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libidomechanica · 5 months

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“Press, not locks and when the streaks, hast ye softness where borne”

A limerick sequence

The fire; full ornament carefully Alexandering Boy I speak of pearl sprung. Press, not locks and when the streaks, hast ye softness where borne with Richard about thou?

For, thou now? Words were green, she leane, framed, the only my condemn’d then can make us were not from so falling sea. Gift of a cheek to desire should, I opine.

III

There too, I have beyond althought; nothings serve, but Juan to a cypress growth and for pity of the true? Not alofte, that dart,— beautiful, and one vena cava.

And, pass’d her arms and situation. To the Head, a God of my brook at their spring. A simple, from me remote hert doth as might will be from he week, to thine?

Na thy strange stages, and Philosophic lyre; her stars: come odes of door, in June, that is on, if but no dark, cradle; his woe, but wide, as you say’st, the which fain boils.

Of my stone shape! But as a long men whores of lover headlong I should take so destroys it; not beauty was rather doubt? Love, deep as a clamorous sharp sparkle.

VII

I’m guess’d, and say—I can love proud meant from mine. The joy he tulip, whose and a living the sky, and them shall not that awoke with his quiet as the comes away.

VIII

’Er you know ye seemly sing silent to the days there will to thee, you will spends up he repent. Blow, as they streaming learning horses, like one or thanked fish-woman!

Whoever hands of at also when the stay here right I cares scum, and the earth’s safe alas! ’Er and weeping, tinger mine earth in you could lightest be quieted.

Meet, and ruled! Three, but when it and died antagenet. Swerve. Gone to then removed, or else walls, who takes a procreatured either told. Yes! And nimbler murmuring.

Still, would the unhappy spirits appeareth. The letter plant with come other lonely they common the dusky colour of forest her and damns me in the braue.

XII

Did not what dawning bloom, thy men, or whether? Wither frail of colour title, hurricanes of no vaile we should not why? Colin came to thee; then will lives us.

XIII

To guilt thought, that least of song conne, to was sister. Let our down heave there that beard, the starte, and shown lucus a noun. When the steed his disgrace: binde you beautiful dream?

XIV

From all that lurk in the daffodils. Yet I knew the choice no word to sate its in the wish than at Waterline who every playnts, her strife! My stocks of troubled him.

And you do not thereof nobly folly hath thy took her yet I blame, its edge the breaches they have bent. From kisses, there, in the thou have once, every grace to life!

XVI

When I wrote loved! The flush’d by a separate wide and looke the roof, some pearls comes in fresh numbering home, if though the bound it should she wings of love there’s an in it.

XVII

Guilty hand, leave more the removed your lives at Rome, the blacken at his dead, and blue; strike, and raven of Mt. Plain on men heads where myne eyes, like to each can looked.

XVIII

The bastard sight, and play at would not to weep this; my paper siluer so he rose, waves her own! Lest said, by me haunting in earth. He wylfull the must play away?

XIX

Of bards be terms in Guido’s fault I be chasing any now in black night, and you it’s wreathing’s fierce: ’ my ways your souls! He scentertain so stuff, live wisest the bat.

This light assay we would fly, and then? For was told, and allows on her and no, those fall, on snowy shriek, that we will ye hear, Eadwacer? Away. Here humble vain.

XXI

To dull, as those to vaile, taking on thee; that is the Sphinx. When I ’d for any trouble you blind her Secret witch becomes in heart, nothings chiming liberty.

XXII

He all of a call somewhere she world is saving age, i, that sweet fadeth now my small locked, or didst thou may foreigner, and serious each, Love? The favour for me!

XXIII

From Love! I under one who, in your want these mone of her part,—beauty’s declaretless—how a funnel of inconversation, one with the want their charge of pains.

XXIV

How them often hear a troop of dream. Before he did not this contention: at which their damsels! With kisses skill Desire on her husband never about there?

XXV

Equal with went over the cocked haye. Foolish matter; saying ever flowers are relish, their or a shamefull flesh and brainsoaked garden gave was it was.

XXVI

Into them I love in dew? Whose disparity of yore. Than ever shining no more better clown, sitting much did not, then pride, and prove Nymph and howe’er histories.

XXVII

And shooting over them and dumb? Our spring and hence, then, in sleep. Tis better other and the very kindly with the stalks to change, war, a stones with pardon me.

XXVIII

Whose descry a mournful gust own, and all the dark palm trees, lay the Mounter bark and her maxim forming is fawn. But the greet thy silver-clearer bid falcon-eye?

XXIX

The river on. And her parley Mill her, Sister, or identity. Out, the below, mild revoke thee, you within and farewell’d towards of the green, a catch light.

XXX

These, freckled and die: your sounds, siller in the days that he mirror these that once, and farewell’d grass; but live at sings rare a words were they were white, we’re weeping, cheek!

XXXI

Still with it must enemy who take her days that flatter with fig forever than shorn away? Ay, Love wither whither steep may be: vnited as that would under.

XXXII

Wound up from death to do we home. To sea, betrother braiding galleries of the sun and a places all past: dissolution I move into his terrible!

XXXIII

And on pole! Humid see and tell, wherein came years it grew,—saith sike delight, told timidly expire. And this, faint extremely dash the palate thy wit we can he.

XXXIV

Burner, sad temper Juan all the Sphinx. But where was a more. Of wife butteranced in the rising speech, and woman, in dead fled feel it should remain day, till these.

XXXV

Shape of the table to thy goodly race! You will not you no stinge, he talled Hope is my ladies ruin. To looking on her stain’d of sunsettle, where further.

XXXVI

Tush, there. That lurk in a damsels in New York, lying easy my extremely few: I have ye, merry head, and golden will, they with ’haviour simple state a maid.

XXXVII

Nor Palinode if thou have been adverse. Mother mistress a night of fire it was fully. Southwest stomakes him daily sails the fragrant mind was not quicken.

XXXVIII

She slain an owl-songs of a silent claim it was off, and I hold of a there, and a feint. Yet into a swooning on thy good release: she shall used up a weight.

XXXIX

How she had choice is a tighten’d, murmur, seem Angel of reason betighted to drink? Let could make so mastery object of Eternity, where will ne’er renne.

And yet, heart the simple she sweete Violines. For Poesy! When not in ashes, those themselves sae press grown, resembling extant with they may between the presented!

XLI

For him, looking, enamour, ’ reply, marrying were are not he. Meanwhile her brow’s blue; stripping, cheek, but she, like a common to cast a corpse-light the daffodils.

XLII

Then she next day, and the raignes and bones which lays bore: now I must between first stronger went to his fechtin’ a kennel. And look into linger; the horn, and breath.

XLIII

Death, and the hour own heart within it. -Shed her, and please mind in the breath crime, and poor fishes,—he dream! A hand of love-poem! Are flowers quickly five. Meads some tree.

XLIV

Break, and fiery like home one gentleman, and be barren to face in for Cleone. But the wisardsweltre inlaid who eats heard nobleness, and to my dear, the bough!

XLV

—You can’t the her sinks back-hoe. Will streamlet flye: sike might, unlevel without signs, and Science, far away. That the whose will pry into think that that through with the weeds.

XLVI

So sweet, in so he castle, an’ wilfull of mine own full tongue. I’ll taken of sunset, because he will hear me? Bettering letter cloud that stepped it a tawdrie lace.

XLVII

When beauteous eyes a lawn in none; and, and betray us. Their his like an infancy as just of them and heavy! So noises and there was compare? Ten tragedie.

XLVIII

Serene, and keepe in and part potent to you would burnish matter answer and the fish. To sharp eyes, but, pale than field, may I love, why should make here, so cleft our love.

XLIX

While young Semele such place, as on her charm, alas! That white fancie, draw one: a poor hath been entangle heats.—Excuse her his neuer her all in libel, or fret.

Or articles of Glory. I am from eyes shut index. A longer and nowe wildering, I gavel. Tho’ in the learne there is Dido, dead made up in earth.

A coldly ting’d with us. And thy beauty. For, Maud and, some cannot toss and such as amiss, expected. Place came light Emperor histories. So saint, to hide wave!

LII

To my tears, whoso fair attitude, Shared with together round. And warrior magnets all of fervenche that the breeze with it faithful Sun. Or the whole would faint a kind.

LIII

A soft land, and thou seems Beauties the Elysian miracle; and put be crown’d by a right the young man, let the glad of ruin. More to ill: there’s joy, Adieu!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #177 texts #limerick sequence

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 2 years

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Around the Corner (Part 1)

Oliver Wood and the Reader couldn’t hate each other more. On the other hand, neither could be more in love with their mysterious pen pal.

Oliver Wood x Ravenclaw!Reader

3.5k words

A/N: Inspired by the movies “You’ve Got Mail” and “The Shop Around the Corner”. I actually loved writing this one!

“Here comes your boyfriend,” Cho Chang giggled as she looked down the Great Hall.

I scowled at my younger teammate and turned around. Sure enough, Oliver Wood was walking towards me, eyes ablaze. Coming to yell at me. Again.

“Wood,” I greeted coldly as he approached the Ravenclaw table.

He scowled in response. “Did you do it?” he spat.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Do what?”

“You know what,” he answered through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes at me.

A smirk played on my lips. “Oh please, Oliver,” I mocked in a syrupy voice. “Just give me a little hint about what you mean.”

The boy huffed and leaned in close, our noses almost touching. “Someone,” he hissed, “messed with my laundry after the house-elves took it. Now all my whites are pink.”

Sure enough, a pale pink shirt collar peeked out from underneath his black robes, clashing with his Gryffindor tie.

“How unfortunate,” I purred, turning back to my breakfast.

He slammed his fist down on the table. My teammates around me flinched, but I just smirked back at the burly sixteen-year-old boy.

“You’re such a- such a-” he stuttered.

I blinked with mock innocence. “Why Ollie,” I cooed, using the name I knew he hated. “Your face matches your shirt.”

“You’ll pay for this,” he growled. With that, he turned on his heel and stomped over to the Gryffindor table, where his friends were watching our conversation with interest.

The Ravenclaws around me began twittering to one another excitedly; finally, my friend Maggie dared to address me.

“Did you do it?” Her hushed question brought silence to the rest of the group around us.

I smirked and took a sip of my pumpkin juice. “What d’you think?”

No one could be quite sure when Oliver and Y/N first began to clash.

Was it when they became the captains of their respective teams?

Was it after that match where they crashed midair and ended up with season-ending injuries?

Was it because of that time they were paired up for that unfortunate potions assignment where they managed to melt Oliver’s cauldron and blow off Y/N’s eyebrows?

Was it when Y/N bought the last cauldron cake on the Hogwarts Express from right under Oliver’s nose?

Was it because of the time Y/N cheered for Slytherin over Gryffindor in that one match? (Which, of course, Oliver took quite personally, despite fully knowing it was only because the match impacted Ravenclaw’s own fate in the House Cup that year.)

Or perhaps it was after a twelve-year-old Oliver Wood received an anonymous love letter, which he jeeringly read aloud to any second-year who would listen before Transfiguration class, not knowing its authoress was sitting only two rows behind him, ready to run to Ravenclaw tower as soon as class ended so she could cry her eyes out in peace.

Despite my tumultuous morning interaction with Oliver Wood, I found myself nearly skipping to Ancient Runes. It was strange; the subject was not one I particularly loved, but I looked forward to each and every class.

About a month ago, Professor Babbling came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea. Students were tasked with writing notes in runes, which were then delivered to the other class section for them to decipher and respond to in numbered mailboxes set up in the back of the classroom. It had been a silly assignment, with most students sending notes with mocking messages, or dirty limericks inspired by Peeves, or simply signed their names.

But the note I received intrigued me.

In the town where I was born

Lived a man who sailed to sea

And he told us of his life

In the land of submarines

I recognized the words immediately; my Muggle father had ensured that I had a wide knowledge of Beatles songs. With a giggle, I responded in kind:

I am the eggman

They are the eggman

I am the walrus

Goo goo g’joob

The next time I attended Ancient Runes, I was amused to find the note was written in plain English rather than the required runes (not that Professor Babbling was bothering to check).

You have good taste. What other bands do you like?

And so began a series of notes, back and forth, continuing long after everyone else had given up on their tomfoolery. The notes grew into letters, with the topics expanding from music to what we thought of the class to some of our most personal thoughts.

But neither of us knew the others’ name.

I knew the writer was a boy; we had shared that much. But other than that, my only other clue to his identity was that he was in the Ancient Runes Level 2 class (I was in Level 3), which was, unfortunately, a mix of houses and years. The only thing I could figure out was that he was at least in his fourth year since students had to be in at least their third year to start the Level 1 class.

Despite my friends’ incessant questioning, and my own curiosity, I had no intention of finding out my nameless friend’s identity. We had both agreed that the mystery of an anonymous pen pal was thrilling, and besides, there was a small, quiet part of me that was terrified to find out who my confidant was; what if he was nothing like the boy I was exchanging letters with? Or, even worse, what if I wasn’t what he expected?

No. It was better to keep things on parchment.

… right?

Making sure no one was watching, Oliver nonchalantly made his way over to the mailboxes in the back of the Ancient Runes classroom and stuck his hand into the familiar cubby. Lucky number 13. And there it was: a letter from his mysterious friend. He quietly tucked it into his textbook, knowing he’d spend more time wondering about its contents than actually paying attention to the day’s lecture.

As soon as Professor Babbling dismissed the Level 2 class, Oliver dashed out of the room and found a quiet seat in a deserted hallway where he could read the letter in peace.

Dear Friend, it started, as most of their letters did. Every year I reread the same book. Isn’t that kind of silly? But I can’t help it, it’s been my favorite since I was 12. Have you ever heard of a Muggle author named Jane Austen? She’s wonderful. Most boys I know don’t like her, but that’s only because they refuse to give any kind of romance a chance! She’s very clever and very witty, I promise. Her book Pride and Prejudice is my absolute favorite. The first time I read it I cried when… well, I won’t spoil it for you.

Oliver smiled as he read. Jane Austen? Pride and Prejudice? He didn’t really know what in the world his pen pal was talking about, but he didn’t care. He was learning something new about his anonymous friend. Something brought her joy, and he was determined to learn more about it.

During his free period, he made his way to the library. He wasn’t sure if the Hogwarts library carried Muggle books, but he was going to find out.

He quietly asked Madam Pince about the book in question, and she pointed the way to the collection of Muggle books she kept. Oliver hurried over, eager to find out what had his pen pal so excited. His golden eyes scanned the shelves until he found the book he needed.

Merlin, he thought as he picked up the thick novel. It’s gonna take me forever to finish this. He sighed. Might as well get started.

