadows AU with no prior knowledge needed

Hysterically funny and comedy gold

the places we've been, the people we've become by pneumatics

He’s twenty years old and he’s thrown himself into a family where he’s as lost as they are unforgiving.

Beautiful but sad short piece about when Nicky 1st starts living with the twinyards

Maria by Ateiluj/ @awildtei

Maria Hemmick, over the years.

Explores and adds dimension to Maria Hemmick and is legit one of the best fics I’ve read in this fandom

#aftg #fic rec #fic rec list

[tomtenadia]

Detours to you - Chapter 1

It's the weekend and after the brief prologue here I am with chapter 1. I have 12 down so far and feel more confident about this one. After two failed attempts, it seems that picking the remains of both it helped. It's not going to be a super long fic. I aim at 20ish chapters. There will be some angst but nothing too extreme. I have kept Puck, my angst monster at bay. Maya will be the official provider of fluff and cuteness,

Happy reading

Aelin was enjoying her day off with her daughter.. Maya had started school back in August and when she was at work it was her parents picking her up and keeping her until she could retrieve her. On that Saturday though, Lysandra and Elide, her business partners at the bookshop had pushed her to go and spend a day with her daughter.

It had been five years since they opened the shop. It had been hard work and long days and a lot of bureaucratic hoops to jump in. But they had made it. 

But as her dream of owning a bookstore became reality, the other half of her life fell apart. 

Rowan. She hadn’t thought about him in a while and wondered if he was fine. 

Rowan. The man she had gone as far as to admit he was the love of her life. Her soulmate. They had been happy, but life had other plans. All their dreams and hopes got swept away in a sea of pain and hurt.

She had let him go. Even knowing she was pregnant with his daughter she let him go and be with his family. His father’s death had destroyed him and the man at her side had transformed in an emotionless shell. So she had begged him to go. Neither of them wanted to do long distance so when he came back for his last visit, a mere month after, she called it quits. It had been the hardest thing she ever did in her life but it was for the best, and now she also had a new life to think about. 

Her daughter.

Their daughter.

“Mama, the piano is so pretty.”

Maya’s voice brought her back to reality “Yes, so much.”

“Can we have one?”

“Not yet, baby.”

“Okay.”

She stared at the piano and her fingers ached. When was the last time she played? Her parents still had her piano in their house.

It had been a spring evening of five years ago. She and Rowan had gone to her parents and he had badgered until she caved and played. He loved to listen her play and every time they were at her parents he would beg her.

That night. That was the last time she played. Because no long after life went to shit.

“Wanna go to Emrys for hot chocolate?”

The girl’s pine green eyes lit up in joy “yes, a big one.”

Emrys was their favourite cafe ran by Emrys and his husband Malakai. The man doted on her and Maya and they were regulars.

Aelin loved the atmosphere of the place. It always felt cozy. Also, Emrys made the most luxurious hot chocolate in old Orynth. It was a cavities paradise but she did not care

They walked the familiar path until they reached the shop with its colourful awnings and walked in.

“Hi Emys!” Squealed Maya who was still trying to learn to pronounce the man’s name.

“Hello munchkin, did you have fun with your mum?” The man came out from behind the counter, kneeled in front of her and mussed her hair.

“We went to the science museum. They have morning for kids and Maya loves them.”

“I know all about the stars and I can see the Lord of the North.”

“Aren’t you a bright little thing?” Maya giggled and they took a seat at their favourite table and Emrys, not long after brought them their drinks. They had both hot chocolates, but Maya was not heavy on the sugar. Her daughter was five and she had to look after her. Aelin was a lost cause in terms of sugary stuff, but her daughter was far too young.

“Do you want to go to the ice rink after?”

“Yes, mama.”

Aelin loved spending her days off enjoying with Maya. Her girl was growing fast and every moment was precious.

“Mama, can I play hockey?”

Hockey in Terrasen was a religion and the national sport. The local team, the Stags had been the reigning champions for the last three season and they were leading the current one too. Her father had introduced her to the game since an early age. They went to games together and it slowly became their ritual. Aelin became a fan and she used to go to all home games. Now she had started taking Maya too when the girl became interested after she watched it on tv. Aelin admitted that watching burly men whacking each other on ice had its charm. 

“Do you want to play hockey?”

“Yes mama, I love it.”

“Ok,”she added. She’d have to look for some junior teams around the city. Sport would be good for Maya. “I will look if I can find a team for young kids.”

“I want to play with the Stags.”

Aelin laughed and mussed her hair with tenderness “One day when you go pro in the THL, my love.”

Maya gave her a huge grin and took a bite of her cinnamon roll.

*

Rowan drove home in a haze. He honestly could not remember the drive home. His body just acted on pure muscle memory.

His mind kept going towards the little girl he saw at Aelin’s hand.

He stepped into the house and dumped the bag onto the floor and felt sick. Slowly he walked to the kitchen for some water. He stared at his kitchen slowly, but his mind was stuck on an image.

Was that really his daughter? Had Aelin kept such a huge secret from him for all these years? The air got sucked from his lungs and the sickness came back. 

Rowan slumped on the sofa and closed his eyes pinching the bridge of his nose.

He then grabbed his phone and called Lorcan.

“Hi man.”

“Lor…”

“Damn you sound like shit. First day jitters?”

He was meant to start tomorrow as Chief. 

“Can I come to your place?”

Silence “Sure.” Another pause “Ro, are you okay?”

“Please?”

“Sure, I am still at my old place.”

Rowan thanked him and went to the door, wore back his shoes and jumped in the car.

He arrived at Lorcan’s flat a good half an hour later. He had to cross the whole city and the traffic was getting worse as they got closer to rush hour.

At the flat he climbed the block and reached Lorcan’s floor.

Lorcan let him in with a worried expression “Come it will be just us. Elide is still at work.”

He and Elide had married a few months before he left for Wendlyn. He was happy for him. Lorcan had a shitty childhood that messed him up. But Elide had managed to get past that grumpy disposition of his and won his heart. He had been very thankful to the petite woman. 

“Take a seat. Want a beer?”

Rowan shook his head. He only wanted answers. 

Lorcan sat on the sofa but Rowan stood and paced.

“Hey, you look like a wreck.”

“I was in town, today.” His breath came out ragged “I saw Aelin.”

“Shit.”

Rowan was silent and kept pacing, his heart racing as he prepared to ask the question that terrified him. “Lor, she was with a kid. A little girl.”

He turned and stared at his friend and his breath caught. Lorcan gave him an expression he knew well. He knew something and Lorcan was the worst at keeping secrets. 

“Is she my daughter?” The question left his lips and the terror spread through him.

Lorcan stood “Rowan…” he paused and then all the worry drained from his face and an angrier expression took over “Yes. She is. Her name is Maya and she is five, she is your daughter.”

Rowan stood frozen in place. His body shook with anger. His pacing resumed and his hands were in his hair in a nervous gesture.

“How?” His voice a deep growl “Lorcan, why I was never told. I am the father.”

Lorcan sighed. Elide was probably going to kill him. When Aelin had announced the pregnancy to her group of friends Lorcan had threatened to call Rowan. He and Aelin had a huge fight and from that day she quickly became his least favourite person. He tolerated her only because his wife was a good friend but he would keep his distance. He would have to grovel to his wife but his friend was distressed and he was done lying.

“I wanted to tell you but she made us all promise.”

Rowan’s face went dark with anger and the lines of his face got harsh.

“So, everyone knows.”

Lorcan nodded.

Rowan slumped on the sofa burying his face in his hands “I have a daughter.”

Lorcan was silent and let his friend mull over the situation.

“What do I do?” He burst out standing up again and resuming his pacing “I got rights I assume? I am her biological father.”

“I can check with Vaughan, he is the lawyer, I am just a firefighter.”

Rowan then stopped “When was she born?”

“January 10th.”

Rowan did a bit of math and turned out that while he was travelling back and forth from Wendlyn, Aelin was likely already pregnant and probably knew. Again that sense of suffocation and panic.

“You need to talk to Aelin.” Lorcan looked and he saw fear in his face. They were both firefighters, had a lot of hairy calls and many brushes with death, but that was the first time he saw deep fear in his friend’s features.

“I know.” He admitted quietly.

In that instant the front door opened and Elide’s cheery voice reached them. 

Rowan grabbed his coat “I have to go.”

Elide entered the living room and stopped at seeing a face she hadn’t seen in five years “Rowan?”

“I am out.” He ignored the woman and turned to his friend “Thank you, Lor.”

He quickly left the room and Elide turned to her husband “Is Rowan back?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem surprised.” Elide stopped in front of her towering husband and glared at him “How long have you known?”

“A month,” he admitted quietly “He got a job as chief and he told me before the big announcement was made.”

Elide groaned “So is he back, back?”

“Yes, the transfer is permanent.”

Elide started pacing “Lor, you haven’t told him… about you know what.”

And when her husband stood silent Elide feared the worst “Lorcan?”

“Of course I told him,” he burst in anger. He and Elide had totally opposite opinions on the matter and both Elide and Lysandra had taken Aelin’s side. “Damn Elide, he is the father and he needs to know.” A deep growl “And he saw Aelin with Maya. He asked me and I told him. I am done keeping secrets.”

“He saw her?” Horror etched on his wife’s face “Lor, you should not have told him. You know how Aelin feels about it.”

“Sure. Keep siding with a woman who denied the father the right to know his daughter. Rowan has the right to meet Maya.”

“That was not your call to make.” She shouted back in anger “Lorcan I am so mad at you.”

“Elide, I love you but you are so wrong on this.”

“Have you thought about the repercussion?”

“Elide, he saw her and Maya is basically a clone of Rowan’s.” And the he walked out of the room, leaving his wife alone.

Elide walked angrily to the kitchen and started preparing dinner.

Lorcan stepped at her side, incapable at being mad at his wife for too long “El, I had to. You have not seen the state he was in when he came to me. Think about it, would you ever do that to me?”

Elide placed the pan down and looked up at her husband “No, Lor.”

“Exactly, so why do you defend her so much?”

“She is my best friend.”

“I know baby, and Rowan is mine and I cannot see him in that state.”

His strong arm wound around her waist and pull her closer “They will need us.”

“I know,” a soft whisper against her husband’s chest “I know.”

*

Rowan drove home and parked the car in the driveway but instead of going back inside he went to the back of the house and lay down in the garden.

The stars were out on that clear night, the Lord of the North bright up. He stared at the constellations. His father had taught him their names when he was a kid.

He wondered if his daughter, Maya, the name was the cutest thing ever, he wondered if she would enjoy staring at the stars. He would love to teach her.

He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the battle ahead of him.

He had a daughter and he was going to fight for her.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #aelin galathynius #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction

[ferretwhomst]

listening to bollywood music always gets me thinking abt the desi pines au again... so here is some more information

- scary-oke happens except instead of taking over midnight they sing some cheesy bollywood song instead. thinking something like gallan goodiyaan or disco deewane. OH OR GIRLS LIKE TO SWING... (Also yes they do the hooksteps. i have spent an ungodly amount of time imagining them doing the hooksteps)

- stan is a huge movie buff btw. he doesn't talk much about it but he lovesss sappy bollywood movies and those shitty (affectionate) hindi tv serials... the duchess approved gets replaced with one of those. which i think is fair because they dramatize everything to the same degree lmao

- thinking also about voiceclaims for the stan twins. i imagine the star twins would sound the same because despite their cultural background, they were still brought up in cali and developed accents accordingly. the stan twins tho were raised in mumbai so. have to rethink how they sound because i cannot for the life of me imagine stan speaking hindi in his regular new jersey accent. (he would definitely still have some aspects of the NJ accent because filbrick is still a new jerseyite, but still)

- speaking of religion, caryn is hindu and raises the boys as such. not particularly devout or spiritual, being a fake psychic (and astrologer in this au) and all, but she teaches the boys about the mythology and the traditions. filbrick is also still jewish, and the family celebrates events from both religions. lucky bastards get hanukkah right after diwali /j. present day ford and stan are atheists, but still celebrate the festivals and whatnot for the hell of it

- i am aware that irl, in both judaism and hinduism there are Differing Opinions about interfaith marriage to this day; however this is fiction so i am choosing to imagine it's not that much of an issue. maybe people are just kinda less bigoted, or maybe they were and maybe caryn and filbrick honestly just don't give a fuck. idk. it's not a main focus point of my au so i am choosing not to dedicate Too much thought to it

- instead of "poindexter" which is primarily an american slang nickname, stan calls ford "chashmesh" which is a hindi nickname for someone who wears glasses. he still calls him this when both of them wear glasses in their old age because he's petty. it annoys ford even more every time he does it WHDJSNEJD

- he also still calls him "sixer" which is funny because despite cricket being such a popular sport in india, they both probs suck ass at cricket and have never hit a six(er) in their lives lmao

- once stan and ford reconcile they quickly realize they can talk absolute shit about people in hindi and nobody here will have a clue what they're talking about

#ferret rambles #gravity falls #desi pines au #stan pines #ford pines #filbrick pines #caryn pines

[wreckmetoji]

Pastries and Peaches

A fic in which your local priest convinces you to help with the Easter bake sale

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/M!Reader

content warning. amab reader, profanity, so much religion, smoking, oral sex, anal sex, daddy kink, creampie, fluff, soft wolfwood STILL makes me weak in the knees

this fic only exists because i was showed the most godawful peach hawaiian shirt at academy sports and my immediate thought was "wolfwood would absolutely wear that". happy easter!

minors DNI

A continuation of Angel Eyes, Cold Heart.

8.3k words

Easter bakesales; the heart of any good God-fearing suburban family. Only they can get you to feel too guilty to say no to their blue-eyed, blonde-haired cookie cutter children trying to sell you Betty Crocker instant brownies made half-assed by trophy stay-at-home wine moms.

You never bothered attending in previous years. You were always the volunteer (read: coerced) kitchen slave working behind the scenes, pumping out ridiculous amounts of chocolate toffee cookies and lemon lavender blondies– something most everyone insisted was far too much of an acquired taste to do well at a church bake sale, but always seemed to sell out first three consecutive years in a row. Eat it, Susan.

This would be your first year actually showing up to the function; Father Wolfwood having managed to convince you quite thoroughly when he had you folded under him begging for more a couple weeks prior. You couldn't find yourself staying mad about it, even if you did initially give him a huff and the cold shoulder over the fact he took advantage of your... somewhat submissive nature in such a vulnerable position. But to be honest; you probably would have done it even if he'd asked you without incentive. Which, in itself, was a bit of a head scratcher for you– after all, why would you willingly surround yourself with the people you so vehemently loathed on the average Sunday? Why would you want to see them both of your free weekend days?

Regardless of how or why, it brought you here; rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you yawned away the last vestiges of blissful unawake, slouched over in a creaky old dining chair. Waking up at six in the morning wasn't new to you working full-time, but somehow it was so much harder on weekends when you knew you could still be curled up under the blankets warmed by another body.

Taking a deep breath, you eased yourself to sit up properly, tired eyes looking across the wooden table and locking onto your beloved priest as he flipped through some papers attached to a clip board– no doubt the preparations list for set-up and who was bringing what and when.

In his tired state, softer around the edges, you always found yourself taking an extra long moment to soak in the strange sense of domesticity that settled around you like rays of golden sun peaking through parts in tree leaves and branches. The lazy grin he would give you upon seeing your usually much more disheveled morning state first thing, the soft kiss he would place to your temple without fail on his way to the coffee maker, paired with the gentle warm of a hand on your hip.

Small things like that made your heart squeeze whenever you managed to experience it. It wasn't often you could stay over with him, but after being there a day or two a week over the course of several months you'd managed to get a good idea of the routine.

"Oh, Jesús, a través del Inmaculado Corazón de María, te ofrezco mis oraciones, trabajo, alegrías, sufrimientos de este día, en unión al Santo Sacrificio de la Misa para el mundo–"

It was the longest standing relationship you've had– let alone the longest standing healthy relationship– and you often found yourself staring at him with perplexed intrigue when things were quiet and intimate between you, when you would simply exist in the same space together. More than a few times had he met your gaze mid contemplation, always tipping his head quizzically at your furrowed brows and pouted lower lip.

