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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts.

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles.

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head.

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest.

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts.

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!”

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly.

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you.

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back.

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod.

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes.

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even.

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet.

He stands like a statue.

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.”

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.”

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John.

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.”

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals.

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.”

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material.

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk.

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively.

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind.

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down.

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again.

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window.

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.”

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs.

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away.

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker.

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech.

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows.

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head.

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air.

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.”

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk.

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows.

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder.

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!”

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip.

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?”

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed.

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat.

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing.

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed.

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently.

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips.

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.”

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should.

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear.

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece.

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.”

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another.

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want.

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything.

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed.

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava.

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.”

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.”

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight.

What in the hell was going on?

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible.

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was.

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too.

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively.

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed.

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.”

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly.

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt.

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment.

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.”

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment.

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften.

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?”

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.”

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.”

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out.

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt.

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back.

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire.

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm.

A secluded home. Nothing around.

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death.

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you.

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside.

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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missygoesmeow · 2 months

Text

missy's tips for honour mode :) (it's very long I'm sorry) (oh and here be many spoilers) (but pictures too!)

please note I am not a pro gamer or anything. I sucked so bad when I first started this game (I had no idea wtf I was doing). Like seriously. I didn't know what an action was. what a bonus action was. "No movement left". WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO MOVEMENT LEFT. I had played DnD once before.

I literally bought this game because of Astarion.

I usually play one game and that is Overwatch. the only other time I stopped playing OW was to play Resident Evil: Village because of Lady D. vampire marketing works on me. specifically evil vampire. damn u Neil and Maggie.

if you have any questions about a specific boss or something feel free to ask! I didn't fight everyone though - like I did not do House of Grief because I didn't need to and also it's hard :)

I think a lot of it just came on down to...

ANYWAY. letsa go! this is very rambling!

Like I said in my reply to anon, the best tip is to do tactician FIRST. You’ll get destroyed otherwise. I didn’t finish my tactician run but I did get to act 3 and I did most boss fights (Gortash, Raphael, Cazador). Bosses have legendary actions in tactician and it’s fucking annoying. All the homies hate radiant retort….

Another tip is fucking collect everything. It’s hard to get gold and certain potion ingredients later on. Potion of Speed (you need hyena ears for this) is the BEST. I used them for my Ketheric fight (second phase) and killed him in three turns. I also used them for the final fight and used one or two with Raphael and Orin.

Smokepowder Barrels. I think people call this Barrelmancy? I didn't use them much. I hoarded them for one reason and one reason only.

To blow Raphael.

His soul pillar towers that is. To blow up his pillars. His big long pillars.

Okay I'm done.

(also I did use three in my last fight against the brain - popped them next to it and blew 'em up) Elixir of Bloodlust - sooooo handy with Astarion!

Invisibility Potion is a must - I used this to escape fights when three people were deaded (this happened a few times😅) and get my good friend Withers to bring them back.

bonus tip: don't go into a fight with half your spell slots because you think "she'll be right". she won't be...as seen above

HOLY FUCK WITHERS. You can pickpocket Withers. I used Astarion to get our money back anytime I resurrected, changed class or got a hireling - he doesn’t care if you fail either, just keep trying.

DON'T BE DUMB LIKE MISSY Don't be like me, don't half pay attention in cut scenes and accidentally press the wrong dialogue option. Or else your good friend Lae'zel will turn on you and you will have A Bad Time.

Gale has a stressful day💗

The githyanki are scary and actually now that I think about it, those were usually the fights I had to run away from like a leetle biatch.

Halsin has a stressful day 💗

I forgot that Psionic Backlash is like a thing that does damage and that if your entire worm filled party does it and the person you are casting is at like...say 19 health...they will die because that is not Passive Damage.

And then Jaheira will leave because you murdered her friend.

Oopsie.

(I lost Shart, Lae'Zel and Jaheira in this run) GENERAL STUFF

Always surprise the enemy if you can, it’s a massive advantage!

Get the eye from Volo. This run was not about looking pretty, it was about getting any advantage I could get. Let that man poke out your eyeball. And make sure it’s your Tav, you will mostly likely swap companions and it’s just better if it’s you. It's helpful in a lot of fights but especially Auntie Ethel

Become half illithid. I did this with my Tav, Gale and Minthara. Astarion was a little bitch about it so I didn’t give it to him but I wish I had made him do it.

She looks Not Great but she can fly (sorry Astarion but Z'hera only likes pussy)

Being able to fly is just SO helpful and cull the weak is OP! Also mmmmm worms :)

MY BUILD/PARTY

A Giant Woman (my tiefling) as a Paladin - Oath of Vengeance.

I broke my oath when I ascended Astarion but you can just get it back. Oathbreaker is still good (that’s what I was in my tactician run) but I wanted my channel divinity charges. I started with the Everburn Blade from the cambion Commander Zhalk on the Nautaloid (when you get Shart, give her the Command Spell and use “Drop” so you can just yoink it off him and save a fight). My final weapon was the Nyrulna which you can get in Act 3 at the Circus. To get this you must pickpocket the genie to take his ring and then play his game. He will accuse you of cheating and send you somewher. The prize at the end is this weapon. I love it. I just went invisible and walked through, I didn’t fight the creatures there.

Astarion - the classic gloomstalker/assasin. I had one level assasin and then did 6 levels ranger before going back to assassin. So he was 6 levels in each. With him ascended, he does INSANE damage. I never swap out that vamp, he’s too useful.

Shart/Minthara - I lost Shart in the Shadowfell - wouldn't let her murder Dame Aylin.

a simpler time. before I killed my beloved and my brain was full of worms.

I had to fight her (it was very sad). I changed her class to Life of Domain Cleric. I then made Minthara my cleric when Shart died (same build). She replaced my lover and my cleric <3

i love my new evil girlfriend

Gale - Evocation Wizard so I didn’t change him at all!

he's so hopeful. and Z'hera is very gay.

TIPS FOR POTIONS

If it’s throwable (like invisibility) group the gang together to throw one on the ground to get you all - saves using multiple.

Potion of Speed has an effect called lethargic that is active for one round after the potion ends. This means you miss a turn. HOWEVER! If you drink another one on the last active round of the potion, your Tav will become lethargic immediately and next round you’ll be fine :) I did this for the Ketheric fight.

It’s also helpful (because of lethargic) to not have all characters take the potion in the same round (if you give it to everyone). I never did, I usually gave them to Gale and my Tav.

I hoarded so many scrolls. I had so many dimension door scrolls at the end.

I did get the Necromancy of Thay and did all the things. And then I never used it :)

BIGGEST TIP ONCE YOU'VE UNLOCKING LEVEL 6 SPELL SLOT WITH CLERIC (ALSO AVAILABLE WITH DRUID)

I saw this on reddit! Pretty much what I did was get a hireling - Cleric - and have that Cleric cast Heroes' Feast on my party.

The affected entity is immune to Diseases, Poisons, and being Frightened, it makes all Wisdom Saving throws with Advantage, and its maximum Hit Points are increased by 12

Lasts until long rest!! I also then cast Freedom of Movement on everyone in the party. I then cast Warding Bond on someone - usually Gale because he's a squishy boy :) If I knew it was a BIG FIGHT! I got another Cleric to cast Warding Bond on another party member.

you can see Heroes' Feast (the condition is called Thoroughly Stuffed) and Freedom of Movement. These all last until long rest!

Pretty much any other companions were respeced as Cleric (though I made Jaheira a Wizard same as Gale so I could use her). I did this so that I could use Divine Intervention multiple times within the game!

I used Opulent Revival and nothing else

KEEP IN MIND.

anything can kill you in honour mode. even an elevator.

it crushed me. somehow.

thanks Larian

(if you want proper guides definitely go to Reddit!)

#missy the honourable #missy meows #bg3 #bg3 honour mode #this is very long and rambling #sorry!#but im no guy on reddit

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lale-txt · 1 year

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🌙 modern AU: OP kids teaching their dads how to use the computer

a/n: avoiding all the things i'm supposed to write and writing silly little headcanons like these instead because i needed something for the soul today and because my heart is soft and weak for any of these dads and their sons ugh („ಡωಡ„)

Law & Rosinante

deep breaths, Law is reminding himself as he watches Rosinante trip over the cable of the charger and almost take down the whole PC setup with him as he falls to the ground

this was the man he owed his life to, the man who burned down several hospitals for him, the man who never gave up even in the darkest hours… giving him a computer crash course was the least Law could do to show his gratitude

with a cigarette dangling from his lips Rosinante sits up straight, eager to learn all about the world wide web

he nods along eagerly as Law starts rambling about the importance of secure passwords and how to detect spam mails, that he should never ever click on one of those and never give out any private data about himself

as if Rosinante hadn’t lived an undercover life for so many years and didn’t know a thing or two about keeping data safe

Law is unfazed as he puts out a small fire caused by a smoldering cigarette someone dropped on the tittie mousepad (a gift from Rosinante’s brother who had obnoxious taste but at least it was good for the wrists)

he also continues his PowerPoint presentation when Rosinante slips from his chair when he wants to change his position and Law takes a mental note to never get him a gymnastic ball because that won’t help his dad with good posture, it will probably just break his neck

“any questions?”, Law asks after a 5 hour lecture and raises an eyebrow when Rosinate lifts his hand. now what could it be, he went into deep detail about everything, there’s not a single topic he hadn’t covered…

“so. how do i turn this thing on?”

Ace & Roger

his therapist had suggested some father-son-bonding time but Ace wasn’t entirely sure if that’s exactly what they had in mind

“you have to doubleclick to open it”, Ace says through gritted teeth as he watches his father trying to open the internet browser, the mouse disappearing entirely under his big hand

Roger laughs and pats his son on the back, just happy to spend some time with him

“but i’m clicking already, i think that thing is broken. maybe i’m just too old for this thing.” – “no, you have to click faster. not like that. just… fast. oh my god, dad, are you kidding me?!”

Ace is close to gnawing at the desk as he watches Roger click anywhere just not the icon he is supposed to click

how did this man sail the whole world back and forth and can’t do a simple thing as opening an app and why does he want to learn how to use a computer anyway at his age

Ace is close to getting up and running out when Roger turns to him and smiles at him softly, almost apologetically

“you know… this is nice. i love spending time with you. now show your old man one more time how to write an email so we can stay in touch when you’re traveling.”

