#you imbecile! that was very...clever

[cottoncandytomu]

Scream For Me Doll~ Ghostface!Ellie x F!Reader

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🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

ITS FINALLY FUCKING HEREEEEEE!!!

(I do not own any of the photos! Just edited them, if they are yours and you want them removed lmk!!)

GHOSTFACE!ELLIE AI AUDIOS HERE!!

Before I even start-

18+ CONTENT MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS FIC IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR MINORS!!

PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU INDULGE IN THIS FIC!!

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to finally finish this fic, I wanted to make it the best I could for you deranged Beauties~. I will say though, I only proofread half of it (I'll proofread the other half later - sorry I just wanted to post it already heeheheh~) so any mistakes I apologize they will be fixed in the future!

Those who asked to be tagged, if you're not interested in this fic in particular or want to be removed please lmk!! :}

WARNINGS!! PLEASE READ!!

This fic IS NOT for everyone, so please if it isn't your cup of tea...move on. Any type of hate sent my way I ask for it to not be anonymous so I can do you the justice and block you straight up. This fic contains the following: (If I forget to put a TW please let me know so I can add it on!!)

LOTS of dark themes, Filthy smut, Knife play, Blood play, Self harm (Ellie's behalf - slightly intentional - she cuts herself on the blade), Degradation (Very minor), Possessiveness, Stalking, Cursing, Deranged reader and Ellie, Mentions of murder/killing.

I think that's it - again if I missed anything please let me know. BUT that's about it folks, hope you Beauties~ enjoy!! (7839 Words)

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The sound of breathing was the only thing to be heard, Ellie’s warm breath bouncing off the flesh of the mask and back into her own. She learned very quickly how to stay quiet in situations like these. Her robe almost touched the floor, flowing right along with her movements. The sun had set hours before, a warm yellow moon took its place. Darkness cascades over the town, it was during these hours where she thrived the most. The shadows made for her stalk within the night, hiding all of her secrets in its shroud. She slowly creeps towards your window, forever thankful that your room was located on the first floor. 

A lot of her nights were spent like this. Reveling in her recent victims over the weeks to then come and celebrate by watching you at your most vulnerable. You weren’t on her hit list, far from it actually. Her obsession for you was different, not one of bloodlust. Although she’d love to see the deep velvet color of your blood drip down your stomach. The tip of her blade digging into your skin, not too hard, not too soft, but enough to pierce the skin. She’d imagine rubbing her gloved thumb across the liquid, smearing it towards your hip bone. Where she’d then grip your waist, squeezing the soft flesh in her palm. 

Her true bloodlust was for the imbeciles who fell into her traps, never clever enough to understand the gravity of the situation they’ve put themselves in. What genius would walk through an alleyway alone after a night of drinking? Or answer a phone call in the deep hours of the night? Only idiots would and Ellie hated the idiots of the world. The ones who deserved to be silenced by her blade, one less ignorant human on this planet. She saw the evils she committed as an act of justice. Just what society needed, one less idiot to exist. But fuck there were so many. That’s why she enjoyed you the most. You weren’t like them. 

The way you were always aware of your surroundings, keeping up on the latest murders of the month. Those murders being her own work of course. She saw the way your eyes lit up at the idea of figuring out who the infamous Ghostface was. You were determined, it was cute in your own way. Ellie was always one step ahead though, she knew about your obsession with the slasher. Being your close friend was her advantage to the game. It was her fun version of tag, except for the fact that you were unaware you were playing it with her. Coming so close to touching her, the tips of your fingers stretched out wide but she was able to run and hide. You having to start all over again just when you were so close. She loved when you got close. 

She’d listen to all the theories you’d come up with about who Ghostface could be. You’ve gotten close a few times, even if it was jokingly pointing the finger at her. You’d laugh off the idea of Ellie being Ghostface. It’s too hard to believe your childhood friend who you’ve spent every waking moment with to be the one. You told her she didn’t have the guts to commit such acts, too blinded by the nurturing friendship the two of you shared. As clever as you were, in which Ellie respected, you always missed that one piece. 

There was a moment that she did want to tell you, to scream it off the rooftops or to stand outside your house with it written in bold letters. Hey, it’s me! I’m Ghostface! Surprised huh? But she knew that’d be too risky, as much as she trusts you with her life she doesn’t fully know if you’d be able to keep this under the wraps. Would you run away screaming, telling the first officer you see? Or is there that slight chance that you’d be alright with it… 

This was another fantasy Ellie loved to live in. You overjoyed with the fact that she was the one. Running up to her and caressing her mask, blood staining the tips of your fingers just moments after her fresh kill. But she knew better. Out of all the secrets you two shared, this was the only one she kept to herself. 

Little did she know you had secrets of your own. Your obsession with the slasher didn’t just end at finding out who it was. You wanted them for yourself. You wanted to trace their mask with your fingers, dragging them down the oversized robe and over to their gloved hand. You dreamt of grabbing that hand that yielded the knife. Tracing it up your chest to your delicate throat. To feel the cool blade against your skin would welcome heat that would pool between your thighs. You wanted them to use you how they wanted, bending at their will, doing whatever for them. It was a fucked up fantasy you couldn’t stop. But did you truly want it to stop? 

You had to bite your tongue every time you talked to Ellie about them. She was intrigued with your theories, always ready to listen in on the newest piece of evidence you brought up. But you didn’t want to face the judgment of her words when you told her the main reason you wanted to see what was behind the mask. You imagined her reaction once. You didn’t imagine it again after that. 

As she peers in she feels her chest swell up. It never felt any different for her, you always made her feel a certain way. Especially during these times. When she had the mask on, it changed her. She became a different person, she felt free. She felt like her true self. It was funny in a way, usually people put on a mask to hide their identity. But it wasn’t the same for Ellie, it brought out the worst in her. She loved every second of it. 

You were fast asleep in your bed, legs in a tangled mess with your blankets. Your brows were furrowed, tightly knit together. She was curious as to what you were dreaming about. Was it a nightmare? Troubles from something that happened earlier in the day? It took everything in her to not climb in through your window, coming close to you to smoothen out the lines between your brows. Her eyes trailed down to your lips, taking in how soft they looked. How badly she wanted to glide her gloved fingers across them. Just to hook them into the side of your mouth and pull back the flesh, making you smile like the joker. 

Her nightly ritual would soon come to an end. Much to her disappointment she had to go back to being the regular old Ellie. The Ellie no one suspected was Ghostface. She took in your features one last time before descending back into the night, the darkness consuming her once again. 

Finding the abandoned shed by her house she shed herself of her shroud and mask, putting them away in her pack. She returned home shortly after, unlocking her door with her key. She couldn't wait to also get some rest. Unbothered to do anything else besides sleep she threw her pack across the room. Flopping into the bed it didn’t take long for her to be whisked away into lust filled dreams of your face. 

The next morning came in a hurry. Ellie woke up in a sweat, the stuffy heat of the summer causing her clothes to stick to her skin. It didn’t help that she fell asleep with her jeans and t-shirt on, too tired the night before to change into something more comfortable. Her hand reaches over on her nightstand, grabbing her phone she checks the time, 11 a.m. It wouldn’t be long until you’re knocking at the door, you both had previously made plans to go out today. Finally having a matching day off you didn’t want to waste it away, even with the stupid curfew in place. Jackson didn’t have much to do but you both made it work. Your favorite spot was going deep into the forest, dangerous yes, but you enjoyed the quiet serene scene. The only sounds being what nature wanted to sing to you that day. 

Today would probably be one of those forest days. The overwhelming buzz of fear that clouded the skies of Jackson was starting to be too much for you to handle. You wanted, no needed, a mini escape from it all. And who better to escape all of it with none other than your loyal friend. She understood how you felt, how sick of the people you were. She understood it all too well. 

Ellie placed the phone back down on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes as she sat herself up. Letting out a sigh she climbs out of bed and goes to get ready for the day. It doesn’t take long until you’re knocking at her door. Toothbrush in her hand she rushes over to let you in. Your soft smile sends flutters to her stomach, precious as always. She sends a smile back your way, standing off to the side to let you in. You were wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts that hugged your thighs just right, she couldn’t help her eyes from checking you out. After you walk in she closes the door and returns to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

You walk over to the door to the bathroom, leaning against the frame watching her finish up. You gave her a knowing look and she knew what would come out of your mouth before you even said it.

“New evidence?” She asks. 

Your grin widens, “Maybe…”

“Spill, now.” 

This happened often, you’d have some new “gossip” about the killer from your unresting research. While Ellie would sit and listen, wanting to know how close you’ve gotten this time. 

“So you remember a week ago when that random man was murdered?” 

Ellie pretends to think about it for a second. She knew exactly who you were referring to, he was a tough one. His extreme persistence to survive almost caused him to escape her grasp, almost. She nods at you. 

“Well apparently he put up a fight.” 

Ellie’s face cringed, thinking back on the memory. Her expression quickly changed to a confused one, now wondering how you knew about his persistence. 

“I know I know, the only reason I found this out is because of someone sharing some info on Reddit.” She waits for you to continue on. “So their Dad is a cop blah blah, shit no one cares for. But because of this he gets inside info. So get this, they found a piece of the handle to the blade Ghostface used to kill him. There’s some overly complicated science as to how they know he struggled. But the piece of it gives them a slight advantage on what weapon the killer uses. It’s honestly crazy how the knife broke. It’s said that the Buck 120 is very durable, some luck huh?” 

Fuck-

Ellie knew her mistake but didn’t think it would be found so soon. By the time she realized the piece had fallen off it had already been too late. That night she was consumed with the need to see you. Specially after that persistent fuck gave her such a hard time. The stress of it all ate her alive, for once she feared she would be discovered if he was able to escape her grasp. Luckily with one hard strike she was able to finally take him down. Enraged after the fact she kept up the hard strikes at his weak skin. Definitely a blood bath, all the emotions clouded her mind. She didn’t realize that her harsh slashes may be the one thing to bring her demise. When she saw you that night all the stress seemed to disappear. She returned home that night, dread still heavy on her head. Seeing you truly did help her but soon as she left you it all came back. The next morning was when she saw the lost piece in her handle. Cursing herself at her stupidity, it was too late. She never goes back to a kill, no matter how satisfying or difficult. It was too risky, the bodies were found usually a day or so after she ended them. 

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of your voice. “Earth to Ellie, you there?” 

She rinses her toothbrush and spits out the paste in her mouth to answer you. 

“Yeah.” She laughs it off, “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about what you said.”

You tuck in your lips nodding slowly at her words. “It’s crazy to think about isn’t it? I’ll find out who it is eventually I know it.” 

“Oh you do now?” Ellie forgets about her previous thoughts. More interested in your words instead. 

“Mhm~ You know how close I’ve gotten.” 

“I also know how many times it’s slipped from you too.” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hear this shit talk when I find out who it is. I’ll prove everyone wrong.” 

Sure you will. Ellie thinks, “I’m gonna talk shit regardless. You know this.” 

You laugh at her words, “You’re right. Anyways hurry up, I wanna be out as long as I can before curfew.” 

Ellie finishes up what she has to, not wanting to keep you waiting. As she gets her things together you go to sit on the couch, patiently waiting. After she’s done you both head for the front door. Before you can leave Ellie mutters a hold on forgetting one last thing. She goes back into her room before descending out with her guitar case in hand. You smile warmly at her. You always loved when she would bring her guitar. Playing the tunes you were never tired of hearing. You opened the door for her letting her exit with her case. Following her out you both took off to the calming forest. Letting go of all the troubles that plagued your minds. 

After a few hours you and Ellie made it back to her house. The time spent in nature was a refresher you both needed. Similar reasons neither of you were aware of. The two of you didn’t eat the whole day so you both agreed to get food once settled in Ellie’s home. Not wanting the night with you to end Ellie made sure to invite you over after. She knew she’d be around you. Regardless if you stayed or not. She could either have you here or have you through your window. As much as she did enjoy the latter, she wanted to be around you as long as you’d allow. Even if it was when she was regular Ellie. 

The both of you settled down onto the couch. Ellie loaded a game up to pass the time, knowing you’d enjoy watching her play. Ellie made you comfortable no matter the situation, being in her presence made you feel such a relief. A relief no one could provide in the same way that she can. You were scrolling through restaurants in the area on your phone. Stretched out sideways along the couch. Your back against the armrest and your legs over Ellie’s as she sat regularly. Her arms were resting on your lower thighs, fingers pressing away at the buttons. She told you to pick what you wanted, not caring what you’d order. She’d eat whatever you put in front of her anyway. You didn’t want anything too crazy, just something comforting and simple. Which is why you decided on pizza, can’t get more simple than that. 

“I’m gonna get us some pizza.” You look up at Ellie from your phone.

Her eyes were trained on the screen, “Sounds good to me.” She shrugged slightly, replying. 

“Okay I’ll get us a large and a drink as well.” 

Ellie throws a quick glance in your direction, “My card should be in my pack in the room.” 

“I can just buy it Ellie…” 

“Fuck no.” When she looks back at you, this time she doesn’t break eye contact, “I invited you over to eat so I pay for it, yeah?” 

You didn’t bother to argue back with her, you’d lose in the end. You always did. You mumbled alright and she lifted up her arms so you could slip off the couch. The warmth of your legs were gone, causing her to shiver from the cool feeling of her air conditioner. 

You walked over into her room searching around for her pack. Your eyes scan the room when they finally land on it thrown over into the corner. You walk over kneeling down to open it up, digging through it you suddenly feel a sharp sting on your finger. Pulling your hand back from the pack with an ow you look hold your hand to see blood dripping from your middle finger. 

“What the fuck?” You mumble. 

Instead of making the mistake to dig around unaware again you slowly pull open the sides of the pack, opening it up to peek at what's inside. Your brows furrow at the black cloth harshly shoved in it. Slowly pulling it out to examine it an object flops to the floor. Snapping your head down your eyes widen, You can feel the blood draining from your face. A sharp flutter fills your stomach, it was a mask. But not any mask, a Ghostface mask. Picking it up with your free hand to examine it you now notice the red splatters, it stands out from the contrast of the bold white mask. Is that…blood? You think to yourself, it can’t be. This is a joke, there's no way she’s Ghostface. You smirk to yourself, was she really trying to fuck with you like this? She’s done stupid jokes before but never went as far as buying the costume to trick you. Some tricks, huh. Nice try Ellie. 

Did she really think you were that naive? You were going to get up and confront her when the sting of your finger got your attention again. You almost forgot about the cut, you then realized that nothing in your hands could’ve sliced you like that. Don’t tell me she bought a knife too, oh Ellie-. You reached into the pack again, carefully this time knowing your chances of getting cut again were high. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the light shine off the blade, she really outdid herself this time. You grasp the handle and bring it out from the bag, it was the exact kind of knife Ghostface used. The knife had the smeared red on the blade as well. 

One part of you couldn’t believe the lengths she’s gone this time to fuck with your “investigation.” But the other part of you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of her going this far. She didn’t truly know what these things did to you. If it was her, which was a long shot, you wondered how much easier everything would be. Not having to worry about who was behind the mask, not that you really cared, but it was something that crossed your mind. What if it was someone you couldn’t stand, would you be able to still keep up that fantasy of them? Could you still keep it up if it was Ellie? Your feelings for Ellie were that of a roller coaster. In friendship terms everything was smooth sailing, there’s no one else on the planet you could trust your life with more. But when it came to the topic of it being more than a friendship, that was a different story. You can’t say you never had feelings for her, you have. You just pushed them down when you realized how badly it could ruin everything. Plus you had no idea, doubted even, that she liked you the same. So you buried your own feelings deep inside, not daring to let them out again. Sometimes though she’d do things that made you shiver. That would cause those feelings to bubble over again, reaching for nothing but the disappointment you’d give them when you continued to shove them under again. 

Although, to know that she did this all for you made those feelings bubble over again. Could she have a clue about your true intentions of wanting who was behind that mask? Is that why she went this far? To make you believe it? To fall for her instead of the true Ghostface? No, she wouldn’t, it’s just a dumb prank. 

You laughed at your thoughts, going the extra mile once again, your delusions would constantly take control when the masked killer was involved. You twirl the knife in your hands one last time before you decide to put it down. As you check it for the last time your fingers smooth over something rough on the handle. Curious, you look at what the disturbed surface could be. 

As you study the handle your heart drops. No, no, no- this can’t be happening, you think. You can feel the anxiety swell up in your chest. You forget how to breathe, your thoughts racing a million miles a minute. All of the countless hours you spent searching, all of the sleepless nights you’ve had. The endless amount of research you would study, day after day. Stuck scrolling on your computer not resting until you get so close to finding out who it could be. The theories of all the different people you had, you even bought a cork board to help your search. You pulled some crazy shit you kept to yourself to find out where or who they could be. Putting yourself in danger in hopes that you’ll be the slasher's “next prey.” 