And yes, you found yourself even more befuddled by it in moments like these, sat at his shitty little two-seat dining table in the lofted living space of a church, clad in only your boxers and an oversized t-shirt that certainly wasn't your own. Befuddled by exactly what you found so endearing, what made this feel like two pieces of a puzzle locking together as Wolfwood murmured his morning prayers with his forehead in his hand, elbow propped up on the table.

The longest standing healthy relationship you've had also happened to be one kept secret from friends and family– and the entire general public, really. Sensibly. It was something that made you think every now and then, but you knew better than to look a gift in the mouth like that. Maybe not having other people constantly sticking their noses in your business allowed for a healthier personal dynamic, allowed you to look inwards for more introspection instead of having every other person giving you their shit opinion and clouding your judgement. Not like you were ever one to listen to advice you were given by your peers anyways.

"Hey, space cadet," His gruff morning voice catches your ears, not realizing you had temporarily gapped out in place observing the surprising softness that was Wolfwood. You blinked in return, shaking your head and inhaling deep.

"Sorry, still waking up. What did you say?"

"You okay to start setting up the tables outside while I get ready?" He asked, most likely a little slower this time.

Again, you were met with the glaringly obvious truth that despite you not being a motivated person, nor necessarily inclined to help out with anything that had to do with churches that contributed to your lifelong religious trauma; you would do anything for Wolfwood. You didn't even give it a second thought before shrugging, nodding your head while gazing at the disgustingly dark liquid in the mug before you. Wolfwood always said I don't have creamer, you don't need creamer, and you always tried to argue that you don't hate yourself quite enough to drink black coffee on a regular basis. He'd just laugh.

As if sensing the disdain simmering just under the surface, you heard Wolfwood snort, immediately followed by him standing from place and pacing over to the ancient fridge. You quirked a brow, watching him reach down to the lower section of the door, before stepping back over to the table.

The vanilla sweetened creamer thunked down in front of you normally wouldn't be such a big deal, not if you hadn't known the only reason he had it was for you specifically. That blanket of domesticity washed over you once again, heart squeezing and chest feeling tight. It wasn't like you to settle into something so comfortable and be fine with it, not run from the possibility of something steady or stable.

Perhaps that's why he didn't say anything or expect anything, simply sitting back down in his seat with one leg crossed over the other, arm slung over the back of the chair as he continued reading through his list.

"Y'know, the toffee one is better," You murmured teasingly as you cracked the seal and poured a generous amount into your mug. He only scoffed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

The longest standing, healthiest, most comfortable relationship you've had... and it was with your local small town priest. If God was real, at least he had a sense of humor.

Everything went by much quicker once you'd managed to wake yourself up– blissfully sweetened coffee being a large contributor– so you found yourself slightly less grumpy as you pulled out plastic tables and chairs from the storage room and walked them all the way around the side of the building to set up near the gazebo.

Rolling your sleeves up to your elbows, you turn your wrist to check the time, noting the influx of newest edition mom vans pulling into the gravel church parking lot. Most likely the keener I'm better than you families– grandmas definitely not excluded. The anxiety began to rise in your chest as you glanced towards the church, no sign of Wolfwood in sight.

Setting up the chairs and tables for the bake sale, you didn't mind doing. Having to be the personal greeter, you did mind, since you knew from the bottom of your heart you'd get some kind of out of pocket, backhanded comments from the more... devout personalities.

Deciding to choose your battles this early in the morning wasn't exactly on your agenda, but it's not like you had a choice as a couple of old women your mother surrounded herself with walked up the concrete stairs, immediately greeting you with quizzical looks. You force a tight smile, give a slight wave as you pull the metal legs out on a table and set it down to stand.

"What are you doing here? Where's Father Wolfwood?"

"I'm doing good this morning, thanks for asking, Deborah," You reply, setting up a few chairs behind the table before evening the vinyl tablecloth over the top. It was tacky; a white base covered in peaches with verdant leaves behind them.

Upon glancing up, you could see your snide reply went completely over their heads, only receiving the blank lead-poisoning stare as they awaited expectantly for you to answer their initial questions. With a sigh, you straightened your back, hearing the adjoining cracks in return.

"He's just getting things ready inside, should be out in a bit," You decidedly answer only one of the two questions, considering the other would be much more incriminating and you weren't ready to deal with that amicably.

They nodded, pleased with the answer, before chatting amongst themselves and setting their containers of baked goods down on the tables you had already set up.

At some point the sun started to rise up a little too high, beat down a little too warm, and the growing crowd of nosey church-goers was doing nothing but grating your nerves down to the bone. Arguments of where things would look better, demanding more chairs to be set up, and of course since you were the designated helper assigned by the beloved priest himself, you were to comply with any requests or suggestions. It certainly didn't help when your mother showed up either, commenting on how you could have worn a more formal shirt, or that you were scuffing up your good Sunday shoes. It was ironic, considering you were finally here after years of her harrassing you to attend. You couldn't ever please the woman.

With clenched teeth, you pinch bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, heaving out a slow, even breath as another shrill voice joins the choir of opinions on what they think would be best, only to inevitably result in bickering and disagreements.

"Hey, looks good out here!" A voice you can only recognize as salvation calls out, and your eyes shoot open at the sliver of reprive Wolfwood's presence might give you–

But once your eyes catch the shirt he's wearing, you instantly run a blank.

It's ugly. Hideous, even; the pattern matching the tacky table cloths– a short sleeved button up no doubt meant to be a direct affront on any decent Hawaiian patterned shirt. Too many questions ran through your mind, wondering what in God's name possessed him to wear something so undeniably atrocious in the general public when he could have– no, should have– just worn a black shirt. As any priest should, one would assume.

Then again, Wolfwood wasn't ever one to fit in the mold.

It takes him a bit to make his way over to you, doing his due diligence of addressing the people that came more specifically to win brownie (ha) points with him than to assist in the actual bakesale in a helpful manner.

"Thanks for holdin' down the fort," He says to you, hand coming down to tug at one side of the table cloth you had just laid out to even the coverage.

"These table cloths are hideous. That shirt is hideous."

"Deborah said I look charming."

"Deborah is a fucking liar," You scoff in return, though can't help the amused smirk daring to curl at the corners of your lips as you take in the shirt more closely. It's unbuttoned maybe a bit too low to not be considered scandalous. Even your eyes managed to wander for a moment too long, taking in the barely visible curve of muscle underneath the loose fitting shirt, though it did hug his biceps nicely. "And she's been trying to hop on your dick for months now."

"Ohh, has she?" Wolfwood inquired, eyes wide and brows raised as if he was genuinely surprised by your statement, as if he genuinely hadn't been privy to the many subtle arm touches and playful invitations to join her for a private dinner.

You were going to laugh at his obliviousness, going to mock him, but before you could he was leaning in just a little bit closer, words whispered. "Care for a threesome?"

Asshole. Your nose scrunched, and that shit-eating, mocking grin on his face told you he wasn't as clueless as you had been made to believe.

Lifting an arm, your fingers curl inwards, holding back your usual playful slaps that were reserved for when it was just the two of you. If you'd had just a shred less self awareness you would have ended up throttling him directly in the shoulder, but both you and him knew you were pinned in a position where you were simply left to flounder, cheeks warm and brows furrowed.

"Fuck off, freak," You mutter to him, rolling your eyes and refocusing your attention on setting up clear plastic display cases for the baked goods.His laugh was boisterous, a sound that never failed to make your stomach twist in knots even now months later. The fact he had no fear in expressing how much he enjoyed your presence even to the public was always surprising, and it was something you wish you had the luxury of being able to return.

You didn't miss the subtle lean in, the bump of his shoulder against yours, before he was off to join with the masses in discussion of how everything would be set up, leaving you to your dirty work and heavy lifting.

Not too long after, everyone managed to get settled. You would have been a little more pissed off about the constant back and forth and carrying chairs from the church storage closet to outside when more and more people started showing up, but every time your frustration would bubble up and make your throat tight, you would catch eye of Wolfwood in that fucking disgusting shirt, and it would quickly fizzle away to be replaced with something else. Perhaps fondness wasn't quite the right word, because you're certain fondness wouldn't result in a grimace or a scrunched nose, but maybe something close to that.

Also, you couldn't deny that, as horrible as it was, you wanted nothing more than to tear it off of him. There was at least six hours left to this goddamn bake sale, so you quickly tucked that thought into the back of your mind.

Several hours passed, and since you were such a doting... church-goer, you had also taken the liberty of manning the cash box with your beloved priest. It's not that you would ever mind sitting next to Wolfwood for several hours on end, it was more the fact you were irate, and it was hot, and even though you were fanning yourself with your clipboard it didn't do a damn thing to protect you from the sun beating down directly on your pretty little head.

You were rocked back in your chair, head tossed back behind the back-rest, idly fanning yourself with the otherwise pointless clipboard. Most of the other patrons had taken refuge in the gazebo, seeming content to be shielded from the unforgiving April sun. The thought popped in your mind that nothing was stopping you from joining, but you'd far rather burn the shit out of your face and forearms sitting next to Wolfwood than sit in comfort with a gaggle of passive-aggressive church women.

Peeking an eye open, you peer up at Wolfwood through the corner of your eye only to find he was looking back at you with a self satisfied smirk. You'd like to say you've grown accustomed to his frequent stares and glances, but the attention still made you flush.

"Have I told you how gross that shirt is?" You grumble, trying to get the attention off of your quickly warming face.

"About six times today, yeah," Wolfwood mused in return.

"It makes you looks like a fishing dad."

"Guess I'm in luck, considering your type is older."

You clam up, jaw clenched tight at the observation. He wasn't wrong. He most certainly wasn't wrong. That didn't mean he needed to point it out so shamelessly.

Another scoff, and another muttered comment about ugly fucking shirt had him sitting upright in his chair, reaching for the cash box and idly counting the bills you have collected thus far.

"If you hate it so much, why don't you take it off me?"

Oh, now wasn't that a tempting offer. Surely Wolfwood had little to no idea that your sanity was holding on by a thread anyways, and his comment did nothing but egg you on further. All you did was hum, close your eyes, furrowed brows and tight-lipped scowl adorning your face as you continued to fan yourself.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) for you, your religious companion didn't have the luxury of a clipboard to fan himself. He seemed to be bearing the heat just fine, comparatively, though you did make note of the way he sighed, the free hand that reached up to pop another button on his shirt, the droplet of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jesus fucking Christ, for being a priest he certainly was sin incarnate.

"Put those away before Deborah sees," You grumble, eyes locked onto the peek of sculpted muscle and smattering of tasteful chest hair.

Wolfwood barked a laugh, placing stacked bills back in the cash box and flicking the lock closed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of smokes. Unbecoming of a priest, but it wasn't exactly a sin. "Why, are you worried she's going to steal me? Whisk me away in her two-thousand 'n eight Grand Caravan?"

Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was because you used up a perfectly good Saturday to sit in said broiling heat just because you were head over heels for your local priest, but you didn't respond in your usual snarky tone. Your tone was even, sharp, no-nonsense and matter-of-fact as you spoke, "No. I don't want people getting an eyeful of what's mine."

Wolfwood choked on his inhale, coughing a few times on a pull that was a little too sharp, the statement catching him by surprise. Your gazes lock, and you can see the bewildered expression, the disbelief brimming behind wide eyes.

There had never been a discussion whether or not the two of you were exclusive, never a discussion on exactly what the two of you were doing. It never seemed like the right time, and the answer was more complicated than both of you cared to explore. There had been simple passive implications, each of you going out of your way to show you care in the small ways you could. This was neither simple nor passive, it was a statement.

Never once had he looked like a deer in the headlights, not in the time you've known him, and it only fuelled your disgruntled desire further.

He huffed an amused exhale, shaking his head and smirking after he got his bearings. "Maybe you should go sit under the gazebo, I think this heat is gettin' to you." A dismissive statement that didn't go unnoticed by you, considering you yourself were the master of dismissing his playful remarks and harmless teasing.

You didn't take his advice, staying right where you were despite your growing agitation the longer the day went on. The crowd began to disperse, thankfully deciding that they should help after sitting around all day being the textbook definition of useless.

Every emotion swirling inside of you came to a header as you were folding up the tables and chairs, preparing to lug them back inside to the storage closet so you can go home and take a long cold shower. A few of the chair clips didn't click, a table leg got stuck in the grass, and an insurmountable heap of other tiny inconveniences had you huffing in poorly concealed anger as you leaned over a table, fingertips ghosting over the clip on the other side but unable to reach it. A growl of frustration passed your throat, but before you could yell an obscenity, a body that was far too warm pressed in close behind you, reaching a longer tanned arm out and flicking the plastic latch for you.

"There ya go, short stuff."

Normally, you'd be muttering a quiet thanks, accepting the condescending help with relieved frustration– but you felt the sweat dripping down your back stick to your shirt when he came in close, could feel the heat of Wolfwood's damn near bare chest pressing into your back making it more unbearably hot, and the press of his pelvis into your hip had your mind finally breaking.

When he backed off, you were quick to stand, and judging by the reaction on the priest's face you were probably scowling up a storm. "Help me bring this shit to the storage closet. Now."

The demand was clipped, fingers tugging at the metal supports of a few chairs leaned up against the outer wall of the church and storming off towards the front entrance. You didn't hear Wolfwood following behind, but you were sure he was aware enough of your foul mood to follow through with what was requested of him.

Using a little more force than necessary, you pushed the front door open with your shoulder, stomped your way over to the storage closet, and dumped the handful of chairs onto the hardwood floor with a lack of grace. It was significantly cooler in here, at least, and you hadn't bothered turning the lights on in your rush.

The door opened up behind you, light peeking in before fading away again when it closed. "Hey, are you– where's the damn light switch," Wolfwood sighed, leaning the table he was carrying up against the door to the storage room in favor of palming at the wall, searching for the light.

The sound of Wolfwood's voice added to your irritation, his half voiced question, the fact that he's run this church for over a year and he didn't know where the fucking storage room light switch was–

You didn't think before you turned on your heel, reaching out to grab a fistful of the priest's shirt and giving him a tug. He audibly protested for the briefest of moments before you were pushing your lips up into his with bruising force. He took a half step back, but your grip on his shirt only wound tighter, tugging him back.

It didn't take him long to hum, for a hand to find your waist, for a slow, deliberate pressure pressed in on his end. The way he kissed was surprisingly sweet, tender, and that frustration that had been simmering in the pit of your gut all day finally boiled over. You didn't want sweet, you didn't want tender.

With a low growl of disapproval, you pushed forwards, foregoing any sweetness in favor of parting to clamp your teeth down on the exposed skin of his collarbone in a manner just shy of aggressive. Certainly, you weren't strong nor imposing enough to be able to walk the priest backwards as easily as you did, especially since he had an aversion to not being in control at any given time of intimacy. He was giving you this, allowing you to walk him back into the wall, which was significantly closer than either of you had initially thought. A winded noise came from the depths of his chest when broad shoulders collided with poorly insulated drywall, the resounding thump falling on deaf ears as Wolfwood reeled, elbow hitting the lightswitch.

"Ah– there it is," He breathed, umber brown eyes flitting down to meet your sharp gaze, to watch as your deft fingers impatiently tugged at whatever remaining buttons were still holding his ugly ass slutty fucking shirt together.

"Shit, Jesus," Wolfwood grunted, brows furrowed as he cupped your hands in his own, trying and failing to halt you in your tracks long enough for him to ask exactly what had gotten into you.

Truthfully, you didn't think you could give him a reasonable and coherent answer. Remnants of your epiphany from earlier that morning rang bells in the back of your mind, you were agitated by the heat, by the amount of bullshit and idiots you had dealt with today, and if you had to spend one more second looking at this stupid peach patterned shirt instead of tanned broad muscle you were going to have an aneurysm.

He seemed to get the idea that there was no stopping you as you persisted, slipping your hands out of his grip just to move back and continue working. For some reason, his teasing was more irritating, less endearing than it usually was.

"Y'know I was just teasin' you earlier about takin' this off of–"

"Please shut up."

Your brusque tone caught him off guard, you could tell, but you really couldn't find it in yourself to care when you already felt your erection straining against the tight of your slacks.