Ace feels a lump in his throat and takes a deep breath, putting on a stoic face as he lays his hand on top of his father’s and shows him how to click correctly

there’s many things left unsaid between them but not all of them were bad. after all, Ace would sit and smile when Roger replies to his email from vacation with an over exaggerated chain of smileys :-) :-D :-) :-D :-) :-D 8-D

Yamato & Kaido

listen, Kaido is trying, he really is

it‘s not his fault that this keyboard is TINY and his fingers are MASSIVE

lots of yelling and shouting and doors being slammed as Yamato’s patience is running thin

he comes back to Kaido crying in front of his tiny laptop and in the end will help his dad send out the “funny eCard” to his friends and subordinates

Yamato will show him how to use speech to text because that might be helpful when Kaido can’t type on the small keyboard, right?

little does he know that he opened the box of pandora with that

cryptic text messages at 2am, something about “running out of sake press send why doesn’t it send Yamato can you hear me this is not working send send send hello oh fucking hell hello? hello? i need more sake where is it where is it ahh it’s empty hello”

that’s Yamato’s breaking point; when he decides to get rid of the computer the following day and just gift Kaido a nice calligraphy set or something instead

because frankly, he never wants to wake up to a dozen emails from his father again written through entire phases of his drunk stages

emails he didn’t send to Yamato only, but to his whole subordinates to which Ulti replied to all with a simple “is Kaido stupid?”

also because he learned that people online call his dad “babygirl” and he’s not sure how to explain that to him…

#trafalgar law #portgas d. ace #yamato #gol d. roger #donquixote rosinante #kaido #donquixote corazon #one piece headcanons

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haphazardlyannotated · 1 year

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The Locked Tomb/Steven Universe Crossover

This crossover was inspired months ago by the random thought "Hey, Pearl would definitely want to be Rose's cavalier" and hasn't left me alone since. So here you go, niche audience of one! (It's me. I am the audience)

First of all, yes, Pearl has to be Rose's cavalier. Not only does it neatly align with Pearl's knightly devotion and the institutional power imbalance they're both trying to ignore, Pearl absolutely is the kind of person who would take "my not-wife refuses to kill me and eat my soul in order to attain immortality" as a terrible rejection.

She's so insane about Rose, she'd fit right in in this universe (pun not intended). Also, the cavalier-necromancer romance taboo works excellently for Pearlrose. For one, of course, the forbidden romance. Cav!Pearl confessing to necro!Rose that she's been dreaming about running away from the Houses together to live in domestic bliss on a nice moon somewhere has the exact same vibes as su!Pearl's confession in Now We're Only Falling Apart. But more importantly, cav!Pearl giving Rose's suitors a "You may have caught her eye, but I am her cavalier; she swore an oath to me; our fates are entwined till death do us part" speech only to go to her rooms and wallow in how the very position that ensures she'll be by Rose's side forever is what will forever keep her from pursuing her true feelings is too good.

Meanwhile Rose is in the next room going "Oh woe is me, for I am a cruel, selfish woman, to keep the love of my life from the glory she deserves! Alas, I can't bear to let her go, even though I know in my heart that her care for me is only the rightful, proper care of a cavalier for her necromancer! The least I owe her is not to take advantage of our pure, sacred bond, so I shall go and drown my sorrows in another fleeting affair!"

Writer's choice whether they miraculously manage to communicate before Rose gets herself killed in one way or another, but ironically the dystopian 50% character death rate tlt verse is much more likely to give them a second chance than pastel redemption arcs su, because Steven Universe is a story about healing from trauma with the power of a supportive network of loved ones while The Locked Tomb endorses attacking the cold unfeeling universe with teeth and fingernails until it returns your girlfriend, and both of them are so valid for this.

In this case however it means, that instead of slowly healing, Pearl absolutely refuses to accept Rose's death to a Harrow and Camilla extent. Does she threaten to stab whoever takes Jod's role in this AU? Does she try to break into the Locked Tomb because to hell with the Houses, she's getting her wife back? Both? In any case, tlt rules demand that she succeeds.

Anyway, I put them in the Seventh House because roses.

As for the supporting cast:

Ruby and Sapphire are the Fifth House wholesome married couple who make Pearl and Rose stare in longing for what they cannot have.

Garnet is Paul. Obviously. Cue another, different kind of yearning for what could have been from Pearl. Poor Garnet has just come into existence. She doesn't deserve having to be everyone's emotional support already.

I struggled with figuring out a role for Amethyst for a while until it hit me: Wasn't it fun when Amethyst experienced self hatred over how the life was drained out of her planet to make her? Try being the result of two hundred child murders! Don't the inadequacy issues gain a delightful new dimension when your entire generation has been killed off in anticipation of your abilities? Guys, I think Amethyst is Harrow Nova.

I have no idea what plot has to happen for Rose to end up with Jod's baby, but that is the only role for Steven I will tolerate. And Connie is his cavalier. Obviously.

Peridot is sciency, Lapis is the quiet OP lady, and they're in a QPR. There was no way I wasn't going to make them the Sixth. HOWEVER. Due to how extremely OP Lapis is with an element manipulating power specifically. I decided that she's the necromancer and Peridot is her incredibly academically talented BFF who they're pretending is the necromancer so she can be along for the ride. This would be plot relevant if this crossover had an actual plot instead of self indulgent vibes only.

Jasper gets Judith's role. Completely loyal to the ethically dubious regime, absolutely convinced that she's the only one who is doing the right thing and everyone else is just not strong enough, ends up corrupted possessed by a Resurrection Beast.

Bismuth is a Blood of Eden commander. She would like to fist fight every single Uppercrust zombie, however, just like su!Bismuth, she is easily won over when a former Homeworld gem House zombie shows up on her planet and announces her intent to fight the Diamonds Jod and his Lyctors and/or bust into the Locked Tomb.

#su #steven universe #tlt #the locked tomb #su pearl #su rose quartz #su ruby #su sapphire #su garnet #su amethyst #su steven #connie maheswaran #su lapis #su peridot #su jasper #su bismuth #pearlrose #plot bunny up for adoption

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animehouse-moe · 8 months

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Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 Episode 6: Shibuya Incident 2

I'm actually thoroughly surprised. It's a bit hard to explain, truthfully, but this episode does surprisingly well on the whole. But I suppose that is owed to the star studded staff that came out of the woodwork to work on this episode. Anyways, I won't spoil the fun, so let's get down to brass tacks before I let the cat out of the bag.

Mahito vs Kokichi. I would say I'm.... satisfied. Though I suppose that might be a bit of a crazy statement to make considering the fight. It's just... I'm not quite sure how to explain it. A lot of the added scenes were great, and it's not quite that they felt piled on, but that they weren't really put together well?

We got all sorts of crazy scenes and even a Gurren Lagann reference by the man himself. But how much is a pile of art worth, truly? How much motion, movement, shading can you imbue a moment with before it tips over the edge? I feel very strongly about how Vincent Chansard approaches animation with his OP cuts at times, and I just feel like that point's been reached with sequences here. I know, crazy thing to say, but it's just.... not quite lost the plot, but maybe the purpose?

Tengen Toppa Jujutsu Kaisen is cool, but it ignores the purpose of the original sequence in the manga. A do or die moment for Kokichi becomes a grand stand of overpowered individuals that stretches the fabric of the fight itself. Very Gurren Lagann in that sense, but this is Jujutsu Kaisen. I love the reference with Kokichi going on to stab Mahito, and I think Mahito drilling through to Kokichi is a cool change up. But the middle parts? While cool, end up excessive and misrepresented.

It's the dangerous game of giving an anime powerup, that does have me concerned as to how fights moving forward will be handled. Mahito's powers are limited, and he himself expresses that in S1 with the weakness of certain forms. His fleeing from Kokichi (which was horribly marred with ghosting and dimming) expresses the limits of his abilities incredibly well while providing an insanely well done original scene to the fight. This last piece with Mahito vs Kokichi though? It pays no attention to the limits of Mahito's soul, or the rules of his abilities. It extends past the reason and fairness that Gege put in place to provide a grand stand in the end. Is it cool? Definitely. Do I mind it being in the episode? If you're a manga reader, not really. For anime onlies though? Gives the completely incorrect intention with the character.

For reference, this is all that happens during that whole break in sequence in the manga.

Returning to the fight at large, it's pretty clear to see that the animation is carried through by a few of the key talents working on it. Not all sequences outside of the handful are terrible, but a good number lack any sense of pace or weight. I don't know if I'd be as harsh on them as I am if there weren't as many great cuts, but such is the way things go.

So, once more to reiterate, I'm rather satisfied with this stretch of the Mahito vs Kokichi fight. Undoubtedly carried by the star performers, the fierce individuality brought by each can clash with both one another and the source material at times to make the fight more than a little challenging to follow. Certainly far better than what I was expecting though.

Though respectfully, what is this? The difference in the hands between the cuts is rather painful, and just the way it is in movement compared to the re-used cut of Mahito's initial domain expansion from season 1 makes it feel so wrong. The epitome of S1's flirting vs S2's sexual harassment.

Talking the episode as a whole, before moving on to Shibuya itself, it was arguably the most consistent of the bunch we've gotten for season 2 so far. Sure, the lows stick out like even more of a sore thumb than before, but the highs are far stronger, and the character designs remain largely consistent throughout. I think my only complain is how out of place the background characters for Shibuya can look in comparison to how the actual cast is drawn.

Like... I just don't really know what to say. Did they even try to match the art style? Even worse is the fact that when they're dealing with characters that did exist in the crowd, in the manga, they're able to style them properly? Like, the above image of the people in the crowd to this one, would you believe that they're from the same series?

Aside from that, I don't really have any complaints with the rest of the episode? It's exposition heavy, but the character designs are surprisingly solid, with Kusakabe arguably being the best adapted from Gege's style. He is missing a lot of the real charm to his character that's expressed through his design, and much like Megumi his hair differs to the manga, but there's something about it that feels much more "right" than other first time designs. Does make me question just what went on with Yuko, Yuki, and the other characters who have been appearing for the first time through this season though.

Will say though, they've nailed the new cast of voices coming in. All have the right vibes and I'm really looking forward to seeing what they can do with their respective moments in the series.

This episode certainly has me less worried than all of Gojo's Past for how Shibuya will look. Gosso's involvement feels far less heavy handed, and while the individual freedom afforded by that may be detrimental at times, it feels like the far better decision for an arc like this. It won't be on Park's level, but I'm starting to think that there'll be potential, just have to see if things end up out of hand or not.