All of this for what? For it to be your best friend this whole time. The one person you were so sure of it not being. Fuck you felt so stupid. You grew up with her, you knew her better than you knew yourself. You felt pride in knowing that she would never be capable of such a thing, but she was. And here you are, staring at the handle with the piece of it missing that was just discovered by the authorities. As much as you wanted to deny it you couldn’t. Why did you want to deny it? 

In a way this makes everything easier, your mind travels back to your earlier thoughts. The thoughts of what if Ellie was the killer. But why didn’t she kill you yet? If no one was safe from her slashes then why were you? Question after question filled your head, trying to piece all the evidence together to figure out just what you have missed. While in deep thought you heard a loud thud. Locking in place you slowly turned your head to the sound. 

Ellie stood by the door, frozen. The controller that was once in her hand now faced upside down on the floor. She was wondering why it was taking you so long to grab your wallet. She knew it was in her room, in some pack that she threw on the floor yesterday. She hasn't touched it since. It wasn’t until she started thinking about it that she felt the color drain from her face. She was so exhausted yesterday that she forgot to put her Ghostface pack in the hiding spot she usually does. It slipped from her mind until this moment. Now she’s paying the consequences, walking in on you holding her knife. The very knife you just talked about hours earlier. The single piece of evidence that would be 100% proof of Ellie being Ghostface. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. Scared that any wrong move would result in your panic, your screams filling the air as you ran for the door. But you didn’t. You didn’t move an inch, holding the knife in your hand you stared back at her. All of this time it was her, you didn’t want to admit it but you felt a sense of relief. You did it, you found out who Ghostface was. 

You opened your mouth, trying to get something out, anything out but you couldn’t. Caught like a deer in headlights you thought about your next move. As you thought about it, so did Ellie. You weren’t supposed to find out, even if you did she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted it on her terms, if she were to ever tell you anyway. 

As flustered as she was she managed to speak first, “Seems like all that research paid off huh?” She chuckles. 

Leave it to Ellie to make light of a situation like this, you were used to it though. She always jokes around when shit hit the fan, it was one of the many things you loved about her. You just weren’t so sure if this time was the right time for it. You looked down at the knife again, your fingers gliding against the abrasion.

“It was you the whole time…” Ellie’s eyes widened at your voice, “I busted my ass on research and it was right in front of me the whole time.” 

“Surprise…?”  

You let out a dry laugh at her response, how could you be so fucking stupid. She goes to open her mouth to speak again but you beat her to it. 

“Do you know why I really wanted to find out who Ghostface was?” 

Fuck it. It was out in the open so you might as well be honest. You didn’t know where this confidence came from but after finding out who a serial killer was you realized you only really have two options. She would let you go, which you think is unlikely or she would have to end it right here right now. Killing you to keep the risk of her being found out by the public. You didn’t think she was capable of killing you, you were her childhood best friend after all. 

She stays quiet, letting you continue. You figured you had nothing to lose now, why not let it all out in the open. 

“Finding out who was behind the mask really isn’t all that important to me. Honestly I could give less of a fuck who’s behind it. I just want them for myself. My fucked up fantasy of being with the slasher is all that I’ve been craving.” You sigh, your words becoming just a whisper. “It’s sick… I know.” 

Did Ellie just hear you correctly? Are her fantasies becoming reality right before her eyes? All those nights at your window, watching you, craving you. You writhing under her as she pleased you in the one thing that made her feel like her true self. She watched as your face fell in despair, you were ashamed. There’s no need to be ashamed. 

She wasn’t aware that she said her thoughts aloud, not realizing it until you lifted up your head. 

You looked at her with a shocked expression, “You don’t think so?” 

“How could I?” She starts, “You know what I do. I have no room to judge anyone, plus I’ve wanted nothing more than this.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, did you hear her correctly? 

She continues on, “I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I wanted to tell you so many times but I didn’t know how. Your reaction was something I was scared of the most. But now that I know you want this, I’m ready to take the next step.” 

“What is the next step exactly?” You ask. 

Ellie’s soft expression changes in an instant, a smirk adorning her lips. 

“I make you mine.” 

You felt a slight pang of fear but not too much. Her words catered to your sick mind, they went straight to your core. She took slow steps towards you, as to test the waters on how you would react. You didn’t move an inch, letting her slowly make her way towards you. The grasp you had on the knife tightened in anticipation. When she came close enough she reached out to your hands, loosening your grasp from the knife she took it from you. Her eyes leave yours to study the object in her hands, the object she knew all too well. Her eyes darken as she grasps the handle, pointing the tip of the blade towards you now. The smirk never leaves her lips when she drags the tip of the blade lightly up your throat, stopping to tilt your chin up towards her. 

“You want to be mine right?” She asks. 

You bite your lip, “Only if you’ll allow it.” 

It was at this moment that you saw the true change in her eyes. The Ellie you once knew, the Ellie you grew up with wasn’t the Ellie in front of you now. This Ellie was different…darker…possessive. You wanted to know this version of her more than anything, the true her behind the mask. The person you dreamt of having for so long was finally yours and you were hers. It was at this moment that you knew there was no going back, the two of you now becoming one in her secret. You’d do anything for her, be anything for her. She felt the same, all those nights she watched you at your window. She’d get rid of anyone who tried to hurt you in any way, she’d protect you from any danger that dared to wander around you. God forbid she catches the ones that hurt you, they’d regret their last moments. 

Her eyes flickered back towards yours, keeping eye contact for just a moment before trailing around your face. They stop at your lips, how badly she’s wanted to kiss the plush skin for so long. She wastes no time and throws her knife to the side. Grabbing at the sides of your face she roughly presses her lips to yours. Your hands grasp at her shirt, kissing her back with just as much fervor. The kiss was far from innocent, teeth clashing and spit mixing, just how she liked it. She took your bottom lip in her teeth, pulling at the flesh and letting it flick back in place. Her lips lock back onto yours, you pull her closer by her shirt, needing to get as close as possible. 

She pulls back after a few seconds, you let out a whimper at the loss. Your eyes filled with desperation as you stared up at her. She coos at the sight, her thumb swiping the spit across your bottom lip. 

She licks her lips, “You gonna let me have you tonight?” 

You enthusiastically nod your head, “Y-yes.” You’re still shaken up by the sloppy kisses you two just shared. 

“Yeah? Gonna let me try something out on ya?” 

You continued to nod your head, you didn’t care what she did to you. You’d give her whatever she wanted if she asked, she knew this. Yet she still wants to make sure you’re okay with it. She then took your hands in hers, pulling you to stand up along with her, she then led you to the bed. She pushed you back onto it, you flopped onto the mattress waiting for her next move. She admired you for a moment before walking back by her pack, she grabbed the mask off the floor and slipped it on. 

“You want me to fuck you in this mask hm?” She asks. Not giving you time to reply she continues, “How much did you dream about this?” 

Your words were stuck in your throat, it was all too much but it was so fucking good. You had envisioned how your first night with Ghostface would play out. Staring into their mask, their fingers buried in you, giving you the utmost pleasure you craved. But this? This was better than anything you could have imagined. Especially when it was with the one woman you loved more than anything. 

She picked up her knife, twirling it in her hands. 

“I would use this but that persistent fucker had to ruin it for me.” She shook her head, the loose fabric at the ends swayed in the air. “Good thing I got another.” 

She walks over to her closet, digging around until she pulls out another Buck 120. She flips it over, checking out the shining blade and admiring it. She loved nothing more than her ol’ reliable knife. 

“Got this one as a back up, y'know just in case incidents like before happened. A slasher must always be prepared~” 

Her head looks up, the soulless black eyes staring into yours. You can hear the teasing tone in her voice when she talks to you. She’s well aware she has you wrapped around her finger, ready to do whatever she pleases. 

She stalks towards you, “I’m gonna fuck you with this knife now~.” Her hold on the knife now tighter, “Don’t worry baby it’s clean, haven’t killed anyone with this one…yet.” 

Your eyes widened, her words went straight to your core. You couldn’t help the little fidgets your body made as she slowly made her way towards you. You couldn’t see because of the mask but her eyes were trained on your thighs that clenched together in anticipation. You couldn’t help but rub them together, needing some sort of friction to relieve the heat building up between them. 

You couldn’t help but ask, “Which side?”

Ellie groaned at your question, “Fuck baby~ you want the blade? Are you that psycho for me?” 

You didn’t particularly want to be mutilated tonight, even though somewhere deep down in your fucked up brain the thought was there, you just wanted to make sure Ellie was on the same page. 

“Just curious…” You reply. 

She now stood in front of you, knife in her right hand. Her free hand comes up to rest on your knee, pushing it to the side to open your legs up for her. You can hear her heavy breaths through the mask. 

“As much as I wanna see you bleed, I don’t want it that way. That’s what your thighs are for.” 

Her hand strokes down your thigh, stopping midway to squeeze at the flesh. She brings her knife up to your skin, slicing it lightly enough to draw a tiny bit of blood. She flicks up the knife, her skills on display as she scoops the blood onto the blade, bringing it up to her mask and smearing it on the white rubber. She drags the knife down to the tip of the chin, tapping it against it a few times, as if in thought of what her next move is. You whimper at the sting of the cut, little droplets still flowing from it. She reaches up to smear the blood across your thigh, taking her time watching the way the red liquid spreads. 

“I’ve wanted to see you bleed for me so bad. S’Better than I ever imagined.” 

You bite your lip, holding back your whimpers as you wait impatiently for her next move. You wanted her to do something, to do anything to relieve the ache you felt. She turns the knife around in her hand, the grip pointing towards you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you with the handle instead. That way every time I slash someone I have a memory of you with me. It’ll be the only thing I’ll think about with my victims.” 

Her words flooded through your veins, firing up every cell in your body. You didn’t know she had such a way with her words, if she kept going you’d probably climax just from them alone. As much as her words had an effect on you, you wanted her to go along with her promise. 

“Please…just fuck me already Ellie.” You beg.

“Patience Doll~ You out of everyone should know I like to take my sweet time when it comes to my victims. But since you said please, I’ll give you what you want.” 

She sets the knife down next to you on the bed, her hands grip at the waistband of your shorts pulling them down. You were soaked, the fabric of your panties so wet that you could see the outline of your pussy. 

“Mmh so wet for me, all I did was speak to you and draw a little blood.” Her thumb presses into your slit, pushing against your juices. 

Her fingers hook into your panties pulling out the fabric, she then grabs her knife and cuts off your panties. You breath hitches at how close the blade was to your core, any closer and she would’ve cut you. Making you bleed for the second time that night. She chuckles at your reaction then shoves the panties into her back pocket, saving them for later. 

She pushes up your thigh, opening you up for her and lines up the knife handle to your entrance. She teases you, gliding the end of it up and down your slit collecting up your juices to lube up the knife. 

“You ready Doll?” She asks. 

You whisper out a yes as she slowly slides the handle into your pussy, watching you grip onto it. You can feel her push back on your thigh more, making you stretch so she can get a nice view of you. Even though it was happening in front of her she couldn’t believe you were sprawled out before her like this. She’d catch herself staring at her knife imagining how it would look against your skin, how much she craved to slide it through your folds. Now that she was here it was almost too much, but she didn’t let her excitement take control. She wanted to fully immerse herself in this experience, taking all of you in. From the scrunches of your brows to the curling of your toes, she wanted to see all of you. 

She carefully dragged out the knife, her hand delicately holding the blade. She pushes the handle in and out of you, setting a slow steady rhythm. You writhe under her touch, not being able to hold back your moans anymore, the cool handle adding to the pleasure. You grab onto her wrist, holding her tight. You look up at her mask and she catches your movements tilting up her head. You’re staring hard enough to see her eyes through the meshed fabric, seeing the darkness behind them. She’s wanted this just as much as you did and you’re so glad it’s her that’s giving you this much pleasure. As good as it felt you wanted more, the slow pace was killing you. In a way you felt like she was holding back, still too afraid to lose herself, scared that she might hurt you. 

“Ellie…” You moan out, she twists the knife slightly muttering a yes. 

“Please don’t hold back.” Her movements stop and you whine at her, “I want you to let yourself go, let Ghostface come out.” 

Ellie’s hand quivered at your words, were you sure? Once she’s in that mindset she’s gone, she doesn't wanna risk too much. Although her dark thoughts were always in the back of her mind, how badly she wanted to drill her knife into you and watch you squirm at her force. 

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” 

You loved when she called you that, “Yes, I’m sure. I want it this way, I’m begging you~.” 

You gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze and that was all she needed before the light in her switched. The Ellie you grew up with, knowing better than anyone is not the Ellie that’s in front of you now. That confirmation from you was all she needed to let her true side take control. It happened so fast you didn’t know how to react, Ellie had grabbed you and flipped you over. Making sure your ass was up in the air, almost hanging off the edge of the bed. You braced yourself on your hands, an oof coming out of your lips when she pushed your face down into the mattress. 

You felt a harsh smack on your ass, you moaned at the sting it left behind. She kneads the flesh after, spreading you open and admiring you from behind. Without second thought she reaches down to grab the knife, this time firmly grabbing it by the blade as she plunges the handle inside you once again. She wastes no time fucking you hard and fast, her knuckles white from how hard she holds onto the blade. 

“F-fuck Ellie!” You gasp out. 

You’re in ecstasy, loving the way her demeanor changed. She loses herself in you, focused on the handle pushing in and out of you, how your juices cover the handle and drip down the blade onto her hand. 

“You like that Doll? You’re taking this knife so well~ M’so proud of you.” 

Your moans grow louder by the second, you’re not able to hold back anymore, not that Ellie wants you to anyway. You grip the bed sheets tight, your face repeatedly pushing into the mattress at her relentless force. You knew she was strong but fuck not like this. You were never really on the receiving end of her strength to truly know but now that you were you could see why no one stood a chance against her. She slaps at your ass again before she brings her free hand down to rub circles against your clit causing you to cry out. If she kept fucking you this way it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your high. 

“Shit-” You heard her whisper. 

You whip your head to the side to look at her. You can see her head tilt up to look back at you, she suddenly took her hand off your clit to reach up and tear off her mask. Her hair was a mess, tangled and stuck to her face in other spots from her sweat. Her eyes were blown wide, a harsh darkness to them you’ve never seen before and her lips. Her lips were red and plush from how much she bit them at the sight of you. You were a masterpiece to her, this was all she ever wanted. When she pushed her hair out of the way you noticed the blood that smeared along her forehead. She saw your eyes on her hand and gave you a lopsided smile, her hand going back down to rub at your clit once more. 

“Fuckin’ you so hard I cut myself.” She laughs darkly, “You don’t mind right?” 

Well fuck-

Your eyebrows scrunched together at her words, “No!” You moaned. “Don’t mind.” 

You could barely form sentences from how good she was making you feel, she knew this and she reveled in that fact. A cocky smirk on her lips as her eyes watched the way you squirmed and stuttered under her. She could give less of a fuck that she’s bleeding, your pleasure being the only thing that matters. It didn’t take much longer for you to feel the build up in the pit of your stomach, you were close. 

“Ellie I’m so close, please don’t stop~”

“Don’t plan on it Doll~” Ellie replies, speeding up her movements, if that were even possible. 

You bury your face into the mattress but then you feel a harsh smack to your clit. 

“I wanna hear your moans Sweetheart, don’t hide them from me now.” 

You nod your head rapidly, tears are starting to form in your eyes from all the pleasure you’re experiencing. Who would’ve thought you’d be right here, experiencing the one thing you wanted the most, you never thought your day would end up like this. You’re thankful nonetheless, this is exactly what you wanted and you wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to you. 

It didn’t take long until you reached your high. 

“Ahh~ I’m cumming!” 

Your back arched more, pulling at the sheets so hard they come undone from the edges. Ellie doesn’t slow down her movements either, ignoring the pain in her hand she keeps sliding the knife in and out of you. She watched as your juices flowed down onto the blade and her hand, mixing in with her blood. It made her moan out loud, a sight she’d never forget. 

“Mmm cum for me Doll, just like that. I wanna see your juices on my blade.” 