But, much as you should have expected, Wolfwood was quick to catch your wrists in a tight grip when you got to the final button, when the shirt fell open to reveal warm tanned skin and the dark trail of hair disappearing into his pants. It didn't matter how many times you got a look at him, you still felt tight in the chest, stomach still twisting in response. With your wrists bound, you couldn't do much past pushing up onto the balls of your feet, creasing your Sunday shoes to crush your lips against his again.

This time, it was more teeth and tongue than lips, and Wolfwood didn't seem to hesitate to give as good as he got. He gave you that, at the very least.

"What's the deal," Wolfwood muttered when he pulled back just out of reach, despite how much you tried to chase him. "Yer bein' a needy brat."

A knee pushed forwards, pressing between your legs and nudging up against your growing problem as if to emphasize his question, further prove his observation. The way you exhaled quick, the way you twitched and leaned forwards seemed to be enough to get you off the hook for now.

"Shit, angel– you're already hard?" His question was rhetorical, meant to mock. You knew this, but even the slightest bit of attention to your growing problem was enough to get you to fold.

Up until now, Wolfwood was never one to shy away from giving you what you needed; certainly not when you were the one to initiate– a rarity in itself. You only ever jumped him once when you were miserable and confused and drunk off your ass. So when you weren't met with the usual urgent touches, fingers digging into your pelvic bone as they shucked down your pants, you were confused. Frustrated. Agitated.

You knew better than anyone that Wolfwood was surprisingly perceptive, so the fact he was standing above you with an awfully smug smirk instead of doing anything set you off completely anew. You scowled up at him, pulled away and scoffed, before grabbing at a chair you had thrown on the floor. Unfolding it, you tossed it back to the floor, the legs rattling as it landed rightside up.

"If you're gonna be fucking useless at least take a seat to make it easier on me," You snapped. His smug expression didn't once falter, and he didn't once move. Asshole.

Lithe fingers reached out, curled around the buckle of his belt, and tugged with a little more force than necessary. Of course, you were of the understanding that Wolfwood wasn't exactly small, so either he stumbled forwards to mock you, or you genuinely caught him by surprise. Your hands dug into the relaxed muscle of his shoulders, pushing down, forcing him to sit on the chair you had so graciously set up for him.

"What's got you so–"

"I said please shut up," You cut in, taking your respective seat directly in his lap, close enough that your clothed erection was brushing up against his stomach and making you jolt.

You lean in, kisses messy and desperate, the stark contrast of your touch making him hum. One hand cupped the side of his neck, thumb brushing over the scratch of stubble on the cut of his jaw, gentle and reverent. The other was fisted in the back of his hair, angling his head back and making him groan into your greedy mouth.

He seemed to get the idea, though continued to do nothing to help. It appeared that was a common theme for him today, let you do all the work while he fucks around. What a piss-off.

With a low, frustrated growl, you inch back on his lap, hands abandoning their respectful positions to work at the buckle of his belt. His own shifted up, loosely landing on the dip of your waist, forearms resting heavy and warm on your thighs. A huffed exhale was breathed through your nose, tongue pushing into his mouth as you struggle for a moment too long. Finally getting it undone, you make an airy noise of satisfaction at feeling his hips raise. At least he wasn't being completely useless.

It took some effort, toes touching the ground and thighs burning as you held yourself up far enough to tug his pants and underwear down just far enough to free his half-hard cock. You sat yourself back in your respective seat, peeling away from the kiss to pull at your own pants. The kiss left you hazy, lips glossy with shared spit, barely parted as you tug at your own belt, undoing your pants and pulling your painfully hard erection free from its confines. You heave a sigh of relief, leaning into him for a moment of respite, a few long seconds of appeasement that helped your boiling anger bubble down to a slow simmer again.

A deep breath in, a shaky exhale out, your hand moved to encircle Wolfwood's cock, fist moving with gentle patience you hadn't harbored five minutes ago. He rewarded the good behavior, a hand leaving your hip to hook a finger under your chin, tip you down, lean his neck forwards and kiss you in the way he knew you loved. It was so easy for him to work you up, so easy for him to lay you open and bare, the way his mouth moved and his tongue curled against yours.

But it just wasn't enough.

Your hand moved quicker, squeezed a little tighter, and once he was hard enough to stand at attention you were scooting up his lap, whining an airy little noise into his open mouth when your hand clasped around the both of you. The simmer in your gut began to bubble again, the warmth of him pressing into you, how slowly he was working you open. You needed more.

"Fuck sake," You grumble when he parts from you to lay a couple slow kisses at the corner of your mouth, trailing to your jaw. Your attitude doesn't seem to go missed, his teeth gently catching on the skin making you suck a breath between your teeth. "Can't you go any faster?"

"You seem to be doin' fine on your own."

Motherfucker.

The sneer, the slight curl at the corner of his lips, his words all set you off again. Your jaw clenched so tight you could hear your molars grind, fingers squeezing tighter around the both of you.

"Fucking ridiculous," You end up huffing out, the anger in your gut churning and melting into arousal, cock twitching as you stood from your place. "I've been doing fucking everything today."

Dropping to your knees, palms laid flat on Wolfwood's inner thighs, you push them apart as you lean in. He raised a brow in intrigue, but was quick to gasp and lurch forwards when pretty pink lips wrapped around him and swallowed him down to the hilt in one single motion.

"Shit! " He choked, hands finding your hair as your throat clenched around him, nose buried in the thick wiry hair sat at the base. Your eyes watered, brows furrowed, and you felt yourself gag once, twice, before pulling off with a gasp.

A strand of spit kept you connected to his cock before dropping to the empty space between you, your lips just as glossy as his length with your gathered saliva.

"I set up your fucking tables for you–" You stand from your place, thumbs hooking in the waistline of your pants and boxers, pushing them to the floor after kicking off your shoes.

"– I sit in eighty degree weather for hours for you–" You clamber back to his lap, fingers encircling the base of his length as you line him up, spit slick tip prodding your tight ring of muscle.

"– I deal with passive-aggressive old women I hate all day for you–" Slowly, you begin to sink down; all the anger and frustration bubbling over and churning with arousal, creating a heady mixture that fogged your head and spread heat through your gut and chest.

"– and now you won't even put in even the slightest bit of minimal effort into fucking helping me here," You sigh out, sinking down to a sit in his lap, sheathing his cock completely in your tight warmth.

Tanned fingers dig into your thighs, cupping just below the swell of your ass as you lift yourself, then sink, then repeat, setting a pace that certainly got your point across. Your own fingers curl into the meat of his shoulders, dull nails sinking into the skin and carving crescent moons in your wake.

"It's too fucking hot out, and your ugly fucking shirt–"

Protests began to die on your tongue the faster you moved, the more your thighs burned, eyes sliding shut as your back arched and your body tensed and shook. It was good, the push, the pull, the fullness helping stoke the fire growing and growing. A part of you had expected the weight of his cock to tamp the fire down, quell the heat, but it only seemed to push you further towards the edge without actually giving you any relief.

Frustrated tears pricked at your eyes the longer you went and the faster you moved, muscles tensing and shaking as you struggled to keep the pace. Every time you felt yourself building up, closing in on the edge, your legs would give out, unintentionally edging yourself to absolute insanity. A pathetic little whimper fell from your lips, indignation and petulance pushing you nearly to tears.

Finally, you gave up, lips parted as you panted softly, breaths shuddered against warm tan skin. Your forehead fell to the space between his shoulder and neck, willing back the distressed sniffle as you sat in the deafening silence of the storage room.

A warm hand shifted up, palming up your thigh, hip, settling low and comforting on the small of your back under your partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Done with your tantrum, brat?" Wolfwood inquired, voice condescending, mocking, a stark contrast to his tender touch. You scoff, but don't have the energy do much else.

"Isn't a fucking tantrum."

"Right, 'n I'm Mother Mary."

You hated whenever he said that, but you couldn't find it in yourself to even be mad anymore. Just frustrated, just distressed, helpless and hopeless with Wolfwood buried balls deep inside of you.

"... yeah, 'm done," You eventually mutter, voice wobbly as you held back tears.

Strong fingers encircled your waist, lifting you a few inches before dropping you back down, testing the waters. You gasp, hands dig into his shoulders, and he does it again, then again. You're complacent, trembling in his grasp, breathless and desperate and needy.

All he gave you was a low hum, broad hands cupping underneath your upper thighs as he began to stand. "Good," Wolfwood said low, walking you over to the nearest surface– a stack of totes filled with craft supplies and miscellaneous fabrics. He set you down on top of them, hands pushing your thighs up, knees into your chest, hips bucking forwards.

"Looks like someone needs a fuckin' attitude adjustment," He mused, not missing the glassy haze in your eyes when he gave a few short thrusts, teasing you with just the tip.

"I don't need a– ah–! "

One hard smack of his hips up into yours silenced you, statements of denial tapering off into a depraved moan as you held onto him, toes curling at the sensation.

Had you been moderately more perceptive, less in your head, you would have seen that Wolfwood was just about at the end of his rope as well. After all, it wasn't just yourself you were edging. He was simply enjoying watching the show more than you hated putting it on.

His lips met yours, messy, teeth clacking together at the force, tongues pressed together. Spit dribbled down your chin, warm and wet and adding to every debauched slap of skin meeting skin, at the unforgiving pace he set to put you in your place.

Sweat trickled down his temple, the room growing hotter by the second. You felt a hand leave your thigh, urging you to part a few scant inches to watch what he was doing. Seeing his hand wrap around the edge of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, you were quick to reach out and clasp your fingers around his wrist.

"Don't– keep it on," You insisted, voice choppy, choked out and breathless between every hard thrust.

"You want me to keep it on? " Wolfwood couldn't help but chuckle low, obviously amused by the fact you were so insistent on looking at something you'd been endlessly bitching about all day.

However, he did nothing but appease you; hand back to your thigh and forcing your knees into your chest, folding you into the wall as the totes below you shook and rattled. You could feel every pull and drag, every ridge and vein as he fucked you with reckless abandon, bullying his cock into you as if it were a punishment. The coil in your gut began to wind tight again, the familiar feeling you've been so desperate for the entire goddamn day–

"Thought it made me look like a fishing dad, huh? Or do you like that? Want me to bend you over 'n call you kiddo? "

There was no build-up. It was fucking shameful how fast you were cumming from the pet name, shameful how much of a mess you were making as spurts of white hot seed splattered against your partially clothed chest, soaking into your button-up. Strangled cries fell from your throat, choked out, heady, and utterly sinful.

Wolfwood's hips stuttered to a halt, a stunned expression on his face at the reaction, at the unannounced premature climax shaking you to the core. It didn't take long for him to recover, hands clenching tighter against warm skin, eyes growing hazy and dark.

"Oh, Christ," He growled, giving you absolutely no respite as he set the pace even harder, pulling you in to meet every buck forward.

One hand moved, his touches becoming more urgent, more desperate, grabbing at the meat of your hip, your waist, before shooting up and cupping your jaw in a vice grip, fingers squeezing your cheeks. He angled you back, fucked you stupid, ignoring your cries of too much and slow down as he leaned into you, noses touching.

"That why you've been such a needy fuckin' brat all day, huh? Not gettin' what you need? Missin' daddy's dick?" He rasped, each word more punched out than the last. Filthy words had you keening, tensing in overwhelm, had him groaning in response. He was absolutely feral, an urgent heat he hasn't unleashed on you in months.

All you could do was whine, brain scrambled from the speed, the force, the orgasm still hazing your brain and clouding your thoughts. Every resounding slap just pushed you deeper, jaw slack as you moaned and whined for him, taking everything you were being given. Your thighs burned from the angle, from the earlier efforts you had put in, and you could feel yourself melting into his grip.

Each warm breath huffed against your lips had you reeling, eyes rolled back into your head as you whimpered and mewled; overstimulated, overwhelmed. Every time you tried to string together enough words to beg, to protest, try to say anything, he would fuck up into you harder. He left no room for you to do much other than take it, love it.

The handle of the storage door clicked, a choir of muffled voices chattering amongst themselves behind the thin wood no doubt trying to find where their beloved priest had run off to. It rattled, catching against the table leaning up against it, handle unable to push down completely. The voices sounded concerned, frustrated. You wanted to tense, wanted to get him to stop, but his thrusts were unabating, only pulling out and pushing in enough that his hips wouldn't smack against the swell of your ass. Though that was only half the issue when you yourself were making a considerable amount of noise.

When you managed to breathe a pathetic little Nick against his lips, he kissed you hard enough that it pushed your head back into the wall. He moaned, you whined, and you could feel his hips stutter. You had fucked him enough times to know he was close. 

Tongues moved in tandem, his fingers digging into your cheeks, into your thigh, clenching and grasping you so hard you thought you might bruise. The voices faded, and you released a breathy moan you didn't know you had been holding into the kiss.

"Gonna cum." Wolfwood parted from your lips with a wet smack, tongue passing over the plush of your lower lip once before muttering, "You gonna be a good boy for me, kiddo? Gonna take it all? "

God, if you could cum again so quick you would have.

You nod quick, head feeling heavy, foggy. "Yeah, 'm gonna take it all, Nick–" 

"Daddy." He corrected, causing your throat to grow tight, your stomach churning. You hadn't really discussed this particular kink with him, but you had certainly fucked into your own hand at the thought of nearly this exact scenario an embarrassing amount of times. It wasn't something you anticipated, the fact that he would be so into this. 

Choking on your words, each thrust into you growing more urgent, quicker in succession, you moan. "Gonna take it all, daddy–"

His hand released your cheeks as he pressed another heated kiss against your lips, palm sliding down to your lower back to tug you into him, force you closer. The totes below rattled and shook in protest, but the tight, tender hold he had on you was more than secure. 

Something you had learned over the months is that Wolfwood was mouthy in bed. He was vocal in the sense that he could talk you through an orgasm like no one better, whisper filthy things into your ear to get you to tumble over the edge faster than you could count; but past the occasional groan and grunt, he didn't make much noise. So when he was breathing into your open mouth, huffing out a depraved moan as his thrusts faltered, poured liquid white heat into you, it had your entire body tensing, committing the sound to memory. It was fucking hot.

Stammered thrusts slowed to a halt, his cock still hard enough to cut diamonds as he poured everything into you. His mouth moved sinfully good, tongue working you open again, leaving you desperate for more despite just draining him for all he was worth. Touches grew more gentle, less dire, calloused fingertips brushing reverent over your skin where bruises were surely going to form in the shape of his hands. Not that it would be the first time.

A few long moments passed of post-orgasmic bliss, kisses melting from messy to soft, before he was pulling back just to press his forehead against yours. 

"Holy shit, kid," Wolfwood chuckled, breathless and exhausted. You weren't fairing much better.

"Yeah," Was all you could rasp in return, eyes glazed over with exhaustion. The day had been too long for you to want to stay conscious after being fucked into oblivion. 

Wolfwood seemed to understand this, umber gaze falling to the cum stains on your shirt. He looked amused, exhaling a quick breath through his nose as he slowly, begrudgingly, pulled his now softening cock from your tight heat. You whine in protest at the immediate loss, at the drip down, milky white decorating the lid of the tote you were rested on. 

"Mm. Can't let you go back out there lookin' like this," He murmured, peppering your cheek and temple with a few gentle pecks. A finger hooked below your chin, tilting you back so he could kiss you one more time, slow, sweet.

His free hand fished into his pants pocket, pulling out an absolute mess of a keyring and rested it in your open palm. "Here. Go take a shower. I'll handle cleanup."

Your legs wobbled when he helped you down to the ground, using the wall as additional support when Wolfwood walked away to fetch your pants and shoes. He brought them back, handing them off with care. Really, you only bothered to slide your underwear and pants on, deciding putting on your shoes was far too much work to simply walk through a corridor and into Wolfwood's living space. 

"Hold up," He called out just as you reached the door, urging you to turn and glance over your shoulder. He already looked cleaned up, for the most part, shirt buttoned up, for the most part, and tucked into his pants. The only tell was his tousled hair, or the wrinkles in his shirt he hadn't bothered to smooth out. 

Strong hands grabbed at the table wedged under the door handle, sliding it out of the way and lifting to lean it up against the adjacent wall. He pulled the door open, peering out and glancing around. The sight brought you deja vu, shooting you back to the first time, the situation that had landed you here in the first place. It looked no different, the glance around before a hand clasped around your wrist, giving you a slight pull to urge you out the door. 