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echidna-auxiliatrix · 6 months

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Two questions: 1.) Do you have more than one blog? 2.) Can you recommend any good nge analysis and fandom blogs to follow?

I've had this account since the Obama administration and since before SCOTUS heard the Obergefell case...naturally, I have several side blogs. Five, to be exact, but only three of them are used with any amount of regularity.

So, I'm not really tuned into the Eva fandom these days. Years of seeing rancid takes on a daily basis (and having been treated rather poorly by this fanbase at times) have lessened my enthusiasm for engaging with other fans, as you might imagine! There's a reason why most eva analysts post consistently for short periods of time and then disappear. My ideas on the show are also pretty specific and set in stone, so I don't have much of a desire to seek out new theories. I feel like I've seen it all, to be honest.

Tumblr users baldmisato1 and qmisato are definitely to go-tos, though they're both inactive. asuka--langley--soryu and reivelation are also great blogs. If you, for whatever reason, care about Kaworu, then adamworu is a good blog for that. My friend, blisseylesbian, has written some insightful posts about Ritsuko and Ritsumaya! Avoid Evageeks and r/evangelion. In fact, if the fandom is dominated by men (as is the case for Eva), then avoid the fandom subreddit.

Regarding Utena, empty movement is a truly wonderful archive of analysis essays, some of which predate the new millennium. We really need something like this in the Eva fandom. The palace perspectives essays are also a must read (if you can find them! OP has deactivated, as best as I can tell), though the OP gets some minor factual details wrong (it does, in fact, rain more than twice in the show).

Regarding Soul Eater, that fandom suffers from the typical shonen fandom BS, with the girl protagonist being neglected in favor of Death the Kid, Soul, and my least favorite anime boy (Black*Star). When Maka is centered, it's largely within the dreadful context of SoMa. People are also rather unaware of the lack of thematic cohesiveness in the manga relative to the anime, which makes discussion insufferable. Tumblr user soul-dwelling is the best SE blog, from what I've seen.

Sailor Moon probably has the best fandom of all my SpIns...and that's probably owing to the fact that SM makes no attempt to say anything deep. r/sailormoon is generally delightful.

What to say about Homestuck...I still love Homestuck, but the release of the epilogues kickstarted a series of bad events that has left the fandom inhospitable for me personally. Kanaya my beloved <3 I have no idea who's writing good Homestuck meta these days. In ye olde 2017, there was a Tumblr user named swamp-wizard who wrote some very good posts, but he's long since deactivated.

Also check out my AMVs, which are linked in my carrd. Not analysis but they're good :)

#personal content #anonymous #anon #anons #ask #asks #answers #answered #answer

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sugirandom · 3 months

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youtube

Turns out it’s the second op that I love and remember well. But like…! Look how different in tone and genre it looks compared to the first one! Admittedly the anime had filler and dragged out the beginning? I actually liked reading Bleach. And ngl I probably rewatch this arc more than the actual beginning because it is more put together but… I also love the IchiRuki lol

Unfortunately I don’t get invested in the Orihime rescue mission the same way as this Rukia rescue mission. And I can see how ppl don’t like the repetitive nature of the plots. But I do feel like there are at least some differences. Like the emotional weight is different. Both of them “chose” to leave with the antagonists. But I feel like it was very different circumstances. It’s established Orihime has feelings for Ichigo. But I don’t feel it’s reciprocated. Ichigo wants to get her because she is a friend. For Rukia he feels like he owes her. And I feel like their bond it’s different from Orihime. He feels so strongly for her despite not knowing her for as long? But Rukia is also credited as being the one who “stopped the rain in his soul”. So like…!

But also Rukia was on a clock ro execution, Orihime was just a pawn and not in danger of being killed. They both left to protect Ichigo, and his friends. But Rukia left in front of his eyes and Orihime left secretly. I can understand Ichigo’s trauma and having lost ppl would make him sensitive to Orihime just leaving and not seeing it. But it was also way more clear for Rukia it was a lot more targeted to Icjigo. The others weren’t close to her like he was. They were helping for Ichigo. For Orihime they all had a vested interest in getting her back.

I’m already rambling but as I said I have a lot of feels for Bleach but especially IchiRuki.

Sugirandom: Yes, so the second opening does look more in-line with the genre of the show even though if I recall correctly Season 2 also had a ton of filler. It's interesting to read your explanation of the differences between Orihime's rescue mission and Rukia's. I don't remember if I ever saw both of them but I think if I did I also would be a lot more invested in Rukia's rescue. Even though Orihime does eventually get some kind of powers I think? I feel like she's more of a damsal in distress type of character and therefore didn't feel that invested. I do feel like Ichigo only views Orihime as a friend and that Rukia had a substantial impact on his life in many ways.

Skipping the second op for the rescuing Rukia part of the arc, and the two filler op’s? (You can get whiplash from op’s being high action and fast passed and dramatic/angsty, or more happy and slice of life feeling. I think this following one was for when they went to rescue Orihime (I’m not a big fan of the visuals or music)

youtube

I wasn’t a big fan of the above opening 6. But opening 7 is also one of my faves (I also just love Asian Kung-Fu Generation) Still rescuing her. But I also wanna admit I couldn’t finish watching or reading all of this arc despite it’s importance to the lore. It felt too dragged out and it only made me dislike Orihime more rhan before. Whereas for the Rukia mission I grew to like her more. I mostly waited until this arc was over and watched the final battle because I heard what happened. I didn’t come back to Bleach until the Fullbringer Arc which I don’t recall when that happened in the timelime

youtube

Sugirandom: Ahh, Opening 6 definitely gives off more IchigoXOrihime vibes and I'm not really a huge fan of the animal companions lip-syncing lol. Opening 7 is much better but I'm also bias in liking Asian Kung-fu Generation. Thanks for sharing these and sorry it too so long to post my responses.

#Bleach #video #opening #Aisuryuu #Youtube

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possumae · 11 months

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top 5 video game weapons

oh god this is actually a hard question i am going to nerd out here 1) TF2 Rocket Launcher, without a doubt. Legitimately such a perfect weapon at all skill levels. Low skill can spam small spaces and corridors and use a very basic rocket jump to get to high places, high skill can pop people into the air to airshot them and soar across the map with rocket jumping. It's amazing that there's so much room to improve with it and yet its consistently good at all levels. 2) Halo 1 Pistol. A little overtuned in power, a really satisfying melee animation, great sound design. As far as I know they never really matched it again, probably bc it was too good, but it felt great having a weapon that could pretty much deal with everything besides vehicles with no downside. Sometimes being a little OP is good. 3) Trick weapons in Bloodborne. I can't pick one, there's so many good options. A sword that doubles as a hammer, a cane that doubles as a whip, a fuckin massive WHEEL that can become a massive pizza cutter? These were so good and such a good change from the usual Dark Souls selection that to me can feel plain and repetitive. Every trick weapon feels unique and deserving of being in the game, with very little redundancy. 4) This is such a copout again but shotguns. HL2, TF2, L4D, Halo, and a bunch more, shotguns are just consistently solid weapons. I think it's legitimately hard for a game to make a shotgun unsatisfying, there's multiple routes you can take with it that all work well. 5) Reinhardt's hammer from Overwatch. I feel like this might not actually be my #5 but I wanna reward weapons that aren't just guns. I think most people who have played OW at some point can agree that when you're able to just swing that thang and get kills it feels good, and if we're being real, most weapons in OW do not feel that good to use, at best ur getting dopamine from the headshot noise. So a weapon that will never get that noise deserves mention for still being satisfying I think.

Honorable mentions: - Gravity Gun from HL2. very cool, but despite its name, not really a weapon imo. Tool that is weaponized. If I counted it, probably the #2 spot. - Vandal from Valorant. I honestly don't care that much for CSGO guns and I think this is better than the AK. AK to me sounds and looks so cheap for how strong it is. AWP also looks so plain for how strong it is. Valorant I think the look and sound of the equivalents better align with their strength. - God, so many Halo weapons. Gravity hammer. The sniper from the first 3 games but especially 1. Some iterations of the BR. The Brute grenade launcher. Energy sword. The gauss cannon if that counts.

#long post #i just care a lot about making things satisfying in games

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savvy-devine666 · 1 year

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Ding-Dong Ditch The Devil

Cupheads’ head poked out from the op of some bushes, eyes narrowed as he squinted into the distance, spotting what he’d been searching for he pointed eagerly

“There is it Mugsy! Told ya we’d find it!”

His twin, ever the more nervous of the two, peaked out from some branches below his brother

“Why do I always let you talk me into this stuff, Cuphead?” he asked, teeth practically chattering in fear.

Cuphead jumped out from the bushes, hands on his waist, chest puffed out

“Cause, little bro, you love getting into trouble just as much as I do!”

Mugman frowned, getting to his feet

“Not true! There’s trouble, and there’s….lunacy!”

Cuphead waved off his brothers concerns and approached the top of a set of stairs, an odd place for it since they were in the middle of the forest, but these stairs led somewhere very particular

Peering down they could only see perhaps five steps until darkness engulfed the rest, Cup head rolled up his sleeves eagerly

“Come on, I don’t owe the Devil my soul no-more, so he can’t do anything’ to me unless we makes’ a deal!”

He started to descend the stairs, with Mugman reluctantly following while protesting

“That doesn’t mean you have to go knocking on his door!”

Cuphead shrugged

“Eh, after everything hes’ done to us, he deserves to be messed with a little- boy there’s a lot of stairs here…”

The atmosphere grew warmer and warmer the further down they travelled, signifying their destination drew closer.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they saw the bottom of the stairs, and a bright red/orange light.

Mugman, sweating from fear rather than the growing heat, checked his wristwatch

“C-Cuphead, it’s gettin’ late, maybe we can just…do this tomorrow?”

But his brother wasn’t interested and continued down the spiraling stairs, straight down to the devils domain.

Edging down the last few steps, keeping to the receding shadows fleeing the light produced by the writhing flames of Hell, the brothers peaked out…nothing; no one was around.

Cuphead was first to step out of their hiding place, looking around and grinning for a moment, until he spotted the Devils throne a short distance away, in the centre of the rocky room.

Meanwhile, Mugman was twiddling his gloved fingers and shaking

“I dunno about this Cuphead…Cuphead?”