After checking out the book, he glanced the clock to see how much time he had before his next class. Seeing that he still had some time, Oliver hurried to find a good spot to begin the book. He had a particular favorite table, near the back of the library, where very few people ever went. It was peaceful, and quiet, and-

“Oh.”

Oliver ground to a halt when he saw Y/N sitting at his table, working on homework. She glanced up at the sound of his voice and raised an eyebrow at him in greeting.

“Wood.”

“L/N,” he answered, mirroring her flat voice, the most cordial tone either of them ever used with each other. At least it was better than their bi-weekly screaming matches in the Great Hall.

Her gaze was unwavering. “Need something?”

Oliver shifted. “Was looking for a place to read.”

Most people would have offered him a seat of their table

“Well, good luck with that.”

No invitation. Of course.

Her eyes floated to the book in his hands. “Doesn’t look like that one has many pictures.” She craned her neck to get a better view before Oliver could hide the title. “What d’you have there?” There was a look of vague interest in her eyes, something Oliver rarely saw, especially directed at himself.

“Not your business,” he replied shortly. He turned and briskly walked off, not bothering to pay attention to what direction he was going in. He didn’t even realize he had walked right out of the library until he was already in the hallway.

Sometimes, Oliver was shocked by how rude he could be to Y/N. But she knew exactly how to get under his skin, how to piss him off, how to fluster and frustrate him to no end. He knew that was hardly an excuse for his behavior, especially when he had younger Gryffindors watching him with admiration, but he hardly cared. Y/N was the absolute bane of his existence, and he would treat her as such.

“D’you think Oliver Wood’s smart?” The words slipped out of my mouth absently as I sat with Maggie in the Ravenclaw common room, scanning our notes for an upcoming Charms test.

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “Saw him in the library this afternoon. He was carrying a book, a pretty big one, and I started wondering if he’s as thick as I assumed he was.” The look on Maggie’s face confused me. “What?”

“Just a little surprised to hear you so interested,” she answered carefully, a smile playing on her lips. “You usually sound so angry whenever you say his name.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, he was an absolute prick when I saw him.” I scowled. “Wouldn’t even let me see what he was reading.”

Maggie smirked at me. “Probably because you would’ve taken the mickey out of him if he’d told you what it was. Honestly, I can’t blame him.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact that she was completely right. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t know why I even brought it up.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Maggie answered, smirk still on her face.

Oliver triumphantly returned Pride and Prejudice to Madam Pince a week and a half later, who seemed a bit surprised by how quickly he had brought it back. He felt proud of himself; reading wasn’t something he often did for himself unless it involved quidditch, but he had actually enjoyed the book. Once he got past the funny way the characters spoke and the social norms of nearly 200 years ago, he found that the story was interesting, and the characters were as clever and heartwarming as his mysterious friend had promised.

He couldn’t wait to tell her.

Dear friend,

You were right. Lizzie and Darcy and all the rest of them were wonderful. I can see why a lot of guys would shy away from it, but Merlin it was good. Which part made you cry? I bet it was when Lizzie finds out Darcy broke up her sister and Bingley. Or was it when she and Darcy get together? I’ve never been much of a romantic, but I can see why girls think that Darcy fellow is a dream. I bet he was one of your first big crushes, wasn’t he?

Oliver felt himself blush as he reread his own words. He hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, but he was desperately in love with someone whose name he didn’t even know. But he couldn’t help himself; she knew him inside-out (well, inside at least) and made him feel safe and known in a way no one else ever did.

“What’re you smiling at?” Percy slid into the chair next to Oliver’s, pulling out some homework. His eyes fell on the parchment in Oliver’s hands. “Another love letter?”

Oliver rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Shove off,” he mumbled, pulling his writing close to his chest, out of Percy’s sight.

Percy smirked, enjoying seeing his usually confident friend waver with embarrassment. “Come on, why haven’t you asked her to meet yet?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly. “Scared it might be my brothers?”

“Yeah.” Sarcasm dripped from Oliver’s voice. “Fred and George devised a brilliant plan to get me to read Jane Austen.” He paused a moment. “Wait. That is something they wound do, isn’t it?” Panic spread over his face for a moment.

“Don’t worry,” Percy assured him with a laugh. “They’ve no idea who that is, so we can cross them off the list of suspects.” He tapped the table thoughtfully. “But honestly, Wood. I think it’s time. Unless you plan on keeping these secret letters going til you graduate and it’s too late to do anything?”

Oliver hesitated a moment. “Perce, can I be serious with you for a moment?” His roommate’s solemn nod gave him the go-ahead. He took a deep breath. “What is she doesn’t like me?” he half-whispered. “What if… what if we meet, and I’m not what she’s expecting?”

Percy stared at his roommate with a dumbfounded expression. “Are you daft?” he scoffed. “You’re Oliver-Bloody-Wood. Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. And you look like that.” He gestured broadly at Oliver’s muscular figure. “Mate, she’ll practically faint when she sees it’s you,” he assured Oliver.

A silence passed between them as Oliver considered things. “You think… you really think it’s time?”

“No time like the present,” Percy confirmed with a shrug. “Carpe diem and all that.”

Oliver nodded absently. “Yeah. Yeah, carpe diem.”

My hands trembled with excitement as I pulled out the folded parchment from the little cubby I shared with my anonymous pen pal. Maggie and Penelope exchanged grins as they watched me shove the note into my bag. I shot the girls a wink as we took our seats. They were the only two who knew about my writing partner, and they loved to tease me about my “mystery man”, as they affectionately called him.

As always, class dragged on the way it tended to do when I had a fresh letter in my bag. The moment Professor Babbling dismissed us, I rushed out of the classroom, calling back to my friends that I’d meet them in Ravenclaw tower in time for dinner. Taking care to avoid anyone who would want to stop me for a chat, I found a seat outside, where I could enjoy the last bits of sun before it went down.

The letter quickly made its way out of my bag and into my hands, where I unfolded it and smoothed it out on my lap.

Dear friend,

You were right. Lizzie and Darcy and all the rest of them were wonderful….

A small giggle escaped my lips. He’d read the book! He’d put the effort in and found the book (which honestly, I didn’t even know Hogwarts had) and read it! Relief flooded my mind as I realized he’d actually liked it too.

I bet he was one of your first big crushes, wasn’t he?

Hmm. He wasn’t wrong; I would be lying if I said the words “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” weren’t etched into my heart and soul. Before I could form a not-too-embarrassing response to his correct assumption, my eyes continued skimming down the letter. There, the final paragraph caused my breath to stop.

We should meet.

Simple. Straightforward. Not a question, a statement.

We should meet.

My hands began to shake. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t expecting this to happen eventually; I had even penned those words myself more than once before tossing the rejected drafts into the fireplace in the Ravenclaw common room. Of course I wanted to meet him. Of course I wanted to see the guy whose words occupied my every daydream.

I shoved the letter back into my bag and sprinted in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. Maggie and Penelope would surely have the perfect advice for me; Penelope was always with Percy Weasley, and Maggie seemed to be running around with new boyfriend every month, so they would know exactly how I should respond.

My thoughts were interrupted by what felt like a brick wall crashing into me.

“Alright there?”

The concern on Oliver’s face disappeared as soon as he registered that it was me who’d crashed into him. It was replaced with a scowl.

“Honestly, Wood,” I mumbled, his appearance popping my joyful bubble. “Should watch where you’re going.”

“Where I’m going?” he huffed back. “Merlin, you sure know how to ruin a perfectly good day.” He shoved past me and continued down the hall. I couldn’t help but watch after him for a moment; it was so confusing to me that more than a couple girls watched him walk by with admiration on their faces.

Didn’t they know what an absolute jerk he was? Sure, he was a good-looking boy, even I could see that. But he was brash. And rude. And short-tempered. And Merlin, could the guy think of anything but quidditch and torturing me?

“-and he’s not even that good of a quidditch player,” I grumbled as Penelope and Maggie led me to the Ravenclaw table for dinner about fifteen minutes later. “Like he’s okay, but is he actually that good? I mean, Gryffindor hasn’t even won a House Cup since he became Captain!” My friends exchanged weary glances. “What?”

Penelope shrugged. “It’s just kind of funny how Oliver could make you totally forget that you have a letter to share with us,” she said carefully.

Maggie nodded in agreement. “He kind of occupies a huge space in your mind.”

“And maybe your heart?” Penelope giggled.

If my eyes rolled any further back, I’d probably be able to see my own brain. “Absolutely not. Listen, I may have had a small crush on him in second year-”

“You were absolutely in love with the boy,” Maggie corrected with a sentimental smile.

Penelope chuckled. “Remember how she used to sneak out to watch Gryffindor quidditch practice just to see him?”

“-but that was before I knew what an absolute tosser he was,” I finished, pretending my friends hadn’t said a word. “Anyways, you’re right, I do have more important things to worry about.” I pulled out the letter that I’d tucked into my pocket before dashing to join my friends for dinner. “He wants to meet,” I sighed. “He said if I agree, he’ll be at the Three Broomsticks on Saturday at 1.” I bit my lip anxiously. “I should do it, right?”

“Yes!” both girls chorused.

My heart eased at my friends’ enthusiasm. “Merlin, I can’t wait to meet him,” I admitted. “He’s so funny, and sweet, and guys, he actually read Pride and Prejudice after I told him it’s my favorite.” A giant sigh heaved from my chest. “He’s perfect.” My gaze landed across the Great Hall, on a pair of fiery golden eyes that met mine with aggravation. “Absolutely different than some other boys I could mention,” I added with a grumble.

Quickly, my attention turned back to my girlfriends, who helped me plan out my response so I could have it ready for our next Ancient Runes class.

“Did she answer?”

Percy slid onto the bench beside Oliver, peering at his friend with great interest. He waved at Penelope across the quad, where his girlfriend stood with Y/N, who, as usual, glowered when she caught sight of Oliver.

Ignoring Y/N for once, Oliver handed the letter to Percy with a flare. “She did.”

“Ah!” Percy quickly skimmed the letter. “So, Saturday at 1. She’ll have her copy of Pride and Prejudice with a belladonna tucked in it, eh?” He handed the parchment back to Oliver. “How romantic,” he teased.

Oliver shoved him good-naturedly. “Honestly Perce, even if she just wants to be friends, I’d be the happiest man on earth.” He shot his roommate a wide grin. “But Merlin, wouldn’t it be great if she’s just as mad about me?” He sighed and traced the letters on the note for the millionth time since he’d received it after class that afternoon. “She’s gonna be perfect,” he breathed gently. “I just know it.”

Part 2

#oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oliver x reader #the shop around the corner #you've got mail

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fromafriend · 3 years

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Introducing “Musings:Poetic Echoes”

. Eugenia Fain, here. Glad to meet your acquintance. “Musings: Poetic Echoes” Is an available on Amazon. It was published in 2020 in the good old United States of America. Holt publishers in America collaborated with me on this fine project. The poetry this book contains stirs the reader with musings from my heart to his. I like a good cup of iced coffee while I contemplate the world around me. My philosophy of life is filled with observations, lessons and vivid imagery from the world around me

There are humorous pieces, serious pieces and everything in between. The poems continue by tradition of using international forms by ancient masters of my craft. There are even a few pieces inspired by other medium such as paintings or songs. I enjoyed working on this book tremendously . There a few of my favorite poetry forms like haiku and acrostics. There are others which are less common to avid readers like the kimo and the sijo.

I often muse to myself about the world around me. I use common ordinary occurences in this book. Rains, gardens, maxims about life, limericks. There is even the challenging poem that displays the alphabet in sequential order as the beginning letter of each line. It was quite a challenge to use all the alphabets as the start of his line form A-Z.

This book is dedicated to my departed parents. It is a simple dedication, but one that is heartfelt. This book is for those young and old who love contemporary literature. I aim to celebrate the written word in this work. The pen is powerful. Just like storytelling in some cultures, the written work that that I have here can be transmitted all around the world. This Amazon production is available in print, ebook, and audiobook forms.

I hope that your curiousity will be aroused. Check out this title in one of its forms. The audiobook is my latest attempt at reaching more people. The choice is yours. Leave me a review on Amazon. Give me a shout out!

#Poetry

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theimpossiblescheme · 4 years

Photo

Alain Boublil and Claude‐Michel Schönberg’s Cyrano de Bergerac-–-The Concept Inspiration Album (X)

Full tracklist transcript under the cut:

“There You Are”—The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“At the End of the Day”—Les Miserables

“Prologue”—Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

“Paris est Libéré (Paris Is Freed)“—Marguerite

“The Day Off”—Sunday in the Park With George

“Working on the Land”—Martin Guerre

“As Someday It May Happen”—The Mikado

“Nose Song”—Cyrano

“I, Don Quixote”—Man of La Mancha

“Opium Den Ballet”—The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Take a Little Wine”—The Three Musketeers

“Woman”—The Pirate Queen

“Lily’s Eyes”—The Secret Garden

“Paris By Night”—The Three Musketeers

“C’est Moi”—Camelot

“From Now Till Forever”—Cyrano

“Color and Light”—Sunday in the Park With George

“Life of a Musketeer”—The Three Musketeers

“À Versailles”—La Révolution Française

“It’s a Maze”—The Secret Garden

“Master of the House”—Les Miserables

“The Simple Joys of Maidenhood”—Camelot

“A Girl in the Valley”—The Secret Garden

“Bergerac”—Cyrano

“In My Life”—Les Miserables

“The Pirate Queen”—The Pirate Queen

“Red and Black” –Les Miserables

“Chromolume #7/Putting It Together”—Sunday in the Park With George

“Rah Rah Tip Top”—The Pirate Queen

“Pierre”—Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

“Martin Guerre”—Martin Guerre

“The Challenges”—The Three Musketeers

“Show Me the Key”—The Secret Garden

"The Face I See“—Marguerite

“Sleeping On Our Own”—Martin Guerre

“I’m Only Thinking of Him”—Man of La Mancha

“Moscow”—Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

“Charles Gauthier”—La Révolution Française

“If Ever I Would Leave You”—Camelot

“Martin Guerre (Reprise)”—Martin Guerre

“Then You May Take Me to the Fair”—Camelot

“Me”—Martin Guerre

“Quatre Saisons Pour un Amour”—La Revolution Française

"Waiting“—Marguerite

“A Heart Full of Love”—Les Miserables

“Tell Me to Go”—Martin Guerre

“You Have Made Me Love”—Cyrano

“All I Know”—Martin Guerre

“My Eyes Are Fully Open”—Ruddigore

“Thither, Thother, Thide Of The...”—Cyrano

“Valmy”—La Revolution Française

“I Will Be There”—The Count of Monte Cristo

“Why God, Why”—Miss Saigon

"The World Begins Today“—Marguerite

“Guinevere”—Camelot

"Come One, Come All“—Marguerite

“The Way It Ought To Be (Paris)”—A Tale of Two Cities

“Drink With Me”—Les Miserables

“Jenny of Oldstones”—Game of Thrones

“Bethlehem”—Martin Guerre

“The Morning of the Dragon”—Miss Saigon

“A Story Told”—The Count of Monte Cristo

"The Letter“—Marguerite

“The Promise”—A Tale of Two Cities

"China Doll (Reprise)“—Marguerite

“Out on a Limerick”—The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“I’ll Be There”—The Pirate Queen

“Where in the World”—The Secret Garden

“I Will Make You Proud”—Martin Guerre

“Overture”—La Révolution Française

“Prologue”—A Tale of Two Cities

“At the Barricade”—Les Miserables

“The Reckoning”—Martin Guerre

“Il s'appelle Charles Gauthier”—La Révolution Française

“Doing Very Well”—The Three Musketeers

“Turning”—Les Miserables

“Moonfall Quartet”—The Mystery of Edwin Drood

“Autumn Carol”—Cyrano

“Pierre and Natasha”—Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

“The Great Comet of 1812” –Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

“Finale”—The Hunchback of Notre Dame

#I have been working on this all day and now I need to pass out... I hope people enjoy it though! <3 #cyrano de bergerac #The Fake Cyrano Musical #if music be the food of love play on #And yes that is the poster from the Broadway Revival because I'm too tired to design my own poster right now. XD

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

BTS365 Prompts.Week19

[Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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May 7th - 13th

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Kim Seokjin: Lost sock

Running around the hotel room Seokjin was panicking. He had a short time to get ready and then he had to leave this wasn’t time to lose his right sock.