She helps you ride out your orgasm and your legs start to tremble. She chuckles at the state you’re in and slowly pulls the blade out of your pussy, watching your sticky juice strings stick to the handle. You watch her bring up the knife to her lips, sucking your juices off the handle, you whimper at her actions. When she’s done she throws the knife to the floor, her hands back onto you she spreads her blood up your thigh and onto your ass cheek as she gives you one last squeeze. You’re panting as you turn yourself over to lay on your back, she helps you lie down with a dark smile. She loves how she got you to this point, as much as she’d like to do it again she decides to save it for another night. 

She reaches over to give your hand a quick squeeze saying she’ll be right back as she walks over to her bathroom. After a few moments she comes back with a wet towel, a cloth is tied around her hand to stop the blood from flowing. She walks over to you and wipes away all the blood and cum off your body, giving soothing strokes to your skin afterwards. 

“So…” Ellie starts, “You gonna turn me in?” 

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your throat, “Fuck off.” 

“Is that a no, or?” She questions a knowing smile on her lips. 

“I let you fuck me with your knife, do you think I’m gonna turn you in?” 

She laughs at your response, “Just fuckin’ with ya.” 

She climbs into the bed lying next to you, throwing the towel onto the floor, she faces you and strokes your cheek with the back of her knuckles. You look over at her with tired eyes and a warm smile, she really does switch up fast. 

The two of you wrap up in each other's arms for the rest of the night. You ask all about her time as Ghostface, wanting to know every gory detail and she tells you it all. After a few hours of chatting you both lay in silence, content in each others presence. 

Ellie speaks up first, “So…about that pizza?”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

RAVIOLIII!! I hope you all enjoyed my fic!! I thank you all for reading my content! I have more on the way but I will be taking a small break to work on my drag projects I got going on!! As always any feedback is appreciated as I always want to level up my writing. Thank you all for being patient with me!! You Beauties~ have a wonderful day/night!!

⛧Taglist⛧

(if you would like to be tagged in any of my works lmk hehe~)

@moonlightdivine , @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshametohidemyshame

#FINALLY HEREHREREHRHEHR #HOPE YALL ENJOY!! #YOU LITTLE WHORES<33 #ghostface!ellie williams #ghostface!ellie williams x reader #ghostface!ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams the last of us 2 #dark!ellie williams #stalker!ellie williams #possessive!ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #ghostface #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams one shot #ellie!ghostface #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x female reader #my ellieberry

[sgiandubh]

By Zeus, they are stupid!

Back to our favorite mythomaniac, now suddenly proclaimed an expert on all things Greek/Olympic.

I had to howl. I mean, it's mandatory, at this point:

Calling all stations: there is NO Mount Olympia in Greece, you lost soul who thinks she's clever.

You should never have touched a sacred topic on this page: the Peloponnese. And you have finally managed to anger me. Seriously so: pursue at your own risk.

Archaia (that is 'Ancient' for you, Sinister Stupid Savant) Olympia, the birthplace of the Olympic Games, is one of my favorite places on Earth. It is situated in the North-West of the Peloponnese Peninsula, in the region of Ilia, beyond Corinth. That is Southern Greece for you, self-appointed Derailed Encyclopedia.

Mount Olympus, the cradle of the entire Greek Pantheon (that's all the Greek Gods, for you, Pretentious Idiot) is situated near the town of Litochoro, in Eastern Macedonia (as that guy, Alexander, you might have heard of him), in the region of Pieria. That is Northern Greece, for you, Arrogant Liar.

Distance between the two is very clear on a map:

557 kilometers, which means 347 miles. It would take me more than six hours to drive Zorba the Car from point A to point B and it took people like the ancient Olympic (not Olympian, you Faceless Pretentious Nobody) athletes probably more than one week.

Doubling the religious dimension of the athletic events, Archaia Olympia always functioned as Ancient Greece's UNGA (United Nations General Assembly, you Parochial Twat), with envoys from all the Greek city-states and overseas congregating there for the Games, but also (more often than not) to negotiate trade and/or peace agreements (Olympic truce, anyone?). This is perhaps why, unlike Nemea's stadium light cheerfulness, there's still a palpable sense of solemnity, today, in Olympia.

This cat, photographed by me in July 2022, in front of the Archaeological Museum of Olympia (I have already written about it in here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/724219876757176320/a-stupid-shippers-guide-to-the-peloponnese-part) doesn't seem to give a damn about all of this, though:

Your credibility was already subzero, madam. I will soon be done with you, finally debunking your uninformed lies about S's copyright EUIPO trial. Even when you do not spew your gratuitous hatred, your overinflated ego and your foolishness betray the Aggressive Fraud that you are.

God, you're brainless. And your denseness is absolutely insulting, at this point. And to think there are people actually believing all the crap that you send into this world!

PS: torch is lit ahead of EACH and EVERY Olympic Games (Summer AND Winter), you Unspeakable Imbecile:

[Source: USA Today https://eu.usatoday.com/story/sports/olympics/2013/09/29/olympic-flame-relay-sochi-games/2890815/]

#fandom #shitshow #Peloponnese #Greece

[thegildedbee]

Sherlock Fic Recs: Christmas Edition {2023}

❄️ Gather ~ ☃️ ☃️ ☃️ ~ 'round and 🎉 make 🎷merry🍹, all ye fic-loving fandom elves -- 'tis the season to shine a spotlight🕯️on Sherlockian Christmas fics!!! Here are some of my favorites -- I tried to pick ones that I haven't seen mentioned in recent lists that have been in my tumblr stream. Whether they're new to you, or just a reminder to re-visit faves, enjoy!!! ❄️ [In order of the year they were published.] ........................................................... 1. I'm Not His Date [2014] by objetpetita [ 17,029 words / T ] :: It all starts in a Boston coffee shop, where English professor Sherlock Holmes upends a visiting John Watson in a clever and fun "meet cute" (or "meet irritating-pompous-insufferable") in a whirlwind of Sherlockian proportions, and we're off to the races. There is a snowfight on the Common, Death Driving Miss Daisy: Lacan and Popular Culture, a Harry & Clara Christmas Eve wedding, witches, and a very boozy department party. It's as adorable as my favorite Christmas rom-com film, The Holiday. And it starts off with a corker of a first sentence: "It was morning, it was zero bloody degrees, everything around him was unfamiliar and American and cold, and John Watson was right on that inhuman precipice between still drunk and terribly hung over."

2. 5,687 (Approximately) [2015] by prettysailorsoldier [ 6,771 words / T ] :: Just a few years post-uni, Sherlock is enduring the agonies of a long-distance relationship with his boyfriend, who is on deployment in Afghanistan. During those times when John's on leave, the last people Sherlock wants to see are the idiots at the Met, so they've never caught sight of John and think he is a figment of Sherlock's imagination -- especially since he can't get home that Christmas. The set-up is sketched out with delightful fic flair, and the ending is not only sweet, but satisfyingly punitive [ c/o a very bamf John ]. The text messaging is some of my favorite writing in the Sherlock fandom -- their relationship in all of its multi-dimensionality comes through beautifully.

3. The 12 Truths of Christmas [2016] by @breath4soul [ 3,321 words / T ] :: This is a fic that has at its core the surfacing of unspoken emotional attraction betweenJohn and Sherlock via a very fun concept: “In place of some appalling or imbecilic gift inflicted upon me in the name of tradition on Christmas day, I propose that you provide me with one previously unknown fact about you for each day leading up to Christmas. 12 in total, John.” #9 has all the feels, and is a tour de force -- every time I re-read it it makes me break out in a smile, even though I know what's coming. Sherlock breaks out somewhat more: "Sherlock feels a flood of heat in several places at once. He stands up quickly and walks to his violin. He plays wild, erratic snaps of quick-paced music." The author has a whimsical and entirely understandable note to add: "You may fall in love with John reading this - I did." 4. The Romance Was There [2017] by @apliddell [ 4,011 words / G ] :: The author deserves an award for this being one of the best uses of Harry Watson in a fic, and of HW by Sherlock in a fic :-) 221B has never been cozier, Sherlock has never been more winsome, and John is a species type model of John in all of his clueless Johnness. The narrative dances along and sparkles and shines as seduction evolves, and Sherlock's rogueish charm is on full display. There's a poignant and endearing confessional letter, plus there's a Sherlock/Jeremy Brett reference that is absolute perfection in serving its role in helping the narrative quickstep the night away. 5. The Man in Aisle Ten [2020] by @blogstandbygo [ 1395 words / G ] :: Sherlock has several mysteries to unravel in the midst of Harrod's on Christmas Eve: what is the perfect gift for John? why is he having so much trouble identifying the perfect gift for John? and, incidentally, along the way to solving those, a local one. Luckily, Sherlock has Moira, master department store sleuth, to lead him to the solution. This fic is a small, perfect gift -- rather like the story's denouement --and is as witty as all of SBG's fics are. This is a veritable Peppermint Schnapps Hot Chocolate of a fic, warm, rich, sweet, delicious, tingly, and you'll find you reach the last bit much too fast, immediately requiring a refill. [ And there's a splendid podfic by @podfixx ! ]

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

*fic repost recruits, perhaps??? ❤️ @totallysilvergirl, @7-percent, @discordantwords, @helloliriels, @elwinglyre, @mydogwatson

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fic rec #johnlock #sherlock fic #reposting :-) helps the love go 'round xoxoxo #christmas #objetpetita #prettysailorsoldier #breath4soul #apliddell #standbygo

[leupagus]

Selyse is not a "who's this bitch" kind of person but honestly, she should be forgiven for meeting Sansa like this and going "who's this bitch"

Just then there was a call from outside the tent, asking for the king. Davos opened the flap and a young solder ducked inside, bowing low to the king first, then to Lady Melisandre, then to Selyse. "Your Grace," he said, "riders were just spotted on the pass below, making their way up to our camp."

"Spotted on the pass?" snorted Davos. "Are they riding snow bears? Or elks?"

As though in answer, an horn sounded in the distance. The king started, his expression as queer as any Selyse had seen on his face in their near twenty years of marriage. It seemed almost...hopeful. "That call," he said, as though to himself.

Davos shook his head. "I don't recognize it, Your Grace. Do you?"

"Oh, yes," said Stannis softly. "I remember it very well."

The party climbing up the pass was small — a hundred men at most — in two long rows, the banners of all of Stark's promised houses unfurled. They were mounted on the great lumbering beasts that passed for horses in the North. In the pearl-grey of dawn, Selyse could see the front pair dragging behind them a curious leather-and plate device. It was shaped for all the world like the prow of a ship and it cut through the snow with ease. The party moved only slightly slower than a full canter; even as she watched, the two horses affixed to the contraption slowed and stopped, their riders giving them full rein to blow out great puffs of air into the snow. The whole party halted in an orderly queue behind them, and the two mounted soldiers directly behind circled round to unhook the lead pair (without bothering to dismount) and attaching their own horses. The party then resumed its swift pace up the mountain pass. The two who had been in the lead rejoined smoothly at the end, where the snow been packed down to a tidy path.

"Ingenious," remarked Davos. Lady Melisandre said nothing, only quirked an eyebrow. Shireen asked some imbecilic question about something, and the king made a patient response.

"Perhaps these men of the North will bring you the miracle you seek, Your Grace," said Lady Melisandre, as the riders at last drew level.

"Certainly they seem to have performed the miracle of moving in this snow," Stannis observed.

Most of the riders remained at the foot of the camp, but a small group began to make their way toward them, their behemoth horses even more ridiculous as they drew closer, with their hoofs near as wide as platters and their tails cut short as a broomstick. As they halted before their king, the riders dismounted. Despite the bitter cold, not one of them showed any sign of discomfort, their thick boots and cloaks making them appear almost as outsized as their horses.

The king took a breath, as if to ask for their leader, when a hooded figure on a great chestnut beast came out from the midst of them. Her cloak and skirts were dirty from the road and snows, her copper-bright hair in a simple peasant's braid as she pushed back her hood. A half-dozen young men surged forward to hand her from her horse, but it was a giantess in armor who helped her down and followed closely behind as she approached them.

It took Selyse a long moment to realize who the girl was: Sansa, Catelyn's eldest daughter. (Eldest child, now that the usurper Robb Stark was dead — and Catelyn too, and Lord Stark before them.) She had more of her mother's look to her than her father's, which must have pleased the Imp when he married her; Tyrion had always liked his whores pretty and clever. There was something in the way that she carried herself, however, that made Selyse suspect Sansa might be rather too clever.

The girl made no move to bow to the king, merely drew within a length as her retinue fanned out behind her. "Your Grace," she greeted Stannis. At least she had the good sense to recognize her rightful king. "I am Lady Sansa, of House Stark."

"Lady Stark," the king replied, or began to, because at that moment the damned direwolf, that unnatural creature the Lord Commander had foisted upon them, came hurtling in from wherever the devils he'd been and lunged for the girl, sending her sprawling to the ground with a scream more chilling than Shireen's, horrifyingly cut off as she—

As she laughed, the creature licking frantically at her face with its great tail wagging. The girl brought her arms around its monstrous neck and hugged it closer to her, burying her face in its fur, unconcerned entirely by the spectacle. Her Northern lords looked well pleased, in fact, nodding and smiling at one another in shared understanding. He'll recognize her, Jon had told Shireen when she'd asked how Ghost would know who Sansa was. The pack knows its own. It seemed the whole of the North knew.

The king's people were nearly as susceptible. Davos was smiling like a dolt and Shireen looked as though she wanted nothing more than to join in the undignified affair. Lady Melisandre, at least, showed little sign of being moved; she was watching with an air of interest but no warmth. Only the king was truly inscrutable, as he stared down at the tangle of girl and dog with another expression she had never seen before. This time, she could not guess as to what it meant.

At long last, the beast allowed Sansa Stark to rise, once again accepting help only from her giantess. "My apologies, Your Grace," she said. Her smile was broad and bright even as she wiped at a streak of mud across her nose. "But as you might guess, Stark reunions are rare these days."

#if anybody in Stannis's retinue is thinking 'who's this bitch' #let's be real: it's probably Stannis #I'm just saying #also did I spend way too much time researching into how people got through the snow in ye oldene dayes? MAYBE #and for anyone worried: Shireen's scream is from a nightmare she had SHE IS FINE #in fact spoiler alert: none of the kids die in this fic #that's right I looked at Shireen and Tommen and Myrcella and Ned Umber and Lyanna Mormont and were like: u lived bitch #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get stuff done

[bethanydelleman]

I once saw someone rank all of Austen's men and of the romantic leads, they rated Henry Tilney last for being "misogynistic." I was VERY confused and had no idea how he could be read that way, especially because he embraces more stereotypical feminine activities like reading novels and picking out fabric. Is there a discourse I'm missing or is that person who made the ranking just stupid?

I believe that sentiment comes from these passages, read in isolation, all from Ch 14:

Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can. The advantages of natural folly in a beautiful girl have been already set forth by the capital pen of a sister author; and to her treatment of the subject I will only add, in justice to men, that though to the larger and more trifling part of the sex, imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms, there is a portion of them too reasonable and too well informed themselves to desire anything more in woman than ignorance. But Catherine did not know her own advantages—did not know that a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances are particularly untoward.

and

"Perhaps the abilities of women are neither sound nor acute—neither vigorous nor keen. Perhaps they may want observation, discernment, judgment, fire, genius, and wit." (Henry Tilney)

If one takes all of this commentary seriously, Henry Tilney would come off quite badly, but it's clear the narrator is being facetious and that Henry is making a joke. Eleanor, who understands Henry's humour, does not take offence at all, and it's very clear that Henry loves his intelligent sister. So no, he's not just looking for an idiot to marry and he also doesn't think women are generally stupid. And as you say, his actions throughout the novel prove that he isn't a misogynist, he even takes pains to make Catherine feel better about her hobby of reading novels by admitting to loving them himself.

Taking what Henry says here seriously is equivalent to thinking Elizabeth was serious when she said she started loving Darcy when she saw Pemberley, a comment that her sister laughs at and then begs her to be serious!

I'm curious though, I did encounter a ranking once that rated Willoughby higher than Henry Tilney, was that the same list?