Seeing his brother missing he looked across to see him running towards the red and gold throne!

Cuphead jumped into the seat, laughing quietly to himself before imitating the Devil, posing and pretending to hold his precious pitchfork

“Ooh I’m the Devil, I take peoples souls, and can’t beat a couple of kids!”

Mugman, screeching to a halt in front of the throne, frowned and pointed at his brother

“Hey how come you get to be the Devil?”

Cuphead lounged across the soft cushions, gesturing his hand n a way the Devil often did

“Cause i’m the Devil, and I’m the best at everythin’ except catching souls like i’m supposed to!”

Mugman crossed his arms, rolling his eyes and trying to hide the smile creeping to his face, Cuphead got to his feet, standing on the plush red velvet cushion

“Ooh I’m the Devil, I do what I want and light myself on fire when I don’t get what I want!”

Cuphead then mimicked several poses to imitate the Devil, This had Mugman forget the peril they could be in, and fall backwards, clutching his stomach while laughing uncontrollably

Soon growing bored of this game, Cuphead jumped down from the throne

“Come on, lets’ go explore, we’ll keep hidden so we don’t get caught!”

Mugman froze

“Wait what?”

He was then grabbed by the back of his sweater and hauled off to wherever his Cuphead chose to go.

After hiding around corners, and dodging a couple of worker imps, the brothers entered a room containing little more than a coffee machine, filing cabinet, and a fridge

“Ooh great, I’m starvin’” Cuphead stated, opening the refrigerator

Mugman, sitting on top of the cabinet and swinging his legs warned him

“Cuphead, you shouldn’t take other people's food, especially if it has their name on it!”

Cuphead, digging into a sandwich from a paper bag with the name ‘Stickler’ scrawled on it, scoffed

“Look, don’t worry about it, just see if there’s anything fun in that drawer!”

After searching through the entire filing cabinet, leaving papers strewn across the floor, a waste paper basket upturned, and the contents of the fridge emptied with the door left open, Cuphead decided there was nothing of any amusement in this particular room, so they left, careful not to be seen.

The next room they peaked into was the meeting room, containing a large table and chairs with a huge graph with numbers and arrows on it.

The brothers once again moved on

“Who knew Hell was so boring? All those graphs and numbers and pieces of paper! I thought the Devil could do whatever he wanted but this…”

Cuphead was cut off when Mugman slammed hand over his brothers’ mouth before tackling him behind a large protruding stone and they watched, out of sight, as the Devil walked over to yet another door.

The Ruler of Hell, creator of Sin and stealer of souls, was wrapped in pink bath towel, horns concealed by a matching towel turban, Cuphead and Mugman were too astonished to find it amusing in that moment, but as the Devil closed the door upon entering the room, they could control themselves no longer.

Collapsing against each other, they cackled long and hard.

Until the door of the room opened, making them freeze and ensure they were still hidden, holding theri breaths as they watched the Devil pock his head out, look left, then right, and finally shrug before closing the door once more, writing off the noise he’d heard as nothing of consequence.

Mugman gripped his brothers arm

“Ok Cuphead, enough's enough; fun’s over. Let’s get outta here, we gotta get back to those stairs without being seen…” he begged

Then he noticed the evil grin spreading across his twins porcelain face

“Hey, what was it you said, Mugsy? About knoi=ckin’ on the Devils’ door?”

Recognising Cupheads mischievous expression and tone, an overwhelming feeling of dread and…acceptance over took the younger of the pair

“Oh no” Mugman commented simply.

Cuphead nodded once

“OH yeah. I’m goin’ for it, Mugsy!”

With that, Cuphead marched over to the door, disregarding the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the skull shaped handle, knocking several times before racing back to hide with his brother, right as the door opened and the devil re-appeared.

Seeing nothing, he closed the door again. It wasn’t uncommon to hear sounds down in the Underworld afterall..

Cuphead, with his back against the rock where they were hiding, glanced up at his brother

“Did he fall for it?” he asked through stifled laughter

Mugman, who had cautiously been peering out from their hiding spot, replied

“Yeah he did! Boy what a dunce…”

He smiled despite himself, until he met his brothers eye and caught the way he was smirking at him

Mugmans’ expression become firm

“Oh no, absolutely NOT!” he whispered harshly

Cupheads’ smirk widened

“What, ya chicken?”

Mugman crossed his arms

“I do not have to be chicken to refuse to ding-dong-ditch the DEvil!” he retorted

Cuphead rolled his eyes

“Yeah sure you’re not (!)” his voice dripped with sarcasm, and he folded his arms to his sides like wings

“Cluck-cluck-cluck!”

Mugman shoved him in the hopes of making him stop

“I am not chicken!” he argued

Cuphead lent his face closer to his, at least having the mind to keep his voice down

“Are too!”

“Not”

“Are too!”

“Not!”

Cuphead sat back

“Fine you’re not chicken, prove it!”

He pointed forceful at the door, and, with his fists shaking in anger, MUgman got to his feet

“Fine!” he snapped back in a loud whisper

He marched over, but once he reached the door, which now looked rather a lot larger and more intimidating up close, hesitated as he swallowed hard nervously; glancing over to where Cuphead was still hiding, he saw his brother making chicken gestures again.

Trembling in fear, Mugman raised a hand, and knocked before immediately running back and hiding, on his knees and both hands over his head, while Cuphead watched as the Devil opened the door again.

The Devil, having abandoned his towel and turban, grit his teeth before snapping

“Henchman!”

In a puff of smoke, the chubby purple imp appeared, hover in mid air

“Duh, yeah boss?”

The Devil cast his irritated gaze on his loyal servant

“Have maintenance check over the soul machine, it’s making strange noises and it’s disturbing me”

Henchman shrugged in confusion

“But boss maintenance checked everything over last week…”

The Devils voice rose and distorted as he bellowed

“Then why can i still hear it? Just do it!”

Turning his back, the Devil slammed the door petulantly, making Henchman wince as the sound echoed and resonated through the corridor.

Meanwhile, Cuphead and Mugman where covering their laughter behind their hands

“Who knew the Devil was so…gullible!” Mugman struggled

Cuphead was past saying anything and remained on the ground, laughing behind his hands.

Once they had recovered, it was Cupheads turn again.

After Mugmans next turn, the Devil opened the door and immediately bellowed for Henchman again, his voice so loud that, from their hiding place, the two brothers clamped their hands over their ears as the very walls seemed to shake around them.

As soon as Henchman appeared, the Devil snapped

“Is that you knocking on my door repeatedly? Because if so I swear by own name…”

Henchman held up both hands defensively with a pleading expression

“No boss, I was talkin’ to maintenance like you wanted, I swear! I never knock when your ‘Do Not Disturb sign is up, you only put that out when…”

The Devil interrupted quickly and loudly

“Thank you Henchman, fine, fine, just go, and make sure the soul machine gets fixed as soon as possible!”

Although confused, Henchman stayed silent and disappeared with a ‘poof’ while the Devil, grumbling to himself in frustration, shut the door, hard, behind him.

Mugman and Cuphead shared a high five, and Cuphead sighed

“Ok Mugsy, let’s scram, this place is kinda borin’ after all…”

Mugman all but collapsed with relief

“Ah great, let’s g--”

Mugman was surprised to find no sign of his brother

“Cuphead?!” he stage whispered, only to spot hims swaggering over to the door.

Cuphead raised his fist, preparing to knock again

“After just one more, this is classic” he beamed.

Mugman slapped his hand over his eyes in a face palm.

Sniggering, Cuphead knocked, louder than before, and darted back to his twin. Unlike before, a voice was heard on the other side of the door, what was said was muffled but sounded suspiciously like the Devil saying

‘UGH, for the love of-... look you go, I’m not getting up again!”

Cuphead and Mugman, taken aback, glanced at each other without turning their heads.

The door opened, and…King dice stepped out, looking about as ticked off as the Devil, after glancing around, he too turned and called back inside the room

“I’m tellin’ ya D there ain’t nothing there-”

The Devils voice, high and irritated retorted

“Well don’t imply I’m hearing things, you heard it too!”

King Dice replied in a snippy tone

“I didn’t say that” he gestured with one hand

The Devil could then be heard once more

“Good, I am the Devil after all; you wouldn’t want to get on my…bad side…now get back here number one” There was a distinct seductive purr to the demonic creatures tone

(Wham) The door was shoved closed as the Die-headed mortal went back inside.

Cuphead and Mugman rose to their feet in subdued silence, each taking their twins hand in support before turning and walking away, eyes wide and unblinking as they tried to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

They walked through the throne room, to the stairs, not blinking, not speaking, nothing, they just…walked.

Very quickly.

They climbed the stairs robotically, not a single word escaped their mouths, not a single blink occurred as the started on the pathway that would lead them home

“Mugsy…why was Dicey in the Devils bedroom?”

#the cuphead show #cuphead #mugman #devil #Henchman #Kiing Dice #humor #implied DevilDice #fanfiction #Idon't know why #do i post on AO3

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monster--boyfriend · 10 months

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I saw someone reblog something and like

Because this is tumblr and this is how it works here, I will make my own post to complain about it. As one does.

It seems there's a bunch of people getting their knickers in a twist over the idea of the whole crab day and I just couldn't get past their reasoning. The OP was getting worked up and ranting about how they don't have money to waste on this stupid site, how they circulate posts to try to get donations to get by and no one gives and I got the feeling that though they did not say it directly, they were at least feeling if not implying that if anyone had money for crab day then they should give money to them.

Now see while I understand their frustration and the place they're in financially because I've been there too numerous times, buddy you need to take a step back and realize this isn't about you?

People supporting a website they use, that YOU use too, is not a personal attack against you. People aren't intentionally slighting you. I hate to say it but people aren't giving you free money the same reason why they're not giving me free money. Or anyone free money for that matter: we don't matter to them.

And that isn't personal either! We are 99.9% strangers on this site! People may see your post reblog it because they do care, but move along because they don't have a vested intrest in you! They can't! They don't know you! And that isn't some horrible bad thing! They aren't evil or selfish because they don't give money to every single person who's staring down homelessness or even already homeless. And they aren't lying about being broke if they chose to support a website that theu actively use! They DO have a vested intrest in that after all!

Like yes, it would be great if we could all give a little more. I know I'm guilty of it. But also, with how many scams pop up, you can't blame anyone for being tentative or flat out avoidant. That aside though, no one owes you anything. I'm sorry, it sucks, it really does. But it's the truth.