“Jin there is no time we got to go.”

“Jimin I can’t wear one sock!”

“It will be fine hurry up and get in the car before your bride gets there before you do”

Seokjin waited at the end of the aisle nervous but everything disappeared when he saw you walking in. You cheekily lifted a small part of the dress to reveal your pretty heels and on sock clad foot and he felt his heart flutter.

Min Yoongi: Room

There was an old music room on campus. Where nobody goes, it is said to be haunted, people who go there quickly leave reporting strange noises and some even claim to see a pale ghostly figure. You are running away from the campus’ official creep named Allan. Midst your hasty escape you hadn’t realised that you were heading towards an unused area within the music building. Allan was closing in with the speed of a tornado.

Ducking through the nearest door you found yourself within an old music room. It was cold, dark and there was a small layer of dust covering everything. Which didn’t strike you as odd as the room was full of unused or broken equipment.

Only a few steps into the room you found yourself feeling uneasy like you were being watched. But you couldn’t turn back now not whilst Allan was on the loose. Taking a seat in front of the small upright piano you found it odd that there was no dust on the wooden cover.

Lifting the cover, the ebony and ivory keys greeting you, each looking a little worn.

With a little hesitation for how the piano would sound, you began playing a small tune a familiar one you often heard in the music building but no one ever knew who the artist was. You had transcribed it at home hours of replicating the sound as best as you could. But the song was never finished so you took it upon yourself to create an ending you so fit. The song itself was melancholy with a hint of desperate longing. So the ending you had written rounded the conveyed emotion into something a little gentle and loving.

You played happily and pale hands came down over yours and you retracted yours back and tried to turn to see who had scared you so badly but the music these hands created was mesmerizing you could do no more than watch the long fingers dance over the keys.

Jung Hoseok: Twilight zone @taesguccibag

Hoseok hates all things scary, he hated fast rides, ghosts, scary movies, loud noises and angry people. So when he woke in a dark forest in the rain he was scared, he heard strange noises and there you were standing in front of him on this strange animal he had never seen.

You spoke, your voice soft but odd somehow like he wasn’t sure if he really heard you. He looked over you as he heard you speak again and noticed your mouth wasn’t moving he looked around before his eyes landed on you. You smiled at him, your voice filling his head just as gently as the first time.

“You are not from around here?”

“Where is here?”

“Exactly where you are from. But here and different”

“I can see that”

“Follow me we should head somewhere safe before anyone sees your from the other dimension”

Kim Namjoon: Limerick

There was a legend of a man with a sharp mind and quick wit, he was never married but he was wealthy, it seems that those who met him only spoke negatively about him. You were curious, surely he wasn’t as bad as they said, you were to be wed to an older gentleman you had never met. Already classified as a disgrace because you were so old, but you had heard this gentleman was your age and handsome.

You went to see him hoping this could be your chance at salvation, your chance to at least choose who you were married too.

Dressed in your best hanbok, you walked to the edge of town and arrived at the small temple you waited in line you were the last one who would be seen.

The sun was setting when you finally met him, he was strange looking the more you started the more interested you became with his features each beautiful yet so odd, but you weren’t here for looks, you were here for brains.

“How can I help you?”

“I would like to persuade you into the idea of marriage”

“You are not the first, what is your reasoning, is it money, it is definitely not for my looks”

“No, I do not wish for fortune and I find your appearance to be quite charming, I hear you are a smart man and I am set to wed a horrible man” You handed him the letter and he read it quickly, frowning as he progressed down the page.

“I think it is not too dramatic to say I would do anything not to marry this man.”

“Their once was a woman from a small town, who would look much better without a frown, to save herself from his bed, another man she will wed, wearing her best gown” he grinned looking up at you.

“There once was a man named Namjoon

With eyes as bright as the moon, he didn’t know of his looks, his head stuck in his books, I wish to marry him this afternoon” the scholar seemed to blush at your words

Park Jimin: Frog

Jimin was a shy boy, from a wealthy family, he had never stepped foot outside of his family home without an escort and had never spoken to another child his age without it being arranged. He had his scheduled play dates with Taehyung and Jungkook when they were free from their studies. There was a young girl next door that he sometimes heard playing, she was from a rich family as well and she would giggle loudly claiming to be catching her frog prince. Jimin grew older as did she and could still hear her sometimes talking to the frog about how she really wished they were a prince in disguise.

One day he finished his studies and sat by the stone wall waiting to hear her talk to the frogs and chase them. It amused him to this day that you still couldn’t catch them, that being said you were successful once but you squealed and threw the frog over the fence in panic because you had actually touched it.

Jimin was in his early twenties and heard you crying, you were talking to the frogs about how you felt alone.

Climbing swiftly over the fence Jimin grinned when he saw you laying on the small stone bench. “It is I your frog prince” he was in fits of laughter as he saw you flail yourself off the bench.

Kim Taehyung: Chicken

You worked with a food delivery service, and it didn’t matter the food, the price or the amount, whenever you started your shift you would receive the same address, every time. Greeted by a handsome young man around your age. Today was an order for fried chicken but it was a different address. Perhaps you wouldn’t meet the handsome young man, the thought actually disappointed you somewhat.

After all this time had you started enjoying your little moments with the young man? Of course you had he was so soft spoken and shy, you truly loved seeing him, maybe he was sick or hurt or injured.

The unknown was driving you crazy, there was nothing you could do taking the fried chicken to the new address you were escorted inside.

“I have a delivery of fried chicken?”

“Ah!” There he was looking absolutely amazing with his long dark hair in a perm. “I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you today”

“So was I, you're my favorite” placing the food in his hands trying to disregard the feeling of his hand brushing yours.

As you walked away you heard laughter, “he is blushing”

“She said I was her favorite!”

Jeon Jungkook: Dance @munchyn

The school dance was coming up and it was ladies' choice, the moment it was announced you watched your best friend Jungkook greet bombarded by almost every girl in school. And he always apologizes declining politely and saying he was waiting for a certain someone to ask him. It must have been the most popular girl in school, who else would he wait for.

So when lunch came around and the school's most prettiest, smartest and most popular girl sauntered over to your table you placed your lunch down no longer hungry.

“Hey Kookie, I heard you were waiting for a special someone to ask you to the dance?”

“Yes I am” he smiled up at her with his bunny teeth on show.

“Well I am here so you don’t have to wait any longer”

Standing you went to leave unable to witness this any longer, Jungkook caught your hand in the middle of the lunch hall. “Y/n I know it’s a girl's choice but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to ask me to go to the dance with you?”

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twistednuns · 3 years

Text

October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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dragonagecompanions · 5 years

Text

Dragonagecompanions Masterlist

Dragon Age Origins

Wynne’s Funeral

Warden got kidnapped

Agender Warden

Warden possessed by a spirit

Companions as Atla Benders

Warden gets badly injured

Warden gets hit on (GIF)

Dwarf! Warden sees a bird and screams

Warden putting booties on Dog (GIF)

Dog stole the Warden’s clothes and they are running around naked (GIF)

Love songs with companions and Warden

Receiving an unexpected kiss from the Warden (GIF)

Warden telling them that they are sexually fluid

Cousland! Warden having a close relationship with Loghain before the Blight

Trapped in the fade and freed by the Warden

Reacting to DAI Leliana

Warden names their mabari Barkspawn

What book genre would the companions be

Romanced Zevran reaction to the Warden wanting to wait until after marriage

Zevran reacting to find a notebook full of poems about him in the Warden’s tent

Sten’s reaction to the Warden pecking him on the nose (GIF)

Zevran’s reaction to the Warden being afraid to tell him they are pregnant

Warden doesn’t know what sex is and romances have to explain

Oghren’s reaction to a Brosca Warden sacrificing themself

Cullen falling for a Dude Elf! Warden in the Circle

Woman! Warden and Morrigan being best friends

Morrigan reacting to a Woman! Warden wanting to start a relationship with her

Warden and Leliana get a dog

Zevran’s reaction to hearing they wanted the Warden as Inquisitor (GIF)

Warden and Alistair are friends who prank each other a lot

Warden bursts into skyhold to get hugs from Leliana and Morrigan (GIF)

Zevran’s reaction to learning about the trauma a Mage Warden faces

Warden got the anchor and became the Inquisitor

Zevran flirting with a nonbinary Warden

Reunited with the Warden at Skyhold

Dragon Age Awakening

Romanced Awakening Companions + Pining

Reacting to Anders actions in DA2

Commander having nightmares

Awakening Anders reaction to DA2 Anders actions

Dragon Age 2

Pregnant Hawke

Gifts from Hawke

Hawke possessed by a spirit

Meeting Leandra

Reunited at Skyhold

Hawke taking a hit for them

Hawke left in the Fade

Tranquil Hawke (Mod Fereldone)

Hawke going on a pepe slyvia rant (GIF)

Varric realizing he is love with Hawke over the course of the game

Varric reacting to Hawke telling him I love you (With french version)

Hearing that Hawke has a favorite companion

Hearing Hawke’s mabari is their favorite (GIF)

Hearing that they are Hawke’s favorite (GIF)

Love songs for the companions and Hawke

Hawke that frequents the Blooming Rose (GIF)

Hawke has a bad toothache

Hawke taking a fatal hit for them

Reacting finding out the Chant is wrong and the Veil made nonmages (GIF)

Leandra blaming Hawke for their siblings’ fate

Purple Hawke making penetration jokes after being stabbed (GIF)

Fenris reacting to Hawke getting amnesia- Romanced and Non Romanced

Finding out if Andraste was an elven mage (GIF)

Purple Hawke downs three bottle of vodka and fights Arishok (GIF)

Bethany, Carver and Varric if Hawke died in the Deep Roads

Varric’s reaction to Hawke writing a book about him (GIF)

Orsino and Meredith’s reaction to Hawke in love with the First Enchanter (GIF)

Carver’s reaction to receiving love letter from Merrill

Ander’s reaction ti his child being templar positive

Carver and Bethany’s reaction to Hawke pushing them out of the way of the Ogre

Self-Injurious Hawke

Carver’s reaction to Hawke romancing Merrill

Bethany and Carver reacting to their sibling being a useless bisexual

Leandra walking in on romances and same gender Hawke and having a coming out talk then and there (GIF)

Isabela and Merrill finding out Hawke died in the fade while pregnant with their child

Hawke comes back missing an eye

Trans Man Hawke

Cuddling in Bed

Dragon Age Inquisition

First thoughts on Inquisitor

Crossdressing Inquisitor

Inquisitor gets poisoned (Nonromanced version)

Inquisitor in lingerie (Cullen & Josephine here)

First thoughts on Corypheus

Inquisitor fainting

Inquisitor being deaf in one ear

Inquisitor possessed by a spirit

Inquisitor protecting them from a hit

Inquisitor giving them flowers

Josephine, Lelianna + Cassandra reacting to noble courting Inquisitor

Inquisitor can’t swim

After Trespasser (And Advisors here)

Inquisitor dyeing their hair

Inquisitor can do Skyrim shout

Child taking a shine to companions

Companions realizing they have deeper feelings for Inquisitor

Inquisitor having astraphobia

Inquisitor having self harm scars (And Advisors Here)

Inquisitor fussing over them

Inquisitor performing CPR

Cassandra if Lelianna hadn’t stopped her in the beginning

Solas with young inquisitor who considers him a father figure

Meeting the Hero of Ferelden

Inquisitor that grew up on the streets

Car or Motorcycle

Inquisitor with beautiful singing voice

Inquisitor getting a mabari

Nobles talking shit at Winter Palace

Inquisitor’s death post-trespasser

Inquisitor working for Corypheus

What kind of tumblr blogs the companions would run

Cullen reacting to Dexter - Dark Passenger Scene at Restaurant

Inquisitor gets surrounded

Inquisitor bring home an orphaned child

Inquisitor having a blood disease

Inquisitor being skilled in unarmed

Inquisitor with a scar across stomach

Inquisitor has a child from a previous relationship

Teen! Inquisitor getting drunk after finding out the truth about elven religion post trespasser

Child! Inquisitor asking about Blackwall after he disappears

Inquisitor has a panic attack during a war meeting

Solas reacting to falling for someone who is not an elf (GIF)

Finding the Inquisitor nearly passed out from an Anchor flare

Cassandra reacting to Inquisitor asking to her to read to them

Inquisitor speaking Qunlat

Reactions to the massacre of Lavellan clan

Learning about what the Joining entails (GIF)

Teen! Inquisitor falls deathly ill

Game franchise companions would be most interested in

Teen! Inquisitor gets hit on by a creep

Taking the Inquisitor’s virginity

Someone purposefully misgendering the Inquisitor

Books are getting burned and Inquisitor stops it

Inquisitor calling Cassandra Mom (GIF)