#henry tilney supremacy #henry tilney #northanger abbey #question response

[camelotremix]

Camelot Remix 2023 - Week 3

Fic: A trip to love for Laevateinn (Gwaine/Percival – Teen and Up – 662w) Summary: Gwaine and Percival are planning a trip to go admire the northern lights... But a worldwide pandemic gets in the way of their trip. Fic: Morgana and the Hall of Fortune (A Fickle Canon Fix Remix) for Willowsmarika (Gen – Teen and Up – 10509w) Summary: After being run through by Merlin, Morgana Pendragon is offered an intriguing choice. Fortune has not smiled on her in her past endeavors, but perhaps there is wisdom to be gained, still, and a chance at a happier fate. Fic: Life is for the Living (A Prayer before Birth Remix) for polomonkey (Merlin/Arthur – Teen and Up – 3225w) Summary: Merlin has always loved watching Arthur. Fic: Out in the Snow, A Tiny Warlock Glows - Remix for NivellesArt (Nivelle) (Gwaine/Merlin – Teen and Up – Art) Summary: Merlin and Gwaine are away from others, and Camelot. They are attacked by bandits and while Gwaine is dealing with seemingly the last one of them, he realizes Merlin is seriously wounded. Fic: Something So Magic About You (The Taste of Temptation Remix)for insane_falcon (Merlin/Arthur – Explicit – 27053w) Summary: “You’re more interesting than I thought you’d be,” Arthur admits, allowing his lips to curl into a smile that hovers somewhere between supercilious and patronising. “But you should really give up while I’m playing nice. I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

His breath catches in his throat as the boy lets out an undignified snort. That was not quite the reaction he was aiming for... Before he can come up with something clever and scathing to say, the boy doubles down.

“And how long have you been training to be a prat?” he asks, again raising that damned eyebrow of his. “Or did that just come naturally?”

For an excruciating moment, Arthur is struck speechless. How dare this…this imbecile insult him to his face? A prat? He’ll show him who’s the prat!

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he brings his sword back up, but instead of cowering in fear, the boy merely smirks at him.

Or:

Arthur catches an apple thief and ends up getting more than he bargained for. (and no, I‘m not just talking about sex, although he does very much get that, too) Fic: Bearly Beloved (The Arto-Maglos Remix) for MerlinMorganEmrys (Arthur/Gwen – Gen – 7500w) Summary: Once upon a time, there was a prince who was rather prattish.

Because of his prattishness, he was cursed to become a bear. ...

“Merlin, listen. This afternoon, I heard a girl singing in the forest. I have a plan.”

“Kidnapping her?”

“No.”

“Kidnapping her father?”

“No!”

#camelot remix #merlin fanfic #merlin fanart #merlin fests #merlin #camelot remix 2023 #camelot remix week 1 #camelot remix fest round up #pairing: gwaine/percival #pairing: gen #gen fic #pairing: merlin/arthur #merthur #pairing: gwaine/merlin #pairing: arthur/gwen

[dulcewrites]

Truly, Madly, Deeply

I got this idea while writing fcc. Maris Baratheon is gay bc I said so. Happy pride month y’all 🏳️‍🌈 🫶🏽

The deal was simple: marriage or become a silent sister.

Her father always had little patience with her, which she supposes is alright. She has little patience with him. Whenever she feels a bit too claustrophobic in the castle, the good air being sucked up from his ego, she writes little notes and leaves them on her parent’s bed.

It always requires a maester to read them. Sometimes mother does it.

Having someone else other than the voice in her head call him an illiterate imbecile was worth the punishment most times. But this time, she could tell by the twitch in his eye that he was serious this time. She had looked to mother for help, and all she got was a sympathetic glance. Not sympathetic enough, she thought.

Maris always going to be the problem child, and in turn, she would always be considered expendable. She is not the prettiest, or the most duitful. Clever, they would call her. She knew that was a coverup for what they really wanted to say. Mouthy.

The Riverlands may not be that bad.

She reminded herself that through dress fittings, and mindless drowning on about decorations and food. Maris always thought their deer sygil was a bit silly. Not very intimidating like a dragon or symbolic like a glowing tower. Or even pretty like a flower.

Well, at least it is not a fucking fish.

You will make a lovely wife. It was a lie, and if Myah was in front of her, her mouth would be quirked to the side in mirth. Pretty and mischievous. Maris can hear her voice even as the words are just written on the page.

Please come to King’s Landing. You must meet Baelor.

It was not the first time Myrah had asked. The last time they had seen each other in person, she was watching Myrah and Aemond marry.

Marry and kiss. Dance and kiss. Laugh and kiss. They kissed a lot at their wedding really. Her whole family had been there on pins and needles for different reasons. Her parents upset at what could have been. Her sisters with a similar sentiment. Floris and Ellyn just tired of hearing how they let a prince slip their fingers. Cassandra the most vocal about her strife.

“I suppose her looks make up for her station,” she muttered, pushing her meat across her plate in disgust. “That or something else.”

That earned a swift kick to the shin from Maris.

What none of them wanted to admit it is that it was never going to be one of them. Anyone with a working brain could see that from the moment the Targaryens came to Storm’s End on the godsforsaken tour.

“I have to thank you,” before they left King’s Landing, Myrah pulled her to the side. Her hand intertwined with Maris’. “I cannot help but feel like you helped Aemond and I get to this point.”

It was the first time she got a sharp pang in her chest. She just smiled through it. Myrah glowed, and Maris hated it. She doesn’t know why but it flowed through her veins like blood does. They correspond to each other regularly and the pang doesn’t cease.

It debilitates and shakes her to her core as she writes back.

I would love to.

Maris feels and hears Myrah before truly gets a good look at her.

A squeal and a tight hug. Maris is hit with a wave of lavender and rose. She still smells the same. Feels the same. Hands come to squeeze her cheeks when Myrah pulls away.

“I have to pinch myself, pinch you to see if you’re actually here.”

Maris is sure her face is on fire under her hands. She finally gets a good look at Myrah as they begin to walk through the Red Keep, arm in arm. The slim silhouettes with thick fabric that Maris first saw her in when they met had been replaced by something more opulent. Reminding Maris of Myrah on her wedding day. The V-neck usually found on women in the Vale had been replaced with a square one. Puffy sleeves and full skirt to round the look. The rubies in her hair net glistening, matching the ones dangling from her ears, in the light. Maris wonders how long it took her ladies to manage to put all of Myrah’s thick curls under it.

Red, black, and gold - Maris noted. It should not come as a shock. Myrah would adopt the style of the ladies in court, and she would adopt the colors of her… husband’s house.

The word sits in her tongue like bad porridge. Thick and nasty. She chalks it up to the fear of gaining one herself soon.

Myrah immediately takes her to see Baelor. Who takes one look at Maris’ face and buries his face in his mom’s legs.

“He is a bit shy,” she beams. “Likes to hide in my skirts sometimes.”

He has that in common with father. He has Aemond’s face already, with Myrah’s coloring. His eye shape, but her eye color. A skeptical look that mirrors Aemond but dark curls that fall in front of his face in an earnest way that is all Myrah.

A perfect little combination of the two. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

They sit out on the terrace that is attached to the room. A full spread already out there of various tarts and sweets. Maris goes to pour them both a goblet of wine but Myrah stops her with a sly smile.

“I probably should not,” she pats her tummy in a knowing way.

Oh.

“Again?”

It comes out more aghast and rude than even Maris wants. But Myrah just laughs, and nods.

“Yes, again,” she’s glowing again. In the way Maris knows is special to how Myrah feels about Aemond. “It is quite early on, but the maester confirmed it a few days ago.”

She tells herself to bite her tongue. To be happy and smile because she could not live with herself if she is the reason why that glow falters, but the words slip out of her mouth.

“Even after what happened after giving birth the first one,” ok perhaps she should’ve used him name. “I know Baelor took so much out of you.”

Something flashes behind Myrah’s eyes. Fear? Pain? Anger?

“I want more children,” she says curtly. “And I want my son to experience having a sibling bond the way I do.”

Maris can tell by Myrah’s defensive tone that it not the first time she has been questioned. The air is charged now, and Maris questions throwing herself off the balcony at the way Myrah’s lips downturn in a pout.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters. The words on foreign on her tongue.

Myrah gives a small smile. “I know you are just worried for me.”

“Not about that,” then she squeezes her eyes shut briefly. Words were never hard to come by till she met Myrah. “I mean yes for that, but also for not coming. After I got the letter.”

Myrah’s gaze softens. It was only a week after Myrah had given birth to Baelor that Maris recieved a letter. And though the seal on it was the typical House Everlane one she had grown accustomed to breaking. The handwriting was completely different.

The queen had written on behalf of Myrah.

Myrah’s loopy, girlish caligarphy replaced by Helaena’s short and delicate one. Maris tucked the letter under her pillow in a fugue state after reading it. She slept with it as her tears mixed in with her pillow sheet. She had built up so much resentment towards Aemond. Towards a child she did not know. Only just days old. Because she could not understand a world where Myrah was not living in it.

“I understand. I did not expect people to drop everything and come to my aid.”

But I should have. I would have. For you.

“Ok enough sappy talk, let’s talk wedding plans.”

The details are miserable to Maris but exciting to Myrah. She knows she is trying to make her feel better.

“Just think about it,” Myrah picks off the candied lemon on a lemon cake. “The weather will not be as harsh, and you will still be close to by. I am pulling ranks and making you visit more.”

Myrah leans over to grab Maris’, and gods Maris hopes it is not as sweaty as she feel it is.

“I know you are worried, but if anything happens, you can tell me,” she says seriously, before a cheeky smile suddenly appears. “You techincally have the largest dragon in the world at your disposal.”

Maris snorts at the thought at Aemond playing her protector. “And how’s that?”

“Aemond has Vhagar, I have Aemond, and you have me.”

Maris doesn’t know whether cry and or to throw up.

The throwing up option only becomes more clear when Aemond finally makes his appearance. Dressed in typical black leather, but with riding gloves on. Myrah hops up like, giddy and sweet.

Maris turns away when they kiss. The brushing of noses and whispers against the lips too much too take. His hand instantly goes to Myrah’s belly. She has no real reason to dislike Aemond. In fact, it was Myrah giggling about how much they remind her of each other that made her look at Aemond differently.

Maris wished she could fight the burn in her chest when it came to him.

“Tell Maris that the Riverlands are lovely,” Myrah tugs on his hand. “You enjoyed it when Aegon and you went.”

“The Riverlands are lovely,” he repeats monotoned. Myrah swats at his arm.

“It will be ok,” she reiterated to Maris.

And gods Maris wants to believe her so bad.

Myrah is a bleeding heart. It was one of the things Aemond loved and envied about her. She is kind almost to a farce. It can titter into naivety but it was always in good faith. She frets and worries and cares so much. It’s why she is good wife, and an even better mother.

He would repopulate Old Valyria with her if she gave him the chance.

But Aemond can tell when that pretty head is working overtime. It did during dinner that night with Maris, and continued into the night.

“I guess it just, I don’t know - it put into perspective how lucky I am,” she frowns. “Her parents are just shipping her off to a man she doesn’t know. And I understand that is the lot in life for many ladies. It could have been mine. It just makes me sad.”

She goes on and on with her brows furrowed and her arms flailing.

Aemond pulls her into his lap, hand brushing against the silk of her nightgown.

“You shouldn’t work yourself up so much. It’s not good for you or the babe.”

Myrah frowns before her eyes get wide. “We kill him.”

“What,” Aemond laughs.

“If something happens to her, we kill him,” she repeats. “You are great swordsman, my love.”

“Flattery will not convince me to kill a man.”

She wraps her arms around his neck.

“Can I do something else to convince you to kill a man.”

Aemond pauses for a moment. “Probably.”

What can he say, he is weak willed.

“Good, I’m hoping you to that.”

He knows that Myrah loves Maris, and Maris… loves Myrah. He knows that look, he gives that look everyday. It’s pathetic and hopeless, and full of want.

Longing is a cunt.

Aemond hasn’t figured it out if Myrah knows, and she’s too kind to say anything. Or if she still doesn’t get the power she has over people. One night he told her in the dark. After a feast Aegon held with diplomats from around the realm.

“You’ll never have to know what it is like to want you.”

Myrah snorted and told him he was dramatic when he had too much to drink. But he woke, albeit with an alcohol induced headche, still feeling the same. She will laugh off any suggestion that she extremely charming. Aemond buried his jelousy problem well. But they sprout and take form with Myrah.

He doesn’t know if he more envious watching people naturally gravitate towards Myrah or knowing he will never possess such power.

It pulled him. It has pulled Maris in.

Myrah is the moon. The tides will always be under her control.

#my poor gay disaster maris #anyway I hope to write more gay shit 😊☝🏽 #hel Alicent alys… yup yup yup #not Aemond lowkey being an ally 💀💀 #maris: she’s everything and he’s just… Aemond #and Aemond would agree with the sentiment #Maris Baratheon

[circusgoth-dotcom]

The Sheriff's Prisoner

Ship: The Sheriff of Nottingham x Gabriel of Blackburn

Word Count: 1186

Summary: After a long day, the Sheriff looks forward to nothing more than interrogating a newly caught prisoner... and is shocked when he finds his favourite face staring back at him in the dungeons. CWs for false imprisonment, implied violence, mentions of injuries, mistrust, corruptness.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @myers-meadow

After a frustrating day, the Sheriff of Nottingham was almost looking forward to torturing the newly captured prisoner his men had notified him about. Draped in his usual lavish robes and distinct leather gloves, his appearance was one of complete confidence and superiority as he descended into the dungeons of his vast manor.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Open the door.” He instructed once he reached the two nightguards at the bottom of the spiral staircase. They glanced at each other, increasing the sheriff’s annoyance by a tick, before finally opening the door and letting him pass. “So, think you’re clever, do you--?”

His voice caught in his throat as he realized the scene before him. His closest friend, Gabriel of Blackburn, stood with his back against the wall, his wrists shackled high above his head and his uncovered toes barely scraping the dirty floor beneath them. His left eye was beginning to grow dark and puffy, and the matching side of his neck and exposed shoulder were badly scraped. He shivered where he was bound, wearing nothing but his moth-eaten undergarments. Gabriel did not look up when the sheriff entered the room.

The sheriff turned wildly back to the guards outside of the room. “What is he doing here?”

“Suspected of helping Robin of Locksley and his band of merry men, sir,” one answered hesitantly.

"Suspected?? What evidence do you have against a man I've only ever known as a law-abiding citizen of Nottingham?"

"Well, he is consistently late with his taxes in the records," the other guard began, "it was inevitable we'd have to bring him in at some point, anyway."

Fury boiled in the sheriff. "So you thought you'd teach him a lesson by tacking false treachery onto his sentence as well?!"

"No--! Well--! He was seen thieving, sir! Around the same time Locksley led a raid!"

"Why should I trust what you two have to say when I can get the story straight from the horse's mouth?" With that, the sheriff stepped back into the room, slamming the door behind him. "Idiots!" He then swept toward his friend, frowning over its injuries. “Oh, Gabriel, what did they do to you?”

Gabriel’s trembling became worse as he tried to lift his head, only to fall back into his previous position, staring at the sheriff through his messy hair. “Arrested me… obviously…” He answered in a broken voice.

“Tell me exactly what happened. I refuse to believe those imbeciles outside… don’t… don’t tell me you were with Locksley.”

“Unchain me first.”

The sheriff was momentarily stunned. He had never dealt with internal conflict when it came to justice, and it proved to be a very distracting predicament. He liked Gabriel an awful lot. He wanted Gabriel to be on his side. Still, none of that meant that it was innocent.

“Sheriff?” Gabriel prompted, only to be met with a hard stare.

“I can’t do that, Gabriel.”

A layer of emotional hurt was added to Gabriel’s exhausted and physically pained features. “Yes, I suppose you can’t. After all, I’m just another misbehaving child in the family of Nottingham, and the sheriff father’s going to set me straight… whether he trusts me or not, whether I’m innocent or not.”

“What I do is for the good of King John’s people, you know this. I told you Locksley was a criminal, I warned you that he was dangerous--”

“Then why treat me as if I’ve purposefully crossed you?”

“Just tell me what happened.”

A pressing silence followed as the sheriff remained still, watching the shaking frame of a man he cared far too much about. Gabriel swallowed.

“I was running errands for the bishop when Locksley and his men came through. It was chaos… sheriff, trust me when I say I had no frame of reference for how Locksley looks before today. I thought I was being a good samaritan when someone ran into me and dropped what I presumed was their belongings, and I willingly placed them back into their arms. I took food from an abandoned stall and gave it to equally abandoned children, as well. I was not thieving intentionally…” Gabriel turned a shade paler, “but I suppose I was influenced by Locksley’s philosophy, wasn’t I? But instead of taking from the rich…”

“You took from the poor to feed the poor and you aided wanted criminals in their misdeeds.” The sheriff’s ears burned. He wanted to vomit from the speed at which thoughts and emotions were filtering through his brain.

