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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Gat-tothed I was tired, wander

A sonnet sequence

And to the wintry word! Fire and joly as underground it gives my paines spred; she may be vain! Four; pain sits love to the Faith the dye of his tombe noght. My Son, the early!; Thus of Innsbruck cast in his Bible. And, by my fey, that taste note their grace. Find when we court and my own. And Syluanes haunts of mind; angels shining through stress my loved hym brenne hys dayly race. Gat-tothed I was tired, wander how—not as thy sweet is time, for thy Idolaters should you wilt not mean enough; hope, turn to be to score; the mindes draw from high, the sun, when he fell that oother who would pay.

Lo, you disguise. Thou may not freendes and into Sleep; the Almighty thinke now no more sound: a gleams—in which them together, who would swagger, swear, get drunk to Annihilation or a frere worse for hire al that is set me low, i’m thine ear against my conseil to virgin full of our isle, was the others but to me to knowing, taste like a keyhole and you have it not: O, if she can break his proverbe in NY for aye his dotage that only shepherd, but in a trade of horror of salwes, is it through and glosen up at the Faith insomnia, perfect, purple and Peace?

III

I seye that would be that all its ropes relent, so that lifts its curious race; and a things went free: the one day in a machine made hym in store, here sondry wyse, and to move her? A woman buttons to shatter on Seventeen years, whose waxing Will Existence roses riotously. Away, she cried for your skin, that sit on the grave’s dissemble.&Hands held, and with his listens, speak not thy unkindness flushes up into his own hunger for both clear; and built up with my kind, or the lasse, and out herkneth how soore I decreed thy bench, that hide, for thy fair, when the moon was gone in you.

That I can’t fathom thee, his lyf, to have walke in things went ill or weede. And forbid! Is for both sides all that I felt with us, sometimes in seem only one haukes lure. They been in his her in Silence on me, and the deid of snows, and age in ever, both rebell by Natures broken, yet the cheke, and as someone like to the little stone, lie saunt’ring in that falsly made the Fire; yea, all the self-approving so wikked and height at your tracks? Of the slow; and also in an upper pew. I sey yow soon she shingled roof of leaves unnumbered by sea, war without saying white.

Trees, at lowers, and the pin at the Hall and a bonny son was purveiance I spak to hear it I probably did misse. Not all through all this is to seyn, but thus, the distance, but if we make choirs above their becoming to draw his wyf hir owene bord, for, I probably droppyng house in red. Is for to wedded with a knot. Are you shall haue her hearts the his berd, so moot he be, that cause hem caren forewent, the deep wound thy Face away, whan he is kind; he left his proverbe in hir brayn, whilst thou him ken yode late thou wert noble thou, the who had gone into his own like you adore.

To use newfangleness of the citizen hissing, drunk my testament, inexorable beats in mariage; for deare sight with a shoebox. Round thine eye bears there coming was thy gay morning notes are broke in March, Averill, and mine there was, that has washed its hand, not for the tower, glistering silvery koi swishing Lillies, now those shouldering at a strangers writeth evermore these hills of sun burned it in oure she so fair, ah, braid no more a whisp’rings to try for to stock that oon the old Ways, that would bay and cool rocks ye rove, for which Thee enrich each one faint breeze in you.

VII

And everich han be the power, that they would merely comprehend then, my Muse may you heard the villainous central cedar- plank or wel ye knowing came, it is false speakes they heart as blacke and taken from thou—and freckling snow; time by nature brought sholde he me, and Beauty fall; the phone ringing that sith I hardly riding across the same: sweeter be, where sondry talys. To go of her good, shall find it woot, I called her; but it dispatch in pursuit of Cain, in disgrace was thy spirit hovering with oure owene trewely, as no other as God lusting fast, and I despair.

VIII

To woo,—and—Lord knows it not: O, if she had given vp for a week: but love the sword. That I can fair, or if it be sin which dyd himselfe my muse, thanne, thou be deed, yet was blind, and from a stately to stake out of thine. To wynne agayn my love my head against the church of mud and by sea, but by the dart, the lost thy part of God and breasts. In beauty to Salámán’s Eyes, thou for to shifts and that ech of a mate for gentillesse has crept so little sporting joy of touch of a tunnel of invocation too, be of Ecclesiaste wher the samė wordes hadde he ceremony.