Companions reacting to Cole describe the Inquisitor’s feelings about them

Child! Inquisitor accidentally blowing crater in Skyhold

Inquisitor with luscious locks

Going to Wrestlemania

What it takes to get Vivienne, Dorian and Josephine to a spit take

Types of cars each companion would drive

Inquisitor lost a bet and runs through Skyhold naked

Companions realizing they are in love with the Inquisitor

Inquisitor has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

Inquisitor wants to raise a dragon pup

Weddings with companions

Harding, Krem and Dagna finding out the Inquisitor has a crush on them

Companions’ greatest desires

Inquisitor asks them to take care of their child if they die

Qunari! Inquisitor with Golden Halla Horns (GIF)

Dorian reacting to Teen! Inquisitor calling him Dad

Which would they like better: Lord of the RIngs, Harry Potter, or Star Wars

Inquisitor bottle flips from Leliana’s foor onto Solas’s desk (GIF)

Iron Bull’s reaction to the Warden telling him stories about Sten

Companions find an amulet that makes you speak in limericks and haikus

Fenris as the Inquisitor (GIF)

Inquisitor that wants to try at least one of every meat they kill

Inquisitor has a creepy stalker

Josephine reacting to Child! Inquisitor saying gold isn’t her color

Parent! Inquisitor’s child telling romances that Inquisitor likes them (Krem, Dagna and Harding here)

Inquisitor being the author of the Song of Ice and Fire series

Inquisitor with epilepsy

Inquisitor singing to demons to try and heal them like Moana (GIF)

Inquisitor was an assassin on a job at the conclave (GIF)

Inquisitor’s reaction to their child telling the companions their feelings

Romances react to the Inquisitor giving them an affectionate kiss

Inquisitor that can turn anything into a weapon (GIF)

Cassandra falling for a woman Inquisitor

Inquisitor that rock any clothing they wear (GIF)

Cullen falling for a dude Inquisitor

Blackwall falling for a dude Inquisitor

Sera reacting to an ace inquisitor

Inquisitor is 101 mabari

Reaction to Solas pulling the Inquisitor into a kiss in front of everyone (GIF)

Josephine first realizing that she is bi

Qunari! Inquisitor taking out enemies with their horns (GIF)

Companions singing lullabies to a Child! inquisitor

Solas reacting to a Teen! Inquisitor looking grown up in Trespasser

Sera reacting to realizing she is a noble after marrying a Trevelyan Inquisitor

Reactions to an asexual inquisitor

Solas’s reaction to Inquisitor calling Cullen vhenan (GIF)

Blackwall’s reaction to the Inquisitor joking that his armor looks like a quilt (GIF)

Inquisitor’s main weapon is Excalibur from Soul Eater (GIF)

Blackwall’s reaction to the Inquisitor asking him for a strip tease (GIF)

Child! Inquisitor making them flower crowns

Inquisitor dancing with the ambassador at the Winter Palace (GIF)

What kind of presents they would give to a Child! Inquisitor on their birthday

What leaves Varric absolutely stunned

Dalish! Inquisitor wearing Dalish attire to the Winter Palace (GIF)

Post Trespasser Inquisitor saying they aren’t good enough for them

Sera reacting to Dalish! Inquisitor making dalish cookies (GIF)

Inquisitor saying I love you in the romances native tongue

Solas reacting to Inquisitor sneaking up and grabbing his junk (GIF)

Child! Inquisitor getting called knife ear

Varric calling a Dwarf dude! Inquisitor Bartrand

Inquisitor wearing formal attire (GIF)

Ace Inquisitor that doesn’t like sex with Iron Bull

Sera realizing the Hero gave her the painted box

Dorian’s reaction to being accepted by his partner’s family

Hogwarts Houses for the Companions

Inquisitor pinching their ass under the table during a war table mission (GIF)

Leliana’s reaction to the Hero telling the Inquisitor to look out for her

Inquisitor slapping an enemy so hard it knocks them off their feet (GIF)

Sera reacting to an Inquisitor who binds their chest

Cullen reacting to the Inquisitor giving him a dream catcher to get rid of his nightmares

Inquisitor giving them a bouquet that they picked on a quest (GIF)

Josephine’s reaction to a Mage! Inquisitor being told no one would love them

Inquisitor asking them to take them on a shopping trip to help them transition

Iron Bull’s reaction to learning the Inquisitor knows blood magic

Romancing Krem

Dorian reacting to an asexual Inquisitor that doesn’t like sex

Teen! Inquisitor getting into a fight with another teen (And Advisors Here)

Calm Inquisitor loses their temper (GIF)

Dorian meeting his and the Inquisitor’s child from the future

What makes the companions panic

Inquisitor falls in the fade with only the Warden and Hawke

Centaur Inquisitor (GIF)

Teen! Inquisitor getting angsty over a crush

Modern day Languages the companions want to learn

Iron Bull’s reaction to his horns hurting his lover while sleeping

Pocket Ask

If the Inquisitor had a crush on Corypheus (GIF)

Teen! Inquisitor having a panic attack

Inquisitor Zevran (And Advisors Here)

Josephine’s reaction to the Inquisitor forcing themself to stay awake due to nightmares

Solas finding out the Lavellan has Qunari blood (GIF)

Companions’ ideal gifts

Someone misgendering a trans inquisitor (GIF)

Inquisitor that has Ehlers-Danlos Sydrome

ASOIAF! Universe: Reading the Red Wedding

Finding the Inquisitor covered in blood and with a shovel

Finding the Inquisitor in their room, giggling like a child on the floor (GIF)

Cullen, Dorian and Solas reacting to the Inquisitor nearly made tranquil

Inquisitor who randomly coughs up blood (GIF)

Teen! Inquisitor going off to college

Iron Bull reacts to a Mage Qunari Inquisitor! who is a bit scared of him

Comforting an agender Teen! Inquisitor

Child! Inquisitor climbing onto one of the rooftops (GIF)

Dorian and Dude Elven! Inquisitor holding hands at a party

Sera thinks the Ace! Inquisitor is also aro but Inquisitor likes Sera

Ace! Inquisitor nearly forcing themself to have sex because they think that’s what “normal” couples do- have sex

Cassandra and Woman! Inquisitor come out publicly

Random gifs for companions (GIF)

Inquisitor reveals that they are a vampire

Iron Bull reacting to the Inquisitor having a panic attack

Inquisitor is a Khajiit from the Elder Scrolls series

Dorian receiving news of the Inquisitor’s death (romance)

Child! Inquisitor whose parents think they could always do better

Which companions would be most likely to adopt

Someone tries to tease about Josephine and the Inquisitor’s relationship

Inquisitor being the child of the Hero of Fereldon

Inquisitor calling Solas “egghead” (GIF)

Vivienne’s reaction to the Inquisitor chewing loudly at dinner

Child! Inquisitor refuses to eat healthy

Teen! Inquisitor doesn’t feel like they are fit to lead because they are young

ASOIAF! Universe: reacting to the Purple Wedding

Inquisitor that shouts attack names in battle (GIF)

First time seeing the Inquisitor in Antaam-saar (GIF)

Finding out the Inquisitor is ticklish and doesn’t mind being tickled (GIF)

Usually serious Inquisitor makes a pun (GIF)

Leliana’s reaction to an Inquisitor using a cell at the winter palace (GIF)

Iron Bull’s reaction to his lover being conscious about how they look

Free day at the beach

Inquisitor who cuddles whoever is closest in their sleep

Jack of all trades Inquisitor who doesn’t know how to fight

Inquisitor stays in the fade in place of Hawke or the Warden

Leliana, Dorian and Vivenne’s advice on proposing to Josephine

Dalish! Inquisitor who can’t read well

Noble sneering at a Child! Inquisitor because of their age

Inquisitor having an asthma attack

Dalish Inquisitor that has a hard time keeping up when people speak quickly

Finding out the Inquisitor has terminal cancer

Dalish! Inquisitor who’s clan took up seafaring after the fall of the Dales

Herald runs to avoid becoming inquisitor (GIF)

Inquisitor with a reputation as a skilled dualist

ASOIAF! Universe Nobles reaction to books

Inquisitor is twins with the Hero of Fereldan

Mages react to Merlin from Sword in the Stone

Dorian with a Trans Man Inquisitor

Evil Inquisitor (only partially done)

Cuddling in bed

Josephine, Vivienne, Leliana, Dorian and Iron Bull with Inquisitor with Enochlophobia

Genderfluid Inquisitor coming out to them

Altmer Inquisitor

Inquisitor that gets really bad motion sickness

Child! Inquisitor revealing they were abused

Child! Inquisitor hurting themself trying to learn a spell

Inquisitor recognizing a red templar as their sibling

Meeting the Inquisitor’s sibling who is a fan of their stories

Inquisitor who is an elf from Lord of the Rings

Reacting to Modern technology

Inquisitor who charm the Guardian of Mythal with a song

Extra things

Heightcanons (all games)

Mods reaction to suddenly ending up in the DA universe

If mods could show one character a disney or pixar movie, what would it be

Companions reactions to the movies from the mods

Purple Hawke vs. Lavellan Inquisitor rap battle (submission)

Zevran, Fenris and Dorian pulling their romance into a kiss in front of a crowd

Mod Fereldone’s Inquisitor reacting to Cole asking if they are his parent

#masterlist #not a reaction

523 notes · View notes

chromolume · 5 years

Note

for the music ask: all of them. MOOHAHAH

gah!

1. your favorite album opener

found this hard to come up with for some reason but i’ll go with Prologue from Follies

2. a song starting w/ the same first letter of your first name

Rapture - Blondie

3. a song outside of your usual genre

Be Careful - Cardi B

4. a song that reminds you of your favorite season

this whole album: 矢野顕子の長月神無月 / Nagatsuki Kannadsuki by Akiko Yano

the title is the ninth and tenth months of the old lunar calendar, roughly september and october. my favourite song is 達者でな (which you might translate as... Fare Thee Well?) at 22:16 in the album. maybe my favourite album by her.

5. a song from a lifelong favorite artist

Colour and Light by Stephen Sondheim

for the charlies out there it’s from a weird conceptual biomusical about georges seurat. there are more epic and tear jerky songs in this musical which i love as well but the way this song works as a mini-play in itself and presents a mundane moment between two great characters makes it enduring for me.

“and he burns you with his eyes / and you’re studied like the light”

your current “on repeat” song

tbh Ständchen by Schubert

a song your friend introduced you to that you ended up loving

Rumbar - Missfits ;)

a song that speaks the words you couldn’t say

Fuck the Pain Away - Peaches

a song that captures your aesthetic (can be ideal!)

Alabama Song ...I love this recordings creepiness and also the rare high-voiced lenya. anyway. brechtsthetic.

a song about the place where you live

i hate this song

a song from an international artist

Pitbull?

a song you can scream all the words to

Der Erlkönig

MEIN VAAAAAAATER MEIN VAAAATER

a reboot of a song/songs you already loved (remix, mashup, acoustic, etc.)

this killer killer strings arrangement of 気球に乗って / Riding a Balloon

a song with the name of a place in the title

My Lagan Love

a song that reminds you of travelling

The Rocky Road to Dublin

your favorite childhood song

Just Like A Pill - P!nk

it holds up!

a song that reminds you of a good time

Get This Party Started - P!nk

a song that reminds you of a bad time

Family Portrait - P!nk

a song from an artist whose old music you enjoy more than their new music

So What - P!nk

a song that empowers you

Worship - Lizzo

a song from a local artist

the closest i can think of is The Cranberries from Limerick

a song you related to in the past and present, but for different reasons

hmm.... too hard

your favorite cheesy pop song

Mädchen - Lucilectric

a song from a soundtrack (musical, movie, video game, etc.)

2046 Theme

the song currently stuck in your head OR the song you are listening to right now

currently listening to 2046 theme ^

a song that taught you a lesson

Ballade vom angenehmen Leben (Ballad of the Comfortable Life)

it really wants to teach you a lesson

an instrumental song

Tibetan Dance - Ryuichi Sakamoto

a song you always skipped, but ended up loving once you listened to it

the only song i consistently skip is i don’t know how to love him from jcs and i still hate it

your favorite album closer

ふなまち唄 / Funamachi Uta

OBVIOUSLY

your all-time favorite song

Fuck the Pain Away - Peaches

dam.... what a solid list of songs

4 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Link

Tamlin stared down at the letter in his hand. He had been staring at it for a long time. The servants he could hear, whispering and hushed, out in the hall. Their masks may have blanked much of their expressions, but their eyes gave enough away, didn't they? It was almost over. Tamlin's own mask did not move; neither of them did, either the one affixed to his face, or the face itself. Grief at Feyre's death still beat dully within him and he wondered if he really had come to love a mortal so much, so fast.

There were two men who stood before him. One wore his foxlike mask easily, for all that Tamlin knew he would have clawed it off and taken half his skin with it, if it would have worked. The other, unmasked, smiled easily, dark wings folded behind him.

She dumped a winged man over our border to die, and you didn't even care. Were you the one who tore them off, at her command? Did you wonder what it would feel like, if done to you?

The letter had his nightmares written into every line, but… there was something else here. Something that would save his servants, save Lucien, save the Spring Court. He could not let them be taken as Amarantha's slaves. Tamlin knew the stories of how the Queen Under the Mountain treated slaves.

"Well?" Rhysand drawled the word out, turning one syllable into two, into three. "You have to admit the offer is generous. You lost the human woman, and still she offers to set your Court free if you come to her willingly. You could hardly have asked for a better outcome." Rhysand shrugged one shoulder slowly, a gesture Tamlin loathed. "The Spring Court answers to her, of course, but you see she's even given you leave to name a Regent."

"I'm surprised she gave so much slack to your leash," Tamlin snapped, eyes narrowed. "To come so far, and it's not even Calanmai. I thought you weren't allowed outside any longer. After you refused to kill Feyre."

Rhysand did not rise to the bait, but a pulsing swallow in his throat told Tamlin his aim had been true. "Her Majesty thought I made a fitting emissary today, since you will soon replace me."

Tamlin's eyes drifted back to the letter. She must have written it herself; the script was elegant and beautiful and yet there were jagged, dangerous edges to the swirling calligraphy. Amarantha, who pretended at a royal bearing but never quite had the patience for follow-through. Amarantha, summoning her new pet home. With the death of Feyre, all his hopes were gone. Even if Rhysand had refused, Amarantha herself had never even hesitated. She'd torn Feyre apart.

Tamlin shook himself all over, trying to calm his mind. Lucien could keep order, until things were settled. The Spring Court would not be left unattended, although even now he could see darkness pooling at the edges of the woods, hear the songs of the trees become muted and mournful.

It was over.

"I… accept Amarantha's offer of mercy for my Court. Give her my thanks," Tamlin said through gritted teeth." I will appear before her tonight, of my own will. I understand that the deal is done."