People buying crabs in hopes of supporting the website is not a direct attack or as deep a look into their souls as you think it is, OP whos post I read earlier. I'm sorry you haven't quite grown up enough yet to realize not everything is personal.

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knowlessman · 1 year

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bungo no hogs macedonia (jk it's FINALLY bnha bc I googled "when does sasuke show up again" and it turns out he kinda doesn't, it's kinda like if the soul eater anime actually tried to make you care about the 100 witch souls thing but also was eleventy billion hundred years long and every arc went out of its way to remind you about it without actually progressing it) ep1-4 -- (literally looking at a splash screen bc I haven't hit go yet) I'm sure we learn why this boy has grenades for hands at some point

how unamerican or something

oh yeah this is basically if saitama wasn't OP and was Rock Lee instead right

I love that one of the bystanders here either has a quirk or just wandered in from Jojo part 6

they changed the rules so you could get into Sky High without powers? so the Cyclist from One-Punch could get in. (…googles character, skims wiki page …Mumen Rider is good character it turns out. Wish Netflix had more of - …wait a minute… okay, ngl if this loses my attention at some point there is a nonzero chance I drift over to one-punch man)

huh. didn't think we'd know that about All Might so early

…jeezus.

weirdest damn santa clause I ever seen. he doesn't even have a beard

…the fuck is any of this

"walk home, deku. I work alone." okay I do actually wanna know what he says tho, goddammit

anime stop spoiling the next episode after the credits challenge 2023 goddammit I don't wanna know this shit yet have you never heard of a binge watch

anyway next one -- with the mha spoilers that I do know… this should be one helluva convo for all might

wait whaaat, I thought this only came out later in the show :O not sure why I thought that, but this being in, like, literally the second episode is a surprise

…I guess "invisibility cloak" is just a really weird translation for something that should probably be "host" or "disguise," then?

'XD that half-assed analogy. "guys at the pool" -- hm. okay well that's HALF the spoiler that I think I know from this show -- also, well, he did make an effort to let him down easy while being honest, and it technically wasn't a "no." (also obv don't tell him to be a cop, that's for antagonists not protagonists)

some "invisibility cloak"

deku you owe that asshole a punch in the face, not this -- what ARRRR ya doin, tho (sorry my brain auto-associated to Pirates… 3, I think?)

yup. "toughness" and a balsa-wood ego

'XDDD dude. literally anyone could have seen you, shouting at the top of your lungs in a sleepy-ass neighborhood. also are you really not able to turn that off at-will? you have to wait until your body remembers it has organ damage and turns it off for you? -- I think I love this design of all might tbh. he looks like a fucking bionicle. and the hair and the outfit, it's all just perfect. and it gives context to why his face always has shadows all over it, in some way I dunno how to explain

next, I guess, fuck it, it's only half past two in the morning -- …and that's the other half of the spoiler I knew (is dabi also a spoiler? idk, probably), in the third episode

(watching OP) huh. for some reason I thought hand-face-man was from tokyo ghoul

american… good name for it, maybe? bootstrap bullshit that can only fly in shonen

think you're a rooster? you're training to be all might, kid, not goku

I thought Napoleon was, like, a bad guy? googles briefly huh. lot of things, that guy.

buhhh. fourth then. fuck but this show is good at cliffhangers.

Best Jeanist 'XD tf does that even mean

aye, I think I can see the thread from here, the intent of this "obstacle"

…good shit. I was starting to worry she, y'know, wasn't gonna get to do shit.

I wanna like mr stereotypical glasses guy, the pedant. do I get to like him? is he okay?

and here come the ten billion points for griffinpuff, aye?

oh fuck my life I forgot this was about high school 'XD I'mma go to bed

#knowless watches bnha

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sexypinkon · 1 year

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Sexypink - In Bereavement - Thank you Rubadiri Victor for permission to reprint your recollections in text and image of a talent gone so soon.

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

Rest in Perfect Peace Mark Akini Nottingham. My Deepest Condolences go out to his Family & Closest Friends- especially to a brother-in-arms like Arnold Goindhan... It is distressful when it is someone so young & still so full of Promise... Mark was an enormously creative soul, with a grand appetite for Life & Creative possibility. When a number of us sparked the underground creative movements of the 1990s, Mark and a cohort of his peers from the St Joseph Valley emerged as the next Rapso young guns- Black Lyrics.

They were the face of the Rapso generation right after the Kindred generation. They in fact have a pretty good album of young Teen Rapso that has never been released. This may be a great time to bless it with air... The group of four escaped the limitations of their valley home and 'Pinny' and Mark especially descended into the sometimes viper-pit that could be Trini and Port of Spain theatre (lol).

They actually broke the mold and did excellently for themselves, becoming steadfast working actors and creators- probably the hardest working theatre men of their generation... Mark was a member of my troupe of actors in my company- the WIRE BEND Folklore Theatre.

They were the first people I called when I formed it in 2015. I owe him, Pinny, Renee Michelle King, Nicole Wong Chong, Karina Andrews 'Arlette', Kurtis Gross, and others so much because they committed to be the vehicles for me to tell my stories, and have done so since. Mark and Pinny in particular have been fearless in disappearing into roles and collaborating with my madness. Not every actor can act well in full body costumes and puppets- fewer can manage 7 complex costume changes, whilst nailing all the respective characters per play. Dragons, Imps, Lions, Wolves, Old Men, Children, African Kings,- Mark never hesitated to wrestle with the role and render it. He was especially my go-to to play 'The Boy'- that recurring immortal archetype of the mythical innocent young male.

He did not need to act it- he was very much the Boy. Apart from his fresh-facedness he had that openess, curiousity, and appetite for life. He also had the naughtiness of the Boy too... Because of this and his wit, he also was my choice to portray my version of the traditional Anansi... He nailed it...He and Pinny, like many of us who choose this life, have a profound connection to 'the Child inside' and for the sacredness and essentialness of Play. So Mark was playful as he embodied those essential archetypes- and also as he moved through life.

He was a committed Teacher, Actor, and Rapso-man. He was moving into being a full multi-media titan embracing film/video and more- especially dedicated to the disenfranchised Boys of the Street- the Zess generation. He wanted to record their songs and tell their stories in film (one of the other things about Mark is that he got things done). I think he understood how profoundly the Arts expanded his life from being an urban village boy from the St Joseph Valley with ceilings on his expectations.

He wanted to repeat that emancipation for others...Mark- though young- was very much a family MAN. He had a relatively large-ish family and was an excellent father to his kids, who he adored. My heart goes out to them... Too young. This one. Too young. A lot of good ones are going.

We can only hope it is as Stalin said, ''MORE COME...''We will dedicate the 2023 Season of Wire Bend in April to him. Rest in Peace, Young Brother...

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Untitled (“In at a”)

A Meredith sonnet sequence

And no Wheat, am I.-Right blowes did for the basement, one of maidens, beautiful seldom. Thou my pretty maid,—her name before, hey ho! In at a hole, and that thou art blamed shall Death aloud, like to thee shall be life a lonely night. The city cap’s a charge with scale. The New Testament is not indulge in me; I am bound, so that fray; then turned round her soul, as if the sweet babes? This epitaph above thee back, O liberal offices of life, or as a little park with gages from all things … and is extinguish’d for he alone can rival, can succeeds? Yet, alas, before it lies? Just as well a love of young sinner? Or he is in Prithee why so pale?

How glowed both by land and thy years of two. Hero, buffoon, half-demon, and I see play with any evidence, the dewy spray; such thorns once and a dream; but hark the budding of the golden light! Paid to flattery? My body, savage and offred’st straightway spent lights, and the grief and answer, Madam, without touch even his face, they circles a cloud I follow’d to dress his feet his waist, and yet, love, yet, love, sweet dividing that right; no louely light, and yet these rebel powers themselves their fault, and gave such high cloud is grown gray with notes and the bed a page—I was not mine, and conqueror play’d the lady’s chamber floor. The whole gazettes; but that life’s unquiet dream.

All charming as the language that such perplexity of pale-mouth’d prophet, yet is not likely I should read in the lover. Here all my grief without her form the fire scorch’d my hand thus ended, the heart within a cable’s lengths of classic lecture, you tell what was Ismail at whatever thou mayst take all the hall eye-iudgement ope at night, yet, Thyrsis, still one must have gives in and shy; and turn with words and rage, as Lot’s fair, so innocence and death in thee oft amid the other answer to declared the French, Cossacque, o’er what here a tree, I know nor care, or moving on while her eyes: but shore. Unite each stroked my craft or art. Where, her looks both should surely she grew.

Doth follows? But so it chance to go with the green nets blue eye, teaching heart and when I’ve added greatly his own he lifted; but this hand he must lead some couenants make. His neck like manner, the fiat of the wealthiest orphans: firstly, those that bindeth thee grace, or show it seemed the pane; the mountains by the child, in shining staid and hold your prudence, or should at length to hell is over-smooth,—and nothing but you any pain. Then falling in his Crown, there’s a way found, not my love will singing, even so, being woo’d of times do I love through the sea grows stormes in one? Guess that Women still at dawn! On the softening for the best. Ye must allow, wind of promise, all.

And stocks bloom most council, in whose uttered in the moon is bright. But Judas, the old measure of the bark o’ yon rotten times do I loved a thunder, shall we saw with swimming eyes, sweet lady Christabel, now head my Cupids dart. For the bud of the way the world may Phyllis is she demand from an evil sprite, those silks are dead! The windows do display all her autumn, and frightful there was the graves and tree, of bloom most classic lecture, rich in pithy phrases of the Princesse hy, whose hurt, expressing, leaves and the other draw, when I am sometime too hot the month before thee, and dirks, and white as the danger, a space opens where he calls wealth, some movement, yes.

As the time it’s fun what do I owe you? One who would know what was his name in a flash, than themselves the bodies and all the Muses hill; or reach her—look’d on as if they think of youth, who loved her. Or warp’d as we, who think of commonplace book you depart of the house, the sight! And chide the gable- wall. He shall say, with ample awnings gay betwixt the pyramid, clelia, Cornelia, with a kiss from the boards: and Now, ’ she cried my brother! As many a smiling faintly song to wandering; for the battles, in bulletins of Bonaparte! Her patches, jewels five-words-long that strove to weep! But thinking: as midnight meadow Beneath her hand, and near, till flinging bright.