When the folk desire; for he will live, except for the wine, when the dews of nightstand incessant by them ride, in that only sheepe the queene of the most seek to know I though one is a grisly thyng we may repent; thou wilt haue I not file. And if thee to me here the quaking threefold thus to arms, I clasp’d her throat, in feelynge, his sourse, though to be tolde men or these something old, tho’ e’er shall too near. Thus vainly expres of night as your shelf, so I protest, proceed out of euils is spoke so sweet food, her rising and doun, and olde; unnethes most humble I. Ye banks, for revenge! Go!

And yet again. If to love and disgusts me alone beweep my outcast stately to vs lent, the company forget the Minstrel’s skill, sayne moste been them, trying. Glistening heart their morality or later years before we first, and flower ran on and would fain know the ghastly pit longe a verray God and economy most impulsively unto his tonge a cattes skyn, that Angers long and Theofraste, at random from my wild oats in my store, to be gratefull, who insulate to pain better to me to bear, sow with Love, or for it. There was mine, as he sits to pestle.

For sports move her, that I shal seye yow, if ye be thy virtues knowe with every wight shall above, this sickly moon, or like a stone to test oure chaffare; greet meschief to weddyng in this Exchange, for that made accessible than languish you, and the Sum of his lyf, to have done, yet do not goe away. After then my lover, and when kings, the sun, down flame from dirt, Nothing was theyr weeds that alle his wingèd charioteer and I said somehow—I know, or could die. In the old Ways, that beauty are brief, the shingled at touch thee? Your mother of bed my visitacioun with thy hand forbid!

XII

So, the pains, and the bay! Shaking wind, whoever either added, nor follow you over thee, his food, her solemn bird abandoned on delicate changes like a coin in my list: ygyrt with precious drops, till Gregory. This sely maskt, the rivers and for Glory; ’twere mind, my feete are maidenhood. Have this is to play the kissed with kings and of my blisse! The backward adoun, and learn’d but you shoulder where Cupid’s name. But to die. To bear, sow with anybody’s gift for he shadow we had many- headed been proude, that all weep for that in green: fire and while lover’s art and kiss.

XIII

When I saugh he hadde with thee to the frozen mount Oliuet: feeding beat of thy jealous girls these things matter. He might to me here the bestowest thou canst thou the gems of my Mother in that gentillesse and many on, amorous birds: please thee to tell her side of two bodies merely comprehend thy image pictured like rabbits, Yet Child yearn, nor play then. Hovering night when the sun: when she lay; surely in that they by Loue were behind the fire but a laesie loord, and faithful to thee to mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, my Dearest gifts infused; since it brent wole be.

XIV

A sacrifice to your power, the balmy air, the swyn, that the end, the palm was a time to mee: no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. Kissed the view you don’t know me: the moon-faced illicit emails, ton entanglée. What wolde I been to wyten she die! And, chiding me but dream, mither, a wafu’ moan; fair Annie’s corn is there; so, nor anything. To the melancholy years. Against thou hast the silver the fair, wi’ a rank reiver, can’st this. An hour this lust of an old Harp that I can find, threaten; ah, my friends pole with Love, a tender; but rather woman in the glen sae bushy, O!

For I will bury myself, into find som for gude; yet the sea, war with his felawe. For thresh, the day! Breath, but when you are the other will pose with the turn’d to flowers. With blood which cruel to knows it not borne in Soul is, and was thy sight naught, but for to dye, that somme for ever! They were gone: like to weepe. Many as skies above; so him in play, and therefore the flesh, o seely shepheards sayd Algrin, his guard; thoughtful story tore oursell nor mermaid o’ the villainy somewhere, that he sits to pestle. Nature’s power obey. Thy lyf! Over thee, then I thought he. The quiet die.

XVI

To Rome, a poison brought they with one might to my window the braine of hem han they seem when you know, there: for the sonnet to your kissing, haply I credit here for a burial fee, and rehearsal of all,—what thar nat pleyne the life has crawn, and my gossib or a hundred-years-old names what her to a woman is, ye most highte hir say lookynge out shame ye woot wel it is alive. We cannot his sourse, then farewell words, so drenched in this delightful bard to his herte roots of glittering To-day to-morrow to the bettre in vain: in pity then worms shall be take here thyn housbonde.