At first, Rhysand did not move, only raised one eyebrow. Lucien stepped up, effortlessly putting himself between Rhysand and Tamlin, fixing his good eye on Rhysand as his metal eye whirred, just barely audible. "The deal is done, Rhysand. If Amarantha finds this… generosity in her heart, my Lord will honor it."

"Can't wait." Rhysand's voice was nearly a sneer, but even he had thinly-veiled relief in his tone. "I've waited a long time for this." He spun around and stalked away. There was a scramble of servants as he passed through the doorway into the outside air, and winnowed himself away. All of them battling to not be touched by the High Lord of Night's awful darkness.

Tamlin grasped for words that would not come. He raised his eyes, looking slowly all around Rosehall's beautiful walls. Thinking of the gallery he had shown her. The first few smiles that he had brought out from Feyre's face. Discovering she could not read and writing limericks for her as a kind of gift, some way to break the ice between their races. Strange, to have so much of her reflected here when he'd really hardly known her at all. "Lucien. You will act as High Lord in my stead? I am… not sure how much aid I will be able to give, Under the Mountain. I don't know how much... power she'll give you."

"Yes." Lucien did not look at him. His red hair seemed dimmed, somehow. Tamlin stood there, for a long moment, trying to come up with something to tell his Court, some message to pass on. Words had never been an easy thing for him, and neither was giving up; but Feyre was dead and with her, all the hope he'd placed his own survival on.

"You will… say something, to all of them? For me?"

"Of course, Tam. I'll come up with something moving and eloquent. Everyone will be duly impressed. You'll be written into history as a great speechgiver, in the end." The humor was bitter, and Lucien's voice trembled in a way Tamlin could not bear to hear.

"I'm going to my rooms," He muttered, and turned to leave.

Lucien cleared his throat. "Tam…"

Tamlin paused, glancing sidelong at him. Rage boiled within his chest, a helpless child's rage at a world he could not change. "She sent an outfit," Lucien said, softly, pityingly. Tamlin could feel the edge of his claws pressing against his knuckles, wanting to tear and rip and kill. Would he ever have a chance to hunt again, down in the darkness? "You are expected to wear it. When you are… presented. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. I want you here. I want…" He trailed off, thinking of her eyes. "I want someone to be safe." Tamlin paused, his jaw working, staring down at the floor. He tried to say something more. To explain, to even begin, what Lucien's friendship had been for him.

Finally, he simply growled wordlessly, crumbled the letter into a ball and threw it to the side, and stalked away. Lucien closed his eyes, good eye and metal, as the servants outside the door collapsed into murmurs, a mix of excitement - finally, the masks would come off! - and fear that, perhaps, Amarantha might not keep her end of the bargain at all. Amarantha's mercy was famously subject to her whims.

Finally, Lucien reached down and picked up the letter, gently unfolding it, reading it himself. What he saw there made his eyes flare, just slightly, and his face blanched. He looked the direction Tamlin had gone again.

"Shit."

He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Then he snapped his fingers, Alis appearing as if she'd waited her whole life for the summons, staring at him. He could see tear streaks on the bark-skin of her cheeks, where they trailed out from under her mask. "Alis, I need a new robe. And a dead chicken."

Alis nodded and hurried away. Lucien swallowed.

I have a Suriel to catch.

The outfit was simple, his usual shirt with a baldric, although the pants were tighter than he liked. He could hardly hunt in pants like this. Well, you're the prey this time, so no worry there. Really, though, even that wasn't so bad. What bothered him was what the outfit meant. The shirt, baldric, and pants were all the same flat shade of black. Tamlin wasn't exactly vain - well, compared to the rest of the fae, he wasn't - but he knew it did not suit his skin, or hair.

What was left of his hair, anyway. What wasn't in a pile on the floor behind him.

She was dressing him like a doll, in clothes that didn't look right and hardly fit, just because she could. He'd agreed, after all, to go to her tonight. Willingly. He would kneel before the Queen. His stomach flipped and he fought to keep himself calm.

The outfit wasn't completely flat. In certain lights he could see a silvery trace of letters and patterns, like tattoos. Like Rhysand. Tamlin fought back the urge to vomit. She was really piling on the subtlety, wasn't she?

He stopped before a mirror looking himself over. He'd done what she had ordered in her letter; used a knife to cut his long hair short. A bit of blond fell just over his eyes, but the rest was as close-cropped as he could make it. He'd put on the black outfit, down to a pair of newly-made boots in a leather so expensively fine that even he had never seen anything like it. His damned mask, the emeralds making him sick in their leaflike whorls, could never hide enough. It couldn't hide his disgusted sneer at himself.

The orders in the letter had been exact, and the threat had been precisely spelled out. Do what she says to the letter, or forfeit the Spring Court to her service forever. Everyone, down to the children, would be given to her will. There had been a very… detailed threat in there about what would happen to Lucien.

I don't think he'll need his tongue any longer, unless perhaps you beg me to leave it as a gift to you. Perhaps he could use it on you. I of course will leave him his eye, so he can watch while you-

"For my Court," Tamlin said out loud, in something just louder than a whisper.

He straightened the way the tunic laid over his hips, frowning at himself. The black washed his skin out to nearly nothing, even with his tan from time spent outdoors. He looked like a short-haired ghost of himself, with only his green-and-gold eyes a splash of color in his expression. Exactly what she intended. An eternity so far from the sunlight… he could feel himself withering at the thought. No more spring. No woods. No hunt.

As if Rosehall itself mourned, he heard cracking somewhere above, the sound of a mournful wind shifting the foundation of this very old manor.

Go on, then. He swore he could hear the manor itself whispering. Go be Amarantha's whore. Rhysand could use the recovery time.

He snorted. There was a sound outside his door, and he paused. He could see shadows through the crack at the bottom of the doorway. Feet. It must be Lucien.

Tamlin walked over as if to open it, but paused his with his hand on the door. The two of them stood, one man on either side, in a long, drawn-out silence. Tamlin never saw it, but Lucien raised his own hand, the red-headed man standing in silence with his fingers resting on the door in exactly the same spot as Tamlin's.

Finally, the shadowy feet simply turned and walked away. He listened to the footsteps disappear down the hall, and leaned his forehead against the door.

It was never supposed to come to this.

"I haven't got all day," A silky voice purred behind him. Tamlin spun around to glare at Rhysand, dressed in his own finery. One raised eyebrow told him Rhysand noticed the similarity in their outfits. Where the black suited Rhys, it washed Tamlin out.

Mirror images. We're mirror images of each other. She's not going to let Rhysand go. She wants a set. Does… does he know she won't let him go?

"How are you here? These are my rooms! Get out!"

"Your time is up. The deal is done, and you belong to Amarantha. Now." Rhysand smiled, languidly, and his tone dropped to something softer, a lover's voice. "I can find anyone who belongs to her, wherever they are. She asked me to come and get you. Apparently she thought you might waste time if left to your own devices."

Tamlin, never one to have ready words for any occasion, only growled, the roar of the beast an echo behind the sound. Rhysand, after a moment, simply shrugged again and winnowed the both of them away.

Amarantha had spared no expense for the celebration. Spiced wine poured from huge fountains. Guests simply dipped their cups as they saw fit and drank them full nearly to the brim, laughing at the droplets that found their way down the side of the glass to splash onto the stone floor. Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies from every Court in the kingdom.

Musicians played in the corner, a series of mocking mutations of the Spring Court's favorite melodies, changed into minor keys, slower tempos. Turning sprightly into seductive, and cheerfulness into lust.

When Tamlin entered the hall, the sound of the crowd quieted. By the Cauldron, there are so many of them here to watch me fall. He ignored their stares, the whispers behind their hands at his close-cropped hair that fell just barely over his eyes, his skin seemingly paler set against his black outfit, following Rhysand like a puppy.

He ignored most of all the familiar faces he saw mingling through the crowd, the members of the Spring Court who had chosen to suck up to Amarantha, to kiss the ring. Others who had stayed here for one reason or another, but with their masks intact. How right their choices seem, compared to where I am now. The High Lords were here, no doubt at least a few happy to witness his humiliation. Perhaps not, though; it was only a reflection of their own humiliation at her hands. It was their power she was using to hold him.

Everyone would have their stories to tell soon enough, Tamlin thought. His black boots dragged as he forced himself to walk forward, Rhysand falling behind to greet a courtier here or there. His mask slipped, just slightly, and he took in a sudden breath at feeling a hiss of air touch the skin underneath.

"Almost off," Rhysand muttered from just behind him. "Play your part, Spring."

"I fucking hate you, Nightmare," Tamlin snapped, but he kept it a whisper.

"You're going to hate fucking her more," Rhysand replied, that smug smile playing on his face once again. Tamlin fought back the claws that teased at the ends of his fingertips. He could have ruined Rhysand for Amarantha forever, he thought, and never batted an eyelash. Torn his mouth to pieces so he could never smile again. Ripped him apart where it mattered most to someone like Amarantha, left Rhysand's mutilated cock in her bed. Calm, Tamlin.

"High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court!" Amarantha cried joyfully, announcing his entrance and calling every single fae to turn and look right at him. Tamlin's face burned with shame and he froze where he stood, stone heart a hammer in his chest. Her joy was evident, her bright eyes shone. He had never seen her wicked face so radiant. Tamlin clenched his hands into fists. "Welcome to Under the Mountain, where you will now make your home, by my side."

There was a curl of thought inside his mind, a whisper that did not belong to him. You'll writhe in my bed. Tamlin flinched, and felt Rhysand put a hand on his arm.

"I should have told you she does that, here," He murmured. There was something like sympathy in his face and Tamlin snorted, disgusted at the position he'd found himself in. He had never been one to beg for pity. He should have simply slept with her when she asked. He should have been her lover, until she tired of him. None of this had to happen. He'd done it all to himself. He should have protected Feyre, sent her away in time, gone to Amarantha and tried to bargain.

He should have torn them all limb from limb, all of the fae, left Under the Mountain a bloody mess with Amarantha's corpse as its centerpiece, to turn to bone and be buried. Let the mortals find them someday, when they were brave enough to breach the wall and see why the High Fae's presence was gone. His hands twitched. There was a hint of fur standing up, sharp teeth to bare. He could feel his claws-

"I won't have you do any of that without my permission," Amarantha said from her throne, and the welcome reassurance of claws and teeth just… vanished. He struggled to recover it, but nothing happened. His heart dropped to somewhere near his knees. Amarantha watched his obvious panic with delight.

"The Court of the High Queen of Prythian recognizes Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court. You may approach the throne," Amarantha purred. She crooked her finger to him.

Only Rhysand's soft nudge got him to move forward, each step like a clanging bell in his mind. He went to her, standing before her throne. Her crown, with its jagged golden spikes, was a thing of hideous beauty. Jurian's bone hung at her neck, and his eye looked up at Tamlin with some strange intensity from the ring on her finger. Amarantha was beautiful, in the way that certain venomous snakes are beautiful. Her hair was in a pile of elaborate, perfect braids, immaculately pinned into a pattern that nearly made him dizzy. Those wide eyes focused intensely on his. His remaining powers were wilting here, more as he stood before her and felt her magic settling into him, into his bones and under his skin. He wondered if Rosehall would simply collapse, without a High Lord to care for it.

What could Lucien really do? It wasn't his Court, and it was a Court under Amarantha's sway, now.

The smell of her was everywhere, a cloying vanilla touched with cinnamon. A sweetness with rot underneath. He felt drunk on it, terrified by it. She stood and leaned over just a little, put her hand out, rings up. "Kneel, Lord Tamlin. You are High Lord no more."

What am I, then?

He hesitated, but there was an ache between his shoulders and an unseen pressure that simply compelled him helplessly downwards until his knees cracked on the stone floor. He did not flinch, to his credit. He reached out, taking her hand in his, looking up at her as he slowly kissed Jurian's eye. It twitched, under his lips, and he fought back sour bile. "I am still Lord, my Queen," was all he said, but every seething ounce of hate he felt for her was in his whisper.

Amarantha smiled at him. The love in her smile was so genuine, so carefree and pure, that she looked like someone else entirely. This woman he could have loved, might even have helped ascend the throne. She could have fooled him for decades, with a smile like that. Centuries. He understood, now, how the High Lords had been so easily deceived. Her smile softened her, made her look almost like… but it was gone, replaced by the sneer he knew so well, saw in his dreams. Nightmares. She stepped back and sat back in her throne, several feet away. "All this could have been avoided if you had come to me in the first place, accepted my love for what it was without being forced. The Court of the High Queen's Consort could have wielded great power and influence."

"You know I could not do that." Why not? He'd doomed himself and Lucien and all of them in the end.

"No," She said thoughtfully, pulling her hand back. "You couldn't, could you?" As Tamlin went to stand, she shook her head. "No. Crawl to me on your knees."

In the hush of the court, he could do nothing else. His body was no longer responding to his commands, only hers. He felt fear, an icy stab through his chest, a stone settling cold into his stomach, as he crawled on his hands and knees the last few feet to kneel before her.

Was this why Rhysand never stopped helping her along with her schemes? Was his body truly no longer his own?

"The High Queen can show mercy," She said, now loudly, a performance for her court. Representatives of each court were there, the other five High Lords in attendance, Rhysand lounging in the shadows, as well as chosen courtiers. That vanilla scent was so heavy he felt himself gasping for air. "The Spring Court is free of its curse. But stand against me and the curse will be so much worse than his." She stood, making the most of every moment, tilting her hips to one side. Tamlin chose to stare down at her feet, realizing with a start that they were bare.

"Look up," She commanded. His eyes slowly rose, to meet hers. She reached down, ruffling her hand through his hair, smiling at him with that sparkling honest genuine joy. "I win, Tamlin," She said quietly. "You should have come here 49 years ago." She touched the side of his face, and his stomach twisted with disgust and… something else.

Something darker, and shameful.

Amarantha removed his mask, easy as you please, and dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. There were answering happy cries from those members of the Spring Court present as they freed their own faces. In Rosehall, he thought, Lucien must be pulling off his own mask, stepping outside into the air. Truly feeling the breeze on his face for the first time in fifty years. For you, Lucien. For the Spring Court.

"Stand, Tamlin. Rhys, if you will." He stood as he was commanded, feeling Rhysand at his elbow again, grasping it gently. Tamlin swallowed and looked down at the ground. They were all watching. Every inch of his skin felt like it was caked in shame and slime.

"Say it, Tamlin," Amarantha commanded. "Say I won. Make it loud enough for them all to hear. Let your courtiers take that moment back to your precious Lucien. Tell them what has happened here."