“Sheriff, I didn’t know. Please, I didn’t know…” Gabriel sobbed dryly. “I know, deep down, you think everything you do is for the right reasons, but do you really think punishing me would be worth it? You know me, sheriff…”

He shifted uncomfortably, finally moving to turn away from his prisoner slightly. “I will consider sparing you. For tonight, you will remain here.” He eventually answered, removing his ring of keys from his belt to unchain Gabriel from the wall. They stumbled against him as their wrists limply slipped from the cuffs, making his breath hitch, almost reconsidering leaving Gabriel in the dungeons the second their bodies connected. Shaking these thoughts off, he gently pried them away from him and guided them into sitting on the floor. They continued to sob into their hands as he left, a coldness spreading in his chest as he let the door close behind him.

Too restless to retire to his chambers, the sheriff sought out his loyal advisor, the witch, Mortiana.

“I sense you are frenzied,” Mortiana’s voice croaked from the shadows.

“Of course I am. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” the sheriff answered gruffly, waving away the odd smog that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. “But that’s neither here nor there, what can you tell me about Gabriel of Blackburn?”

The hunched and half-blind woman appeared from seemingly nowhere, briefly startling the sheriff with a hiss and a wicked grin as she grabbed a nearby bowl of olive oil. He watched her as she cast a handful of sewing needles into the oil, then winced as she plucked one of his hairs and added it to the bowl, giving it a hearty swirl and humming to herself as she examined the contents.

“He has the potential to be very useful to you…” The witch mused. “For he is of royal kin, but he does not know it. Born a year before his more popular sister… if you want power, seek it with him.”

The mistakes by Gabriel’s hands completely flushed from his mind, the sheriff’s eyes widened. “Royal kin???”

“There is someone he reminds you of, boy, is that untrue?”

She was right and he knew it. Sometimes, he was sure he caught fleeting glimpses of Lady Marian’s smile on Gabriel’s face, not to mention the similar shades in their hair, the near-identical chins, and the shared fire in their eyes, even with the difference in colour.

“Will we wed, my lady?” The sheriff asked distantly.

“The future is too cloudy to say… it all depends on the boy’s reaction.”

#self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #f/o #fictional other #🗡️A Heart of Black Charcoal🖤 #🐎⛪.s/i #circus scripts

[trumpetnista]

ANOTHER 1000 POSTS!

215K and counting! Thank you to all 2,788 of you guys (plus everyone in my activity chart area…) for following, enjoying, and tolerating LiveLoveWRITE for all of these years (as of 5 January 2022, it’s been 12 years since I joined Tumblr! Wow!) down various fandom rabbit holes, through The Great Tumblr Purge of December 2018 (which didn’t work properly to nobody’s surprise. JUST DELETE THE PORN BOTS, PEDOPHILES, AND THE NAZIS, YOU IMBECILES! PROBLEM SOLVED FOREVER.), through the latest change of owners/dubious U.I. changes (I give it 6 months to a year before they give up on their “investment” and leave with their tail tucked between their legs…) and my ongoing evolution into a pale blog with a heavy focus on cottagecore and its various branches nowadays.

I would also like to give a very special shout-out to The Walking Dead/Richonne/Carnid folks who have welcomed me with open arms into their post apocalyptic world (what’s left of it after all the absolutely EXCELLENT writing…), the GOTHAMITES who have welcomed me as a lifelong citizen (the show may be over now but Gotham will always be my home!), and as always, mad love to all of the Gladiators who still follow me despite the show (mercifully!) being over and those who keep enjoying my mashups on here and my ongoing efforts at clever (usually not, but it’s funny 9 times out of 10…) live and before/after the show commentary on Twitter for both old and new fandoms. The acceptance from everyone makes things infinitely more fun around here! Here’s my favorite owls and some other appropriate pics and here’s to at least a thousand more!

#personal #12 years of tumblr! #another 1000 posts! #LiveLoveWRITE #THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING! #i HEART all of y'all! #y'all the real mvps #THANK YOU SO MUCH! #trumpetnista is grateful... #internet friends are real friends! #black tumblr #pale blog #fandom blog #ex jehovah's witness #O.G. tumblr user #tumblr purge survivor #gif mashups #trumpetnista

[silverolivia-upsidedown]

Vess Aliueks, Eliksni Mercenary

Born in the belly of the skiffs and Ketches that bore their kind through The Long Drift, Vess only remembers those darkest times as a blur of hunger, violence, and fear. When things were scarce and the Kells were barreling down on Earth, needing to swell their numbers for war, even with the dwindling resources, he was one of the first waves of hatchlings born to undernourished dames crammed into already stifling ships.

When they landed finally they plundered wildly anything not nailed down, like locusts swarming.

There was an energy, he recalls, like a buzzing in the air, a frenzy to consume and grow strong once more; so that the bitter, greedy Kells could take vengeance on those that now dwelled under their precious floating white orb called the Great Machine. 

He was raised without sire or dame. Raised to be disposable. He was to live a short violent life, and beat the system by living a long brutal one. And in desperation to belong he drank deeply of the revenge and bitter hate that those in power of his house constantly spat out at the young hatchlings.

When the House of Kings was disbanded after the Final Attempt he found himself discarded and unwanted. His pension for brutality and violence, the only language he was taught, made others of his kind unwilling to take him in, other than as padding their shock troops in skirmishes with humans, cabal, hive, or any number of others.

It was here that he learned the usefulness of restraint and cunning. And that his life could have more worth past what those in power placed on him.  

Although he never learned to read past the most basic of words of his kind, he was by no means an imbecile. Clever and observant, he learned many skills that he himself deemed useful. 

He quickly honed his skills to bounty hunting. Realizing there was glimmer, ether, and also pleasure in doing the jobs others found too distasteful to dirty their hands with. 

His name, roughly translated, Alieuks- Ugly, Vess- Beautiful. While he was young they kept saying he had an ugly way about him, and when he got older he took the name, added an honorific to the end (the ‘ks), thus owning the insult as a badge of honor. Adding the Vess after becoming a bounty hunter, to the first part as a further ‘fuck you’ to the kells and houses that used him as cannon fodder and discarded him as soon as he deemed without use. 

He’s done well for himself, keeps his nose out of house politics, other than the occasional work that is thrown his way from time to time. 

Houseless and mateless, his life has been a very long, very lonely one. A solitary existence spent trying to survive to the next day, rejecting the bonds of family and friends as he’s never really found a place in his race’s world other than on the outskirts.

#Eliksni #Eliksni OC #Destiny2 #Destiny 2 OC #original character #destiny 2 #destiny the game #Vess Alieuks

[libidomechanica]

And the skin that I have to sleepe, to my bed

A ballad sequence

               Stanza I

The heard sittes not fret at then     all my grief lookes: thy love of misfortune doth amaze;     there wasted, wae is me

to thy though we played on the river.     Lord shall discover at full oft in me written many     flowers at the way

to be destroys and song for you     are, to disfranchise despair itself for once our own weight.     It is the better, drives

by love: that I am old, o     ye Grace he gave itself, is solid. Dear, the same, and foolish     self! Dread out them also,

but once lost, and so the dark     will write of them from their than mine, no voice, to the brought Sleep     from troubled. I owe the

moonlight, all-damning grown you do!     And warned him on the mind until that in they did proud he     crowd, release a garden,

Maud, and thrones. Our silence them     out, and death that with earth in a long darkness to a wall,     and walke; with the mavis

sang. A fool wouldn’t be lou’d, and     solidly whereon the galleon tossed upon clout I went—     and search’d—and for shames,

horrible, quite alone on all in     Friend, to bear her slim hand fro, everything eyes. And well-a-     day! Telegraph line swept

away. I would not heart. By whom     I sing between us where Rigours exile loving the     blood! A key … Even the

laws of public good, to leade? Into     one, set my palms each landscape lowest shed that I come     hame. You against the Western

hills, and reset. A passionate     shrill-edged shriek of a langer should dree, and was a time,     why have once I left us

flaccid and syne he kiss me,     be kiss’d my Hand, and straining boy, my hope, turning twins do     moue to keep at such as

my poor riches from me thus? And     had never refused to come one without a smiling Spring     little momentary.

So strong; pray that over retires,     dread of her now, which doth me now reign thy sorrow lend     me word that which she die!

               Stanza II

I used upon the blessed splendour,     her breasts, my dear because of the time, which it was so fair,     that other running at

so part, the simple, untest the     stal, is now cleaved in the please, then one of him thanck. My     kind: nor flower to please,

with green, two women who balance     and drink to the tomb? God shield. The wondrous moment pushing     art thou doest swinck, that for

a century dead; the most do     show the moon-tints of Woman is bent to forbidden pride.     With lullaby thy love.

We steep, when the whither deere, Cupids     art; but go, and then the first, in deserted village     stamp and gravity at

work as he take you or I am     very lonely glade, a maidenhood against my dove,     it short,—long and suppose,

made his selfe escapes, we are done     away. To see our two stare in your eyes were imbecile,     hewing owre then she were

but idiot gabble! Come hither     do inherit heavenly from the old man self-scorn;     but Anguish of the evening

His teeth. Na languish quite alone;     an angels’ trumps do not go; if I by a painted     eyes of the river? And

the lamp and set her side by side,     and it will be done, we changed, I think they’ve been sent tomb’d in     natural. Shattered in the

floods, the moon are villains all. That     doth haste the nick of a peace, is agonizing her might     chemical mixture did

not know her should always keep the     twilight temples be, t’ entertain that poverty my     Muse bring good! Yes, they shot

him on my cheek or tongue like a     well-built nest. And now to disfranchise designed the stream, mither,     and the foam, that extreem

day, spring have gone, no being     ravish’d nor century dead? But that dullard fit? They     about me shatter is

grillingly, my yankee kin, I     think, and I don’t wanton’d round poles, numb nubkins, they too far     to be gratefulnesse?

               Stanza III

Wealth to a sharp surprised by care.     I learned in that every clever, young son in that it     be by his gulfe. As then I thought how he’d had been moment,     who is so naked as

it will burrow in posterity?     That has the through desolate, marke, that no time of my     mother again. A fragrant roses heard no more to the     orange fragrance. Up then?

Now, euen he fed; lasses, like a     razor he did the most precious Speech many a summer     since Time and Natures of monster of the hall; and it was     born on the thing doen hem

disguise of the nerves of moonlight,     eight his constant, it any been moment, two legs spread our     blank and knife ill-used doth hidder and that for the     She keep their future heir.

               Stanza IV

For as a fish, naked as a     reed with a heart would I no more bene fully the moon,     with Beauty bright, ne in

good god make its steamy breath gently     open the dirt, for to gard. And with the print of the     ring, taking dried me in!

               Stanza V

’Ve been my face that turn back,     she meal. Rich beads of country and a smile another and     truce within. Their beer was

death may now take a iolly has     kept, against or war? All. Wedded in men. Sweetness, chaste concerns,     misfortune of the

red gowd, set up a mast was locked     and draught up true. That to the gusty trees: or bid me Courtly     Nymphes, acquainted

eyes holding the street; each word, nay     sight, from their tool. Where is, in far less polish’d days dragged his     roof does run he mutter’d

House and church, a beautiful now,     on this lullaby the highway, bess, they play when I know     my mother’s woe. If it

with gentlest sphere are there,     dismounted—robed by degree, a fatigue we imagination     some at no time, to

awake, know that love, that take a     iolly sheepes close doth ly, till there was born at Bethlam.     And Tears drink, and pincers

leaues, the peace or war? About they     doen hem of the balloons resting out that I had naughty     will come sounded. As honor

that doth dwelling purple seaweeds     and aspire when King Victor has wished in gloss of Love     envieth not a Prison

make thee living through THAT Love live     and eke my heads. The time when neither homage. That flint, cheat     and tooke out a smile did

yeeld at length of that, at height, let     no further last action, how sweet, sweet. Bid me lovely gaze     of my window at breath,

that pressed, and thus did clear; and the     dinghy, has plant my feet. Bid me dead? Chose thee. Full moon. Before     that sike mischief, that

with his side? But a fool. With no     special, in the known. All ladders, wondered hart. Ah boys dead,     long agoe: for it all in

the moor and that conteck and kept,     and after the beloved; men and who do love Gregory     come to our love evening

valleys, when their face was wont     to kill, and the glistring leads sunny Summer, till Gregory     come too much beguiled,

full many a great god Pan, or     send out of a peace or observer. And dinted shelter’d     cowslips bind the sway, riding—

to glances, my boys! To low     should grow old apace taketh end by little butter. Or     by my eclipses an

swiftly round, we swift hazard of     a kind to heauenly particular conditional. I’m     the thine heir. When one with

paine, oft in the lake-blossom fell     with never company. Little thou love in the days pass     untold, although that blow.

               Stanza VI

Light in human that purple moor;     she prospect of thy kind, a fragrant, bone-dry white skin that     with you, because that wrongfull

pray. Issues from these days that     I made false with popping each wishing buried mud from my     last night downward glories

of mass and the sad bosom dies.     Up, she sees to proved so longer that. She is decorum—     No—Pro patria mori.

               Stanza VII

Most justly think it would not, but     a world on the roses bought up in the height loaves in the     same, and we still, my brave civic Pair, that test. Her know, sweet     tones grind, I would fetch a

prettily for buttondown, I     find no more shall obey a shutters, easily: Once     openings, ere he shore-side, and he rose is neede thy breathe noontide     ocean Julia, there

was divine amends for all as     bad, for if Tim might pavilions: issue for vnknowne with the     hill: tho may company. This head, the soul, or what I deem’d     no maid’s black night down to

yon shore. The god unshorne. Confession,     oh Thou hast. Of theyr goodness and your lowd desire,     that blinds. For a woman broke away. Retires him now: she     is, but types of men who

waits the soth to the shuddering     Pyes, do louers scorn; but my ribs, and somewhere was a child, I     would hear at all the scaffolds in that forms in a dreams, ready     claimed him. And hustled

a tune takes away child, I fear     this lips bidding Boy, or Phant’sie scan, to be such as I to     take care, though not an expert on make it sweeter charm between     thy thought in a dreams

deceive thee. With these are turned. When     I am thence, dumb with whom I keep alone on my sun-     burnd brain an image is conuenable. For Jewels for me,     I do Natures joy in

the Sun; seeking resemblance betwixt     me anymore. His bonny ship, and stronger, pass now     through thy ball is arrowy to the thing: my most dear except     that everything sweetness:

Tim lying fate: but priuely     prolling for years. Oh, my decaye. Did should only warmth with me     had left her sunset, beneath her bosom strong that from the     muskets at height, where either

woman be good than great god     Pan, and idle is; let none sacred glove, my ain love may     be alive, if such a heart half to the good, that like them     more where drowning fairy

treasure the ill; I had not summer     sweet favour of blood, some fresh from death to be old bridges     breasts nor smart. A scope to be a Jew. To have tortured     effigies them round then?

               Stanza VIII

That then the sware; no wind, the     minister and quiet—dull fence of worth. You have all the lowers,     throbbing the way to

day, but I saw the paler hue     upturns on a sudden, the shepherd, but how the hill, the     trembling over shining.

               Stanza IX

In times happiness, Sweet, O Pan !     In those than weeds. At last for shades of British vermin, then     the moonless glory crown older, less—less polish’d head, which     flies, and Echo there he binds us: strong, astarted is     more that has been other!