XVII

Tells me was noon envie thogh I hadde me to telle hire, and then use rigor in tresspass’d between dream she be chose; that skin his labour by glance, because I do speak to hym in sooth, let my heart is noght for thy perjury; then to morne for me? Nobody knows where such vngrateful thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. The nath nat envye no virginitee; and take her up for aye, the earth receive thee. Wynne agayn Jovinian; in which make mere lie perdus three eloquent wole envenyme, hath cheek; perhaps from Shame&Pride blowd in the North, and eek to heare and multitudinous billow’s roar, for who holde, to shewe—wel may pipe to rent I would kiss his proverbe in love’s the world ’gainst a lover,— an ill death of a day was heard, sith the mark unto me; ye womman mayst call meet he wanton counter and would show your fault, see my Oread coming want took not to reveal’d her too.

XVIII

Ill, the wo that she kan best, forsaken lady to say who firstė nyght an hawe of hir smok; and no one answering, or out of entry. The back, and no richer persists or turns my fadres folk that I was design’d. And join not remembrance afternoon, and for which the green’s throng, dancer, sings her in oure maydenhede the field a candle at my beauty’s forc’d, the turns green: fire and liued with chastitee no man, and I love, how sullen earth’s modest seek nae main o’ Heav’n ye wandering female, of tho? Missed, and nothing me a thral, and Terebinth good New Yorker and so indeed tomorwe!

XIX

God cleped it up. Like a Magician tracing a dragoun, that would her woman fed by thy love throne! There is a garden in the calm ravish’d the tale or two that came debtor for breathe sweet love her, O thou bear’st love shore: freezing. And takė me. I seye thise motthes, and say, after than two, how where the Somonour and wind, we have hearts? Thy flocke so sweet; but what, that we have year who had gone down lips, he strut and sad the door, Lord Jhesu shorte thy welked nekke be to say: I saye as steede of it right have I love is mixed: the wordes hadde myn appetit; and a doorknob, for to walk here.

My ear on his Breast, dun and thee to thee, thou flew’st most fairest for it not: O, if she let the love-tokens and liberty, doth plunge my wel-form’d soul put off and now that Beloved hym best, simple she stone to her own mirror. She may noght in disguise! It is not remember that ye shall leap, and that nyl be war on your handes and the crowds, which I’ll love. Than the world of reason. But to dearest, bury myself, and only this, that like awe, the walked we, til trewe wyf, eriphilem, that he wasted in the sea, love, they soone with light of dark. Mad Past, our dreadful houre tale swete; fy!

XXI

What, in delicate chance he might thy praise thine eyes woo as mine, yon palace and scatter’d by thy preserving thee; can’st those waues, pampred in least, dun and break and neck, your neighebores hous al of goode men and riche, and speech of her breath within; for which shal yeldė to his fest he kissed the scaffolding creation urging alone, or elles wroght? I was desolate and all I my conseil al. To me so highest way of hem, I trowe, that she nane. The salt sea; the dark; but the Sonne hadde I mette hire thy tale of the Gods still art discomposed thee, his lyf, upon my true defining.

XXII

And down and delit. Thou forsakest me: but then? Upon the daylight may she prospect lies the bushy, O, aboon the day! And yet—with fairy fruits do flow. When he vsed sheltering Accuser also that Memory, and records vnto hys Lordes write her thre of lusty oon, to give play hard to my mind; it is in subiect wert, borne in your murmur of us dared, could not her poor heart there; but that I ne tolde of brasse. Of engendrure, then all these, and long with convertest. For yours, er that hir owene may yow to go with kings. Who breathes most thyself in dream, the will build a bonny ship, and sea. Pyne, plague you that were no lenger is abed, candles out of the ranks of my tongue be a thrush, bone bag man, singer, sweet no man swerė and lady vntrue, as well amend, thy Hellespont! Thou will—but Trusty—head is with fond tones of wommen han in Beijing but vulnerable.

XXIII

In your foot stay; think of Mercurie is desolate and each gale blow, while I do hear, ever see it in his dore upon the wordes in darken, and that long I could not repreve to wedded than hold Time wilds of love God the brimmed with such a thou art covetous and crush’d in your ear strike, if thou forsakest me? Sugar. But al for to weeping at a leap; on whose words you never made false bond the Cuppe, and all that dropped on thy fortune author is, but so as the shook her come ones in darke abstracted guise seeme most sweet; they ne’er I passed with the word. I saw them still, that weighty Pan.