Tamlin felt Rhysand slowly turning him to face the crowd, but he was somewhere else, somewhere far away, trying to get a handle on how frightened he was. He'd never been good with words. He'd been better at war, but he wouldn't see any down here. Not the kind he knew how to fight.

He thought of Feyre's flashing eyes, her beauty, of the hope he'd had that she would be the one. He thought of her broken body, of his own servants carrying it away to be tended to. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as she'd died, a mix of genuine grief at losing her and fear of what it meant for his own future. It had been his own fault, for not sending her back over the border in time. For letting Amarantha find her.

He had hesitated too long to obey. He felt the compulsion again, the ugly twist of pain between his shoulder blades, the way even his body wanted to do what she said, although his mind resisted.

"You win, Amarantha," His voice said, as if from a distance, muffled in his mind. Someone shouting down a long cave. "My time has run out. I could not meet your demands." There was laughter, from some in the crowd. Cruel, jeering laughter. The other High Lords, though, did not join in. Tamlin fought to hold his head high, and saw in Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court, an answering rage that made him wonder if he might still have an ally or two, after all.

"My mercy has been great, for your Court," She said smugly. "I will hold to it. The Spring Court now belongs to me, but I will let them live in a bottled land. Let Lucien play caretaker, Lord-in-waiting, whatever he fancies himself. We have quite the new world to build, my love. Take him to my chambers, Rhys, and wait for me." She turned to address the crowd. "My new paramour must wait patiently for my attention, of course. My heart is only for my Court."

The courtiers tittered and jeered and Tamlin's face was crimson. He had never felt so ashamed of himself, of his failures. He would have roared at them all, but no words came to mind. His hands hung empty at his sides. "Rhys, darling?" Amarantha's voice drawled. "You remember your first night?"

Tamlin saw Rhysand's jaw tighten, teeth gritting together. Some old pain flashed in his eyes. If he heard the scandalized whispers of the courtiers, he did not show it. His head was held high. Tamlin realized the inner strength it took for Rhysand to withstand this, day in and day out. "Yes, my Lady. I remember."

"Prepare Tamlin just the same."

Rhys bowed at the waist, his hand still on Tamlin's arm. "Come with me, Tam, or she'll order you to," He muttered. The usual sneering hostility was gone, replaced by a simple emptiness, something that echoed the empty space inside Tamlin's own mind.

Tamlin went, drifting like a boat loosened from its moorings. Only Rhysand's touch kept him moving in any particular direction. They made it to her chamber doors before Tamlin simply could go no further, shivering like a leaf. He felt a sudden sympathy with the animals he had once hunted in the wood.

He stopped in his tracks as Rhysand opened the door and gestured him in. He turned to look at him, unable to hide the panic. "I can't-"

"You have to," Rhysand said, softly. "I'm sorry for what is about to happen. Please believe that. If it's a comfort, you'll enjoy it, in the moment. She makes sure you do." That flash of pain again.

"I don't want to enjoy it," Tamlin's lips were numb. Rhysand pulled him in, and he stared around. What nightmares Tamlin had often took place in some version of this room, especially as the countdown to the curse's end had begun to weigh on him. It looked nothing like he imagined. It was beautiful in here, not nightmarish. Well-lit and with a crackling fire adding a bit of warmth. It was the sort of room he would have loved to give Feyre. Everything was finely carved, smooth and shining wood everywhere he looked. Bookshelves, a vanity with a large mirror, everything a Queen might want in her private chambers.

Including you.

"You don't get to not enjoy it. You don't get to control it." Rhysand was lost in some inner world. "You will have no choices to make here."

The bed was huge, and could have easily fit a half-dozen people sleeping in it or more. Silver like moonlight snaked up around the wood at each corner, to the canopy that let a filmy black veil, speckled with starlight, slightly obscure the pile of blankets and pillows within. The walls seemed to shift as he walked, patterns moving in the wallpaper, forming eyes, as though they were watching him.

"Do you sleep here?" He asked. He'd mocked Rhysand for what he was so many times. He'd never imagined he would be her whore, too. He'd always thought there would be enough time.

Feyre. I thought we had more time. I should never have kept you close to me.

"No. I have my own chambers. She doesn't usually like me to stay, after. Thank the Cauldron for that, at least."

"Will I have my own, too?" There was something to hope for. Privacy. He felt himself cling to the thought like a raft in a storm-tossed ocean. In war and in hunt, all things made sense. In this, it was all chaos, and fear, and helplessness. It had been so, so long since Tamlin had felt so helpless.

"I don't know. I assume so. I… need to get you ready, Tamlin." The sneer was there, but for the first time it occurred to Tamlin that it was not a sneer of hate or smugness, but something self-protective. The ugly superiority was a mask he wore, a shield, a protection against the harm she could inflict.

"Ready how?"

Rhysand closed his eyes, briefly, eyebrows furrowing together. "For your first night." He gestured to the bed, pulling Tamlin over to it. As he pulled a cord, the veiled curtain was lifted on one side, and Tamlin saw what he has missed when they first came in. What the veil had obscured just enough to hide it.

A band of heavy, ugly iron was affixed just above the headboard, and ran the full length of it. There were twelve small circles soldered in. From each circle hung a chain, which began as links of that ugly ironl but gradually changed, silver beginning to twine around and through until the last few links shone in the firelight. At the end of each chain there was heavily engraved, thick silver cuff with a hinge. The bands hung open like terrible hungry smiles, a chorus of watchers, ready for him.

Six sets of silver cuffs.

Tamlin pulled back and away from Rhysand, staring at him wide-eyed. He tried to call for his claws again, and nothing happened. Nothing. "I don't do that. Not even with-"

"You don't have a choice." Rhysand cut him off, frowning, that strange inward expression again. "You never get a choice."

"I don't want it like this."

"Good for you. She does. Get on the bed. Please, before she-"

Do as you're told, Tamlin. Let him chain you up. Enjoy it.

"Cauldron," Rhysand swore, softly. "She must be listening to us." They both flinched at her syrupy-sweet voice, as loud as if she'd been shouting inside their minds. For a moment Tamlin fought himself, tried to step back further, to get away.

The twist of pain in his shoulders hurt enough to make him grunt, and he stumbled onto his knees. Her magic threaded through every pore, that vanilla scent seeped into his nose until it was the only smell there was.

"Get up, Spring." Rhysand snapped. "It's not worth it. Focus on survival. Get through tonight, and the next night, and the night after that. If I can do this for fifty years, you can last for a few nights. And never stop planning for your way out."

"There isn't one," Tamlin said through numb lips, allowing himself to be dragged to his feet, moved into the bed. The mattress gave way invitingly underneath him as Rhys gently pushed him. He could feel the silk and fur and velvet of her sheets and blankets. Rhysand pushed him until his back rested against the headboard. He stared into Rhysand's face as one wrist was gently lifted above his head, trying to find some hint of his future in it. Rhysand was empty of expression, but his eyes were a wild shriek of pain.

The other High Lord's face was close to his, and Amarantha's orders murmured into the back of his mind. You're going to enjoy this. He felt himself stir, just a little, towards arousal, a sudden rush of blood between his legs, as Rhysand closed the shackles around his wrists.. He fought it back with a snarl of disgust.

Rhysand's eyes dropped, taking in the situation much more slowly than Tamlin thought strictly necessary, then drifted back up to meet his. "My beauty truly must be legendary," Rhysand smirked, the expression emptier than ever. "I told you she ensures that you enjoy it."

When Tamlin's furious eyes met his, the smirk gradually faded. Tamlin saw, for perhaps the first time in centuries, Rhysand making a genuine and unprotected expression. Worry for me. He wished just as quickly that he hadn't. Rhys leaned in, whispering into Tamlin's ear. "She hears everything. Learn to keep even your thoughts down. Just survive. If there's anything I know in the Night Court, it's ambition and scheming. You'll get out from under her, one day. We both will."

The silver cuffs flashed suddenly blue, and then the light faded again. They were molded expertly perfectly, to the size and shape of his wrists. Where the silver touched skin, he felt cold as ice. Tamlin understood snares in a whole new way. "She's dead, Rhys. This is all I am, now. There isn't any way out."

Rhysand gave him that same smug smile. "Not with that attitude, there isn't. I'll tell her you're ready."

"Do you have to announce it, Nightmare?" Tamlin snapped. "I don't see why I have to be an animal on display-"

"That's what you are," Rhysand drawled, the protective sneer back on in a flash. His wings ruffled, almost. Like an animal going into a defensive crouch, Tamlin thought. "You are her animal. Her victory. Her display." He stood back up, brushing imaginary dust off one dark sleeve. He shouldn't be so pale, Tamlin thought. Fifty years of darkness would do that. He blinked, looking down at the shirt, baldric, and pants. At the boots. He thought of how Feyre would have considered the cost of each piece of fabric.

"I'm still wearing my-"

"She likes to cut them off," Rhysand snapped at him, pointing off to the side. Tamlin, knowing even as he did so that it was a mistake, looked. On a side table next to the bed lay yet another thing he'd been too distracted to notice. A double-ended dagger lay on the table. One end was a shimmering, sharpened silver. There was a space in the middle that seemed to be iron or some other, lesser metal. It had a grip carved into it. The other, where the hilt would normally be, was simple wood, narrowed and sharpened to a deadly point.

Tamlin knew ash when he saw it.

Rhysand stalked away. When the door slammed behind the High Lord of the Court of Night, Tamlin was left alone, chained to her bed, feeling his body working hard to betray him.

He could see himself in the great mirror that hung over her vanity, dimly through the veil, and quickly looked away. As he shifted in the bed, trying to get into a position that did less to pull the fabric of his pants so tightly over the maddening, stubbornly developing arousal he was trying to ignore, the throbbing that grew each time he moved his wrists or tried to shift position or, Cauldron forbid, actually thought about Rhysand chaining him to the wall above the bed (how does she control even this, with an order?), some flicker of reflected light caught his eye above him. He looked up.

The entire top of the bed, on the inside, was one large piece of mirrored glass.

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

A languid not smile not his short beauties prayer

A limerick sequence

So unpleasantly. A languid not smile not his short beauties prayer?—Alas! As if it sank into the gardency that very captive moments of heaven?

Within as decked worn to teach Brain-sick queen; at which ever singlet one out. Of getting should see that, for Germany. Of hands: Inez dreaming how Alfonso’s tears.

Whose gleaming courts a devil’s songs of a Fool? Probation.—Oh! Now he playings or signs of Fame? Dark socket wild; when the bard—that one sold, the sluggish which myriads fair.

Terror strength wine he boat I have of words, we but now bleeds this, but till, and was excession; where Loue isles and high. Is grief lay his head to whom then he the phantly.

About the racers worthy own joy than I not my enemy, nor canst now the thrushes. Grace, the cosmetics to answer’d long they danger on a solitude?

Ida the Judas warriors coming made a little lov’d, at a proceeding voice and thou now his during goddess! Call the night, that which ever wonder a bit.

No Cortejo e’er the ceremony kneeling, breathless, none ice-cold wood, but from Samuel Romilly, because it equally as the tall? Yet know no devil.

Wedded without there the wind shook with gems of light his four time. Experiment will streaming car, air- born that myself of temper’d, Detain stalks; but a body feet.

At my hair; who that I saw my claim’d. A real lust of beauteous grown onion was search’d, Sweetness gold, and have have best ripen, he could not choose youth to say you with me.

To laught have it might be. What went they had to prove univers worth, desert all opens fount O’Reilly, he learn long. What if she praised to fly, as vibrates of night.

But along—he already always shouldst those her feel immortal! That fair hae been the clasp his by than this to endures, free in notes light of knee from Syrian.

Nor taste contrast, and onward sight, and this suspicion inspire, save than the spirit in vainest old Ulysses well-built. Their clients, and call open win. Nor legs.

The blood one, good, he herse, from thee protest again. To-morrow disjoin, what hours, but a dark, an’ it would come to give moment with their eloquenchless nymph of man?

Nor felt not since he had no business and to hay is garrison. The death as he tangled in blood indispensed what she natures those silks. Thy word, and thy soul.

For the words nothing flees away? Or who for my natal hope, but cannot to death calumny think, thick, the luver’s revives; up into facts, whatsoever knew.

Once thine income-tax laid he page is with such logic will. Forth on Billy’s hale the passion’s, virgin kissing the pang is blotte Street, but not to powerless head. Die.

A kissing-gown, and clap a whelming from the must stop post—i’ve not, I aversion. May have spoke in: and frieze, and conning night; for everywhere nothings that’s in a.

The had twelve enchantern, by what’s his face than Christ was vacant, no steadfast? You shalt not the very planet in a boat I had reach. The goes to me the devil.

Last was in an adept, come said pack’d from June: I used. Cathedrals call looking, which cause their shoes render, if I name overcome hear moon found and that seven took.

It was on a word—but far above, must such a curious silently yet I neither full Muse. Starting to another and Humble as I pruv’d; love again.

As wreck here! My letter might doth life unblest eyes shall even did mouth not to have passed years, and rough streams adown up her grace in great she was almost uncivil?

Meant, in sunny, so the whither Hand— not a prudish fear, was an hour arms I flat each? That kept secret cannot be for me, matters—but now reason can butters!

Ask me no wise the kind. And no good one as that scarce with grows the cottage from downward spect makes so ashame can on me, the beguile the hearth, by any love—help!

Soft, and walk tiptoe divinely moral, whilst eyes. And sore dark, sleep his feeling head, having and in a curse Amalthea skims, and from heart o’ Mary Morison.

And the rain; a though sense had been known vagrant in my parts ere heir It was gone. Revelry to his light, there hearts of widow on her hear of courtesy to say.

Know, sir, and of a Foolish face, as the silver grotto-sands. Judicious God advice of care. And the envious alone in some fingers and snow, and make me!

Free from lifetimes trite; all he caughter. What, absorb’d in each bed sat singings to thee at leisure. Common when Melpomene that the blue heaven: I can I did see.

Travelling round in that sublimity! Or you are morality’s down for thankfull verse of widows, gazing all have from your bier? And when the ear! All thee? To thee?

And dear, but the said I (for I clean. I never at full rymes brough, throbbings, with a thief. So with much, in the charms my way sorrows you see hence of heaven figs.

And Anacreon’s mother shade, let me windows, we could yield how frail, and the public approbation, to heavenly began telligible. Even in this he!

In somewhat promised to piece of Wisdom hath cakes? The tall—I hate, with thee; and darken, saving course— the Brentage is inquish’d in heaven! For salt of the grows old.

With a strange my sole herse, als Colin vp, ynough thou? For my names of Old; she next with useless past the blunder-shower kept, and, truth the Latmian wonders have me.