Oft turning, walking a cursed NO     stain’d and sighs, indeed and wine. There is that unfair weather.     They flee from the Troop am I. Calendar could not wise     hand refrain, will reach field turns her milky stones, young Eulalie     bess, the Black and where fool’d,

now tell the wild and this treasure     they knowne that binds us: strong for a burial fee, and     lusting woman shoots me a thrust, only a white goodness     off like a sweetness bear thy soul is a glance of the stood     in the poor instead. By

they weren’t ridiculous. I     will enlargèd Winds, the radiant girl! And a smile could turn so     care freshest hue, both odde and well-bred—most justly think it     would not the will nevermore I must each within; for heroes,     kiss poyson’d themselves

as stone-still, another, but a     foolish Jealousy from the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name     and Nature, or smile had force, so you swore to the child, its     procure; and one of future hems. The argument; so all     that all Julia, art in

each maine rage, and they gang in an     empty. With no special legend of Phoenix-Stellas state     and drain’d and sometimes refigured, glorious the only     tutor us to each street out of strain the boat, my     moan, receive the reed with

rocks, we are shaking dried mud from     her love not whether the way. Nor did he fling his mouth, mine     one way the sea, wi’ four- footed into her life—immortal     love that blest fresh and write, as it come—to be, and in     her brought mean. Your lawns and

draw and day; and out Lowder, with     beauty’s angel watched as he whose bring their vanishing for     you and cold, a water for like a scar between you remain,     then to bed. To show the time when I saw the mulberry     and all that having

the photographs from the pin at     the Dogge their first began to rail at the fireflies had     or must lies afloat one last strangled coronet: about     her in my judgment’s place at here is not a son? Would bend     or God to rest, or salve

neglected signs and stripes if he     call vertue there my silently blanket, too soft haue eeked     my study window chewing smart.—’Tis dear. The interwetting     under herd increased velocity, sir, to all the     feare, of woe? Be took. At

first night, that blow. With no special     legend of praise: discriminating moments to this, watch     for manner of the new rhythm. Glorious magnanimity     of all thy foot stallen hem of the pianist     plaint. And as good faith or

honor they made for such, and the     murmuring storms, and a’ his crimson lurks in the lass of     my window chewing owre wi’ tin; when the chrysolite. With     meeke, wise-women in her clothing battle-bolt sang from my     soule up to thy horses

beat, Thus let the spirit of Light     of strawberry do stir Yet not so bright; and archange     direction, with a shall voices have found; and we still the     curious courtesy and rumble, and strayen abroad. So are     charms—who is so rarefied

a banished on to compose     her love appear: thus seas of glass may ne’er was full conquerours     do wreckes auoid. Its passion boil’d and groan—who balance     too much too much thy dainty and bower-door, but get an     ill deaths be nearer that

favour grief looked up because you     wert ne’er so airy a treaden vnder floods, what we have freedom     in my Love, or none, or written love I shall final     retort have cut it be the treasure, that here. To followed     with his woman. Round her,

with a heart of life pleasure, would     be better leaue of this close room, nor mermaid was able     to fetch in the hounds, like me. She sails o’ cramoisie. It better     to fix it, or you see, then their dead has with the mornings     stay so soundly slept,

I dreamed a things, ere Roffy could     shine, I thought it thee for the very thinke thus? To take care,     thou wert ne’er will conquerours do wreckes auoid. Doe Stella     dear admiration! It is a handful of holes. That test.     I wish to God I never

utter’d; but all the night; yet,     if she were not be selfishness. Small life is so easy     now to the sing as for their dam’s faults I dearly aboue all,     and some rich: but that test. But I know throte, all nights, and who     could for thee. And short; and

plays an entomologist in     Prague sign their shatter is enough thy babe’s father that so     rich gems, with lullaby contemplating sweethearts, sisters     voice like bleating loan; that will kiss, and set her? I thinke     Shines upon our priming!

               Stanza X

I stopped away his pockets, each perfume, her hair.     The cup of whom he is so naked as if it’s turtle, and hope nor brother age. Thence,     dumb confess there was upright has the

sware to row; in those cooler shade; riding—most     unregarded guise, for more you would survive the speak, a soft, a broken bigge Bulles of     moonlight, thought, is it their than if these,

how cream, a rule now to thee: now transparent case     riding—riding—riding—riding—riding— the laws of purest light leaps in the sum of     young Eulalie’s the receipt with flowers

the lute is blood on a broken lilies a-     dying bride. Charlotte was borne and foolish marriage is, how often gold, and cast up for     the person, went away: they will bury

me deeper. Come sliding up to the sand the     ghastly any spark of glowing your sake, were too may we ran on the tyrants to the     cob. I’m no the house. Pleasure of the

deid o’ the golden noon; wine-red was gold. My face     was one, or few, do hang upon our toes touched it! Same. In the floor When all inertial     frames is that dandy-despot, he, that

they err I dare come to be fair rose on Scotland’s     lights, doe me, a sometime do I pine and a doorknob, for the teeth. She may boast thy     lovesick land any mother end of

insolence, there was sweet; till love and rose than the     river. The swallows, in notes straight, the world is much to this compounds his velvet, and we     are but types of energy: I’ll call.

               Stanza XI

All nature’s rich and plaster are sold to the long.     —The touch. And, being ravish’d with my lost you, my mothers stand. And put on you: besides,     at length this Morning, strangely blush’d to

fill a silent grows sleep, then the forth and I, that     the cradle, and the public merit some concerns, misfortune shewe forth the cast, who waits     in abundance apace taketh not;

the girl when it wont light, that time do I pine and     dust. But heedy shepherds spak never a wrinkle. Far to tell one, which she turmoil of     splendor. Until finally,

inevitably ridiculous. Tomorrow for thee.     But kind to the bottom deserve to doat. The influence of tormenting jealousy     from the blind soul shalt taste then she loose

designed Next, lullaby now the heart; and, when the     dead when the bright pavilions: issue for to live to-morrow to the doom assign’d. Up     the rayne is solidly where for such

as once! They say, could turned in the world were getting     each humble print of the river, the only Queen of none but twenty-five? That black hair.     What other end of insolence, dumb

confession, tho’ we paid the subject that shall grass.     To mar their sphere at my trewand pebbles of a grave. I am a watercolor.     They accompts did they saye the clashed. In

ordinary placed withal her decent legs, clean,     and pen, beat, I know the fool’d, now thou dost stallen have once again appear, and many     a jest told, how sweet black night. Than the

west; he did they quicken. Then drew the bestows, when     sweetly, my heads. That Tim would put off slothful years. My light, one sparrows in myself; and     ye seem’d to serue their roots again? For

your ear still with a heart the hand, but by the winds     clasped for some mair o’ the living in shade; and blont. Your old army of the Soul of the     dead. The westland wilt resort, so as

to let my passion is gone; and nearest, mought it     thrice, if human art as the winds they call things, in fact, I put a cobweb-lawn; and always     write, and, and rose or feare not a

prophesy in part; no further casement, step     after sunset burn’d on the light and all of books unwritten made them locke, fast by my     gazing eyes find the door! Song, or features

to gainers such an honest fame shore: freezing     comes riding, up to the room where fool who want of woe; studying in praying the fair     Annie, come to thee by moonlight, but

heavenly eye; they led—a kind of insolence,     the westland with the child is blood of the poet tuck away as do’s the ostler listens,     I wait. While his end embracing

love so rough that I never charms, like allaying     Thames, and windshield. He cut the balm of a habit—blows eight to faint in myselfe had he     comes down when only will. Part of trespasse

many more for what end is turn back to the     book you amid them at my hart sore. Which must leave, till the tumultuous Shout of     Soldiery, sudden making a curse to

do. See, thrown about young man, she only live with     wills, and walke not accountable peddlers shouted at my sun-burnd brain. Then in my heart     rejoicing, and see a drunkard grows

holding wail’d, by a fire to weep to the lights of     Fate, sunk on the sea as it it shape. Your tithes in Stellaes browse, we are as the sun     should die for where to kneel once possessed.

               Stanza XII

Tell him now: she is solid stone.     Other men: they loue refineth, o birds, there is bride; for     Bess could that doth lurk and years. But the sea has devoured     both his honey—but within. Awhile, with satisfies my     loves, dreadfully spent: for

man be converted is much disdain;     lest sphere is frozen to be King, from a nights. ’Tis youth,     mine eyes were. Sweetness, looke loue of the name. I’m an animal     very rafter will fulfil thee so dead then dead, and     made up of this purpose

by the while he binds his right. Lo!     To tell me so; as testy silence, they doen lick. Breath with     a silent here away, and chalk, the time disgrace was loved     me for the visions fine, her prais’d nor good, to me crept: my     feet visited, odd times

thrown about to faint in the dare     in love God, that to each product and influence of all     the landlord’s black waves is cold, cold,—but very temples you     would be for so many, yet so it is, no prize the dolls,     perfect cote, and who quake

too lately goddess, do love, and     rose needling myselfe for features to rest, laugh. On the mair     o’ the flocks forth, the close the glisten she stood in the rich     in you with hem many wanting jest. And her sovran shrine,     with vision forlorn, my

doubtful twilight of the moonlight!     Over Orion’s crannie; and the bright, came to breath shall eat thy     golden lilies that vast divorce. There but decay, lest the     food trees: see how but makes me sighs are bad. Do you sometime     and to the highwayman

came riding—the touch’d my true-love     freezing daffodil sky, vaunt in the sadness might with them     go forth with pricke, sayne, the invitation farms in Kula,     drive thee to take care, that gray mocke at the pleasure: her audit,     thought, oft in my calm,

and wild storms confoundered hart.     Like a brandished in the road was the lute. With shall be my     body shall cease, with a heart who liues with the kids had all     thing—the tumultuous Shout of Soldiery behind brought     he had all things I do?

There is not a chemical kissed     in arms round rulers, round my minde; profess into each other     punish’d Clarinda cold and see how and archange     directions will I remember: falling for all awake, a     rule how the mast o’ gowd,

set up from expense; they shall do     so fondest free o! Shepherds spak nevermore there my head.     Thus do I pine angel watched as he sware to withstand? Look     in its sweet, with a glow tells me herbs, waving to upheave     the darkness intensifies

and that had full oft in my     Gates, and crowned—See how amber the world of mine eye is fire     with no special legend or God to wanted, no more; when     at euen in an upper pew. While time. Her eyes dare swear, a     thousand miles who but

a strawberries in-and lust of     tree; it disna become attention in his Head, till I     am here. From day the pin at they nill lie, souls like many     years and barren of Heaven like flies had nevermore     to weep away more where

are the Flood, some rich: but priuely     prolling sprites remoue. Garden lake to say something in Ettrick’s     vale, is to shamefaced snubnosed rogue would beastly     pit long black in memory—odours, better mind, we     han greatest of the can

give ourself, and the Hall, maud the     trip and nowe imploy the red coats look on his honey—but     when it is, no applause but that’s out of tree; they could give     my head a singled to the punch. Thou God of Lochroyan, and     Tears drink the hardly my

soule I dared to me. If such     Liberty. When the beat with my name, showing that I want of     winter and ball, for her richest dye, flames o’ergrown on his     feet, and be that the ostler listened to scent, inexorable     question’d what, he!

               Stanza XIII

But balk the poet tuck away;     drop earth we are the under the soule I do Nature,     sovereigntee, bene a kurre,

and death’s conquerours do wreckes     auoid. You are the sea together; for the cobweb woven     across vibes. Too much, yet

hiding out the terrible, and     a tone came out and better bow. Once I love must be; for     if Tim might fit words came

my dove, it grows holding water     for often a man in Bethlam? As thou leaves quite alone.     The sky, vaunt in the mind

none! In my dear Eulalie the street     still the place that take back ever. Eyes so fondly to-day,     were squeez’d from straight, her pride.

               Stanza XIV

Fought, from the women, years ago.     Their colour’d flame, the Prophet, foolse, and the Rights of Woman     in my yellow hair, wide

gate alone in a kind of a     man is, too, the balls,—was insomnia. And wild her heyre:     for the grocery man came

halting forces, wears those faults I     dearly about the string lichen fixt on a horror of     shattering, a beauty’s

angel watch her hair rising would     lie outside ringers of the numerous ills they cheeks     unprofanation for the

moon—cold wolf, for the worlds care foil’d     by that, it is night, that her side. Wherewithal her death’s second     healthy horse will be.

And knife. That shout in one; shall slumber     did he weed, my father death does wear, made my ill mither,     humbly own—’tis dead

broken, sweetness the touch’d my heart     such Liberty. Was all as bad, for the sick of arrowy     to thee what can I

sing best selves as stone; and a hush     and power, nor the flower and ever, young monarchs fight     flowers, are ye Mary

Magdalane, or Branch: Each Porch, each     other settlement in watch and fear, that euen the Air, know     no such miser and die.

Ready spent and pipe to my ears:     sighs, and sin no mo delay’d, and bene. Countryman; with     my breasts nor stone. You have

had dream. He did in the skin: with     lovers wiped their vanishing for thy would lie down arm’d, for     the sigh for Fear. And freesing

female head, which long in dream,     I lay bare invades my bones. Now, well, I am thence to     think of praise, that proceed?

               Stanza XV

Custom’s after to live, and flatt.     When this words spontaneous as any more: and stellar,     we are room, I will not

my fingers? Was born on thy head,     whoever either woman things. That to myselfe my middle     of Youth pined away

for well of praise its they gang to     my scalp and my lovest me, guttering. And here,—the evil     of midnight can a

simple, underground. Desires     you have all the the unweeting, and crush’d, and gowd, mine of     their soul, their future hems.

Dumb as a flinty savage dared     to keep. Is constant, it any been ungenerous, not     change your garres men missaye.

I know my minde; profess intent     to render the person I love still reach her side of the     shepheard sittes not

outlearned him—with his honeyed embrace,     then who wanted me; my grief in Wine we lie and let     trouble have state, you say’st,

their cause he is coming battle     grew the strength, and helpe reject, without read this untimely     movement of men who want.

               Stanza XVI

Few Beads are done is part shall shake     it sweet pharmaceutical your shelter, thrown: nor dance and     energy: I’ll brushes

that my temples be, t’ enter,     struck before her languid not comes riding, up to the world     is gone himself were not

below the day did me despair     and sung this daughter beside, we become ancient lava     rivers, silver drips

shimmering jest. To save all there with     clay, do not learn, nor this, love letters are falling sprites     remoue. For the braider grew

wide for a little to a spectral     bride. If stone, set my tenderness must be my scholar,     and pleasure, come, Shame, thirsty

grief looked up the road that Mars,     grown, and who quake too much beguiled by somewhere choppers taking     all that we dared, cold

wind, its punctual, mysterical     mock you with end by sea, by the green-painted water-     blurred life of liberty.

               Stanza XVII

Go, for it fellowship, at leashed .     Get up, she is thrown: and all their cause that I may never     speak ill or western isle,

which thou canst vouchsafe the great     effectually they call Cupids dart an image is, while ever     to fight for these obtain

smiling Spring as then they     heart to be gay. Oh, I am thence, that envy wished in     honde, to leaue your faith in

the brindled bitch! The bottom thro’     the street stay sets you this? But one and so a woman, who’s     to Loues dainty food; if

eagle fiery heats, fairer     than the even tonight down to the here? And somebody,     sure, ere were call—the wilds,

in low proud shall not my feet. Then     one of the rack and word counter, and in her is out eating     souls away as do’s

the strove not your promised to     temptation farms in Kula, driving, than that are look, and blood     flowering. While, with whom

the birds sang, all for to weave me     thou cannot wel ken, but babble, mere Sense and that true, begun     to mask, tho’ half sighing

off. Of our her, there is your     hand, and shame, to discerne thing to myself the west; he did     not comes near; then it would

not learne; thinke so sweet some rich: but     for you and leads summ’d in the world is changes like to the     reed who country, heavenly

calm white rose his stirr’d by the     world’s dust, the winds come far fra kith another’s nights, does my     care. Ill reach for other

is, or I maun till love’s sick of     woe? Those hours, when one way this long: and nowe imploy the tree;     therefores from mountain

or the bonny ship, and hell     shoe my boys dead, long life decay, to bathe think it wont liggen     in sleep. And the blood!

Julia, there there be so bold, and     great carouse knocks hard bleak steel are blame, like glorious commerce     bubbles of thine heart

so stiffens in the sun as a     children are gather’d that very friend at they all grow cold,     darkly; but a cobweb-

lawn; and the primrose to the fine     words and red. And waly fa’ the vapor can hinder the     colours true, begun to

unwind, when your eyes! Love when two     predatory hawks, we it is told. Ten will enlargèd Winds,     the village strength, to think

what euer thou not chattered in     the sea. Do they prated of thy Verse, when you your rivulet     fallyt on þe spray.

               Stanza XVIII

And the rocks, we are crowd, release.     Us strange fashion; each other end of the world of men     are tired child, I spake

as a child, I think of itself     verdantly and ringing, and better to man. My little     spark of time, that must do?

               Stanza XIX

After I too much hope, and, home.     The harp of stone, love’s fickle glasse: your eyes turtle. Blue as     you mine. Is proud shall come

into bed, till a little thou     that hear his own quick to you and can’t answer than into     thee as in her alone.

               Stanza XX

Take back to the dawn. But strawberry,     or some kind of—as it will steal on me thus? My Nanni     would make it sweet black save petrifaction, glowing out     roads to him, a blue are

each sex, like Autumn presses are     lost are genuine, I thinke that I have done, with that all.     I dempt there was awake all these most fear no earth, defac’d     its while the delight fresh

and commingled the digits of     a few last peak kiss we and Below. To say thinken agayne.     All hell when my brave been sent appear: thus season. In     which, element of your

forehead a beautiful that nothing     back darken, and lines and of evolution, each way     musickes loue their play, before. Frozen to say somewhere     thou art as soft kisses.

A Fisherman mends above, and     when to commend; so never bought need. Sweetness, and hast brought     how her place seemeth ay great among the floor. An     innocuous occupation.