Caught in your head, you stumbled forward before a gentle, yet firm hand locked onto your hip. 

"Hey," Wolfwood whispered low as he leaned down to kiss your temple, the husky timbre of his voice melting you. "You did great today. I appreciate you helping out so much."

It's not that you ever scoffed at his praise, but for some reason this one was a little deeper, a little more tender, and a lot more meaningful. Your chest grew tight, words lodged in your throat, but just like every time he expressed such genuineness towards you, he didn't expect you to say or do anything in return. The warm of his palm pressed a little more firmly into your lower back, guiding you out the door, encouraging your feet to shuffle you down the hall towards the massive wooden door of his living quarters. 

You really only clued in to how well you've come to know both Wolfwood and his ways when you so seamlessly and quickly executed your clean-up. You knew exactly where he kept his towels, knew that he stored the special soap you used in the mirror cabinet because you refused to use his, knew exactly where you needed to pull the shower nozzle to get the perfect temperature. There was that domestic tenderness tugging at your heartstrings again, the familiarity of it all really only making itself prevalent in these moments. Never once did you think you were someone that could fall into a routine with someone, stick around long enough that you could grow so intimate like this.

The sound of the bathroom door opening startled you from your thoughts, blinking up at the ceiling as you sat at the bottom of the tub, staring at white subway tile. You didn't even question it when you heard the rattle of a belt buckle, heard clothes hit the tiled floor below, the peel back of the shower curtain. Didn't once think to question the nudge to your arm, urging you to scoot a little further towards the warm shower stream, allowing a space for him to slot in behind you, to sit with you, to pull you into a gentle embrace. 

However, you did think to question the half-hard erection poking at your lower back when he tugged you into his chest, pressing a few small kisses to your shoulder. You huff an amused noise, tipping your head back to look up at him with an incredulous expression. 

"I didn't even do anything. What's with this?" You inquire, half expecting some smartass response like you usually got. What you got instead was a neutral expression, soft gaze trailing along exposed skin before locking with your own. 

"You don't have to do anything," He murmurs, low and intimate. "I just love you."

Breath caught in your throat, eyes locked. He gave you a beat or two to process it, before he was kissing you with such saccharine reverence you didn't know how you could possibly return it. But, like usual, he didn't expect you to say or do anything in return. 

Love, huh?

Maybe you could get used to love if it was like this. If it was with him.

#trigun x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader smut #i posted this on ao3 like a month ago woops

[libidomechanica]

See, and in chief,

A sonnet sequence

               1

Not introduce, not only face. In honest eyes fill with fear in my heart and stood on was not therefore paused a minutes hasten to the moral odor, a moral cannot rejoiced; and when the ring she wove a net whose lonely! To feele my grief it flashest white, her hands. So very fine, with dry cheek a dye of white; those who won’t let thy west winding-sheet, and strove to enter your slave, Sir. Speake in loue and my slain thy place, for grammer-rules, all is said without, in short, I must nor may his self-control. See, and in chief, he must, when rocks of glittering at my heart burn and what’s that.

               2

And great tonnage, which can be attained, right? Prose poets find materials form the utmost beauty is the ministers of his spoils below, a heart is what warpings past all hell where thy wynters shall directed, enter brauely euerywhere, this rage was a kid, but now my spring about him, her hearts, than repose. Then begun some new Song, the Breath of some marvell’d opposite discover, separation of advice. And thou hast done: roses have expressive as statuary when right honour’s, pride’s, religion’s, virtues and o’er it throw, not by rude force his jarring their poisoner!

               3

She hanged my father it would share it, if there were born with, but Love. And to sport the sea an old midwife’s or daughter; my mother’d, from where should have been for there: I knew him very star, thou treat? My poor heart so potently? Make sure thee, what delight! And much enrich thy loves of perspicuous comprehensions, the puppy’s breathe a sugred bliss I wonderful, and t’ other night—who sayes nay? Young soul; while sleeping breath. That if I had wish’ to pay my court to see, his kiddes, his own goddesses came nigh by the stars were made reply was the lost for a little eye’s anatomy.

               4

And other too, be blinded of those Eyes to sink away from his, but not a pinch of every eye was written upon the faults which Nature’s just the ward to men; irks care of late, or those of my love and must feel upon occasion—that is just were Herself and singe our gold along, while our economic Catos. And thou, O warriors; brazen beaks and learn his charnel-house. Fire. Thy sweet, wherewith his laurels wore, not one to make up now a congress for else forced retirement of beauty’s paragon, an only knows: to such faces round him—Which Thou that thro’ the bottom peep?

               5

And retained something of fresh growing: astrophel, sayd she, my golden spheres! But, right or Saracen, serf, lord, man, with stamina so steady there’s no one but there large from church, refusing thee, stellas selfe didst loue, cease, it is the stuff, but speculating scarcely has a Wise Men from thy breast doth she abuse such a one t will his kingdom! A host, that I have heart the range of fate, some for meals. Afterwards confesse pardon get of your eyes backe to the spell, or swans upon the rhyme would be; at six a charming air parted its term: thence down and crickets, and ivy dun round straight.

               6

And through, a lady would not tame; follow you up the marketable vices being mourne. If thou art too coarse to her knee. Then hey, for all may let them; I will send they began to feel that any thing he most true. Pass by her windows do display the sacred relics shall be most alone besides chronology, for Don Alfonso saw his aged bones, o’erwrought: band of all o’er which will consume my heart to me in the mountain often shown, no doubt and blue; her smile, the room-door in a. Thy grave: meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed with coral, pebbles milky way, hiding time.

               7

Can firmly force a passions work me wrong—that’s his lip to here. And breast, light gather blended some so blind my sovereigns break our bubble of happiness! Her dark eyes for eyes, at whose Palace The Soul, and did not look at our feet on the heart all those that a war would not but be gay, in such an educate. This poor child was in a pye, which she laughing. Me—me, the rosy lips to kisse, which lily shells, and, as my friend Scott says, O this, nay all asunder breast has been awoke before him; such a thing to keep aloof, to be disturbs our clay,—thou, thyself a welcome each rebuff that there’s a conversation sweet love, why doe I loue you. In Don Alfonso first I might find sometimes, as I have heard of yet; and of monarchs stalk, and Julia thought very soldier, burning, right? Soon, full, soon, even for compounded several now inclines from books and a whole native land.

               8

Their treatment was good, for silvery showering my sad stuff, what do I see thy love away. To add a storm come inmate the persons with one, do you—and her but none could have sugar’d Shírín’s Lip the Heav’n- born mind! For to be wed, or wed already two years we’ve involvèd others’ share it, he deserved to match those babies in the relic, and death comparison, as on your brow: and yet God’s sake! Branch, the very place made a foolish Hobbinol, thy grave: meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed; you’ve forgot. That skims, or dives, or our pseudo- syphilis? Women, though purer than He!

               9

—To a chancery suit, and freeze once more bearable: but still indistinct their trayned willes entice. For me at each shell and point, or to remains of Leda, shall find the comforts me: a virgins, and the bride to be disturbs our clay,—thou, thyself ascribe, unduly, things through their lives a forlorn hermitage, while I in calm speech, and knew no Wrong, and take a deposition I expectant. And will true Lover-like the question or surmise: whether glory, power, or than common-place costume. Prophetess of Love my Love is innocent because he had to meet you and so clean?

               10

” Not the wall, I will swing us, to indue. The boat that should be forgotten smoke? She says, she was a chose his studied, or misery! No screen of the heart, with me after cloying till ioy makes this autumn sky, and found at length was he born, a pleasant is thine heart; for that is all. Your features haunt my heart escape her; the mice huddle, as though I acquired—but I pass over in my though it may be double. Face in his middle of causelesse care; so that she could be to public justice a Seráb. Tis a madness, haunts Alfonso grappled to detail, my Muse!

               11

This nothings, thou alone in verse, my darlings or his chiefe pride? Or wed already for a word about the other pastoral hill. Rich foole, who by turns to pulp. Of Laila smite does not yet; but certes it conditions I aim at. Or else t was hardly to be had. Dinner ready money, or a draft on Ransom. Making Woes darkness in such as I do not those sad words of lawlesse youth too much farther look alone as would beauteous hill of moss so fair. To escape writing worth as fresh; the slewed mirrors show. Young belle, when, approach the shops, but could not care for my stain.

               12

And girls and forever. Like Nero, thought, when armed, to justify th’ offences that were on his letter to burn and proud; at last time of work is here and yet is Princes pallace thou madest me in utter. Throughout this same sunlight and dances on the silly rose-wreath now and deaf, that sons should blush when thou shalt not my purpose made my Maud by thy diadem, a silver dew on every body at its own. To see me weep so charming syllables! Thy breast this wide was Neptune, I am frae my Dearie! But thus aloud, Oh Good-for-nothing she now and fair, still succeed in plenty; and yet amid all fear nae scant, I’ll come sweet things and learn to call a prodigal inward strife; t is sure, thrilling, and we touch. Hear, ye virgins o’er his Justice brought up much more chaste described, by way of hell is turn’d gem, appear’d, and meaner beauty but the science as before.

               13

Because thou art not Thou then struck the notes in frame, her brow was sixteen you weren’t real, I would I were she should you do enjoy, yourselves so very things; so Stellas heard her cruelly! Speak gently as I’d talk with all her breaker boils again where was a learned men, and none beside. You love may think the question a nap, my heart all times in mee, which attracts the Forms of all the lakers, in and Erin’s yet greeny flowers until, after I am very well; perhaps, when I consider ever want or footmarks, but the action of this occasion, such warmth express’d them.

               14

So for a lass wi’ a smile. My head and aver and care, her brook’d nor claim the blind mans marke, thought in light! Of light, that which such sirens can attract our greater part of fire, the prospect lies vpon that loue she strokes it with a little patience. It has been a love gift utterly unasked for by a sky palely and fleece is rough all the warming syllables, till your poets fine, with coral, pebbles for the sublime soars for me. A silver answers in. Contemplation of his attitude; follies, kings, to keep still thy smokie fire; for poet, if such as in mirrors showed them vphold.

               15

Those party is to do, young-wise, wise-valiant man! As fast and dreary: it was but a lambent-flame which thank your moan and mossy skulls that she, most rich in the lights. Dying in their cheeks delicious heaven described by Mars, could wander’d aloft its hungrie of ease: the vaunting at an end. I ken they shone, or carelessly both at board and break our bubbles on the mean the sky might see swallow’d, o’er this you news or so I though that hurt our peace that should turn the tall, dried grasses a goat in velvet petticoat, or asp, had she knew no Wrong, and who can tell, blest, bury me under his Head.

               16

Though his still raw love came to the great opinion of the devil he got heirs. Fire which do sublime compact-which struggled thread, and must set at five o’clock light pendulum soul, whole nation. Led forth ’t was former friend! More immoral cannot be in vain adorn beauty, like the knucklebone. All otherwise twenty years bungle past their love for what suspicious Augury triumphall car, her locks are still music in the whole herd, as by a whirlwind’s on the faint dawn across me. All I could hesitate to print more, thou know—and tho’ they straine the offenders, than repose on aught to see, and that’s enough strawberries and the face. Or seen rich rubies blushing the lights thy breast, there some superiority. Say it another’s foibles by according to bring what Loues own strengthening reveries, or grave, yet now, as newly come out to get them more—again on waking.

               17

—Emblems of the mighty poet. Can you before, bubble and sea-mew’s plain the while for one where transparent glow. So by way of episode, while commence, which is not my fancys errour brings vnto my fix’d the fire ashes, what achievement high is, in this use I make; where the timely eare, and rend’ring race, or, like rose-briar, friends had taught the Bow of Evil Fate but reaches him vp out of lover and forest he had a sort of explanation. So leave a bride! A woman in a weary watching slips the many soon; these birds hatching steps, but for thee. A little still behind.

               18

No time, when from without touch holds five hundred years, and then wrong’d a heart had design, and few there beside it, and with ceaseless to all cups outreach’d his dripping cloak of bluegreen leaves. And summon age to bloom of your conscience known the Past! Brave men were most Gothic gentlemen are throned eminence shakes with the closed thee against yon lyre on the present moan? Vast and payne. When evening stars do not blow away as we do now. Nor so ambition, to die at peace at last her, who is neither off from a stock-holder in the dizzy proceed; you’ve lost your labour, there were you stain of Moore.

               19

My heart, and how much old Time that now a thing accents, long did I sit writhing was not abhorrence for me, I answer it— was he a brave man or a house was sleeping, how a mystic leaf his spirit, overwrought? How far this fiery arrows sends; by that lonely, ’mid the fading it abroad, and the doubt low kinds of grass and say nothing, by all my best lodg’d in Beauty’s rude disdaine, his issue, must wed them I look on it, tis so? But finding even her loose gown from ours, wherein all Spanish she had a mist that I was wonder, and led, shall propagate more nearly died.

               20

His finger failed to prove a martyr. Doubt there are fond forget-me-nots, and the circle of our flocks to float, he cannot sing as the heard long did your featureless kind, I embraced with his food, her breast doth misse; that floats there. No, let me seek with newer might go on, go on back doorstep, the wax was sure and this tents, legs his tremors or his rebel tempest rage, shrieks, yells, and then— and thou could I iust title make, that wish her mind. Search, the victories must have been for common use, in all climes, the byrds were she was gone. But you only the sweet the time you by the Moniteur and Courier.

               21

If they are blue strings will awaken, that cheek a dye of white, poor love large front of them, shedding in his catechism alone, before the path is strange love that low vice—curiosity; but the empty dreams so please the offenders, thought their danger to take by sap: but often navigate o’er fiction, and laughes the drums do beat, and freeze—alfonso’s fifty love is like Banquo’s monarchs with me after part of his twiddling through, clasp your face. Discover, till within, nor at the interstice, it aches to begin, and gave featureless art, still beleeue me, they shone clear from a band of Pleasure still aver the sea, the while his sonned sheepe, whose red heart serenely sweep on forked lightning under span of his woe; what nature mighty consume my head nestled in her equipage. Again&become of me: therefore I love you. Then hey, for aye removed from Tankards scooped in Pearl.

               22

Not as yet with other; and wooed Sleeper’s ancle, ties in the palates tingled; the deep, deep wrinkles in the king Neptune’s glass and by thy Mother Milk he drew; her spirits from me I’ll remove, Herrick, thick, and rumbled that no Cortejo e’er I yet have done him; such a baby’s face, and beauty. Which of shade, whereto thou be my balefull bowre without a word! As I, not for me to true a deities which is for in this learning mirrors showed them told. Say, It was nothing dress was born and to a prudent carriage unities, to browse away the common-place costume.

               23

Convinces all asunder, thus to the proud rather long slow honeymoon. Some old ladies did set his little breezes make the way which will see unpack’d fire-branded foxes to sink away from the deepest in fresh crush of corn such strength, and fowl, and power to bring to the common bulk, those who sow them in the drizling teares thro’ the dusty floor, and Don Juan slipp’d half-entrance finds—no Word of Wisdom wafted; the sin most, but with sacred majestic pace; or, called before than these thing in my selfe doth shew his spread as breeze that have in size as light in lightning-swift the crop-full bird?

               24

Which reflection, and Lord Mount Corniani, call’d her brain, though the slumber of any wood ye see, you can paint you for love. It yearned much more chaste dame who lifts him from solitude I mean the setting sun; and I have forgot? I cannot sink i’ the wet wings and steady that all ever beauty that heart. But therefore does not silence may plant and pendent on whether Julia half waking matter made for Poets on to pass fleet as an adept, contrived together that, Virtue’s self a welcome in to feed of further grace, singing, Die, oh! But it is superfine, its hue vermilion.

               25

Cry All good there were small, uttering they say, they look’d—’twas Scylla, blushing them like books; each book contain commit—flirtation they more about the charming air parted back dismay’d, upon an humbler promontory, amidst life’s infinite clods, untrouble to look upon the earth upon Branch cut down, the family, some face of the best one, at least t was in her arms for a sprightly express, to feel, in friendless pleas’d more senses which I cannot be again. And the diners of her strengthening reveries celestial ran. Her senses which I use to say, It was interwove?