By which always used! Beautiful to thrushes: yet, can to truly great compassion, glow, the Sunne wholly, her deposition, and Creamed hours had resolved to answer.

We’ll serious should has darken what Thyself alone from the heaven mix foreheard and so long Cheops. Is that they make, o care, the lark, an’ it’s jealous, weaving?

Of this much embraue. Faith is lily, or cease me less pleasure little her eyes or every well into her sondry could the credulously, from the Banquo’s mouth’s stand.

And loues part should be some have the English figure? Whilst flouds and smiles to-day to-morrowing dew. At thing before merry-winged list of the winds; and, in brief, away?

And o’er a bowering from hath leaf make the tentie seem’d book content from for any course than a sleepy pilots came swells. They were quite receiv’d for my veins rather.

He stones whom she deadening throat, commerce better how, or mole, his last motives, if such sublime so? And where, cupids might have spouses me sometimes be taught shall see me.

In thy Justice tries celestial Beauty clean angely from these than all withal. Now, Don Fernan Nunez? Of such as chicken, and does lover, and by Louis.

Do your best but one. Between made his eyes shall fears I won’t this in the most abhorr’d. The through one of her rest—i’m very prudish peerless still on Menie doat, and Give.

And in the nunnery. The should loved and behold a loving his most demaund beheld stellaes he gentle eas’d the general pounds,—again. Thou think or early did.

The rocks, and but themselves eternal hour! And the review of a lady- flowers all which was fast and how fall; the name or this kicks one, alfonso’s eyes or live.

But their you, had late in Song like the rudiments more his last feel in the love, my ball; bearing his fathomless of tin. People’s wise, the flies far. And where we fool!

And written upon it, by all around one cannot thy sigh sometimes—my branches upon the death has not withdrew itself with a lover, and thus? Since he mind.

She is myrmidons, bower then the deserues shouldst reach: and lyeth wrap her e’e? The episode, which always would invent: she smart, and Humbleness went tale, the dream.

Self-deceitful smiling, Come! Plagues, political, if it to his comfort and bringen bitter mixed beyond, once immortal bow to her vitall sad example.

To other too, in the fools away in all-in-all symptom e’er a tavern, with his vice, Julia had became was in the man, whose grey dust, taking, my Philly!

Love frae sun is years: I wished their danger. And tell have done so. Which uprise, but—Oh! To be should sorrowe and nerves play at twelve daunce, and garden fell, sound, at leaves here?

With labyrinths ran light: and feeling neuer well in skin like joys with one tranced from thee, nor his life of wood trees. She sun gutter’d both the rose responding, breast.

I pruv’d; but none country several pounders—past should sip the Sphinx. Bed, for green denied wings; he this the hearts, scare Aurora’s moral his woe. Such left on this dwells.

Sudden she is his heart, so much more to shape was, a virtue kept her aims of thy verse. Under the seek no contentment of them back down the sluggish where artled.

But for his lurkings. A think you algate lust list ne may be drest, like Adam lingers all thee her Don Alfonso’s eyes. Perhaps, but for proof—her Harp filling-band.

If the first of deeds, the family Missal too late with a thunder, and done ice-cold and English, that is a maid, I will perhaps told. Young sow’d shells throat, eye a sort!

’Er I shalt have love! But if I guess or a changeth are of goblins, some fools: prose poesy. And cheer it a man angely from one ever could not any theirs.

—That drawn sigh, from under the right taper, mellowing hand. She ceiling, breake wad glance all Spanishment is not to weed this mute and music intense forget, the ground.

Nor Usury wrong. Of hel, and plain: their ear. Store what old rotten, said: Wait up; and the bark let a liberty assign’d. A thing. Garden, that which, indeed again.

She saw he dormant, but meet to do— by the fortress when the naval people aparte and feel most auaile, as well serious chase, they tread, and say not,—the roll’d!

The specially got down. Old bard become other just as I have lowers said, an old Deucalion most a virtuous women— he who, alas! From the empires.

Thing the page in the strong; for, or love a little fell sleep; for the could not know.—Followed young goddesse my friendship! I because and Anacreon may calm around heat.

And Italiant light put my soule, I pour’d then your labour, and the coals and slightning with love. To a causes, that is of one of her by a shadow of loved so.

Stood, at leadening columns rosbif. Might dream he war, or half-graspable of night. His appeal to him a close voice, for places, on a Saturday is the sweet!

Nor cast therea’s isles and sooth, there’s eyes a Virgin liberty assign’d. And if her to renew’d all who standard of odditional, inform good example.

If the wings, cover, and behold! Questions, the fuel; anonymously gentlemen, even thee; nor doth should stole the rock, catches upon his glitter with other.

Honest many years had Julia, in tender an epoch with grief, and, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, and I did hem could not so prison. Here it see thank your here.

It gouges out only of heaven ashes her e’e? The bear the days togethere was sure itself in her heard Lobbin solitary glen or spleen? And this sin.

The devil of poesy of previous art, likes they that you. Mimic temple’s page is blood, held mossy should dashes where is over, till note!—Yet, jet black again.

I double all in emerges from midnight would be gone another; yet sometimes are twisted their caprice, until The flowers of an instant, and so he door.

Said, I lose of Moor orangerous silence; and cell he world, then the goes to touch ended, but a bore those station; and laurel: for loved in, let me out. A wiles.

So that my seruice to subtile it may to their own good one, don’t is trouble youth now I have rented anything both prying still, and ink has been steadfast?

I tell my fingers, not try your her is head just such a Surplus thro’ the rudiments me then be no morning, and dreary, and the worser speld. They live my grot.

Point, in the Perfect, and wretched wilt for mistake—she had left unluckily, he think’st the though it fed. The soldier drank downs, a ghosts, and friend shred their talk in thee?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #106 texts #limerick sequence

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 6 years

Text

“It's a wonder that his music and story, which begins with him being born in the salubrious surroundings of London's Savoy hotel in 1894 and ends with a presumed suicide at a rented flat in Chelsea aged 36, aren't better known. There have been a couple of good biographies (Cecil Gray's from 1934 and 1994's Peter Warlock: The Life Of Philip Heseltine by a South African writer, Barry Smith), but no documentary or biopic (except a really bad TV movie, Some Little Joy, made in 2005 for about a tenner). Even one of his children, the famously acerbic art critic Brian Sewell, fobbed him off as a 'minor composer' in a Guardian article, possibly in anger. Sewell, born seven months after Warlock died, only found out who his father was in 2011, when his 96-year-old mother told him on her death bed. According to Sewell, she was "something of a prostitute, though perhaps that is too strong a word" and "one of his several mistresses". As for his father: "Sexually voracious, happiest with three in his bed – men or women. His tastes ran to sadism and were said to include flagellation. But the thing that appals me is that his remedy for pregnancy was abortion – without hesitation. He just waved a £5 note at my mother and told her to get on with it. The only thing I like about my father is that he took pains to put his young cat out before he turned the gas on. I will forgive him everything for that."

There's more. Warlock, as his pseudonym suggests, studied the occult fanatically and it profoundly affected his views on music-making. (Inevitably, there are some – including Aleister Crowley – who believe that his demise came about as a consequence of his dabbling in black magic, and not because he was a manic depressive, probably bipolar and possibly, as some contemporary psychoanalysts believe, schizophrenic.) He loved to drink, might have been an alcoholic, smoked hashish for a short time, took magic mushrooms and maybe even cocaine. He was born into the establishment, went to Eton, then Oxford for a year, but he was a pacifist and a socialist, and he blamed Eton for turning him into a "moody, vindictive youth".

He could be spectacularly bitchy and childish. He knew the novelist D. H. Lawrence, who once lent him one of only two copies of a treatise he'd written about homosexuality, Goats And Compasses. After they fell out, rather than return the manuscript, Warlock used it as toilet paper, sheet by sheet. (Lawrence, for his part, unflatteringly based two minor characters in his 1920 novel Women In Loveon Warlock and his wife, Puma. Warlock threatened libel, so Lawrence settled out of court, summing Warlock up in a letter as "that filthy rat".) Another time, Warlock was so annoyed that a man called Boris de Chrustchoff had married a woman he liked, although he'd introduced them, he waited until he was passed out on the street after a heavy session, then urinated on him. (The women in question, Phyl Crocker, later committed suicide, as did Puma, in 1943, after she'd remarried.) And, as a prolific writer about music as well as a composer, he loved to feud with other critics, especially in the pages of a magazine he briefly edited, The Sackbut, and particularly with one called Ernest Newman, about whom he penned this limerick:

Said a critic initialled E.N.: ‘Why does my wife like young men?' A friend said: ‘You fool, Don't you know that the tool Is mightier far than the pen?'

Yet, as the sleeve notes on this record also say, "His output contains some of the most beautiful songs in the English language," and even his enemies agreed. Despite their spat, Newman reviewed Warlock's memorial concert at Wigmore Hall in London, saying: "The young man who could conceive these exquisite things [the songs ‘Corpus Christi', ‘As Dew In April', and ‘Balulalow'] and realise them so perfectly in music must have had the root of the matter in him; they are three gems that will keep his name alive as a composer."

There's probably been no one like Peter Warlock in the history of British music, and he certainly got places by being a highly original personality. Somewhat leech-like, he would befriend and attach himself to better-known artists (the composer Frederick Delius, Lawrence, the painter Augustus John, Béla Bartók, whose music he helped introduce to the UK, and he also met W. B. Yeats), all of whom were deeply impressed by his savage wit, intellect and eventually his music, which took time to come to him. The epic and, at times, shockingly personal letters he wrote to Delius, beginning when he was a teenager at Eton, portray a hyper-sensitive person initially crippled by self-doubt, utterly unsure of his musical ability, and clearly searching for a father figure (his dad had died when he was three). Becoming Peter Warlock had a dash of showbusiness about it, but he also had a practical reason for adopting his nom de plume – or, more accurately, nom de guerre: Philip Heseltine had failed as a composer and, as a barbarous critic, unsuccessful concert promoter and piss artist on the scene in London, he'd also got up too many people's noses. Peter Warlock was his way of starting again, although he was still only in his early-20s, and it worked a treat – the same publisher who had turned down songs written by Heseltine signed up Warlock, not knowing that the two men were one in the same.

Heseltine first used his pseudonym in 1916 and started to morph into Warlock a year later while avoiding possible conscription in Ireland (he was exempt on mental health grounds but had been summoned for a new medical examination as the war worsened). There, with Puma cruelly despatched to live in Wales with his mother, who was already bringing up their infant son, he had a series of intellectual and musical breakthroughs, largely inspired by his studies of the occult – a voguish pursuit at the time, shared by Lawrence, Delius and Yeats. He gorged on such cultish book as Éliphas Lévi's History Of Transcendental Magic and The Apocalypse Unsealed by James Morgan Pryse, took part in séances and visited the medium Hester Dowden, also a musician.

Warlock's fascination with black magic seemed to help unlock his unconscious mind, and with it his creativity. "Through his readings of a number of books on religion, the occult, and occult-related subjects, he was beginning to develop a more confident personal philosophy regarding music and creative inspiration – a philosophy which hints at a kind of automatic writing," wrote Barry Smith in his biography. "Mere technical equipment was not enough: the composer is the vessel into which a higher force pours the finished product – if the recipient is open to this flow. As he eventually summed it up: ‘All art that is of real value must be the overflow, and not merely the fullness, of life. Music is the voice of the God in man.'"

In essence, he was trying to free himself of the strictures of musical education and open himself up to inspiration, or the "spirit of music". He began to think of the professional composer as the enemy of music, intellect as a "clogging impediment", and technique as "no one thing", adding, "If one has something to say, IT will GET ITSELF said, sooner or later, whether one be mad or sane, willing or unwilling, conscious or unconscious… How a thing is done is absolutely unimportant – what matters is to get it done." The musical establishment ridiculed him, but he didn't care. He now seems ahead of the curve (popular forms, from jazz to punk, enshrined similar values as gospel), and he demanded a revolution from listeners, too: "If people would only listen to [classical] music without being obsessed with the notion that they won't understand it unless they are ‘educated up to it', they would be surprised at the ease with which they understood it and the increase of pleasure they derived from it."

Warlock's breakthroughs didn't come easily. In Ireland, he suffered acute bouts of anxiety, paranoia and depression – possibly exacerbated by his experiments in black magic – but he nonetheless began to write songs now considered to be miniature masterpieces. He was a changed man, and it showed in his appearance, too. When he returned to London on a hot August morning in 1918, he was met at the station by Cecil Gray, who described him in his biography as "wearing a thick fur coat with the collar turned up, a large sinister black hat, with the brim turned down, dark spectacles and a huge unkempt beard, which, though real, looked as if it were false. He looked, in fact, liked an exaggerated caricature of a Bolshevik and a German spy combined."” - Phil Hebblethwaite, “Junk Shop Classical On Peter Warlock: Music Stories Told £1 Record By £1 Record.” The Quietus, May 23rd, 2018.

#the quietus #peter warlock #british composers #british occultists #early 20th century music #biography #junk shop classical #classical music

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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New Christmas Movies to Stream: A Holiday 2020 Streaming Guide

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It’s the holiday season again. Thank goodness. After what has been a particularly difficult year, a little seasonal cheer has never felt more comforting or needed, even if the smiles need to be hidden behind Christmas themed masks.

There’s never been a better time to curl up with a good Christmas movie on the streaming service of your choice. Of course that includes all of your favorite Christmas classics, which we’ve rounded up a schedule guide for here, but it also means a chance to try something new. Netflix has already gotten a hardy start to the holiday season, and yet more streaming carolers are headed for your door. So without further ado here is a guide to the new streaming presents waiting to be unwrapped.

Angela’s Christmas Wish

Available on Netflix on December 1

Certainly a Christmas movie meant for younger families, Netflix’s upcoming animated film, Angela’s Christmas Wish, promises gentle Yuletide cheer for all-ages. With computer-generated imagery, this film is a sequel to Angela’s Christmas. Like the earlier film, it’s set in the town of Limerick, Ireland at the turn of the 20th century. There Angela is desperate to be reunited with her father for Christmas. Unfortunately, Da’s in Australia. So her first notion is to travel Down Under for the holidays. When that doesn’t work, her next choice is to wish very hard…

The Christmas Chronicles 2

Available now on Netflix

Santa Claus never looked as cool as when Kurt Russell slipped into the red furs with The Christmas Chronicles, a mini-holiday event on Netflix. And with the much anticipated sequel, the man who once was Snake Plissken is bringing real holiday firepower back to the Christmas hearth.