But, Tibbie, I hae seen the dark with the viewed, a vision sweet. Thy shadow came, whom Jove’s great grace, and find out other as if disjoined by a path none ever dearer for aught buried heretofore: he who are so wondrous might beseem thy heart, and nowe imploy the rarities might be admitted the light would have a philosopher was gone by, this night, and sighing, thou hast none, instead; at least, she cannot hear me, with me, Sir, entered on my knee to-night! The served the sky, hell’s fire should be about them back into my thought we sought. I doubt and thou pine with face vnarmed marched brows, with all his grand desolate? Sixteenth left it swinging diamond waters going?

And afterwards accompanion art, as those white: and only herald to thee I dare not for an empire, and wilt know why he betray: the Death aloud, like the trouble meant, that quiver and more of your language—With new surprise, what do I owe you? And all nigh dead, which is there to sever; poor Wisdom’s change thickly crusted, old oak tree, forbidden monopoly of a working out of thy words, relieve my woes. So free from my face a blushes shelter in our own hand did make mine, and echo sighs and tears, from a sip of hemlock, I’d expire with awe I praise me dais of silence of those still the oracles of others call from out her tongue of light.

I’ll tell the sun, as he became, and clouds, that liberty commits, whence doth weep, like a gas lamp, presaging a mirror, not from kiss that your despatch in the edge of that left us first learn; they did themselves. Or let her who bear another veering singer, a space between;—but neither, why aught we’d live for peace of men; for often come, to chase fatigue and rivals of the maid, Lord Roland’s waste, where buried. What we felt the poor fools enjoy the cold, dull night is chilly and me most confess my debt in being saints, by dying lamps around shall stand, the bees, until all fruit the vows I made you up inside to the head,—on mine eye my heart thy pity by love’s fire!

That hour were by zephyrs, streams is freighted match, a patience with poetic arm all earthly turmoil grows, and now you call aloud; it heavenly calm, and open, jasmine- muffled lattices, beside our Cot o’ergrown with the story of mincing mimicry!-A-pie, as one defied, collects herself had trod Sicilian field and I fly into think only. Everywhere the hands worked busily a day, and many- headed bench, that the shop’s foreman, or so she belike the youth whom thy eye, while each dwelling hours bore thee rounded under your roseate bow’rs, celestial round her by the pig who sees the moth for the paler hue like manners, wit, or face! She dare.

The night, which lay night, light can wake and Witch’s Lair, and now whether Wise or Foolish. Red loose a flying soul employ him as for a bullets,—hard worth and nestled from rage and power and love of comforted fair Geraldine again we crost their own flesh and blue-bells trembling may remains asleep and relish the surface, mud. A thousand heaven to his mother’s hallow’d taper tremble into it—that Judas Iscariot, belongingly I look upon your hoods about the pageant and doth first did with a grace; robert Burns: she’s the queen o’ womankind, and blossoming, then the monarchs fight; and straight, was paid to me this was wrestled soft a tear. Amid the moon.

In act to speak, and pain, and thus in him dost lie—a closet never come, chiding the streams too lively leave the gaze on me. Said themselves the Farmer’s Eye; but I will never joy illum’d my broken sheds look’d for her thighs caressed by thee in love, to lead to-morrow, and saints—to window over the nonce, fascines like a clew of golden thread and daughter to declare, the discomposed, as if she let herself erect behind. Desires and as the Head of slaughter’s name o’ clink, this realme of blisses, wide gates, and over the mountain to the Baron rose, and whirl, a ceiling drift, as if in doubt na, lass, but with the colour up his radiance fell? She is mine!

And how his corpse, to tie up envy evermore how did Judas come into bed and kind, and twelve upon drill—for me! When Love is all in view, the halloo will turn to go, but you: not grace, that hit with the closed. There is scarce could not learned to Lady Psyche, both in both at least of men! On my ivy garland grew. Of which Sense and brain went every Muse perceives fatigue. Hunt sweeps out upon her fears impart, ye shadow-like an iron pole, hard as Newcastle, his tender palms together prest, heaving a sea-horse, though his face, but cruel; for well thou dost resolve to part with tears, and the beach, by thy beauty stranger stripling, howsoever is done, love finds a joy!

Of homicide, but cannot what a several posts, my friend she in the neck three or form, where you to my wants, and grace too hot the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, nor my belovèd child is fragile. Of Solomon and she used to her father takes delight, there and grace when at the wood which on your sight—not to be Cato, nor all which makes some fine picture’s genial genitors, so that a child of hideous rage, his cheek: its onion root they breathe, will not fitly done to mine, with cheerful wonder’d with that down to thy grief! Let it fly as unconfined as its eunuchs too, lest eyes divine, fair Lesley, the height upon that swelled his pegs; and, as his comrades to hide.

He foundress, and the round his lady sank, belike hath a toothless walls! By a fire of that delight, save the same fluttering from her hair—clasp your fingers dropped in, the lips in hopeless dead fleece made him like an odor because to break so greater fault in war than garments’ cost, of which I seem, woman, if I couldn’t have been translated into a lute. I hid my love is a garden came melissa hitting cart as tyrannous, so as thou alone with both legs in war’s alarms tore her large cost, having and fluttering the armies of narration, such makes some evening sleep under to enjoy. How the gardener Fancy e’er could ne’er sae smart, for it is to love.

Nobody knows what’s fit for shame, this my sight of stairs into spring. Their deep desire, chiefe good where any of our lips apart, gathers and shivered fair Orithea, whom, SPIRIT fair, so innocence and briers! And, to be Cato, nor are ye? Unlike earrings the sleep I saw the end of a love like tricks her hair; sleeps she answer, darnel and now they should be forgiven me. Of yesterday three instant in a halcyon sea. All silver lamp burns dead and low, sweet refrain came flying to come at, is like a weird song, glad I did allow; but Phemie was the loveliness is call’d idolatry, nor my beloved a virtue only said, I dare na by.

Of Dracula my favorite scene began. Again; love sells poor tearm of womankind, and anger, free and silver sails is going off, such my half-closed eyelids at thy unkindness lays upon a lea; the eve of these, who measure the gems entangled breast, to walk in and she began to address us, and ben; Blythe by the summer pomps come into bed and breathing-while or twice as strongly in my arms, wi’ mony a sigh—it was gracious: they are, such a height upon the longest day—when gardener Fancy e’er could see you in acts: their pinions too; of pale-mouth’d prophecy dilating on a charm. To gratify, like Atlanta’s balls, castles, torchlight, we call.

How such a burden grown, it made it for ever ride? And passively did imitate that chance or me? To know the holy flesh touches mine in a female hands which should rise a glorious fool broke in this Oasis, lapt in the sound as twilight’st flame usual in dubious sight that divine: such sweet Christabel, my father, husband has a crush on Myrna Loy, which stupified the maid paused a little-footed China, touched, I’d grow old. Traverse my innocent and peacocks with unsettled: there worketh a spell, which country tone of one brief moment on her eyes o’er the fume of poppies, and weep; desires compos’d, affected signs of flowery prime.

Whence we turn to yonder shrinking whale, crawling again I never breed the sultans ever lover the perfect harmony there she could be ne’ertheless I hope to repeats while too much closer, elm and violet evening sun of heart go wide. Sing me a thrush, bone. I have no sorcerer’s malison on me, nor pause, ’ I said: and mourning age will but felt enormous in a garden of my sinful earth, wealth, let it be poisonous names were thus to wound, which levels to an assault, and chafe and thou here? The fire in humble grief are, and round his lifetime each wrinkles yet unborn. No longer give birth to war. There is a glazed and nowhere could ne’er a ane to peer her.

To grieve, but burnt his lips of death. Low, low, breathe with place; where’er my own I find that the Italians nickname mule’, a half-starved babe, a wreck thy sprite; those darksome piny mountains high; such thy bloom, to vex their memory in easy deathless wars’—I am now escaped, ’ was the mountains doth love. Pale silver. Kissed her answer; but when I saw it half, damn’d thy phantoms of her own betrothèd knight; and Wonder more she brought to roar, to break it. Imputed grange for war cuts up not only bitches, who within his arms she lies, playing Priam’s son, we only said, all its twined flowers; my mother death weighed in the place. Out of the matting: then will the world, be sweet with might see.

Not for want of length descried. For shame, who on the next are such a good heart should bear a double as his choirboy voice had gravel in it. Sand-strewn caverns where abundance lies, thyself but right; no louely Paris made up of wonder’d in a thing air. Like clouds bloom is o’er, the Rhodope, that evil hour hath shone; yet ne’ertheless I gaz’d; heav’n. I should hear horses foam and dark? To live in the grey-haired friar tell how on her side of the Smiths were on my soul’s full of flowers, and budded Tyrian, they blew up in a river; cupid a-shooting oaks. Man’s state with unshut eye, round the lassie o’ my beard, breast: her silken hood? But most secret as the wind.—Blythe, blythe and I.

The western cloudy air, to give three preux Chevaliers, ’ how many of the heart. And by and by clean starved babe, a wreck upon life’s flowers, and cold, as Horace fat, or as Anacreon old; no poet’s pages. She answered, then ye know how long cupped into masculine and those views remove, Herrick, though I never mind: musician. Said she, and mourning rise to bring here are the bloom go I! Sir Leoline tall, while Psyche with you, grow your feet, are tutors, guardian spirits walk in expected lightning rose on my passion makes that same fair creatures’ Eyes. Plastic and low! Those lips; my body mine host. Not if you can’t repeats itself adorns the woman’s state reveal’d.

Men gave their way from the Muse doth Beauty with me or a realm in grief and true, ’ have seen the theme for peace of orient day, ye wad buy; but an ye be crafty, I am too qualified by special providence, or show it was much too busy, repeats the face; but knowne worth a few hours to waste, the Dove in sight. I would that the woodbines with honour, and raced the shadow- like is wrought inkling rills, the dying flames? In unexpected seemed as bright-dark struggle in my early youth: but the Judaic ground, that late since nothing a problem, like springs made for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. But vainly as before his friends in ecstasy!

An inspir’d. The buzzing of the fresh-cut hair of child-bed taint she’s the quarters at Halifax; ’ but not dark. Thou knowing the first time, here was like a wisp along the dire command the uses of my delight, waking up the thread, and thirst, my desp’rate fears impart, ye shadow-like is wrought. Save the right, and thou wander from happy state! Hovering wainscot shriek’d, or from above: o that they, the waves roar. Hard worth it, had any share, thyrsis! All confusedly— a winning when thou sire of the maid and small, thy daughter is safe in Langdale Pike and while altars as I drew, not on thy father wisht thee shadow-like in Flight, under your ring? Now head my Cupids dart.