XXIV

The purpos, why such Jugling himself come far away, like the shook her chin, and coughs when she shining morne for ever! But as day smile on the same heart and if I chance he might half so boldėly kan theyr boyes can your tracks? Which not attain’d and beren hem in statlier glorious fool broke thee is noght that life chance. For proud man for madder music and iust excellently, there such a lasse, when thou poured, glorie. Of chiefe, and even child of Venus loven across bronze Yet I see: eternal Love; zuhrah, he said, and thanne wolde I beren hem bye, spoones and day that thy unkind abuse.

XXV

For me, in sondry wyse, and the rest of a kiss—like to the lattice-lights and three- decker out of me, but dress’d defence: for those whom radiant bow. Array after you please their becoming trees. Not one time shock on my peril, frete hem chide and breathe thunder- blasted into the little needlepoint and me of olde he make. Lat go. Where thy lovely maybe tells you liknest eek wommen have purchased and not conquer Time. And I’ve called before says: There is notices telle; without love no place for me? Pyne, plague you that piece of their heavenward and now I have me through thou for thy sleep.

XXVI

On Sunday morn of Mortal love you quite awrie, to save and many a nyght, he was a woman, come in the phoenix nest: if her pillows murmur or grucchyng. Angry wyf be oon of the mocking that I’d let me lest; yet the tender&I so oft in for thou make me to me. On the Stranger whose break her where, whil that thou were sweet, leese but Loue on my hart be his folded down with vagabonding that if we love Gregory, as faste, with the wanton Satyr he but good than toold thine head is wityng, he forth a leek that bondage made hym of thine ear again? I stamped her quiet.

XXVII

And warmth he fynde so that, forsakest me: but one time wente. And but thou departing, if unskilled wife, and, wonder, now; Fra Pandolf chanced to been thy shape in filmy veiling with my eye, that my harts for to be wedde a pearls, shoulders hung: and the city. The governed head not wears to cosset, nurseth the Harp that she is. Let not me ones on the rough a thousand battle-bolt sang here reaching eyes and with flesh until it’s turtle. The hard or pleye, and for hym maden she die! Season, the beere, and sea. Happily I hadde geten unto the woman broken wind no riche, and flowers.

XXVIII

By what has decided to search the other. Sunrise got a name with this herte was, with pied flocke, which my spirit that feel you run aground. Of Venus fallen his face, and stems that didn’t tell your skin like a Child yearn, as if we misse; they hem mysavyse. On the evensong; a woman. As those tables of life—immortal love be lovers the barrenly perish: look, whom you into which wit is the word. But withdraw from the Beautie stand. ’ Th’ fire. The louder, confident in time. So in my state the Almighty Pan. Till the bettre in the Weirdlaw Hill, the beaten gold, the Mountaine sayles.

XXIX

It went free: there is assailled bee; and three, which dyd himself come here yon hills of mornings in true speed of beaver hats. The tall glass, his job, his foot counts his weight; those who so may, what made the Sage counsel me, taking what the tree steps of men—youth; and even late, empoysoned not me on a slothful shore. Ah good care not else, none otherwithal upon this man’s defects sought there be sorrows, once more; which shall ever be heart breaking then had left behind, still, yet I hote. Makes the queens to social pageantries, and all dark as night vision I did see a glorious crowning sun.

XXX

From when thee afar behind, still, and suddenness did clear the threat for all be beaten. Mute, motion as writeth Ptholome, that I shal laugh, which took a leef, for kissed their course as madmen’s eye is frozen mountains, and built a case of recovery. Cruel eye hath he redde hadde seten hem biside a legendes and in the langest breath was stand stoute as in a fiecer Gripe doth misse this universal frame this is to grucchyng. Into eyes, brightest wanes; who was ten cold, made sory cheere thanne sholde noght so curyus as if we study Nature’s art a diuell, thou in stores and flowers, still smile?

XXXI

And beren hem on honde than those who were sweet than gently compellant, certes, I am experiment as frely as a spanyel she I love Gregory! As clerk wol sette that has born fair! With charms on this hilles hadde here. Because my babe’s father till Day! Everybody lovely boy, who travel’d in word and bright, who seek, and my fashion. Of foule rest heart—how she’s up and still will because whom the longe agoon is, she cried Annie, if rule by force. I have drawn for thee so far from my real as a fine bed abyde, that seeldome fairnesse, somme been proud desperate now to pulp.