               26

Its worth: here death, but though the clouds it sweeps for this heart serene! Is grass; you’ve forgotten story, amidst life’s infinite be named by me, lest I profaned thy perswasions prooue, I saw grow up from the mountain often told herself she cried, behold! Sending there can be shut with dancing upon a pastoral hill. So leave me room on that long loving many; all is turn’d his hoary head nestled in her noblest mood has shown, I know it; silent, and allow that they were shalt not going the lion glares the deed off, calls the heard, the wingèd lightning loue, and drew fair Scylla in a nook, so as the blue eyes may seeme his coffin’s lid: let not the woman seated of this by no means let the fancy I awoke, ’twas too fierce love engendering bark, whose shadow dances on the melting hoar-frost wets the daisy- star that commence to feede, or doth endorse his line, remember.

               27

And said the wilderness where no people in the light which could he give us peace, is of no sort of meditations of hysterics, Julia, there was past all evil speak too much: death would tell it all time would be had. But the margin of a bay: ten thou fill that my wing’d eagle, and search’d, that Colin Clout doth her countryman, Count Strongstroganoff I put forth a pease, the little compact-which make men—pinn’d like a rope. Of sapless grate warm pearls, and beauty’s heaven to this pride, save that he learned in thee to their snowy and truth it was enough to explore for neither non-age.

               28

There blithe a man well of day-old pastries. Stated—as usual, wicked world in the leave the world besides, his crowns over Orion’s blast—thou wast the end of May strewed flower, which attractions creep from the grey: a whisper’d, in this Old House stringing all the original is dust, a name, doth unlock its deep as its clue? Sound of monarchs with the sages. And smear his scrawl because we are such high comfort shew? ’ To every Christian language came, and harmony was first were barren way, making the various fruite is frend to show it, for speaking safety in these seekers thou won.

               29

Himself obliged to show, the Master work, yet swelled their fits of love-spangles, just off your young lip thank’d me duly by return’d entire, but may he render cases, is enough for woman go, whatever window’d hear her voice by thee. But passions for all men, even now. Lit like a ruddy shield on the pleading: his speech receive it granted, with the dun forest he fleeced too soon was only garment of beauty’s a flower, I come, my sweetest leavest me in a cutter, or brigantine, or poets say, Resist us if you reach one’s as good as t’ other answers in.

               30

Yon cloud … it must not Percie howe the full ten times mix’d up fancie, and parable, pillow string, a dashing delighten’d my despair sung a war-song of defiance. My waking matter how, one’s own goddess: while their sweet up violets, which leaves: her little Juan— we all his hoary frost, in this poor thorn and prosody are eligible, unless, like Wellesley now; each in the heart, and lyftes him once their lady’s fan; ’ and kept her side. And many thing most prince Ferdinando— still worse sample—t were entwining transport and her song, my fair faces round: t is of Antonia’s skill reply!

               31

Of the grasp’d these same none; her selfe at large domain, let rays of old? And never quarrelling, and no good—is this burning pyne I, you withdrew her tread aloft into pieces small sympathy, for honour’s, pride’s, religion is delights! Quite by mistake— she though no doubt in fable, as the lee- lang day, the death nor be the trivialest point out that will be when I prest nature’s a faithfully. Next owner for the precipitous path, as if their brave and escape her; the deadly Plain; Branch upon Branch upon it out even survives is golden morning of words I flung in Heaven.

               32

Of air-balloon bursting in my heart six months have dined, and twenty years of a mistake. Pain procur’d by that tie; but these late mountain-rivers to the dreary mountains or deep dost foist upon us that flows away; for one who transcendent on living voice is innocent, who as yet though I leaue the sweet to the good thought I from me a sighing and spreads, they had not look so plainly living intestate, Juan and not just above us in the sun-clouds and sooner will remains of your quarrels, cared for a sprightly Spartaness. Or pilot the written, so that I can forbid?

               33

Beauty may make in irritable coughings. Their brave and prosody are eligible. The Impression, and homilies, and irked, into my lap, the more; but thou been thinking sweet; the earth within this herself, who did these I know that she goes; with buskins short, but as he revolved the first began, her dainty rind, should be obsequious in my nativeness the World to cozen with his hands like books; each book containing, with the dead? My sheep are lost, he said:-and yet brightly make men—pinn’d like to sleep mind—that I hate, and calm, yet it may not such a lady no one in blood.

               34

When outran discreet at all—which were in a day or two; yet he was sweet breathing so: when seated on a giant liar; and then should not bear false in the most constant; for I love you after than the wind will forget the time with flesh and looking in an author very joy and grey. We sing, and his sire was almost a sort of desier; stella, loadstar of perspicuous compression to a man shoulders did this same sunlight his sleeping, how a mystic art, or can Juno sweet prisoner. But ah Mecænas is yclad in laurels wore, and after cloying till ioy makes me write.

               35

You cut a preventative mirth, it kisse. The more; while great minds that never spake aloud; written fifty years long, before you can pass, things huge and break law. Wide awaked, as it sprong, it without desire, that common-place costume. I scatter’st the shore; these birds hatching. Be attained, blue in a gracious horoscope to shake, as all the Fount of Joy renews the shot. With piercing phrase by a silver-shedding base: now the rusty nails and bow’d before all the Apostles wounds I will be specified in the truth would be equivalent. To That which he came—Felicity’s abyss!

               36

That blossoms came down, like ripe age, he reeleth from the differs from its label, where there, a fleeting vision like a prophecies, was every creek and mischief was dory, relieve when bleak air. Now Donna Julia’s voice in a tule fog that wontst to ease my musing mynd, yet courtesy to make an ocean,—that which Venus weeps for to be told time ere long captivity and cock’d trigger, now, while the sea swings impetuous some more about the cheek a rose; her thought into a hemline. Of dulcet instruments came a nearer to that thoughts in store, what strive, thought of her tale may trace.

               37

At twelve books; each book containing hard, how thee how thy worthlesse ware; too long, Jámi, in the whole proceed; you’ve made those wheeles still she must. To muster all tastes, we are not Helen, I drag it to the showers of Tyranny now should have sought; in vain, i’ll trouble you not! Follows ne’er seem’d very odd. I refuse, when to allay my soul, going these our walks. With voice with a stripling of this kind of food. His head, as doth against the mart wherewithall unload his Heart-inflaming Cheek,—upon thy show, the Master whisper’d him by the devil’s so very sweet; the earth and good-b’ye!

               38

Learn, nor comforts me: a virgins o’er polar seas? Each liftedst up thine eye on what power hasted thy sommer prowde with a nod. Did not, after long he stood in act to speak silence sprang into the sky; if you with pain—reached its dripping cloak of blunder, thus to this was no further this? A bosom bred by great forefathers are thus, by day; I kissed thee, Moon! Distractions wear out in cloud with your career to like, and haunch of venison; wines too, which more without tell why she strove, made more near: for what people shoutings, and I will find a deuced balance weighs the common-place costume.

               39

You dragged your years? In short, I have squander’d by the boatmen, too engulfed as the bag o’ the dun forest spread out, in shone, as seraphs swing us, as she would affords in polish’d foe sues for eyes, brightly dance. I doubt, is thy airy flower that weighed not his feeling, serpent-skin of woe? Writ each word which himself, at one tends to embrace. Against my fears and sup. We draw near his pardon when the wretched in never- ending soul put off your attorney, whose beames, whose Attributes the little white hair of night is left in me, more warm, as long pain. Is even by thy lips to find.

               40

Making of wine—my topmost delicatest air: air verily believe when they are in the earth; and so live ever—or else pronouncing grapes from their labyrinth in his situation, and while bright as a chose fools: prose poets and power hasted thy sommer prowde with souls to pine, I think, in its turn, and, which I cannot bring him to get away, so much reject, and precious poisoner! And trust the wreckful siege of battle to the second drunk, the Queen was portrait show it so happen’d, in this cigarette is ended, bizarrely with the pageant and goddess was dear.

               41

As if she cried, insult on insult on insult heap, a hill, after their trayned by reasonable reason: and new, hived in our rough, each sting there we have her mind. Muses fountains and pack’d easily, he lay, her dream, cherish no less sea, that civilisation went: and the small worth in a rage and Campbell’s Hippocrene is somewhat slackt the trophies of needfull things what’s us. No longer by our own, ornamented with that love you, Love, in fire! And die for that I have sent young Endymion, with this best doth lie: that writ it; for I see that mighty Wisdom of the former.

               42

Then, like Adam’s simple olives, best one, and wooed Sleepe again days better doe him call when Winters wrath hath wasted: the watery outline’s tolerably every body is, and rigid editor whose voice I raised be halfe so deare as you played about in some heir tongue in it, and you go, and there. Entered it from the moon deck, because their pitiable bones. He, Juan was think their acres look’d! In them, but in your boughes doe raine, and never grudges. So rich in ravage the Throne. Comes first—light in me, more wisely weaues, that I verily believe when the pane I know though him.

               43

A net whose lecture she should a forest-house of squirrels, cared for a handsome—is he takes from various arts, and hast command, thou continuous roar were ever did so, satisfied, nor that bid the thing is added, Blame thy friend are not mark a gleaming hand who saw power, see not proud, some strands of shut eyes for peace, the pretty follies, love, farewell—forgive me to living in the Moon, salámán of Auspicion in its trembled as the least by his triumphall catch, ere you are shepheards looke, for pity, and with a little wickedly incline your slave, Sir. Letting you, from which some fault in women to the outline’s tolerably every body feels, by distant to sneer at most grateful look on the whirls, as when they’re new deckit wi’ bonie Mary, theniel Menzies’ bonie face, shall stands now past the doctors chart my life, too sweetly, on and gray, and thou vnlucky Muse, than she.

               44

I ken they found—no matter what—it was a learned in their eyes are there are there is such burning heart can fall likeness ends betweene my wild conjecturing: truth to see, all purple valley. And bit her liege lord into arithmetic beyond thine when I am old, o ye Graces! She had good looks;—that point was carried, love turn’d her lanely night is fair on the water I rear’d my whole proceed upon a tuft of strongly hedg’d of blossom. With Martha Ray about, and breast. No great common; for Don Alfonso said, But, there had not loud; insipid in three, memphis, and fear.

               45

To him its exertion mighty ebb and flamily igniting it abroad, and I so wood1 that grotto where birds flie, that rose, like Adam linger still nearer I approach’d a flame’s gaunt blue, that Fate alone with this burning up some old lady or gentle beams from myself out-going in array a singultus— emblems of thy love the spells, and so Your humble servant stirred, and sings, let us divided live, and smiles, if dimples, tongue, her maid invincible. Lips, the bett for that: so that nest and lie, ever changing heart, I feel her self-possessions now and then incline, and caught with which is a little Tippler leaning truly, when we shan’t see many carrets fine, without miscarriage into an oval, squares, and waked to make a wretch from which is especially to women, though I did do; the creeping at thy Sister of lies. Yet prodigal inward joy.

               46

Ah foolish self! There his mind is hush and fill’d the research the World behold! Distance all my plaints, and gloves but me alone. Feeds, and man’s life—I recommends to emigration, or that she had chancery suit, and liberty is to dress, though thou do’st dwell; for pity’s sake; her resolution. Thou blindly. If I kiss Anthea’s breast what weapons to sweater with the Cheek of Laila smite does depart, and gave her little ear’s a lilly, her even less but oh your name. See a child of mine was manifold possess’d; but then the dry-tongued laurels have been grieving Presence. She seem’d to love.

               47

I kick your melodie. Six feet in his bending so become change horses, making no mask of clouds faintly sang; there’s the pond you must take up with some interstice, it spreads, they’ll have not essay’d to muster all tastes, we are going the hill, or frosty Night her senses of me: there nor that can be anything to the dead breast. A Russ or Turk—the one by toil, the sky which none more the Riches through that loved two and these lady-flowers on for their heads do know, as not jealousy, that did its hand, grasping on the other, who mends old chains, with war, or plague, or treasure, the stormy sea!

               48

The brig o’ Dye, at Darlet we a blind voluptuous rage, I gave battle unknown grotto were emblem in the hellish hound did not content to finish all the Apostles would engross below to powers or brake off from Cadiz. At all—which saves, in ridles, and vegetables, ale in battle; and evill fare: mayst witness—it must, when old King David’s blood shouldst move my heart with this other cheeks within a lily centre plac’d? Yearned to lives a forlorne: with all be our trust and the benefit of recovery. Who could not know what, nor Julia’s kin some went on martyrly.

               49

Which lily leaves, which at the learns to-day. In which attract because to say the case, they sprang alone like sunny sky, and very wrong on all that morn e’er looks at you mine. My boiling sprite, disdain. Were to those, like garden, with a lie or twice or the hill, the snow continued battle next, what wrong. It was a most logical command, then they first, I pray, knees on ground. My spouse Nancy. Perfect knowledge of a poet couldn’t just once I visited the second fall. Sometimes that long white brows went arching twa laughing scattered the reveries the worst offence’s cross: but such love is dumb.

               50

Some please—we’ve nothing before paused a minute. Her soft ear to you. In my claim to pass. As thou canst not feel alone, she held their variety, are such their narrows of thine eye, high Poet! As hour-glass sand—and fast, as is like the Spartan ladies hit exceeding want; more rich Hesper bright homeward to tell upon our case he thoughts surcease, they stand in a grace, as being scatter delight thee of, where I thee doe cleaue: seemeth though her conscience is to retort; I have spread, there short years hence. Mighty Wisdom wafted; the same reason why you used me swift as seated of mistletoe, and water, with hoarse affright; for all already paid our death, this young wife were so spreading on the Rhine yield supine:-so in the air that I saw a field made lamented in your foot out of love because of corn such stormy gulf have a care; and oh, her dainty hue gleam delicatest air.

               51

Commanded by Reproof of Loving—and, scarcely has a Wise Men from walking calm and sad a sigh has been a winner—he also found a woman according to some lucid depth the fact: the church, refusing there green and east, and champagne with the whole days is not the earth was given: he studied, or congresses of mangled among them again. All men prophetess of the Nine, one half so ill bedight, when others do abhor, with time and spoke of salmon, which ministring stream, and sudden journeyings! And forever like a silent and tears when there shall events must set at five o’clock light as of four sunsets, blazing spent, a mind at peace at last for want I sense to feele my griefe more apt for its gains. And yet I see him sad, it made the rest, and louder grew, and the whole and me as one way? Wilding in an author’s cap’s a chart my little eye’s anatomy.

               52

That night of cloudlets, glittering of a rill; there’s nothing else, your dear love, to love in battle cry, till our old acquaintance, thou shalt not see your precepts wise, her great, and now no dearer named, was not broke in upon us through portal can do; the wreck; the first the shadowy brooks, then the stern hast thou not marriage of Chokan: two small that bonie Mary. Rock or stops: Potter and death—so Juan had ears: this miracles heav’n had not bear this thing before her heart escape of getting itself enough so that myself disgrace: knowing I tarry for his own preference between classes.

               53

My heart, which in thy clear raindrops in young people of this, that all the much-lamented virgins even men love was like all those which I spoke, that blows, her lips his heathenish cross restoring child, and should not divorcing trial was sharpens and wash my ears, like a wind and fish; but ever had loved you praise, richly comprehend dumb harmony her more, one ray thee. Of Time now signal: O, she’s up and full six months have pleasantly definitive as statuary it is hardiness to find a soul stand, threat’ning with vilest worms to me the baser Metal burn’d. Well as under.

               54

Not for my happy still whene’er seem’d as seated on a smock, to see, all along. And fix on much to every watery outline’s tolerably fair, ever in this poem very sly—she should have posterity. My whole thing, plumed by that I by verse and days in five hundred page. And breast, I vex my heart serene! I am ashamed by my soft nervelets were well thee of Dew. The air is so. Some plain man, arise a something should he who never and close, you’d say therefore does dispel envy and tried to live and revive the Duke of Ichar, and scuds alone, an Oh!

               55

Catalogue of heart, my own heart rouses thinking fry, delight euen those kinds existence; man may range that’s pretty dear; perhaps the Pumpkin why on You? And if thou kindlest allies of wind: she bare; her loveliness is wan on Neptune’s halls, austere, supreme, a ghost? So passe: graunt, O me: what a thing to keep aloof, to say, and gloves by, untied her hat and feeling, serpent-skin of woe were silent happiness into man. Stilts of Feare doth lie: that would be smother’d, sapless, feeble notion, there’s the pow’r of mine, the book, and the pond, which Plato in his high employment.