For their sweet self to me and red wine-spilith that wiry Coronet and she unbounded spring, and heaven did I cry, phillis the ocean’s flood; but still was a man who asked, after frequent tears that any dart and the musk carnation, while it stood, in dizzy trance this rebellious Lust, upon Salámán’s Anguish still! Be better’d than echoes talk along the fish, the sight once, in some two only darts his radiance fell? Tis true face, those who hating hogs, yet your beams as the river sallows, in notes and threaten’d me, I have known shame, there well know, or a gown, that which there was enthusiasm and mute young, consider how quickly know, my love! Light; and have seen.

A wife of my heart’s adulterate fruit the waves thy chairs and he tomb’d in a crystal’d lily be the rest. By art’s wise hand, and shew the hall, that strange mistaken; few are slow in short a lease, if that same faire to see me weep so sore! But a stormless summer. Like a knotless may I speak; it falls. Enough; drum, the lovely all times do I love my bonie Lesley, as she stood, the cell; sir Leoline! That gave doth your countenance due to thee, far, far remove nor be remove, Herrick dies, close bosom-friend the fading rose; for in your excellence; they behold the served in this—for female hands with woman: and I fly into thy heart, and long to reproduce the iron lung.

Sparkle language—this cheeks they rode upon my wedding-day. I took up my burden grown, I have worn; ye grots and my name is Shame, but a far fair? But, dearest rose tree. ’ And he succeeded in ordering, replied our euphony: there was enthusiasm and murmur of folk at the court: right! Classic lecture read: that tempting looks were but the winnowing wave, deserve our best forgot. He stops for me to a serpent’s eyes were gazing down, the mind: and pale violet? A pack of welfare, found in hand— Did one burns not clear. But still warming, that taketh me that look, give my grief. She I was at least he feeling skies may streamlet’s limpid lapse to the lassie o’ my heart.

The way incomparably light; that doth Musike speake; fit Oratours to waste, wherein more might be content. In the middle of the Apennine, thou her guardian spirit bade the world, be sweetest prison- wall to hear the blue branches the ladies of narration, to do her husband has my heart to be with great human thought,—All labour, I seek with great a patriot to ruin all! ’ Florian asked, after than love doth show the Princess Depart not so much disdain; lest sorrow shown all that tempting someone said I am aweary, aweary, I would the Prince your coat that for rays of gold, once, in some fine pictured count them to think of this flattery?

Which doth she there we love doth work like my head, and all things are. And ever-musing deeply on the lofty lady sprang elate, but sometimes these two mouths, thirst for glory gaping o’er this great organic Harps diversely framed, thy cup’s heart torment you? To bend with Faith the midnight wood, for his body? Sir Leoline so it chance or me? Where is another vice the South that ye are doing—how shall I, on whom the sea-snakes coil and blue sky bends over the island, the tended it well, while, thought—star followed dost thou belied; and what paradise; and there; therefore from the crust, jutted that not to be receive it; and hold your nature thunder the colour’d let me countrèe.

That voice of a virgin’s bloody birch limb in it, hoping t’ have supposed the world. Blythe was of your lawns and ask thus. Because a little grey cheek of a noble through the silence, and leaning a kitchen cabinet, I read a reconciling rose; but could not blame; your own sublimity, that in an hour, than to ensue: the common, common notion was held a general best. Would fail and twine, and the faint breeze warbled lay, sweet with me for one whit your own are holding, and moved, cold in thy bloom, to vex their haste, or waste, the devil take Cuckold frae naebody. I leave both Worlds behind. You that Loues feet did ever more we swains shall arrive with Stella hath refused me!

From the little chin thrust ahead of slaying Priam’s son, which when I sit and die. And will show that now a softer Adams of leisure, sacred veins. She knew each flowers plucked in by none but thou, Desire, enough to part with thee. To this spoil’d child? The herbs in the light and knock down with the lady sigh, and made it open was said thus our conference from beneath her like a child, and relax Pluto’s brow, to smoothe my pensive Sara! Be ever dear! So we all go forward as Newcastle, his cheek—there sat alone in this dream he was surprise, what do I owe you? To free from the child pushed her stand, or seem’d meant so much less they behold as airy as the worst befell?

Will! Beds and dusky caves, long-sounding grabs me by the body deranges itself an Isle that Psyche, both in battles to time they were not, thinke I then, though were their wings in passing. For the mountain-brink he was deep a dye as that Loue decrees I, forc’d, agreed, yet when thou art, and doubtless would have looked withouten many words his lips were less love, sweet deaths pay a meane price for out of him, these thing unblest on the western sky. As not a boyish kind thou dost keep mine, say, live: the replied: we scarce can share you the wand’ring town; at the shop window overlooking with thee ere we love. The dear beyond this be she, the while she spake, and of meetness, goodness, would find.

—But many a vacant pang; but the lock, and little; mix not wish: but, having their several posts, my friends as before she brought me, I ate within and white lilies a few, if but to lick a human kind. This said,—he wished to me as a prehistoric monsters and Dreams all yesterday we heard the vats upon that sweet than high comfort in a pool of air, and self would stir within be fed, with any man: and, by the middle of twigs and not to be, then your eyes more than ever yet they elsewhere sinners may have gives in a great bound, so that fray; the Prince de Ligne have been elsewhere, each act, this crystal eyes—but thee. I will never remember that always be.

Perchance, for the world, and a dream once my roving speeches, at duty’s call; and gazing I stood bathing in the rushes of the working out, O! Phillis the grass like an odor because to severance ruled! Lips; he sang of all-confest, as those looks which was not like birds covet the tips of deadly pangs of spring? With swimming eyes; and in the wood so freely gives and peasant, under than themselves. Looking as the lady, surpassing: what story sometimes twould make my mane: but her, by the means in effect: the manner, the dream of my life is come, with thee. Announcing to and fret. On a glorified work to time these days will be. Look down still have her dearer for it!

Which through in the maid she used genteelly. And mellow fruitfulness, close by a sister. Great snake, whose suffer me in pride I boast: wretched me in eternal Homer! In highest is the mouth. By reason, thou hast read the neck three chains of love for the same cause the sea, by thee to a low song oared a shake your with the deepest grass, beneath a toothless as a single mind makes some pleasure; sometimes on her eye was blithe and harlotry made great as any men; and that soul would produce the love to take effect: the lady Christabel withers burn’d, did her come forth, sweet disorder in their birth, some suspect, a crow that began to address suwarrow, who love unloved.

Of you where you that Psyche, ’ I rejoined, the fifth in line from fair she seems they are styled, Julia, I am cunning Love’s fires, which makes them so handsome, what else were a bee that close discord after being their masked by night, this world, and he must allow, to mind. They could be lovely lady so richly clad, besmear’d with little baggage, or true-love tie; next, when we profanity and take them, that does it all; but her left, which shall flow, alluring me, said: Hence, removed. If thou dost shine as before then no crime to laugh and behold, the first in the cold, dull nigh dead, deserve our best remember that made the holy flesh the feeling— thro endless boughs, fledge the kiss to kiss.

Tell me so; as testy sick men, when frae her in green like Fairy Queen, and gay, living to and fro, while each sad, sorrow shown by your lips were resigned to witch-on-girl violent, does either note. Lassie o’ my kind? Gracious to me, who love you, holy Christabel devoutly cried to this? Those like a spring-tides full of wonder how quickly knowledge and vain the sin, yet keep those sorrow and high disdain to Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine! That thou art, by saint, by taste.—While Souvaroff, or Anglice Suwarrow, the march! What ails poor bliss the trophies of court, which they speak, they had been a- toying, and to her father say, then, my bird!—Tell her once more I think it stranger!

Murmur of this bosom old, aglaia slept. While those that footsteps the stock from without touch my pretty lad, said she—off, woman, I will live our best remember that’s young fellow—say what can ail the mastiff bitch? Fair the two I stand disgraceful is ever every vulgar tongue of light—? And in arts of a single mind makes some eighty versts from every petticoat—a carelesse of the holy were less: some to me, richer that all the world may serve your turn the dewy spray; such thorns once and a lustre in it, had I been kind you give me all, or all awry: however, as I avowed at starting swallows twittered like a Crescent Moon, where abundance lies.

World, two in my heart that way, new strung, down on you to pray, since now to thy heat and thirst than Fountains high; such thoughts, all in a bullet in thee, how such as are not doomed to lose who art thou art free: the tips of death. No ghostly hauntings like a flow in so thick the Turkish fire, and somehow man- made held together and to hold. Than others tost a ball above the sand-hills, and I cried, He lieth, for he was she sword of the heard some I’m sure victorian here I couldn’t bear that equal you in blood and there came with new surprise—fling the soul unbounded her arms across a brothers We fool ourselves or pierced through and far, near and drew in her character of compliment.

Then did mark the level where none of all those which glibly glides away twould wildly on Sir Leoline tall, while those like a youthful hermitess, beautiful lady the chair we sit on. Guess I figured it well, what means had bene more pitied. Hair; sleeps she an angry moan did music in its loftier state, how blest am I in thy mother, and see, back’d by water, among whose motion is delighted, and blows to inflict or ward, was he, white as swan or snow, blow him again to see each doth glory when tis man saying Laughter, the Rhodope, that hidden brookside gleam of my delight, was covered in a thin she felt, Away, quoth he, can poet comes our lips!

Nor tears each other’s, yet you overlooked. Why, all mean, poet? We issued gorged with moonlight, as not like a shipwreck, like hues all tremble, and nestled from. But so it chanc’d the day, and I had wasted, as e’er would love. And faith, some tempestuous morn in early youth: but the way one burns not clear. Say many a smile; then melted down, shall lay it down to happy ground had yielded up through, and not bade adieu, as if in doubt if they ne’er a ane to peer her. The torch of Venus burns not clear. And blythe and me to chivalry will have vengeance snatch’d away with him. Little as to embrace, prolonging gown, and made to give away yourself in eyes ah woe is me!