               Stanza XXI

And once, but nakedness must now.     Doth possesse? My Nanni would you know they die at the falling     front of your Gowne, or not a cheating shade; which, element     was one, methods and

power to be gay. And you seest     the place of a winter’s woe. Our second Right over the     world on the spite, fool, to the while the universe rest on?     Your sin, if it seemed to

do thy fancies boughs which seemed turn     up. The fierce bubbles he clattered and bower? I hae     as gude, and wilt thou know in the stirre not any. Since where     as many send, to the

world the way she always write, and     then my loving heart has thing, all the western glooms are chiefe     souereign and on the dewy locks and the vitriol madness     might shifts and his palate

fine; minds innocent, who love     at the bonie Bell. Raised: proud of it; for he did not forbids     our own flesh, men as all. Bene of loue. Robert Burns: king     a White Turban on him,

and it out of a precious latch,     its perfect and we are but she has a Dogge to breathe, wild,     vain regret scrawled over the bonny foot, thy blinds your ain     love one, was below, turn

thine eyes flash itself in small red     were all night, nor fame, and all over hangs frae my door, but     ay the sick of a lie coming from the world should add, he     listened. Are beauty’s or

Eden’s bowering black in     memory, or none, yet each sex, like Aurora thrown: the bulging     eyes. Rights, doe beare the Dew-bespangle a little cry,     till our light as possible,

and that moment, like a is     for at mischief, that should do it, except only flower     than the hush with repining fairy change direct Hebrew     for me. That blinds you new.

I syng of care an Arke a     Tabernacle is made me a forsaken lady Godes     moder be. Followed the blabbing and took, but her in the     horse louder round poles, numb

nubkins, the river. If asked the     gate alone that locust blossom of Italy’s THERE, with     feasting fairy-gifts to entertain to die, and intensifies     and rave at no

time could toil; and those vices got     which, like Autumne plums, did them shot him not to shadows the     Devil may passion’s grave— wrapt in another, but better     or later, I’m an expert

on make her red cocktail dressing     or pursuit of Cain, in the shepeheards most deceptive     organ in Beijing bullet get him affraye, or ten times     refigured, glories

of books so he came riding—down     at his face. Space I seemed just let thy Purpose of the dark     kept itself unseemly, seeketh not account of ours, take     back, and still singing so.

               Stanza XXII

My Italy, then, in the world.     Since should only joyes above their own joy. Tak down to drink     the lass o’ Ballochmyle.

What, may it trouble like, this     huge rondure that before we knowe. Did tipple wine from thee     by moonlight, that grows never-

resting on all; from the city’s     edge. Whom all discover at full of their new jubilee,     when you sometime the

place and his wo strained in soule I     dare gladly pale. The larkspur listened to Roffynn not return,     we brow of the

unsuspecting that chair liker beames     to reckon with a great cause her long agoe: for into     relation slow, they live,

and children four, would so ill haue     there west, the lowers, as I thinke those by our one of love.     And no more beauty’s effect

and to seek; all night, hand the     pass; with blood! When, were it lies that this wind none! Until     finally, too sooner was

Werther, and gentlest sigh. Soule     up the seasons: sneakers and rare flocke, and pincers leaves have     sung this hand’s light all the

low. Lest sorrow which flies, a wretched,     for home, that bene a light, thou that I hae dreadful     outer brother: they neither

head, turn’d his body borne a     son hae as gude enough? They wander’d—all about they mought     with your shoes is heads with

green, so loyal people should do     none, yet each speech a fields. Instead. Both broke away, so that     murthring Boy, or none, they

repair: that do not praise beside,     and asks you with your bier? My Lady’s quicken. The wind like     far-blown raine once let him

out. His pangs of Pan from a larch,     a beautiful friend, and out her sheep, not outlearned not     come to make heed; with

lullaby, as we commend; so never     a Mart of fire, and loud cried Annie, ’ the white and greed     but lack on my will come

for to be unjust. And wholesome     have sung this hymn, and tremble under her am grieved be,     enlarge length this comes to

trampled with shepheards sich, God mought     be freër under the shepherds pipe the rain drops fra my     cheeks and rose was death-moth

be before I loved yesterday     he built nest. Both! Such street, and then in a certain order     fill, and myself in my

verse; do now your sheltered heath, or     some Orient Pearls are sold to the filthy by-lane ring,     and Titan on and great

should dreaming words throne thought and anon     doubting the phoenix- Stella single fabric that old     man, shrieking a dark vault

above my heart away the whither     works in the world in the tree; they deaf that, at his     Enjoy such Liberty.

               Stanza XXIII

Into a sudden and mix’d my     trouble like a branch. When I lie tangle me words in the     black-eyed daughter. The flame,

and the snare of a word that heart     of the window and came alone; and now about the furrows     more whither, toes touch.

               Stanza XXIV

* Between, has grownd, and waken me.     Now on thy hand; and the long and seems but an ashen-gray     delightful lily and

woo’d, and yours from the sky, to bathe     the same to quench they mighty things, praying to his knee, for     the street stall. In the men

and once, so thrillingly, my sweet     birds doen hem of the gude red coats look along as they lustye,     as we could swagger, swear,

made him up under the sick men,     what she fling his mother’s is to refer to, I thinke upon     a lovers with their

birth-pangs of Pan from her sayne, but     have often a mantel- piece perched upon the distance. With     bitter but an ashen-

gray delight thro’ and true, it is     happening can and is hush and wandred they most tells me he     fought, is it their head is

who doth haste the blew in aprille,     þat fallyt on þe graseth the dull middle the person,     went ill of ruin!

First mad with women like a scar     between, or on a giant liar; and tumbling voyce brindled     bitch, then though their mere

long milk-teeth used upon a bed     of a man. The lea; but thinke those hours of sense? Or to be     lou’d, but small amounts, and

the knives, the truth is here weeping     ear, no news from heavenly eye; there is that had thus, comes     with the smell. And tenderness

might had be self-will’d, forlorn     when June is fair face it, I have felt like them quick to your     naked is on a man’s

defects proper excel: for it     a countenaunce. The boy remain, the house feels! That old     hysterious the Sunne: and still

the sword by Charlotte such a bloomed     like you, was caught me mention, the lake-blossom’d gable-ends     a bee circled and breakfast,

sat by a dead world can renew     the bless: the list’ning son in another’s path. And eke     my heart as I used to

a spectral bride. It’s today two     white good folks: what your accumulated her quit your bonnet     brave been. My Lucia

in the surly sullen, and hope     to have I which I have low starlight. Get up, strange, wild,     Deluded swain, thilke payne.

               Stanza XXV

They boast off gorged from Italy’s     crowned the wall and slurring that has soft like a mocker,     older and all wants a craft is in her can write I still     that his sleeps. I live thy Protection, sent in war whereto     I strives by love vaunteth

not a dawn he heart sae fu’     o’ wae! Thy mistress bids me first I hear at all in the     dare lost are lost thee, in glory of the moment; she die!     When the high she’sbeen the mother is out, not prize the visit     our peace, but blood burnt,

who wishes the touch of earthy     beautie can speak to our cloudy center hid; when only not     be pride is cap and pearls hang; the zephyr wanted of sugar.     Print of the Blooming back to the trees, wherewith the     yellow Autumn press me

wear to me, who was constitutions,     airs; ’gainst his post—to me, what it was he used to keep.     And standing though the Shah foreshadow and cold days, robert     Burns: grant bank of such excellence, here he wouldn’t believe it     freshest hue, both darling.

               Stanza XXVI

And blood flows loud and leaue of wit?     We two, how the bridal bed wherein with my bonny son     was Woolfe in a mirror,

these is lost you, because God’s gifts,     I render acacia would not do they might ease my ear     forgot. Wine from another

kills her is our outrageous     luck, our careless cloudy center me? Once in love that her     love me that blow by night,

He plunges at me! Where not so     much, yet half-turn’d my trouble like, the photographs from a     cup. We two, how like slaue-

borne Muscouite, dulling love with golden     crown’d. The touch of woe; studying in a mirror, darkness     that August you were

all the glorious the guns of     Cavalli with a steal his mouths of me: now throte. Closely     by the wheels go over

the days only the sage in my     judgment’s plains of his silly brain its steaming the western     skies to rift the lily

and pleasure. We thy face; with the     game shepheards sich, God and bareness every bar; but heedy     shepheard his ready

to bury me, be kind: so will     be able to a finally find by them lockes vp     al my self I see this

wesand battle coales of purple     of February and a doorknobs gleaming—a     highwayman came riding the

falling from abroad, sun-spotted     his daughter, plaiting for Refuge, and to the way! Some love-     tokens pass’d tween this seat

with love, work, not one; and yet, beneath     that tongue so sweet a face as a bum on the ribbon     of her mind, and think it

would dwindler’s lie? Prophet in     Derision, the effigies those cheerfully, to faint in the hearing     of murder worldly

bustle, to beare blow—I swear, made     him up under ten times happening net. Rare flocks or till     Gregory! Know no such a

though in the highwayman call, in     hot blood in the eye is the trample of mine. Nay, Sorrowing     the world of the thou

will glove unto you, faire leuell in     love is fire. How the black hue from the wealth to changing eye,     there’s nothing of her

milky stone; and sweeps away by     the requite. Yet sight I must be my soule Diggon, hem beare     the Sun; seeking a twig.

               Stanza XXVII

Can iudge of that thou ligge in measure first Encounter,     a wafu’ moan; those glaring the glove me for its would. To a Cunning for Refuge     from the treasure: her audit, thou leaves

in thy though beauty that bee which, element. If     I have no more bene so graue and be thought I feele as udders within second     when or you have those Gothic times thy

soul, there my lost ardent articular conditional.     She has no tear; no grone. ’Ve been a bag of individually is out;     for if Tim might teach as I have stole

my hopes will come have earthly power could make themselves     a friends soothed me; my grief, or joy. You see’st thou art, if ten of my mother is better     rue. They bellowed young Folly to

live one can comes with when, eu’n of future cheating     thou, my Julia, this is with women chalice, drank his childish the hyde the pear from thy     name. As thee comforting gold, and

committed the golden head has wept, and flatt. You have     done is past, and ward, keep through my gentle hands behind him, and those who’ve never more. I     HATE the dare come to knows, is added,

Blame thy yellow Room, contemplating myself grow’st;     if Natures once they transfusing the grocery man that right to fluttering like any     others, even by what we are the

unsuspecting the smell. That on the telegraph     line swept away thinke your children in her love, I always three more if east or west the     wind is blood of the hunger touch a

struck before I will glove, yet when the greater, the     star pricking sweet. And bonfires in the hoofs ringing, not enter and the highway, and     lawless war are disappears my day;

for into relate: o God, God and straight makes her     hands, now throte. Because he is happening next I’ll despair, I should helpe reject, from you, I     engraft you not do their brave galleon

tossed upon the cobbles of countryes, who had     give Earth, from her brought to be burnt round methought, i’ll no gang to you as a bum on thy     grace. Come here robber say—look for more.

When the sea breathe, wild, vain delights, dawn, and aching     for a foot of us can retreating myself in the secrete wise if I give to     have above my head to move but one

the streamlet winds are form’d to do. To burst in my     Gates, and broke from year was Werther homage. Tell him not, for your practical your dayes run,     and, the world so beguiled, full many

a jest to plains all. Never wanted watercolor.     Their hands behind; but knows? Ding, drown all Kent, nor let the Grace he gave the only for     beautiful indeede true shall when I

am Annie of their particular sorrowe.     Have no peace, they be? Come o’er it were to row; in the bonie blue are the Black and plain, his     palate fine prais’d there; and all the sea.

Thou God open the ground, sooner than the Youth pined     away among the mountain pine, to make them shot by fears as their face grew immortal     love’s topmost peak of snow cover me.

               Stanza XXVIII

The was by its curious crowned     her. One look at me! Neuer was as dew in part before     worth and am like as

a dog on the subject that seeldome     chaunge the good, to thee naked to keep. In which, with a     loyal people have rest.

               Stanza XXIX

Until Thou hast brought ay deeper.     And methough in the moon are gone, lie saunt’ring Jack and oarlocks     for his own skin, his

hands clear and a smile did the     casement, whose rules. Above my babe and Nature escapes, we     are two resplendid name

of the moon—cold weight.—There are smoothly     the ground with that favour or decline from his cheating     can things rare that hers, Claudel

vilifying Gide, and ward, keep     in, when I perhaps the while I breathe noon’s transparent cast     out they fears: sighs, and his

nothing. To mend, to thee: the silence     fell at comes riding— riding—too thick to the digits     of a precious jewels, her

here’s the way I think Guido     forgot forgets, the start and lusting woman’s heavy tears,     and blossoms are smooth-faced

snubnosed rogue would blessed gaze, knowing     joy, with a glance our love, I am old, o ye Grace     he gave this selfe had to

move his bonny ship, and there play’d     with the moonlight! Dulling my true-love for it fell into     bed. Let thy wrist, the long

lost, can not risk their troth sea and     set it lies. And bite the striated rock, as that so rich and     the flesh in his crime, can

vie wits dare in the sun she saw     the glassy smiling Lips open’d before I loved each night,     I ween, on every words

spak her father till such eeking     a strangle me word to spangling Herbe and desolate rocks,     who have torturing, gnawing

comes to oars and glimmer on     to himself warm air from thee. You glances, my boys rewind     back to the winter, had

it any bene, we han great     god Pan, and hoary hair, and crush’d in YES, and know no such     a kind there let me be

main. Homer, that his inconstant     electron never quietus is the din of excess, of     fire. By nightly to all

my griefe: sike questions will glove many,     yet hiding up on it. Dead! When I was but with how     she is diminutive.

               Stanza XXX

Mirage in memory—odours, wherein with violent,     does either praise: discriminating on all; from the bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle.     Of art. Oft in rurall vaine. Do they

heart the curious distill’d his wind is the sheep,     leaf and when the cradle, and children, talent, English beer, good nor rewarded. Then equal     light on horses over until

evening His teeth of Gold! And to speake, where green, two     orange, will rot, and die for thee. But he came to the gale: I have thee behold the colours     true, and lay with hints of Marses

hate, who want of the mother again, except only     dear, not of her god, when the sea breathe, wild, vain regret, Yet not the souls straight I say,     No! A woman or snow, how tall grew

faint a sweet black which them shot in the strenuous     tongue like a precious Speech many a voice in strength, to Loues Standard beare; sicke, and his read;     it is all nights, and Gods and you have

groan: to say! In hope nor in your naked trees, what     it be feign’d, and we sit on thy sins encloses our one openings when I am     witless. Are ridiculous. Lord

Gregory, ere he doing, than the place with young Eulalie     I see this immensive war. Like horses beating the snake is gone himself. And she     may ye die! Thought he wound—and your saint,

whom but how they had full of pride. The wifebeater     is a handful of horror of Peace sitting fairest into mischiefe falling for     to speak and raise beside, keep watch for

me. The law that do not love heart is light, and walked     with love, yet, as you wear wolf’s-bane, tight shifts and tooke out of time. Then in selfe for a look;     possess’d, we are villains all. Shrieking

a picture, or else stand trees, learned away that     which the melancholy has kept, against a wannish glare in fold often a man; and     that euen the fair. To that I must reach

fields, and all the trees, when passion-flower wishes—     did we have sung this moder lay as after there wasted, wae is me thus: although the     head? Tomorrow on the ashes and

the basest brought, injurious distillation,     and falls the world in which thou binna she, do what pay the river! None pities himself     warm hand intent scent and swans, not fitly

done to burst Joy’s grape again. Then he came instead.     Last monotony. Than into his own sweet black is fair to be another? I     ne’er woman, who knows? That every eyes,

O trees nor smile so stiffens in the tomb bestrew     where his woman, save in temples you mean! Of a face neither dividing out roads to     it our priming! Because he is come.

               Stanza XXXI

I ne’er woman broke. Then leaves fall     and energy: I’ll despaire, and hole called into fonts met     in Derision, oh Thou

Jewel of Creation go and sternly     still a morning I was a great deale of Youth, mine. While     Europe’s eye is fire

ants the bond the lay at his country,     heaven hie, then by much the stal, is now dazl’d be; no     palace to feed then a

country. My life in his o’ergrown     whelp to cracked an empty house did admit to my soul with     and pale cheerful wanton

will stay sets you wear u is for     thou mayst thou be tongue like nature vnidle knowe. When they from     home agayne. I questions.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #168 texts #ballad sequence

[zealouscanonindeer]

Pretentiousness and Packing

Dr John Watson:

Holmes returned after, in my estimate, an hour or so later bearing no remarkable findings than before. He passed me the slip, the laconic message leaving me further discombobulated. What a strange happening this was turning out to be!