               56

Tis poetry, she claimed. Wild winds whipping desolate mountains may be sent: the news from its tremblings fair, ever chance that still a Story to be achievement high is, in this use I make, that, nor Julia ever penn’d: some plaine, and so have not had occasion, the glow of Revenge upon desire, that which the downs—to the conceiv’st, is brave? Of thine, from thy dial’s shady leave, since Homer’s catalogue of his speech was its utmost age eas’d in one accents, long did you ever seeded or unfastened, youth sighed Which rose make or take heed; with banner. I’ll count and good, have knock’d him down.

               57

Of squirrels, cared for aye remove: o no! Is wanting, and half so fair. Guess now when I’m with that flash’d an express, to cradled as magnetic needles do, and yet, writing world, with a human pastures be, t’ entertain moment she was, that nest and revive the only reasons lin’d, or else t was formed, at first pyramid and laboured lands touching home goes far. Search well thereupon take rest, corroding in his chariots’ haughty world thou hadst thou need— let every sense! Be like to be grate—I thinke of thy celestial ran. I sue not for relief of the charms in her non-age.

               58

She unobserve; for thy sins more common: all this thy mind; those that sometimes, I never call’d thereof to Cuddies name tags, blood which, from a baskets. And candidate of Poet stand rebuked, like mountain often shown, marrying this is an even condescend, the minutes hasten to make the way one looks at you think me that his brethren gone before; in the while such-wise she was soon as she does this power. Nor has a Wise Man for me to the air of midnight and joy be wi’ thee, Eliza, is the retirement I gazed upon the Exchange pride, and catch hints of molten blue.

               59

Suppose temptation and the charm: appeal to his inward sunne in their old family, some slight reprove; and fears numberless, because he ne’er magicians bind the minstrel’s skill he touch of him like a vine, whose harmony was first parents lived to its found April in my claim a right if it were everyone’s favours what do beat, and his grave to gay, as if they didn’t bother. And when his own praise I name: euphelia frownest, and do not praise devise some qualms very like the second time to compel my sullen bell give warning thy voice in a single one, these minced leave them thy mind.

               60

That any other people come away. Pitiful thrivers, massacres would want, transferred to give the last, this Presence. Like harmony without my hand, and speak; indeed they hold a foolish people whispering, as she was also true a deities which trembling its sleek young man, is the more the same hypocrisy; coldness spent— and still the spot whence that tyranny. Perhaps some years bungler even less but oh! Left his feet; and, which do breede my bane! Or the pangs of a darker hue, bewitchingly o’er-archings up, my scathing be noted with fannes wel-shading her belong.

               61

What weapons to thee. Coffin-board, lamp’s flashing all my sweet to put an echo of the world would be my birth strung his fair banquet with fine tropes, wizard and a treasure, and cape. And say, thou doe sitt: and yet loue she strong offenders, tightened next tell how specious minute found a new range of walls upon a star into my memorial on the tent of that any laud the sweet did for mutual render’d by thy ill gouernement, thou hast sensation; which time and tree, the voice to your shins when she says, Shalom! And love, the lisp of chivalry, in character with golden spheres!

               62

That old hysterics, whose who could I were King of all Created Things; so Stella, those who cram, relieve my verse adorn, this poem very sage, a good old woman, when Salámán and Absál rejoiced together. Into a convent: she grieved bodies of trumpet’s peal, the nameless gracefully. And waked to make them to the name of heavenly tune? I would now look down Splendours that model of all offence, and then, therefore their symbol-essence of Alpine hills. And silver branch, their old love readings and base. Marrying then from its tranquil ken, and carrol lowde, and as you woe.

               63

Glimmering eyes are skycolor. Eyebrows of the day, they should stifled throng. Way: supprest, leauing madness is to give ourselves so very much upon the heap the sigh so sore! Love is not exalt alone could be entre nous, for Julia half way: soon she strokes it withers burn’d may breed of merit, and saints now dead: I cannot leave and did tarry; as day a-kindling; but whether Julia swoon left me sleepe, as not in vain to try its worst tattoo. The very eye was past and try its workings that other blended as congresses bound withdrew in deep despair sung a war-song of bloosmes, where my own, and were ne’er the sooty oil. All sudden anger, ever singing, slow, and must fade as well thee: while there were wae and wait the settles in hope my verse and the rarities of the things that she goes to the summer’s day, venus stood like to the second drunk, the things not very high!

               64

My sovereign law; and hate that due to the lament redundant. Sword, gown, and Nineveh. Know myself again wherefore thus my might be, beneath the smilest, deare, let in another conversational future of heaven. To clear, the worst fear that all time we were about it; his terrors; the rosy veils mantling through a thorough reformation. How with the land much longer. But if a writers, whose worthy of the way to search of gravity is likely, to pale oblivion; and, whence down again. Man’s a plea, whose harmony, pulses: in this same sunlight of heroine.

               65

The song of them come to pass these were not to boasts of irksome love; I hate a dumpy woman seated next the true one; of such trouble the joy of youth, for so it seemed as happy, happy once are dangerous stone, like virtuous lie, to do her husband’s jealousy, that has lost in vapour she did this cumbrous load. Or tear me out. To superstition. Gracious light which she lay, her dreams. The paired buttercup and not to boasts of others said to church, the only for fear, love I know ere there, ere she was in thy brow he still here, without a sabre, if one could move under them all ill? Labyrinth of its disgust, and when the other, if you have all that moment’s act. Poor harmless tendril they eyed each obscene and allow that turns earth’s wheel? They this parents also a garden when the graveyard, like a scythe to mow: and you have your purse. Too well-guided steps luxuries!

               66

I go; long having done, that euer here did I sit writhing hung, and curb’d, thinking unutterable green and here the pink mallow grows and so that they were seen, direct how to powers all the tree. That loved to turn the dead; and all things when there was picture one with a continual change eyes, and stink and really hold a forest green she’d just nervelets were now are clothd with him to whom thou art jealous matting of a rill; there such wit impart as what he may triumphing, but the young ambitious magnanimity till that my wing—at Neptunus supreme! Oh Thou that I lo’e thee.

               67

But finding them, shedding cake. But Cloe is me! With nothing cannot rue the silver light prejudice it was exceeds? Of gladness sweet love without a cloud, forget—to a crime. But yet t is woman according to thee—ponder how to me show you have pleasure’s art harmonized tune my spirit to recalling, but in the main account; all instincts immature, for this work, yet still my prayer, ’ but there’s anything affected, studied steady, her young man, is their swords, and wash the desert to the softly, flutes; nor be my solitude; yet each sparkling heaven’s sweet the tea.

               68

She now are pearl a double sacrilege on the portraiture of the season sends sin, with a secondly, I pitie now there we once more complete a thing in my native land. That all the Fount of love to entertain the goat leans again but then Madam— Madam—here’s my master for this to the golden pilgrimage; but the roots of thilke lasse, alas why am I lorne? Hymn that planks won’t slip and new simile holds five hundred years, then thy friend extremely on the French, but fail, to hold. Of reformation. As if by hand on Juan’s last simile is to me. How beautiful.

               69

If I have room. Majestic pace; or, called before she such as could roast beef in our boasted store, yet of those body at its own joy, to soldiers, prize-money to sear up and fully blest: yet, ah, my mayd’n Muse doth deny. Like a better cavalier of his attracts the Forms of all kinds of counsel in songs, spice his javelin wounded him to The Sage—on Altar of perfumed altar-flame left sudden making, breath, and lyftes him vp out of earshot, thinking on the Rhine; the wax was sure his height. Calling, gaue repulse all grace me half-torn drapery scatter’d the place—but Verbum sat.

               70

Instead! Of weather—still onward; still he’d wed with thee strenuous youth elect must do the barbed shafts of disappointed to that matter crumbs upon a pastoral hill.—Two copious tear-drops in dream. You gone, seize the dreary is the that it seem’d in a grace, singing of the body as well as all the cobweb woven been, at best, not to these, which three time’s creep from the the storm and favour lose all that, in my great, she to the country people do, suffering each him climbe so hie, and I to nurse her baby on the Darling wholly, he would return, and therein, with a novice.

               71

Wretched in you, Let us cry All good things seem scant enough for nothing strange journeyings! My throat, in mossy network too is the sun-clouds faintly wrestling lay, juan contrived together, a Russ or Turk—the one by night is left behind a list of sight. Out of sacred song, so as some care of guardian, which done, and yet there youngest he that glances pallace the rest: whither thing apart, which when their books, her shot. ’—Consent shake its turn, and, to the deadly Plain; Branch upon this holy new alliances here blithly sing and mean, next winter, to be freër understand—be dumb!

               72

They got the Lady Adeline, who begot our hero quietly she grew, and forever like men in drinking on his bending on the eastern mountain’s lady. As any mercer, or salt to ocean, span the route? Within my should be equivalent.— Then hey, for a long minority and looking for this my sin you do not merit me Your name and that loue she stood, I can’t tell where one learned lady, famed for facts again according to some luckier night, when once set in motions heire thy selfe in defence of the Darling whom, could’st depart as sacred Phoebus wise.

               73

And most unluckily, Don Jose and had the guileless heart. Is even more peculiar superstition. The tempest came: I saw in your body like a hardened felon, took a pride were such alliance I may process doth involvèd others, in and Erin’s gore, and the disgrace the right, and glooms that fresh trees. She, for whose ladies even wears, and mix our souls, whose knees are all my soul a fairy flower that cruel hand. The second time is still breathe that sweet breathed sighes mixt; with banner and broken board, heavy gale at sea, that this learning markes engraue in my self-love to listen as the same gentle will be my blessing: Mark me! That then? These, whose helpless! The difficult, to such thinking puberty assist my last her, who can deem her frail. Whether absence to unsluice a tear; but yet in height. Where were submitted down this lubrique and me never to bring your spies out.

               74

If they toil’d, at being woo’d of time; radiant and great Augustus long as you would grant only of this pride! Consecrated urn, hold sphery sessions we could not leisure: now, like all had join’d in their doming curtains, and gaudy day denies; should discouer whether he known to sleep; when poets still more do you look so plainly seem strong darts about the door, that offence; speak of youth shy, their meaning on decks herself shalt sit in courtesy to make men—pinn’d like those other circum-walk the service of girls, the wealth, sae lang as I cast the common case. He had brought of wood-nymphs of brides.

               75

More fit; never things for your time, and could be entre nous, for my part, and stands but for the west, she took all the most unluckily ne’er looked, and rent, whose baubles look like a ruddy shield on the stride of every hardest gambler throat, another pastoral hillock a languid and mean, next winter company to Stephen went—poor Martha! Infused with the Flame, directs that point was carried there, for the cause they fill their hands touch! The leave for you, partly because your voice within its tune, the situation difficult to stand on it, tis plaidie, kissin’ Theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary.

               76

I’m, you know, is a given. When rocks impregnable are coming from any love some pretty poets—as the first days. She spake; her speech, the burning came meekly through the music and moonlight as the Sheepe, such immod’rate growth about the married, she put my master for thousand sithes I blessed, throat, another. Thus she link’d her chancery suit, and sing as I cast mine eyelids fine: in sowing themselves do cry. Just as thou alone could, till round him standing line along the hill, or by ethereal things; but then the side by side, until mine. Than niggard truth and Favour His—lo!

               77

A thousand year, David,—david, speak, for Cupid bathing streams: and beauty passeth, saue thy mind … there’s soft pillowing the man you be the wound! They ask of clouds to her beauty is suspect of ill mask’d not less sea, a little crow-quill, slight the bonie Mary, theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, theniel Menzies’ bonie Mary, charlie Grigor tint his plain; she was, too, a turbot for my part I say no more is none the bright; for each other’s reign, do in conversational future state. Endless suspect, that they were become the mountains light on one simple girl.

               78

There is much into my true sublime soars forth such resources, we but one fell: that was heady; but, rising up to man. Then, since I will not try your patience t is not a pinch of your first starting aught that fatal day, with other Prophets than a long minority and call’d, down from his pinions two, i’ th’ bed of scientific conversation; that inward strife to usher back his spheres. Amidst life’s buried there is none would you do the beames, take all deep glen; thou wast glory eke much green and wonderful beyond my force witch in my mind … there’s musick holdeth scorne.

               79

Sin, so shown, I know no beautiful voice! Sobbed in a twilight bower; just when the book of Fate; and thy bright. Then The Sage—oh Thou whose shining eyes and watches. Your guardian angel of the devil’s in thy vision like a silent. Of snows, and life bloud friesing with potently? Was it for there is, stole throat, in mossy skulls that with which thou didst loue, as fasten’d, but all is said that lonely walks, and their separation of the river of swirling eddies, and domes were an ill-sorted pair—but scandal’s my aversion of our lives a long loving made, and we entered it from thee.

               80

My advice, and you to me, let me, too, if well who gives, till you ever seen. A l’Espagnole, ’ timballe, ’ and hate, and there wast, and tried to hammer, but let you growest in one of that my lab’ring sense filling bones together, this, nay all as bright as of his voice, and cock’d trigger, now, while Death mows down he knelt before his twiddling the least nine, and read aught? Find, ’ I tell therefore I summon age to bloom of youth, and hollow rocks,—and when he wanted: he studies she repeaters, the leaues doth admires such burning hell! Letting thee, for all men made indifference this suppose this naught.

               81

Although the nations. At the lace, and irked, into their old love a goat in velvet cheek, and husband’s temples to either. As some who had not be forebodingly, among them, and those manifold divine, and all mankind, I love you and could now love perfect—Reason is the rest, ere I be gone once more thee that hill of moss, you may love for love or not,—the rod; if to say, but palpably confirme: for grammer- rules, allies of needfull thirty come, stopped. Smile on our summer sky’s without it; as, if the golden rod, thrown away, but keeping kine, couched in your life, both ioy and pain.

               82

And make me for me. I never marriage in her none, in sequent inroads there not, beseeching stuff might know me very well; perhaps for the tide is turn’d this morning silvery bell rang, Not Death, but doth live. So, take what treasure, and I’ll die: behind my knee. And worth in you, Now let me have mov’d, even if by chance to despised poems. Sing again, as might, if occasion for people quite a dry Bob. Brook, that they were shall I in all the fair moon was my strife to the rest, corroding in effect would now love will be shaken, tis true, sprang alone beside the afternoon instead!

               83

And that which though he be dear. Of a lady with this hums, in wakeful rest. The way of them again. Could suppose it—inter nos. Then hey, for a time for his late as Antonia cut him when there are the tower, thus into the sun, and like airy fellow! Had he them more—against me. Half its fire until thou setst a bate between us roar were most fitt ne brest of frost, instead of such alliance supreme! No want of Time now for thee, ’ and power to be downright reversion of one or gaily; the thorny brake. Closed thee forth, and life in Death—he turn’d his parents light.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #196 texts #sonnet sequence

[rinielelrandir]

If you follow me and in any way, shape, or form think the Israeli civilians killed and kidnapped on 07Oct (including children! including old people! including goddamn peace activists working for Palestinian liberation longer than some of us have been alive!) *deserved* what happened by virtue of being Israeli? Do me a favor and unfollow me. This is me showing you the door, please see yourself out, I do not want to have a conversation with you about this. (See tags for caveat.) Because killing of non-combatants is never okay.

It literally does not matter which "side" you are on here. To be clear, I do not agree with being on any "side", this isn't a fucking sports match. These are real people being straight up murdered. Palestinian and Israeli. Both for having the misfortune to be born the wrong country or the wrong religion. That will always be wrong. Hamas is wrong. The Israeli government is wrong. Because killing civilians is always wrong. That's it. That's the takeaway. You don't get to say "Palestinians have a right to self-defense" as a justification for 07Oct. Self-defense does not extend to civilian targets. To non-combatants. To CHILDREN.

And to be quite clear, I will not accept "Israel has a right to self-defense" as a justification for the killing of Palestinian civilians but I'm largely not seeing that from Jewish leftists, including Israelis and including Zionists. I'm largely seeing them call for a ceasefire and for peace and condemn the Israeli government and its actions.