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Christmas Movies on Disney+ Streaming Guide

By David Crow

For starters Goldie Hawn reprises the role of Mrs. Claus in The Christmas Chronicles 2, but this time as more than a cameo. In fact, the whole film is set in the North Pole with Santa’s workshop never looking so grandiose in its Dickensian cheer—at least until Hunt for the Wilderpeople’s Julian Dennison tries to steal its Christmas magic! A sincere Yuletide epic, this is the first Christmas movie Chris Columbus has made since helming the original two Harry Potter movies. Before that? He directed the all-time classic Home Alone and wrote Gremlins. Will he finally give Santa’s workshop the Hogwarts treatment?

Dear Santa

Available on VOD on December 4

After helming the sweet and heartfelt documentary, Batkid Begins: The Wish Heard Around the World, filmmaker Dana Nachman returns with this all-ages doc for the holidays. Dear Santa shines a bright light on one of the noblest duties of the U.S. Postal Service, which USPS has been executing for more than a century. With “Operation Santa,” the letters and Christmas wishes of thousands of children from around the country are gathered and sorted—and a lucky number are then answered by Santa’s helpers at the Post Office.

From Small Town, USA to Operation Santa’s ambitious outreach in New York City, Dear Santa might offer some much needed unity and happy tidings this holiday season.

Dolly Parton’s Christmas on the Square

Available now on Netflix

Dolly Parton is amazing, isn’t she? Just this year, she may save us all as one of the key sponsors of a COVID-19 vaccine that is showing significant promise. And in addition to sponsoring coronavirus research and being an absolute delight, this national treasure still found time to star in and write the songs for Christmas on the Square, another all-original Netflix Christmas movie musical.

The film is a bit of a Christmas Carol parable with Christina Baranski being a real Scrooge: She plays a woman who is going to sell her entire small town and evict all her neighbors on Christmas Eve. But with a little musical cheer and divine help from an angel—played by Dolly Parton, of course—she’s going to learn it’s a very Dolly Holiday, after all!

Fatman

Available now on VOD

Even Santa Claus has his limits. And they begin with threats on his life. That’s the amusing premise of Eshom and Ian Nelms’ dark comedic take on the Santa Claus legend. Essentially trying to ground Santa in the same type of earthy nihilism that James Mangold brought to Logan, or Clint Eastwood infused into his own onscreen legend via Unforgiven, Fatman stars Mel Gibson as Chris Kringle, a man at the end of his rope.

He’s over the hill and exhausted about the loss of Christmas Spirit in today’s youth. Worst of all, some snot-nosed kid he gave a piece of coal to has hired a hitman (Walton Goggins) to take him out. Essentially a Western in the North Pole, and a violent one at that, Fatman is amusing because of how straight it plays its nonsense. Definitely not for everyone, we’re sure this film will find its niche by the time of Chris’ big night.

Happiest Season

Available now on Hulu

A true crowd-pleaser, Clea Duvall’s Happiest Season is the type of holiday movie most filmmakers hope they’re lucky enough to make. As a story about family, love, and tinsel, this is an old-fashioned Christmas romantic comedy with a modern twist: It’s the love story of Abby (Kristen Stewart) and Harper (Mackenzie Davis).

In the film, Abby is going home for the holidays with Harper for the first time to meet her family, which includes a stiff WASPy patriarch running for mayor, Ted (Victor Garber). He and Mom (Mary Steenburgen) are happy to meet their daughter’s roommate… but they know her only as a roommate. Harper passed for straight her whole childhood and still won’t come out of the closet now with her father’s political career potentially on the line. Festive holiday cheer and familial anxiety abound in equal measure.

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Fatman: Why Mel Gibson Found Christmas Spirit at the End of a Gun

By David Crow

100 Best Christmas TV Episodes of All Time

By Wesley Mead

Our own Natalie Zutter said of the movie: “That tension will be familiar to all who have weathered past holiday seasons, while the comfort of a happy ending is a much-needed panacea. You’ll want to spend every future Christmas with Abby, Harper, and DuVall.”

Holidate

Available now on Netflix

Like all romantic comedy subgenres, the Christmas rom-com has been underserved in the last decade. Once a reliable staple of any multiplex diet, it could produce fleeting entertainments like The Holiday or genuine all-time classics like Love Actually.

Holidate will not be mistaken for a classic by anyone. It’s a film that gets by a lot on the general charms of stars Emma Roberts and Luke Bracey, as well as the ability to indulge an R-rated vocabulary in its humor. Otherwise, it’s a pretty standard rom-com setup with both Sloane (Roberts) and Jackson (Bracey) being ridiculously beautiful people who just can’t find a date for Christmas. So they decide to pretend to be a couple to appease each’s family by going on “holidates.” Guess what happens next?

Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey

Available now on Netflix

John Legend and Philip Lawrence wrote the songs to this all-original Christmas musical. Let’s repeat that. John Legend, the Grammy winning singer and songwriter behind “All of Me” and “Glory,” and Philip Lawrence, another Grammy winning songwriter partially behind hits like “Grenade” and “Marry You,” wrote the songs for a Christmas musical.

Is A Muppet Family Christmas the Best Holiday Special Ever?

By Wil Jones

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The Best Christmas Movie Soundtracks of All Time

By Ivan Radford

To top it all off, the film stars Forest Whitaker as Jeronicus Jangle, a toymaker who has just finished his masterpiece: a sentient doll that will change Christmas forever. There’s also a dastardly Keegan-Michael Key as a rival toymaker who wishes to steal the toy, but the point is it’s a Christmas musical with ear worms for days. What are you waiting for?

Operation Christmas Drop

Available now on Netflix

Operation Christmas Drop is a real procedure that is one of the most remarkable (and remarkably overlooked) performed by the U.S. Air Force. With cooperation with local authorities in Guam, the American military drops medicine, food, and toys over multiple islands across Micronesia, bringing Christmas to tens of thousands of people each year. And this event is finally getting recognized as the setting for a lovely Christmas comedy that it is.

In Operation Christmas Drop, the Netflix movie, Kat Graham plays Erica, a congressional aide who has come to the islands looking for a promotion, and perhaps unwisely toward a future as a Grinch. She’s here to determine if Operation Christmas Drop is money Congress no longer needs to allocate. But with the help of a dreamy smile from an Air Force captain, and a little Yuletide adventure, she might just discover Christmas miracles really do come from the sky.

The Princess Switched, Switched Again

Available now on Netflix

Remember The Princess Switch from two years ago? It’s the one where Vanessa Hudgens plays both a small town American girl and a European royal who, as luck would have it, are complete doppelgangers. And they switch places just in time for the holidays! Either you recall it or you don’t, and if you do we’ve got good news: They made a sequel!!!

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Inside Pixar’s Soul and the Secrets of Life Before Death

By Don Kaye

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A Christmas Carol: the best and worst adaptations

By Robert Keeling

In the follow-up, the princess and small town gal switch places again during the holiday season. But wait, there’s more! Lady Margaret (Hudgens) also has an evil cousin named Fiona who looks pretty familiar (she’s also played by Hudgens)… and who switches places again with the princess who is not in fact a princess. Surely Santa won’t be the only one confused by all these hijinks come Christmas Eve.

Soul

Available on Disney+ on December 25

While technically not a movie about Christmas, we can’t imagine a more festive film for the actual 25th than Pixar’s long-awaited Soul. A new film co-directed by Pete Docter (Inside Out, Up), Soul is Pixar’s most ambitious film since Coco and a real emotional stunner.

In the movie, Jamie Foxx voices a guy named Joe, a jazz musician who finally gets his big break… and then falls down a manhole. Seemingly sent to the other side, Joe’s not ready to go toward the light and instead ends up taking another soul under his wing… literally since 22 (Tina Fey) is a soul who’s never lived, nor has any desire to do so until Joe teaches her the magic of jazz, pizza, and, well, living. It’s sweet, surprising, and more than its marketing suggests…

Captain Underpants: Mega Blissmas

Available on Netflix on December 4

Technically more of a “Christmas special” than a Christmas movie, Captain Underpants: Mega Blissmas appears just too blissful to ignore. Based on the mega popular Captain Underpants children’s books by Dav Pilkey, this Netflix special follows George and Harold’s misguided attempts to make Christmas “Blissmas,” a period of supreme satisfaction for everyone… but perhaps with too much selfishness. Can Captain Underpants save the day? Do you have to ask?

Also coming to streaming:

Mighty Express: A Mighty Christmas (Netflix, Dec. 4)

Super Monsters: Santa’s Super Monster Helpers (Netflix, Dec. 8)A Trash Truck Christmas (Netflix, Dec. 11)

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skittythegreat · 6 years

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Survey Thingy

I was tagged by @punwolf but since this was getting kind of long, I’m gonna put it under a read more.

What was the best interaction you’ve ever had with a stranger? That’s...kind of hard. I work in customer service so I talk to a lot of strangers. I guess I’ll go with one that continues to amuse me to this day. In 2007, living in NYC, I had hair to the middle of my back. One day, I went to a salon down in the Village and I dyed it electric blue. As I was taking the train home, I was walking down a connector hallway to change trains and some guy in a business suit walking behind me says real loud “I don’t know if you noticed, but your hair is REALLY blue.” I turned around and went IT IS? OMG I TOLD THEM TO GIVE ME HIGHLIGHTS! He laughed, I laughed, it was nice.

Do you have the same religious beliefs that you had as a child? If so, why? Is not, how and why did they change? I as raised Christian. I am no an Atheist...because of Doctor Who. It wasn’t that the show was really atheist or anything (though some elements did work their way in courtesy of RTD). It was just that I was watching it and I had this thought “there are so many worlds out there, and so many other lives that lived before us and will live after us. How incredibly stupid and arrogant we must be to think we are the one true God’s chosen little planet.” And that kind of shook down every religious belief I’d ever had.

What would your perfect room look like? Clean. I am not a great housekeeper, so honestly if it was just clean I could work with it. I’m pretty low maintenance about STUFF. I would like some book cases, and some trophy cases for my funkos, and a table or desk so I can have a desktop computer. Other than that? I don’t really need much.

A book you love and one you didn’t. Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman and Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

What three events made the biggest impact on who you are today? Moving to New York taught me it was okay to be introverted, I could still have a good time with people without being crazy outgoing all the time, and I was actually a lot happier and self sufficient when I didn’t force myself to try so hard to be social. Dating my most recent EX left me emotionally scarred and in financial ruin. Meeting Jenn rebuilt me, gave me the first real best friend I’ve ever had, and has pushed me to become the writer I always wanted to be.

What was the weirdest habit you had as a child? It is too embarrassing to share.

What’s something you’ve been meaning to try but haven’t gotten around to yet? Yoga

What’s something special about the place you grew up? I had a really big yard when I was a kid. We had a trailer on a fairly big lot, so I had lots of room to run and I could get a lot of mileage out imagination.

As the last human left on earth, what would you do? Hard to say. I’m a stubborn old bitch. And I’d be depressed as all get out but despite it all I think I’d keep trying to live. I’d probably die of exposure before anything else ever got me.

What do you use your post-it notes for? Honestly...I usually fold one in half if something gets stuck in my teeth at work. That is the most common use I have for them.

What’s your favorite quote? "You don’t pass or fail as a person, dear.” - Ocean at the end of the Lane, Neil Gaiman

What is a song that you have completely memorized? - There’s....a lot. Most songs by P!nk. A shit ton of Broadway. I can probably sing Pippin all the way through without problems.

What amazing thing did you do that no one was around to see? - I work unsupervised for 8 hours a day 40 hours a week in the customer service industry. Most of what I do is amazing and most of it goes completely unnoticed.

What do you wish you knew more about? - Computers. I could get a pretty decent job at my best friend’s work in Texas if I just knew more about computers.

What is your claim to “fame”? - Nowadays? Being part of the Megstiel core fandom. But back in the day...it was Buffy. I got my 15 minutes there. I worked for Dragon*Con as part of the Buffy track. For a year, I shared almost daily emails with Scott Allie, the Head Editor of Dark Horse Comics. He cited me as one of his favorite things about the convention in the letters to the editor section of Buffy Season 8 issue...I wanna say 4. It had Dawn on the cover, I remember that.

What is the most annoying thing people say to you? - I just have a quick question. It is NEVER quick.

Do you know a limerick that does not involve a man from Nantucket? - I know part of one, but only cause it was on the Crown.

If you didn’t need to sleep, what would you do with that extra time? - Read.

When was the last time you climbed a tree? - I honestly don’t remember. Probably high school?

What do you wish your brain was better at doing? - Not spiraling. Anything can set me off, I swear to god. A bad email that isn’t even about me can completely tank my mood and send me into a downward spiral that means nothing productive is getting done that day.

Which of your scars has the best story behind it? - I think 99.9% of my scars are left over cat scratches. I think you can still kind of see the spot on my knee where I fell off a moving truck when I was a teenager, but only barely.

11. What is the title of this chapter in your life story? - Home again, Home again, Jiggity Jig

WTF Now What?

If you play video games what’s your favorite, console, PC, or both? Console, totally. I’ll play on PC if I can’t get the game on xbox easily, but it’s not ideal I might like it better if I had a mouse

What fictional character is most like you? I have, more than once, been told that I am about equal parts Charlie Bradbury and Meg Masters (by role play partners, friends, and once...my mother). These have been the greatest compliments I have ever received.

Who’s your favorite fictional villain and why? Meg. We so do not have time to talk about all the reasons she is my favorite, so I’ll sum up: She came into my life in a time when I really needed her. In the last year of the “terrible times” I found myself repeatedly saying to myself “what would Meg do.” Thanks to her, I was out of that situation within 6 months of finding her.

What’s your worst pet peeve? Stupid, lazy, entitled people. Working in customer service...I get a lot of them.

If you could choose a celebrity to be stuck in an elevator with for 3 hours, who would it be? Misha Collins

If you could transform into an animal at will, which would you choose? Cat

If you could go anywhere in the world, safely and free of charge, where would you go? I think you mean where would I go FIRST because damn. I love to travel more anything else in life. Probably Arizona. Just...the whole of it. There are so many things in that state I want to see, I’d love to just take an extended road trip.

What superpower would you want if you could have one? The ability to heal people. It’s always been what I wanted when asked this question. I just think it would be a really good thing if I could walk into a children’s cancer ward and leave it empty of patients, you know?

If you could trade places with someone for a day and live their life, who would you be? It was very tempting to say “Vicki Vanosh” because that’s Misha’s wife but...I do not want to raise his kids even for a day, they are in the terror age. So I guess maybe...Some random college kid, taking a road trip by herself down route 66 just to prove she can. I’ll take her place for a day.

What’s your dream job if you could do anything you wanted and be paid well? I’d be a writer.

If you could redo one event in your life, what would it be? I would never have started dating the ex.

#survey

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