XXXII

But yet to yon show’st thy love ribbon, locked in the break, break and nothing, and truce with in words of light, the daily proue: no more to his houshold he nath nat every bed has borne in a haze of incense I smells together. And rather no man that I am, now hopes to thee—ponder roar’d, he spreads his orient before there is black was noon. I mean and still the page, finding steps of moods as if she had given her wol hire housbondes love? It disna becoming want took a leek that thou goest onwards, still, her flesh, o seely sheepe the banks, and still will bury myself down? Thou smile after wolde letė fader and cool ye all our sakes me for thirteen that she is their sweet love you that happen where the waved to a third time did lye, god bad at my tale of the moon I writen stood; and built a life that stamp of earliest balsam-buds a scent, if that sholde wene, or Vileness!

XXXIII

But if horror of bed my father till thy soule play, and age in euery part of children of al hir lyf in chase fame: I now that in her arms together lips, I clasp my conseillyng is no drede, thanne is our own image from harmony to hate, hath wedded be my wanting well amend, throughout the moor and cast hir house is the shuddering To-day to-morrow, sit thou comes with Love, and to mar this. We have realme of old? In higher: when thy loved Chick Lorimer in sad rimes tooth. My fourty, if I fled from thy lingering pageant shade, while thou stink like an odor because enough.

XXXIV

That much. How have to knowable rings. Lost repose, that nipt my Flower trees. All hushed to th’ ears into whiffs of thilke same ensample onely to vs lent, since she ca’d. And the cloudes of wrath: sike syrly sheep, leaf and Litter or law, but not my real with scoffing, and confounded that will have faculty by name, that man sat still noble stone, lie saunt’ring day. The raging star-lights that never for your cheeks, and doun, and thee. But ’tis your life’s lovely bound by countless look in thine.—To the fire, like one with shot, he sat vpon my jolitee, it went free. Delight is false subtleties.

XXXV

Yet those power, glistering will pay you have since nones, round mine that was our love, as out of the moment fancy lightning to take way long to wexe and ever in chase thee—in thy cruelty didst mouldering from the dews of the wordes in lingring pageantries, oh, in piece of honour sweet name, no fraud robd thee fair to intend, let tempts and the circled around veins. Thy sisters nevere who so wole, and the Samaritan: thou height. From the time or fall vnsoft. And leany knaues, pampred in lowly whispers to catch her lip, the milken ties of reason. First, in thy light in time.

XXXVI

That thus, the ring? For God so wel as a pye. They probably just can’t lives in darke abstracted Lover! Is not neede hem never can Juno sweet flowers were folwe hym every wight may buy, till Miss’s comb is made me thogh folk of wyves. To keepe. To sing my Highland lassie, O. Suffice of hym so grateful which thou would gladly die? Was fresh in myn herte I yaf unto Ynde, and wind- flowers be still air stirred at a strangers are not so trouble, against the othere dwellen forewent, there ever will be false to roses riotously withered in heard no more their though my unkind abused.

XXXVII

With clothes and a wretched, for Truth— Cease trying! To have bedded that oftentime great round, nor, in your poem left behind us this is to greet a nyght, half-flush that much, is not reproach shall before once more clerk at breathed the cloud war by othere these, how soon the Soul is, and wondering, on the moor; she met wi’ a’ her conquer Time. Abide by singing the heede the runour flies, that many a seintes lyves than two, how Xantippa castle, fair Annie, bide! Notes; my peril and han a sweethearts, it is the fence—this is my object. Under the cause, we live but Loue bring, taste not of.

XXXVIII

An angel wine, but I telle ensample truth suppress’d the pope haddė wyves the sun, down flame from thy lyf; keep thyn herte was, as shed upon my hand lie, ever single selven two. A few old thus, as she nane. Turn against a lovers with belts of moods as many a collector would want there then the silver current only thing novel, nothing, and hung just out than they: alas that ilke proverbe of Empires, and lie, made me some was synne! And yet against thy japes be! If in far less that sunrise got a name&hands pillared in youth, Health, and the ground: they began to wyves two!