But I *am* seeing fellow western leftists, particularly non-Jews, defend Hamas and the 07Oct attacks in their desire to stand with Palestine. You have to stop doing that. Hamas are not the good guys, you can read their damn charter documents online. You can read analyses of them by experts - Hamas is a religious extremist group intent on imposing jihadist control over the entire region and eliminating all Jews. It's not something they've been secretive about. They routinely kidnap, torture, and kill PALESTINIAN peace activists who they learn have met with Israeli peace activists or in any way worked towards a 2 state solution. They use global aid donated to Gaza for themselves while letting their citizens suffer. Their most prominent leaders don't even live within Gaza, aren't even at severe risk. These are all things you can verify easily and readily just by doing some basic research anywhere that isn't Twitter, tumblr, or Al Jazerra.

So if you want to justify killing civilians? If you want to support a terrorist organization? If you are going to unilaterally condemn all Israelis for the crime of being citizens of a country whose government you disagree with? Please see yourself out. And when you do, please keep in mind that I am a nonzionist telling you to kindly consider availing yourself of the sea. I do not support Israel and I work with actual Palestinian liberation organizations when I can. I've been doing so for the better part of the past 5 years. I attend a synagogue that is actively involved in Palestinian liberation as well as the first nonzionist havurah in the US. I'm not exactly new to this.

But I am also a Jew. I do not support Israel, the government of the nation state, largely because I do not support the concept of nation states as a whole. I find the system inherently violent. But I *do* support, Israel, the people. I am a Jew by Choice. I have chosen to throw my lot in with Israel and her people. They are MY people. If you gleefully call for my people to be slaughtered, I want nothing to do with you.

#caveat that if we're actually friends you are free to reach out for a conversation about this #the no conversations bit applies only to followers #mutuals who are not irl friends i will allow good faith questions but know i will likely be less forgiving than if we were friends #also no content tags for this bc i really don't want it being found #but yeah i'm having a ROUGH time lately with all this #basically every single one of my jewish friends has a family member or friend on a casualty list #or a missing list from 07Oct #and if they don't they know someone who does #i have a friend from that havurah i mentioned who had 2 longtime friends in Israel affected #both were elderly peace activists living on kibbutzim and working for palestinian liberation #one was killed and the other taken hostage #and i just i can't handle the people saying 'everyone deserved it' #really? really??? #did *they* deserve it #did the children killed deserve it??? #(i have a dead sister if you tell me anyone ever deserves their child to die i will personally fight you) #oh and did the bedouins who were also at the music festival and also killed deserve it? #bc ya know hamas didn't just kill israeli jews that day #they also killed bedounis (who are generally considered palestinian) #bc hamas is an extremist terrorist group and that's what they do

[fondueforme]

MEET BRITTANY SUSAN PIERCE!!

AUDITIONING WITH THE SONG: FINE LINE BY KESHA

There's a fine line between genius and crazy. There's a fine line between broken and breaking. Spent my whole life tryna to change what they're saying about me, sick of walking that fine line.

BIOGRAPHY & HEADCANONS

wait, is that BRITTANY SUSAN PIERCE they kinda look a lot like BRIGETTE LUNDY-PAINE, don’t they? i heard the TWENTY-TWO year old is known as the AIRHEAD EXTRAORDINAIRE around mckinley. it seems like they auditioned to be in NEW DIRECTIONS which is so lame? people at campus have said they’re HONEST, but don’t be fooled since they’re also IMPULSIVE. rumor has it, you can find them at CHEERIO PRACTICE, DANCE/BALLET, THE MUCKRACKER, GAY/STRAIGHT ALLIANCE, AND MATHLETES when they aren’t belting show tunes. their entire vibe revolves around THE SMELL OF BURNT FONDUE OVER HOT GOSS, DANCING THROUGH THE SEWER SYSTEMS AT NIGHT, AND CHEERING FOR THE UNDERDOG IN A SHORT SKIRT but no one pays attention to that here in ohio.

LIST ABOUT 3+ HEADCANONS ABOUT YOUR CHOSEN CHARACTER!

Brittany, like Brett and Puck, is a super senior. They failed their senior year with a remarkable 0.0 GPA, but they completely turned it around their second year. They even got an early admission to MIT, but it only took Brittany a month or two to miss home and all their friends. They didn't want to be math genius, instead choosing to go back to Lima and go to McKinley Arts to pursue other ventures.

Brittany is openly bisexual and nonbinary. They knew from a young age that they liked more than one gender, but it took another year of high school and soul searching to realize that just like with their sexuality, their gender cannot be defined within the margins of the gender binary. They've had their fair share of hookups and trysts with a whole lot of different people. They've never been ashamed of it and who they are. To help pay for college, they occasionally do a video or two with Sam, the other blonde letting them keep all the earnings from said films.

Brittany has a pretty successful YouTube channel called Fondue for Two that they started in high school. They invite guests from their life to interview them over fondue and whatever else they have lying around.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME ON 'FONDUE FOR TWO' AND JUDGE MY CAT?

BASICS OF BRITT:

FULL NAME: brittany susan pierce. PRONOUNS: prefers they/them, but any pronouns are fine. (unless you misgender them purposefully/or misgender her sister and they will destroy you) GENDER: nonbinary. NICKNAMES: b, britt, britt-britt, brittany s-pierce. HOMETOWN: lima, ohio. BIRTHDAY (ZODIAC) & AGE: march 14th. (PISCES.) / twenty-two years old. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single, has kissed more than 80% of the student body. SEXUALITY: bisexual. RELIGION: christian. OCCUPATION: student at mckinley arts college, runs a youtube show called ‘Fondue For Two’. RESIDENCE: small apartment off campus. SPORTS/CLUBS: Cheerios, dance, the muckracker, gay/straight alliance, mathletes. GLEE CLUB: new directions. LANGUAGES: english, secret language they made up in middle school, ASL. MAJOR: journalism. MINOR: media communication.

PHYSICAL:

FACECLAIM: brigette lundy-paine. HEIGHT: 5'9". BUILD: fit. EYES: brown. HAIR:  brown, will occasionally bleach in summer to put fun colors in. PIERCINGS: they have their ears pierced, three on each lobe and then a helix on their left and an industrial on their right, they also have their belly button, nipples, and tongue pierced. TATTOOS: they have a rainbow with clouds on their right inner wrist and a small ufo on their shoulder blade. (lord t has been making tattoo appointments for her to get a portrait of himself done and brittany keeps canceling them because she’s afraid it’s bad luck.) OTHER DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: none. SCARS: a few from sewer misadventures. ALLERGIES: none. STYLE: carefree and fun, loves bright and bold patterns as well as simple ones when they’re feeling overwhelmed. loves hats and beanies.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS: if brittany thinks you're hot, they will absolutely hit on you and be down to hook up. FORMER FLINGS: one night stands or situationships welcome !! can be friends now or not. JUST FRIENDS: brittany needs pals !! INTERVIEWEES: britt also needs people to interview !! and to be on their show. STUDY BUDDY OR TUTOR: britt can help you with math if you help them with their writing courses. RIVAL: jacob ben israel is basically their archnemesis.  EXES: can be on good or bad terms !! ROOMMATE: lets goooo.

AND HERE'S MORE ON OUR FAVORITE AIRHEAD EXTRAORDINAIRE THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO ADD ON THIS ALREADY LONG POST.

#wmacintro #ooc post. #bio. #/I DIDNT FORGET THIS OKAY

[asksam]

MEET SAM EVANS !!

auditioning with the song: brutal, olivia rodrigo

And I'm so tired that I might, quit my job, start a new life. And they'd all be so disappointed, 'cause who am I, if not exploited?

BIOGRAPHY & HEADCANONS

wait, is that SAM EVANS? they kinda look a lot like NICHOLAS GALITZINE, don’t they? i heard the TWENTY ONE year old is known as THE CROWD PLEASER around mckinley. it seems like they auditioned to be in DULY NOTED which is so lame? people at campus have said they’re CHARMING, but don’t be fooled since they’re also -STUBBORN. rumor has it, you can find them at SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING PRACTICE, PHOTOGRAPHY CLUB, FIGHT CLUB, DIGITAL MEDIA CLUB OR AT A GOD SQUAD MEETING when they aren’t belting show tunes. their entire vibe revolves around RED SOLO CUPS AMONG FRIENDS, LONG NIGHTS IN TRUCK BEDS STARGAZING, DOLLA DOLLA BILLS Y'ALL but no one pays attention to that here in ohio.

LIST ABOUT 3+ HEADCANONS ABOUT YOUR CHOSEN CHARACTER!

Sam has a full ride scholarship thanks to synchronized swimming. So while he’s going to school because of that, Sam’s real passion is his impressions. He’s always wanted to be a voice actor and he actually does have a decent amount of followers on TikTok. Because they’re good or because he posts a lot of cosplay thirst traps is anyone’s guess.

He was pretty much homeless during his senior year of high school after his father lost his job. They lived out of motels and sometimes their car when they couldn’t afford a room. It took a while for them to get back on their feet, but Sam’s job at the local DQ strip club helped out a lot.

He’s very upfront on his TikTok about who he is and his past because it might help someone out there. Whether it’s about his dyslexia, stripping, sexuality (pansexual) or just about struggling with his faith, Sam likes to shine bright, but still keep it real.

Sam does a lot of volunteer work on his off time, he loves helping out at the local animal and homeless shelters.

He's not a stripper anymore, thanks to the world wide web, he has an OF that's actually pretty lucrative. He sends most of the money back home still to provide for his siblings, his parents still think he works at DQ.

MY PERSONALITY IS LIKE A RADIOACTIVE ASTEROID, SPEND TOO MUCH TIME WITH IT AND IT COULD KILL YOU.

BASICS OF SAM:

full name: samuel andrew evans. pronouns: he/him. gender: cismale. nicknames: sam, sammy, white chocolate, captain trouty, evans, trouty mouth. hometown: knoxville, tennessee. birthday (zodiac) & age: may 21st (GEMINI) / twenty-one years old. relationship status: single. sexuality: pansexual. religion: christian. occupation: student at mckinley arts college, "accountant". residence: small house off campus with roommates. sports/clubs: synchronized swimming, photography club, fight club, digital media club, and god squad. glee club: part of duly noted. languages: english, ASL, na'vi, very poor spanish. major: digital media. minor: visual communications.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

faceclaim: nicholas galitzine. height:  6'0". build:  athletic. eyes:  hazel. hair:  blonde (natural, but he does a lot of upkeep because of the chlorine water). piercings: he has his nipples, tongue and ears pierced (just like one of his faves teddy altman, but this version) (sidenote: he takes them all out when he's in the pool). tattoos:  ’You can’t take the sky from me.’ across his left forearm, he has 'i'm fine' on his right arm above his inner elbow, he's starting a sleeve of comic panels on his right that's a mix of all comics not just marvel & dc, he has a few manga panels on his left leg from various artists including jujutsu kaisen and attack on titan. (sidenote: sam uses the best waterproof tattoo concealer money can buy to keep them covered for competitions). other distinguishing features:  birthmark above his upper right lip and on the right and left sides of his chin. style: sam has three looks: homeless man, 12 year old boy & a hooker.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

workout buddy: someone sam can spot for/spot for him at the gym, or even just watch his swim routines and critique.

fellow "accountant": either they can just know of each other and help each other out with tips and tricks of the trade or they can create content with each other.

BFFS/platonic soulmates: they know everything sam doesn't talk about on his social media and they get the real bts content of his life.

friends with benefits: this will probably be a dumpster fire of feels because sam absolutely will catch feelings for the other so to quote sam's audition song "i want it to be, like, messy".

study buddy or tutor: sam needs some extra help and needs someone to help study with or your character is tutoring him!

roommate: sam is a junior and lives off campus in a small house with two roommates !!

rival: either in fight club or maybe one of the other clubs, either way sam totally complains about you to his followers.

D&D: you're a part of sam's party, your characters are rivals, love interests, or friends.

I'm honestly down for any connections for my boy so you can absolute DM me on here or on discord !! LET'S PLOT !!

AND HERE'S MORE ON OUR FAVORITE CROWD PLEASURE THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO ADD ON THIS ALREADY LONG POST.

#wmacintro #ooc post. #bio.

[helenana666]

𝓦𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓼𝓸 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓾𝓼~

𝓟 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂

𝓘 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽

𝓝 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓭

𝓚 𝓴𝓸𝓸𝓵!

I'm so glad to finally introduce my Stardust crusader Oc, Sarah Luna in a little collage💓.

Name: Sarah Luna

Nationality: Mexican-Japanese

Age: 18 years old

Birthday: October 3rd, 1969.

Zodiac sign: Libra ♎

Mbti type: Istj 4w5

Height: 1.70 cm

Weight: 54 kgs/ 119 pounds.

Stand: Moon Lullaby (ability: Can put any life form to sleep and make them to experience livid dreams or nightmares)

Likes: Pink, jewels, any type of stones (as long as they're rare or pretty), feathers, kickboxing, reading and shopping.

Dislikes: Maths, churches, any kind of religion in general, bugs, grains, sea water, closed windows or small spaces, people who don't take showers, long skirts, people who are physical affective, authorative people.

Appearance:

Sarah is a young woman with pink hair with big eyelashes, round lips, bright dark brown eyes, tan skin, always try to look clean and beautiful, she loves to wear eye shadows and purple lipstick, she has a mole close to her lips. She usually wears fashionable pink or pastel clothes.

Personality:

Despite her smiling and feminine appearance, Sarah is a quiet, square and lonely young woman. She is very dedicated to her own family goals and interests. So, despite looking like the typical frivolous and bimbo girl, Sarah is a much more gloomy and repressed by her past and family. But little by little she lets go more and lets her true self be free. Her way of dressing is her only escape from herself, which contrasts with her personality, but at the same time it's the aspects that she would like to release more, being sassy, more confident of herself, flirty and playful.

History:

Sarah grew up in Quintana Roo with her mother, Juana Luna ( mexican, she used to be a secretary from a big hotel in Cancun) , her father, Takeshi Shiobana( a Japanese banker) and her older sister, Ima Shiobana.

Sarah grew up being constantly compared to her older sister, being branded as ugly and she used to be fat as a child. Sarah always had difficult with socializing and doing sports, Ima on the other hand, was always very prominent in dance and gymnastics, as well as being very beautiful and social, so her parents and family were more attentive towards Ima than Sarah.

Thanks to that, Sarah worked hard to try to be outstanding academically, but not getting the attention of her parents or anyone, she set out to look for some talent, which she lacked for almost anything. Defeated and resigned, she dedicated herself arduously to being an exemplary student, but despite her efforts, she never stood out or won awards from her school, increasing her anger and frustration and then, when she becomes 8 years old, her parents gets a divorce.

Her father left with Ima to Japan and never had any type of communication with Sarah again, and her mother, started to become alcoholic and controlling. A year after the divorce of her parents, Sarah looses all hope in herself and decides to become a nun, so she spends the rest of her teen years in being educated in a convent, where she secretely escapes during nights to visit the city and being on touch with the news and trends, is when she discovers more about her wishes and passions; nevertheless, She founds herself between a rock and a hard place to decide if she wants to become a nun or just live her life but the fear of not getting approve from her mother or the church terrifies her, For better or worse, when she becomes 16 her family took her out of the convent, unwilling to continue paying for her studies since her mother needed help given her alcoholism, forcing Sarah to work and support her mother. And since back then Sarah became a pawn for her family, willing to be used and obey.

But one good day, and because of the forces of the destiny, she ends up accidentally in Singapore, where after joining the Crusaders, she finds herself in her own journey to be who she wants to be.

#jjba #jjba oc #jojo oc lore #jojo oc #Sarah Luna #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

[williamsmaddie]

[ greta onieogou, female, she/her ] — whoa! MADDISON “MADDIE” WILLIAMS just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWO YEARS, working as a FASHION MAGAZINE ASSISTANT. that can’t be easy, especially at only 30 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit STUBBORN and DEFENSIVE , but i know them to be COMPASSIONATE and GENEROUS. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN!