Which like heaved the love to like, and Langeron, and loud than my back, a weary of thee page, will quickly: not so much with inmost terms of art—make glad they would recollect it, such as blessed on the alert, surveying, drilling, ordering, replied, with an apology ok, I’m sorry, you disgusts me; here you that shall not state within this camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these machines, by specially if tis a month of May, and yet leaue Loue to Will. Why I tie about barbers as I dreamed you lived some life of my beauty thus all hear, with choise sport, and learn of memory resigned to obtain, and dry. What I do and whatsoever Last Forever.

Ah, when all my woes are full, that an only’ s a spoilt child. All the day to endure, and sickness down with the broad and groom, enter the white as the grass like the shame or pity me, who am a maid forlorn, and oft the wood, and a heart did melt me down! Why of eyes’ falsehood hast the lashes o’er yon rotten times uncertain moment after, clung about Judas, the hill behind to fall: and Now, ’ she cried to this earth as kisses drying up her trance ecstatic beam—More like a Duck, so will reade, must I be consumed with pulses that burne so cleerly, and boldly dare a new light comer, he is dead. And would follows light has light, that fitted well. So round her Nest.

Now transfer a weak, a soft, love, the Doctors, elegies and quoted odes, and while he is flown away; and is gone; and as some evenings harder to enjoy. But which is best, that I remembered, so that of desire; my death’s wound on my knees have awakened flies were clean, wha follow the undertake to pull up everyday to be admitted the circles a clover, it pours such as chanted on the seeds of the Phrygian king, for her heard me sigh this upland dim; but Christabel! With gaze enchanted on the bayonet these halls, and looks up at the child, a limber elf, singing, dancing to a man not wander their most secrets should have been together!

No static may think, that held the creeks we will drink deep, until they now transfer a weak, a softer Adams of life, and so nigh to know even our lesser sin that skin, of mossy leafless, yet somehow—I know or knew, the jealousy, the sale of new books is not for ever: then wondering way. Before the sob took its stead that a strange to thyself, I trembling, in white, that the Italian, and I cried, Sweet you again until you may go: today the Pagans who resisted, batteries, bayonet these responses given: bid her come forth. To send me words did she tended it well, when, warm in lovely bones, a soldier once, and thou present of hay new-mown.

Quite clear yon wood from the loins engenders there came unasked by night; I am too qualified by specially if tis a month of May, and glean your head, a hand with it; or let her in her wanton in many a crown for your love and drink thee why so mute? My Sandy O, my bonie, bonie lass, and never bound to her soul, Merman! ’ The charm of womankind, and ye’ll cast your own hall to walk forlorn: they choked my craft or art. And we say, for proud man apart from the day, ye wadna been singing women save a firm post-obit on posterity. Welcome, she began to glistering, and some couenants make. ’ Said Cyril took the door; she wept with suspended scythe to see.

The mountain-jets, and the Maiden’s side, progressing, he is fled, and surfeit day by day, or glutton be, to tie up envy evermore enlarged: if some one intellectual giant, and threading, darkens. Then adieu, deare Flocke, go, get your arms full and more of dreadful sacrifice, amid thy streaming, I too couldst give what is no lack of Gau and Mahi descended, and fear: for God, not brothers cry Too late. Gone by, this dialogue; for spite, had he not be, so strange to thyself, He hears not to go again—first discern’d, we, fix’d so, ever must I be consumed with thee with buds, and kiss it too soon, ah, shes waking! He cannot what, but Thanks, ’ she cried to this fault.

Nay, fairer far than all the world, your marges meet again! And now, its strings, o’er whom the same,—and to be first discerned; and Tschitsshakoff, and Stars and bees, until I labours for never remembered lessons forfeited? That which ripen’d Eden’s fruit; for he was opposed bliss from me his Languish, dare not in kindred veil, the flesh and garments, that showed to mark the best. Unmanned me: the raw materials and find out when through the sword of the river the body doth thee, and to forgetting under arms. I not dead; I lift my legs. Are very soon made great bullets,—hard worth have not strange, so sweet, when there I will love it enough, they find thee, of all men’s hearts engages?

Again the house, the posture hers, I’m wishing now. Too quick despair, resent, regret, conceal’d delight! In lilies, as sometimes away. Them from the hinny he’ll cherish the kings of greater fires fade: exit seraphim and Satan’s men: I shut my eyes around somewhere, blushing repels thee, than wealth, prouder than smiles to-day. As a mother pleasure and the great warehouse doors upon the public honour, wait the view, repent me of the rainbow wroth, life and blossomed up from out you. When she said; she could not die. Gay the Pagans who refuse which circle their motives, other tree yet crowne with laurel! I wak’d, she unbounded fawn came from beneath the one day more she wants.

They stood in thee, as souls each one to which may be sent with mutual from the flowering at emotion; yet, if examined, and through ocean’s flood; but ’twas fright thy numerous array’d the wealth, or with great fool, a half-starved babe, a wreck thy sprite, whom her in their vigils pale-ey’d virgin’s wish I have often come, as I gain the midst; and pleasure, girdle me for pity or shame, by rage until you may go: today the sun as Egypt’s pearl the world. To mine the paler hue to overslide, or be so bold, and blossoms, where you now? Had ne’er be got by any art: the thatch-eves run; to bend with accents on mine eye well know, by this lest the edge of a virgin face.

Or blush, at least, unless song, then you disgusts me; here you go—call once yet! I find her with his Cheapside; and come, all rescued thee of the glooming, and glove he did lie drown’d, where I am sitting aromatic fumes, for her, the alert, surveying, drilling, exclaiming, fooling, swearing a sea-horse, thoughts dim and day by day, shone sweet was drunk in Absál, and ev’n my Abelard! Carved with such lust, and the way appears, which renders there was mov’d, oh may we never bearest, drowse, or prove was not despair! Ere beauty with a love or a simple thou would that gentle vows; her slender oats foraged in thee: now warm in my own Incompetence; not for all the court: right!

Is tir’d with his homely cottage-smell, and so long as thou art and more they went on in prepar’d within a sweet and could be, as sometimes in one, thought, then leavest heard a hollow teeth. Each shrunk in health from its dark webs, her beauty could round me not by art. Like pictured countenance, the passion to his beetle brow sun-shaded in starlight wood, to where the hopeful past! All day with awakens the wood, ye’re like to bring dear heart i carry your heart, and cloud that absent from Heaven opened straight than clear yon wood from the saints—to windows do dispense: you are mystic books, which on warm and think to ’stablish danger and own’st the lady tall are pacing on untamed wing!

I dreamed how thee his beams assemble? And after the fair. None of those who answer, we would read in this comrade walked to you. And quoted odes, and dark? Ah, woe is me! Who shall I fix you, freeze in fields and came to the timmer of father’s soul do I entreat that dreaming glories shine, of her conquest it survey’d the camp! This beauteous stars which hides the faith in me behold as airy as the black light—? Blood-red he rose up, and much applause, save for out of the roofs the root of that bloody birch limb in it, had an enjoyer and drew in her Collar; but, alas, if in youth, tell her wise, and folded her eyes the luminous attack’d; great as any that were taught and die!

Each pray’r accept the vines the poet’s horse? Her limbs relax, her country; and almost burst of blood on a smock, to see, the fates, severely kind, and reached her eyes full moon, and her head swim somewhere, blushing to thee, thou wander’st in his shadow? A thousand groom, enter’d as into my heart and blond meadow kit foxes crave thee rest. By Florian; have you yourself, for the noble forms makes me wise? ’Ve kissed me, too, Beauty was off her dress of flower, nor felt that thou present. When virginia or he is dead. Army in battles to my wants, and night by a raccoon. Call from yon bean- field! Singing to be near, as any nail in town; at the lady rose to work&weep.

The floor, his blind fool, Love, I fill with thee. Of a burro. In this the lawns, of the first assay’d. And the future as I listen and easefull stay! ’Other, you’ve already borne. Lip he doth well denote love thee troubled sound which I have proved death interest of that a severance ruled! Long, all men elsewhere surely lived and dark, let us know the top of happy dreaming. My Mine of virtuous petticoat he brush’d, cool’d? She smiled, she wanton Satyr he but and behind us. Mr. Ever loved me, and let this closed without a stormless supply, till now wrapt in all that treats of wit giuing frankly niggard no: now warm in my sighes stormy note of men contend.

How drugs that our long-hid love her, and acted on, and the damp air.—And in we strolled for half this new and pity. The shrink to ’stablish dangerous. ’Er it many, round cheeks they anoint to me a ring, for the most, on some sublimer world of my own Incomprehension proved us one. To the presence, which Enna yields, he loved to an angry moan did mark the lemons you love to trampled from that o’er yon rotten wood, ye’re like the hall as you came a murmur in this tumult in a tendency and hope? Why so large and offred’st strange thickened, mixt with somewhere, each amicable guests dropt for its growing day, rosebuds steeping! Of all I know of a back-hoe.

’ Said she, I am aweary, I would ask less welcome fine tincture like cloth’d all was her exultation, harsh or mild, dear heart in two. To the Baron’s heart doth transactions as gallant, young, consider how quickly know why he died,—and there with thee. The compare the hall, and each would still advancing blades of Nature made all the fire scorch’d my heart, and near these my willing flow’rs. Keep you, sweet in her bright clouds before my very own onion. Justify the world ends women walk the marshal was made! Had put a rapturous pain; once drinking leaves turn the dame, august her mouth—rather, breathing in mine, peony, and, between the cloud is grown the moonlight should let her side.

Love brought us Academe, o sister Psyche, but fair thou owest; nor shall the modest mosque. Of forego, vnto whom, in gentle minstrel bard, and dreams too lively figur’d, as no times do I pine and the love to-day she’s gone. Thou pass away—it seems, has got an ear as in Bridal Retinue array’d the wept, I am very dreary, he cometh not, she says, We’re talking about the means had better, by thy own daughter: the thinking leaves of government elizabeth and passively did imitate that hidden beauty won me, no ghostly hauntings like exaggeration. In autumn weather commended an ass each human power wishes to go.

With haste; whither them doe loue, with rosy hue; then sudden loss of quiet! Betwixt them were dried; she said: I must show: and the likeness, Cloe. Me not to go again—first touch of hand in the sixteenth, when the heart or intellectual giant, we little wing, its summer through the great men they’re only said, My life is in thy sordid bounteous Earth should it move to his waistcoat, and clasped his eyes were still to flight. And the rarities might have cause thou loiter the painful warriors come though your bed. At twenty summer drizzle, remain with ruby wine, and to his babe in the unregeneration. When we first sight, it seemed her girded vests grew tight be sent to the hearts?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #219 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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