“What do you make of it Holmes?”

“Watson, pray do not vocalise your confusion.” 

With that he picked up the latest edition of the times, swiftly scanning the pages until he happened to land on the latest establishment in Scotland yards heroic attempt in dissolving the fearfully elusive age-old crime syndicate of London. Presently, he returned to reality, commenting with an air of light conceit.  

“Lestrade would have been better off coming to me, I have no apprehensions regarding the innocence of these so-called criminals. I shall only pity at the humiliation the yard shall face at the court hearing.”

Before I could inquire at his remark, he continued. 

“An establishment of skilled and well-worn men in the games of crime, with their resources and acquaintances in the undergrounds of London would hardly be unable to protect themselves from a clumsy trap such as this. No, Watson they are very much alive and zealous in their dubious workings, only now they reside their evils elsewhere. Lestrade, the imbecile is truly oblivious to the presence of the plainest facts, even if they are right under his nose.”

“Really now, Holmes” I countered rather tartly. 

I sprang to my feet seizing the slip of paper and placing it neatly on the table before us, gently smoothening it over with my hand. Next, I grabbed the curiously positioned numbers and placed it next to the slip. Lastly, I added the list of imprinted words, jotted down by Holmes, and gave him a look of reproach.

“There, I lay the facts before you, right under your very nose. I am too obtuse of any of them, I do hope you shall shed some light on the matter.”

I sat watching my friend study the contents intensely when a sudden change grasped him. His angular countenance reflective of his concentration, his jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed and he clicked his fingers three times in a fervent fashion. With a cry of elation, sprang to his feet, shaking in excitement and grasped me by my shoulders. 

“Truly, I would be lost without my Boswell.”

He then threw himself into various texts of cryptology and remained immersed there until I took myself to bed. The morning came with nervous anticipation as no sooner had my eyes opened and adjusted to the tepid sunlit room than I was on my feet and scurrying to see what the previous evenings scrutiny had mustered. Holmes, was quite unusually passed out on the chaise lounge, his smoking pipe next to his hand. He seemed to have dropped it when he lulled to sleep. After all, he was only human too. My rush had been rather noisy and he stirred, his sleep ridden eyes dark against the sallow skin pulled over his aquiline cheekbones.  

“Aha, Watson. I must admit I have been rather dense in underestimating Emily. Never again, never again.” He muttered more to himself than me.

“You see it was never meant to be a letter, it was a cipher, quite a neat little one. Very clever indeed. Posed a challenge even to a mind such as mine, however once the pattern was established the rest fell into place.”

“These words arranged in particular order, the boxes correspond to the words and the number inside to the alphabet placed at that position. There you have a secret message. Try it for yourself.”

I scrambled to attain a pencil and began jotting down the letters as per the instructing numbers. 

“Surely this can’t make much sense, this reads as oriart nwerne doutwindowfra”

“Precisely, this is termed as what one would call a betwixillary cipher, fairly new I presume for even I was somewhat a stranger to it. I must learn where Emily came across this interesting piece herself.”

“Now look. The words My Dear Holmes must be divided right down the middle and placed at the far ends of your written letters. And hullo! There is the message.”

The incoherent words transformed to comprehension; they ran thus- Moriarty Denwer near holdout window-frames.

“Whatever is this Moriarty? Something is amiss Holmes. Denver is spelt with a ‘v’ not a ‘w’.”

“Indeed, it is ingenious. Emily, concealed her cipher commendably with a simple misspelling. A person looking for any inkling would be alerted by the v and could unscramble her efficient code. By simply disguising it she alluded her pursuer from any signs of Denver at all. A classic case of creative misdirection.”

“As for this Moriarty, it is in every way, I am convinced connected to our sinister syndicate. The source of it all? Or merely an accomplice? Or their secret to success? We shall soon know. The enormous pile of paper accounts for her attempts at ciphering I surmise and their incineration a rather clumsy move. I am still, however quite uncertain of a few aspects of our singular case. We must hurry to Denver, the rest on our way.” 

He patted me on the shoulder and shrugged out of his dressing gown and proceeded to clasp his breeches into position and tucked his shirtsleeves, pulling on his jacket and reaching for his inverness when he sharply turned to face me.

“Come now, hurry up man. We haven’t a moment to lose. Where the deuce is my overnight bag?”

“It is, I believe still lying packed since our previous journey. Mrs. Hudson’s weariness shoved in under your chemistry table.”

“There it is! Saved me the trouble of packing. Now Watson, if you shall arm yourself with your revolver and toothbrush and cover up against the country side chill, we shall be fit to leave.”

“Off to Denver then.” I announced, clicking my revolver into place.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n #henry sherlock #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock #henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x oc #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock x john #sherlock fanfic #sherlock hound #sherlock x reader #acd sherlock holmes #acd sherlock #acd canon #victorian sherlock #sherlock holmes 1954

[jackwolfes]

of you had to describe wylan and jesper in 5 adjectives (each) what would they be?

my god uhhh 😅 for jesper can i say "anything in the dsm5 criteria for adhd"

fr though:

jesper:

sarcastic (i think this captures a lot of him tbh

insecure (he spends so much of canon being so cognizant of his mistakes and the way he pushes back on digging into his own identity is. very telling.)

impulsive (its the adhd bestie)

physical (by which i mean like. hyperactive. but also he gives me really touchy-feely vibes yknow? i imagine he likes a cuddle)

protective (he! loves his friends and family! and he will do anything to make them believe theyre loved and he WILL do anything to protect them!)

wylan:

mean (rather than bitchy, which fandom says a lot, he's just. he's a bit mean. he says things that are unkind and cruel! a lot! and i personally love it)

earnest (that's his whole thing, right, he's far more EARNEST and sincere and genuine than the rest of the crows)

rich (i feel like he is, as a person, someone everyone KNOWS is a little bit different, and then when they find out he's rich as fuck that explains it. born to be rich and it shows, yknow.)

headstrong (the whole "he should have pretended to cave sooner" thing, he's stubborn!!! he likes to go the whole mile and will not allow anyone to tell him otherwise!)

clever (this feels basic but like. yeah. the whole thing is that his da wrote him off as an imbecile completely wrongly, because he's INCREDIBLY smart. just, in non-word based ways)

#asks #anon #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #six of crows

[eyelessjxcks1mp]

TO THE BONE LYRICS:JT Music(undertale)

Sans, Sans, wake up What is it, dude? A human has fallen from the surface world Really? And you got a bone to pick wit' 'em? No time for puns Come on, that was a real rib tickler, ayy Ugh, enough Alright, here we go again

Welcome to the underground How was the fall? If you wanna look around Give us a call We don't see humans often We're happy you just dropped in I'll be so popular When I show all the monsters what I just brought in Hey Papyrus, mind your manners Can it, Sans, no time for banter Excuse my brother, he's a bit eccentric You're just lazy and apathetic Call me what you want, I got thick skin Another bad joke and I'm finished with him We are monsters, the awfullest kind To mess with us takes a lot of spine

We can relate to your determination Because we monsters have our motivations Humans betrayed us and left us burnin' One day we'll make our way back to the surface Through all your travels, your sins will follow Your consequences aren't easy to swallow Who's the real monster, now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone

Really, Sans? What? The last line of the chorus is a pun? Yup You imbecile That was very clever Heh, thanks, buddy

You're stuck in the underground Thanks to the fall Good luck ever getting out Prepare to brawl You could show mercy to us Or turn all of us to dust Is your heart full of evil Or full of love? I, the great Papyrus Challenge you to try getting by us Test the human with one of your puzzles Brilliant, Sans, that'll leave him befuddled I dare you to try a bite of spaghetti Smells like the creepy pasta is ready Stop it Sans, I'm done with the jokin' Sounds like someone's funny bone's broken

We can relate to your determination Because we monsters have our motivations I am the mastermind, he's my accomplice You're only still alive because I made a promise You'll lose your mind when you wander for hours You might even decide to start talkin' to flowers Who's the real monster, now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone

Someday I'll join the royal guard When I catch this child, can it be that hard Look, if I'm being honest My brother ain't nothin' but harmless I know you and all that you want You'll get a lot more from Sans than a font The deeper you go, the messier it gets If I had it my way, you'd already be dead Kidding, if you couldn't tell I get so bored, I amuse myself Down here in the underground You're all alone We wanted to tell you now You're kinda boned If you survive this prison You will know nihilism Don't mess around with monsters They're scared of tiny children You've come far, but soon you'll stumble When I stump you with some junior jumble Not so sure you'll get him with that Alas, I'll hit him with my special attack Leave me alone You know I've got a knack for the trombone One more pun, and I'll be done But ain't two skulls better than one

We can relate to your determination Because we monsters have our motivations You know your story's already been told We can play again if you sell your soul I've got my eye on you so you just watch it I'll find any skeletons inside your closet Who's the real monster now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone

[butterflydreaming-writes-fic]

That's a thing? (What a gentleman knows)

Ed is very smart. He's smart and clever, a master tactician, full of pertinent knowledge, and a quick study. That line, "That's a thing?" highlights that there is a whole world of knowledge that has been out of his reach to even know he doesn't know. Funny, though: when he brings up retirement to Izzy, Izzy knows what retirement is, because he replies that death is the only retirement for pirates.

Sometimes you have to be introduced to an idea to know that you want it.

Ed is full of untethered longing. He's restless, claiming boredom. But just the awareness of this Gentleman Pirate piques his interest, creating direction for his longing. He has to know more about this person doing something original; he's amused, not derisive like Izzy. He points out the contradiction: an imbecile that nevertheless bested Izzy Hands.

He sees Stede, and even unconscious and feverish, he recognizes what he is longing for. Sometimes you have to see the thing that's out of place to know there is a place you haven't seen.

#our flag means death #ofmd #meta

[witchofthescions]

Erna found Fray waiting for her in the Pillars, standing idly by a lamppost. "Just the one sword between the two of us, I'm afraid. You keep it─I daresay it fits rather snugly in your hands."

Erna would beg to differ. The blade felt cumbersome and unwieldy in her inexperienced hands. She wasn't quite sure if she had the grip down properly. She thought imitating the way she saw Gosetsu and Hien hold their blades might help, but it felt... wrong. Maybe she should ask Gohnoh'a to show her how he held it once she made her way back to Doma.

"But don't worry about me─I'll do my part to keep you on your feet." Fray gestured to the conjurer's wand on her back. "Now, should things turn violent─as I expect they shall─you may need to tap into your darkside to survive."

"...How do I do that?" Erna asked.

"It's not unlike drawing upon your own aether to weave magic. A feat that I suspect you are more than familiar with, given the way you carry yourself."

Erna rubbed the back of her neck. "That obvious, huh?"

"Just a bit," Fray remarked. "Fear, pain, rage─that which lies in the deepest depths of our soul makes for a potent fuel. But be warned: burn too much too quickly, and you risk being consumed."

"Just like casting magic."

"Just like it, indeed. Do not worry, Ernastral. The first step over the threshold is always the hardest." Fray gestured ahead of them. "Right, then. Let's find the girl."

Whether it was luck or fate, they caught up to the knights with relative ease. The young Elezen maiden continued to look defiant as she stared down her captors, though Erna could still see the faintest hint of fear in her posture. There were four knights in total, the leader being the only one not wearing a helmet.

"Dammit, girl! You're only making it worse for yourself!" The knight advanced on her, reaching out to grab her with one hand. But she swatted it away, taking a step back.

"The hells with you! I've done nothing wrong!"

The pernicious knight let out a condescending sigh. "Why are the pretty ones always so daft..."

Erna's lip curled in disgust as she readied her blade, taking a menacing step towards the knight.

"If I had a gil for every time I had to kill an unrepentant bastard like you..."

The pernicious knight looked unnerved as he stared Ernastral down. "Wh-What the...? Are you threatening a Temple Knight?"

"Oh, you're very clever. Yes, I am. Now let her go."

"I... I... Enough of this!" he stammered, face turning pale before he roughly grabbed the hapless maiden by the arm. "With me, girl─now! One more word of protest and I'll toss your grandmother in a cell to rot! You three─seize this imbecile!"

The other three knights rushed forward to meet her as their leader fled. As clumsy as Ernastral was with a blade, she still made short work of the three knights that came at her. It was almost laughable; three fully grown fully trained knights against a woman who was just this side of twenty summers, who had never so much as held a sword in her life. And yet she was more than capable of bringing them to their knees.

This is hardly a challenge.

"Bring... bring everyone!" one of the defeated knights called out as he and his fellows desperately tried to run. "She's gone mad!"

It's almost... boring.

"Reinforcements, eh?" Fray remarked as the knight fled. "Looks like we'll have to even the odds. Search your soul for the darkness. We need but a sliver..."

Now seemed like a bit of an awkward time to be meditating, but she obliged regardless, closing her eyes and looking within.

"Yes," Fray said. Erna opened her eyes, and Fray directed her attention to the plumes of dark flame that appeared nearby. "Do you see, Ernastral? The flames beckon. Immerse yourself in the flames and ignite the darkness within."

She stepped into the nearest set of flames and let them wash over her. They didn't burn or even singe her; it was more like stepping into a warm summer breeze. She could feel power surge through her limbs, giving her more physical strength than she'd ever had before.

"Just so," Fray said with a note of pride. "As it burns hotter, so too does your strength swell. But drink not too deep, lest the flames consume you... Draw upon your darkside and drive your foes before you!"

Ernastral rushed ahead and met with reinforcements. She grinned at them with a hunger none had ever seen in her before. She drew her blade and rushed them, carving a bloody path through them as she chased after the knight who kidnapped the hapless maiden. From her pain and rage sprang more plumes of darkness, and she eagerly drank from each and every one she could reach.

And soon felt the weight of her hubris, as the pleasant summer breeze became as hot as a raging fever, stopping her in her tracks and causing her to retch.

"You fool! I warned you not to drink too deep," Fray chided.

An enterprising knight tried to take advantage of her momentary dizziness, but she recovered just in time. She swat them away with a single swing of her blade, before picking herself up and continuing on. She was more conscious of how much she indulged for the rest of the trek, though that did not mean she was immune to the allure of drinking too deep. It had taken her years of practice to find her limits before, after all. It would be a miracle if she were to master this in only one afternoon.

She fought and she fought, until at last she was face to face with the spineless knight who kidnapped the young woman.

"All this for a baseborn bitch!?" Erna's lip curled in disgust at the pernicious knight. "Do you know what you're doing!?"

"Aye, I do! I'm killing you and anyone else who gets in my way!"

The pernicious knight was the only one who truly gave her trouble. The others fell around her with ease as she fought like a woman possessed. Though her movements were clumsy and the blade slipped in her hands as sweat and blood made the handle slick in her grasp, she still prevailed. The pernicious knight fell before her.

A cruel grin graced her lips, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she viewed her handiwork. No more would this vile menace trouble innocent people. Her arms ached and her muscles burned, and yet she hadn't felt more alive in ages.

"The next knight who bears steel, I'll kill him, his friends, and anyone else who stands with him! I will incinerate any whoreson who thinks he can lay hands on an innocent and get away with it!"

Ernastral grinned as the words echoed off of the grand walls of the Tribunal. Once she caught her breath, she approached the young maiden and untied her.

"Th-Thank you," the maiden stammered, before making a break for the exit.

"Those of you who yet live, remember this horror! And know that should you speak of it, it shall be visited upon you again a hundredfold!"

After seeing the young maiden off outside, Fray turned once more to Ernastral.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Fray asked. "Strange, maybe─but a good strange, I'll wager. You tapped into something primal. A power nestled within you, yearning to be free."

Erna leaned against her sword, leaning on it almost like a cane. It was strange, but also familiar. Almost like black magic, in a way.

"As your understanding of this power grows, so too will your skill as a dark knight." Erna can't see Fray's face, but she's almost sure she can sense a smile behind the mask. "You've done well─far better than I could have hoped, in fact. But there is still so much more to learn─so much further to go. I won't lie to you, Ernastral. The risks will only increase. So if you want to keep going, you have to trust in me. Can you do that?"

Erna nodded, firm in her conviction.

"Good. That's a promise." Fray almost sounded pleased. "Circumstances being what they are, it might be best if we parted ways for a while. Think of it as an opportunity to hone your skills in my absence. But don't worry─we will meet again. When the time is right, I'll be waiting where we first met."

And with that, they parted ways.

#The Unending Journey (Drabbles) #Darkest Defender (Dark Knight) #Born in Blood (Stormblood)