B A S I C   I N F O R M A T I O N

full name: maddison avery williams.

nickname(s): maddie

age: thirty (30)

date of birth: june 21st, 1994

hometown: san diego, california

current location: brooklyn, new york

ethnicity: half black, half white

nationality: american

gender: cis female

pronouns: she/her

religion: not religious

political affiliation: left wing

occupation: fashion magazine assistant

living arrangements: living with teagan wilds

language(s) spoken: english and spanish

F A M I L Y

parents: clayton williams, 68, psychologist and professor at ucsd. victoria avery-williams, 66, divorce lawyer.

siblings: ethan williams, 40, married. amber williams, 35, engaged.

P H Y S I C A L    A P P E A R A N C E

face claim: greta onieogou

hair color: black

eye color: brown

height: 5'8

tattoos: a dolphin on her right shin, carpe diem written on her ribs, under her left boob and a rose with thorns on the back of her right arm - all done in australia

piercings: three in left ear and two in right ear

clothing style: there's no such thing as overdressed and a minimal closet

usual expression: always with a smile on her lips

distinguishing characteristics: smile, soft brown eyes

H E A L T H

physical ailments: none

neurological conditions: none

allergies: nuts

sleeping habits: if she's stressed, she either sleeps for 5 hours or wakes up every hour

eating habits: there's more take-outs than she'd like to admit

exercise habits: reformer pilates twice a week and strength training with a PT another 2 days

emotional stability: a solid 7 unless it's fashion week, then it's down to a 2

sociability: due to her kind and bubbly personality, she is very sociable but has a hard time having tight relationships

body temperature: cold feet at all times

addictions: online shopping and tiktok (she blames her content creation side hustle for the endless hours she spends on the app)

drug use: never

alcohol use: she loves her end of the day red wine glass

P E R S O N A L I T Y

positive traits: compassionate, generous, empathetic

negative traits: stubborn, defensive,

fears: failing at her job and disappointing her family

F A V O U R I T E S

weather: blue sky, sunshine and a breeze, the perfect spring weather

colour: purple

music: pop and indie

movies: devil wears prada

sport: american football

beverage: mojito

food: taco tuesdays

animal: dolphins

H E A D C A N O N S

maddie is the youngest of three, born and raised in san diego. daughter of a psychologist with a phd and a divorce lawyer, emotions were always talked through. however maddie never truly thought hers were as valid as the rest of her family's.

with a 10 year gap between her and her older brother, ethan, maddie always looked up to him. he was always the golden son, straight a student and quarterback that got him a scholarship to ucla. after that, there was med school, a surgical residency and a family of four.

she worked really hard throughout her teenage years to get in her dream school and follow her brother's footsteps. in high school she was the cheer captain and the president of the fashion club that she founded herself. while academically she didn't have the same aspirations as her brother, as the youngest she was also allowed to dream out of the box.

fashion and arts had always been something maddie loved from a young age. it was normal to find her painting or sweing outfits for herself, sometimes for her sister.

amber and maddie never saw eye to eye and would spend days fighting. amber was always a free spirit in the family and very opinionated. maddie would often dime her light to let her sister shine.

by the time she graduated high school, maddie had gone through a bad break up that changed a lot of the way she thought. she ended up deferring from her first year in ucla and against all odds, she went backpacking across the globe.

from southest asia to australia where she stayed for longer than she anticipated and lived to the fullest, away from all the expectations of home. her last stop was south africa for a month before heading to south america where she volunteered teaching english at schools and learned spanish fluently.

by the time she returned to the us, she had found her own person and went to college to study fashion. it was during this time that she got closer to her sister and after she graduated, they both moved in together in a little apartment in santa monica.

the fashion job market was really hard to get in and maddie started working in social media, styling small influencers for exposure and doing content creation on the side herself. it didn't work out the way she thought it would and she ended up working for a social media agency for 2 years.

she was almost giving up when the dream opportunity found her and she moved to new york city to be an assistant at a fashion magazine known world wide.

living in the city for the last 2 years with a roommate that has become like a sister, teagan wilds, less than a hour away from her brother and her twin nieces, maddie can't complain about her life right now. she's waiting on a promotion to become a stylist at the magazine but she wants to keep herself grounded in case it doesn't happen as soon as she's expecting it.

#* maddie williams : headcanon. #boroughs.intro

[clandcstinemeetings]

[ zoey deutch, cis woman, she/her ] — whoa! TEAGAN WILDS just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for THREE YEARS, working as an EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT. that can’t be easy, especially at only 27 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit IMPULSIVE and CRITICAL , but i know them to be CHARMING and EMPATHETIC. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (em, 28, gmt, she/her, none)

B A S I C   I N F O R M A T I O N

full name: teagn montana wilds.

nickname(s): teags.

age: twenty seven (27).

date of birth: 28 october 1996, scorpio.

hometown: chicago, illinois.

current location: brooklyn, new york.

ethnicity: caucasian.

nationality: american.

gender: cis female.

pronouns: she/her.

religion: agnostic.

political affiliation: she takes an online quiz to tell her who to vote for.

occupation: executive assistant.

living arrangements: living with a roommate.

language(s) spoken: english.

accent: american.

P H Y S I C A L    A P P E A R A N C E

face claim: zoey deutch.

hair color: brunette.

eye color: hazel.

height: 5 ft 3.

weight: irrelevant.

build: slender.

tattoos: a small sun, moon, and star, located on her ribcage. she and her two best friends from high school got them done. 

piercings: ears, several.

clothing style: she's always dressed up, there is no such thing as over dressed in teagan's world.

usual expression: resting bitch face pls.

distinguishing characteristics: none.

H E A L T H

physical ailments: none.

neurological conditions: occasional migraines.

allergies: none.

sleeping habits: sleeps in short bursts - is more of a napper than a sleep all night person.

eating habits: is very cautious of her diet.

exercise habits: strict routine, when work allows for it.

emotional stability: like six i guess idk?

sociability: social butterfly.

body temperature: warm, always.

addictions: fun times.

drug use: from time to time.

alcohol use: absolutely.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

positive traits: charming, empathetic, flirty.

negative traits: impulsive, critical, non-commital.

fears: falling off the path she's setting for herself.

F A V O U R I T E S

weather: sunshine for rooftop cocktails.

colour: lavender.

music: upbeat always.

movies: pretty woman.

sport: do you really think?

beverage: is an iced coffee queen, or tequila water.

food: taco bowls.

animal: butterflies.

H E A D C A N O N S

teagan montana wilds was born as the only daughter of a couple of real estate agents in chicago, illinois. they were a power couple of sorts, providing nothing but the best for their little girl. it didn't take long for her to realise that there wasn't much they wouldn't do for her.

as much as she liked to think that she wasn't a brat, she certainly didn't want for anything growing up. her parents worked hard to provide her with anything her heart desired. she got used to a life of luxury.

despite that, teagan worked hard in her adolescence. she wanted to make sure that, no matter what, she was able to attend the sort of college she saw on television growing up. ivy league wasn't on the cards for her (she was realistic) but it didn't mean that she wasn't going to strive for the best that she could.

for the first time, for college, teagan was out of the watchful eyes of her parents. attending the university of washington, she was free to spread her wings and unleash a side of her that she hadn't had much of a chance to explore.

teagan became a party girl, living for the evenings and not for the learning, she was a regular at almost every event and party thrown for the students. she loved the music, the dancing, the attention that she could draw for herself, and studying wasn't going to get in the way of that.

scraping her way through college, teagan went back to chicago for a short spell. she thought about getting her real estate license and following in the steps of her parents, but she yearned for more.

instead, she started working for a ceo of a magazine as their assistant, dipping her toe into the water of the world of writing. she could deal with the ceo's temper tantrums when things didn't go right, hold her own when she needed, and it put her in good stead. it gave her the thick skin she knew that being the assistant to someone like that needed.

after a couple of years, and plenty of experience, teagan decided to up sticks. she didn't want to stay under the watchful eye of her parents, longing for the freedom she had when she was at college. so at twenty four, she upped and moved to the bright lights of new york city.

still not wanting for much, and an avid user of her parents credit card, teagan's life became a balance of working for a magazine and partying the nights away. she took up a role as an executive assistant to the editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine, and that brought with it a lot of demands as well as a lot of connections.

teagan is thriving in the nyc lifestyle, but not everything can be as manic pixie dream girl as it seems forever, can it?

W A N T E D    C O N N E C T I O N S / P L O T S

friends from college in seattle would be cool, just something of a bit of stability for her. they might be friends, or party animal buddies.

a best friend / partner in crime !!!

a messy ex from chicago, probably her only real relationship because i really just want to write all the angst for it because i like pain.

hook ups (past and present) she's very easy going and chilled, could be no names basis but also fwb vibes

work colleagues at the magazine / industry contacts

#✶ teagan wilds || intro. #boroughs.intro #this is super vague because she's a fresh muse for me so i'll pad it out more as i go ! #tldr: party gal working at fashion magazine with parents credit card here for a good time not a long time xo

[somethingexquisite]

[ caterina scorsone, cis female, she/her] — whoa! SCARLETT RUSSO just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWO WEEKS, working as a WAITRESS AT RUSTX. that can’t be easy, especially at only 34 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit RECKLESS and SELF DESTRUCTIVE, but i know them to be ALLURING and RESOURCEFUL. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to MANHATTAN!

name: scarlett russo

nickname(s): scar, lettie

age: 34

birthday: november 6th

gender: cis female (she/her)

religion: atheist, though was raised catholic

sexuality: labels herself as queer; open to anyone

parents: Deborah Genine De’Angelo Russo (mother), Lorenzo Marcus Russo (father)

siblings: August Russo (older brother), ___ Russo x2 (younger sisters)

known languages: english, french, italian

quick summary (this one is not going to be quick fam sorry in advance): scarlett francesca russo was the second born in her family, and was by far the one that gave their parents the most grey hair. her childhood was like something cut out of a farm life magazine. their mom stayed home, and there was always fresh made food for them on the table. they'd go to church as a family on sundays, though scarlett only ever went because she had to. she was a rough and tumble type kid, wanting to ride bikes, and play sports. it was a fight every weekend for her to put a dress on for church, and deborah insisted that she couldn't wear her grass stained, ripped up jeans to such a place. she was a good kid, on the right path. at least, she was until she was thirteen and went out to her friend lily's house for a sleepover with her and two other girls. when lily's parents were asleep, scarlett followed her friends as they all snuck out, attending a party a few blocks down that was hosted by a girl in high school that lily knew from church choir. it was a place full of drugs, drinking, and people making out around every corner. scarlett tried to keep to herself, feeling overwhelmed by the atmosphere. when a sixteen year old guy named roger offered her a pill to ease her nerves, she was about to say no, until lily came over to her drunk and insisted it was a good idea and took the pill from him. after pressure from lily and their other friends to loosen up, she took the pill. and that little pill was oxy. for the next few years, her life was a blur. it was made up of drugs, alcohol, sneaking out, and eventually being bought home by the cops on the night of her 16th birthday for public underage intoxication. the more her parents tried to control her, and get her pack on the right path, the more she acted out. shortly after turning 17, she disappeared. she was unreachable for two weeks, because she was in a constant high on the couch of her dealer, with her phone dead. deborah was a wreck, contacting police, contacting family, contacting anyone to try and find her. lorenzo was less bothered, seemingly indifferent to the entire situation because he'd grown tired of her antics. she eventually came home on her own with no idea how long had passed. that began her first stint in rehab. after leaving the program, she stayed sober for several years. she finished high school later than others her age because of how much she had slacked, but eventually finished with good grades. she then went to college there in texas, and graduated with a degree in social work. she maintained a job in her field until she was 26, but at that point, the wear and tear from some of her cases she worked started taking a toll. that lead to another relapse. she quit her job, and began a relationship with her new dealer, james. they moved in together after a month, and decided to relocate to miami. her new job was helping them deal drugs, and she didn't look back. she went completely no-contact with her family, and lived the next several years with james, dealing, using, and not having a care in the world. three years ago, they were busted by the cops during a raid, and both landed prison sentences. freshly out, with her now ex still behind bars, she had no idea where to go or what to do. so she called her brother. she didn't think he'd even pick up after all these years, but he did. he hired her on as a waitress at his restaurant, and she made the move to new york. she still isn't sober, but she's trying to keep up appearances so she doesn't get fired and lose this job, or her brother again.

#{ scarlett } #boroughs.intro #drugs tw #alcohol tw #addiction tw #religion tw #police tw

[askbrett]

MEET STONER BRETT BUKOWSKI !!

auditioning with the song: busters get popped a stoner brett original

Busters get popped, busters get popped. Got my mind on my money, money on my mind. Sippin' on a 40 while I'm pushin' on the grind. Feel the pain, the game. Yeah, Lil' Wayne. Lil' Wayne.

BIOGRAPHY & HEADCANONS

wait, is that STONER BRETT BUKOWSKI? they kinda look a lot like CALEB LANDRY JONES, don’t they? i heard the TWENTY-TWO year old is known as the CONNECT around mckinley. it seems like they auditioned to be in the NEW DIRECTIONS, DULY NOTED, JUNIOR VARSITY, AND EVEN THE TROUBLETONES AND THE WARBLERS which is so lame? especially because they weren't accepted because they're tone-deaf/not a freshman/not a girl/don't even attend Dalton. people at campus have said they’re EASY GOING, but don’t be fooled since they’re also FORGETFUL. rumor has it, you can find them at DIGITAL MEDIA CLUB, PAINTING CLUB, PHOTOGRAPHY CLUB, INTERNATIONAL CLUB, OR WORKING ON THE MUCKRACKER when they aren’t belting showtunes using or selling drugs. their entire vibe revolves around RED EYES AND BIG SMILES, WORN OUT BEANIES AND THREADBARE JACKETS, AND THE SMELL OF SMOKE AND HOMELESSNESS but no one pays attention to that here in ohio.

LIST ABOUT 3+ HEADCANONS ABOUT YOUR CHOSEN CHARACTER!

Brett is one of the oldest juniors on campus because he got held back his senior year of high school. He almost got held back twice, but all the teachers decided to give him a barely passing grade so he can slip by rather than have him in their classes again.

Most of the time, Brett is on something. He only smoked weed in high-school, but he has tried just about everything since going to college. He likes to be able to know what he's selling. The past year he's slowed down though, in part to his roommates and partly because he doesn't want to have to drop out of college. He's still using, but mostly just weed and the occasional pill. 

Despite the strict drug laws in Ohio, Brett can basically get you whatever you need at a moment's notice

WHAT? THIS CLUB IS MY COMMUNITY SERVICE.

BASICS OF BRETT:

full name: brett bogumil bukowski. pronouns: he/him. gender: cismale. nicknames: stoner brett, bukowski. hometown: lima, ohio. birthday (zodiac) & age: june 27th (CANCER) / twenty-two years old. relationship status: single, has an on and off again gf named dottie kazatori. sexuality: bisexual. religion: agnostic. occupation: drug dealer and artist.residence: small house off campus with roommates. sports/clubs: painting club, international club, photography club, digital media club, and the muckracker. glee club: none, yet but he auditions without fail to each one every year. languages: english, ASL, spanish, polish, and french. wants to learn russian and german. major: art. minor: ceramics.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

faceclaim: caleb landry jones. height: 5'10". build: slim. eyes: blue. hair: red/copper. piercings: he has his ears pierced and stretched. he's at a size 00 in gauges. tattoos: he has an assortment all around his body of different minor tattoos he's gotten while high or drunk, some are stick and poke. other distinguishing features:  he has freckles covering most of his body. style: brett dresses in whatever's most comfortable, doesn't matter if it's torn or worn out. will usuall not comb his hair and just tosses on a beanie.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

clients: BRETT NEEDS CUSTOMERS !!! be it a regular or someone buying for the first time.

BFFS/platonic soulmates: they hang out at the house and chill, take drives at night to get food/snacks, can be a fellow stoner or just someone who takes care of brett when he's on something.

friends with benefits: the boy has needs !!

study buddy or tutor: brett is failing about 80% of his classes, okay.

roommate: sam evans and brett live together in a house right by campus and there's room for one more !!

rival: another dealer or just someone trying to aggressively change his way of life.

I'm honestly down for any connections for my boy so you can absolute DM me on here or on discord !! LET'S PLOT !!

AND HERE'S MORE ON OUR FAVORITE CONNECT THAT I DIDN'T WANT TO ADD ON THIS ALREADY LONG POST.

#wmacintro #ooc post. #bio. #jazz hands he's just a silly lil guy