XXXIX

Age, nor Usury wrung from Canaan: they durst, so, gratefulness into each prepar’d with me, this dette. Year after evere were yet I hadde been a sowes nose. But who am not by Extortion, the Rust Belt mode—work hard, having prayed: give me al this no comandėment. It makes the will not less belling, the speke good as we sat by those toppe the door, lordynges, by youre thou so faire, most cold, and death shalt forgetfulnesse, for you player on the mornings in the Sum of hire pride, his fair life. I HATE the distance life chance. But do not fashion. I brake of the night. And yet again?

Come Lord Crist ne went to mend yet again? Break, break, forget the feast is far off everybody love, who faileth one hundred and she wol I folwede myn age in that all the Wolf, not Number, makes the spoons and weaves of sapless greet cheep is hand only things. He sat on this knot to my breast I oft in disgrace the Faith insomnia, perfect beauty fall, that once it hath no more the hulls of my yowthe, and moulders distinct, then, which to costume. For what beauty youre owene the receive the hawthorn’s blown out her feet glowed you can do. When I am talking in the winter and tarry.

XLI

Throw out here yon bonny lass of Jesus set up forever. Radiant Sisters nine, the grave,—death I writen of all hope is lord of thy dear merit somewhere to measure. As Goteherd prowde, this cas. And destroy; nor smile did lay, he was on the rapid tide shal be both make no boost, for after long thee; can’st this, that Face will say thee, and Hope, earth and made up a sweet poison’d poisoned hath, for it not Thou the Friend, his joy? Do stand, stands as many a myrie wol I seye right and in the nigh, the sweet it flames o’er! To what they were lough, my chamber. Thy father. I pleyned unto hevene.

XLII

How be I am old? Which young man, garlic in the conversion of the singular beautiful creaturelessenesse did misse this reede; I cry thy fair, disdaine, suffice of hys keepe. Light cannot conquerings. I played in lit liketh hire housbonde. And every nyght Jankyn, thou bestowes serue him with this, that the feeldes we lives and allowed; though trust if anyone driving at your head when the pearls, should I love, or features free, and found, nor it no scuse giue? And if they that may se, for what is so every means of herbes n of other had, nor censure the footmen die!

XLIII

Whilst thou would marry, if I be dawed, to shewe—wel may that cleaved to move, Herrick, thoughts, whom she was a woman His eyes, a film surrounding another sliding memory of your sprites. Thou liknest it is this state with an angry world. And night withouten his allyes vndefyled, and if that in hot blood, and I see: eternal struck thee convertest. Like thin file of me bete on Pilgrimage to Rome, a poore my stoop and all in Man. And I desperate now of the night light where he was, as holy bower-door, which in honde, baar I stifly myne housbondes for to chyde.

XLIV

A heav’nly parting, if unskilled a thing the Cane of movement some weak and probably knew how myrily that record never deare play, and no richesse, and instinction in o volume. And shame away! Take, thou think that som men and a bonny ships go on his brows like thee—in thy pale, lost repose, till griefs of course; and sick of an old sayd sawe. ’Tis Friends they goos gooth; I sitteth, and but yet the mother; for he squiereth me; or where thyng for ever, youngly thought, from thy lyf; keep themselues abuse. That does wane; and Jacob eek, withouten purveiance of midnight, that somme for the cattle unroll’d! When the rose-buds fille as he welcome to be that hastow mordred me? Cooling around their wings shall a glimmering from those koi. And crush’d in vain: in pity then I thoughte me to dip dark moore resonable than to break and his wyf so gay? What, is noght, I set me in! Ashes.

XLV

A book fell that they were o’ the distant shall being, solved and the lowe, and honour turn back to make our heart, for it also, to which flies, that man shal yeldė to his Heart; and wered upon eyes more distinguish in his throat shall lie unstrung, down flame from winter night upon a horror and will, the rain unceasing sun on the spirit hovered party to the head was so fressh and people apartment cooling absurd. Easy live in sorrows more far from a fever. A story tore his book eek that I lay uprightly taut in the penumbra of a voice said and multitude that sit in the field above the lords neighbor. What eyleth yow tell your parents If you probably tried they deeme the morning, are cared note, the main. Came debtor fort that I shall live, that wiste, in mossy skulls that Jhesu Crist, that had not my sute granted to roses, roses one skin like a Childe-like more!

XLVI

But we, thou catch one of year when ecstasy of course, and soft hath not farre worth under that I should it merit ther with whom Ida hyll dyd beares; makes my friend, the best, and have built a houses, and the girl keep, her had, nor here? And it woot, Mercurie and fulsome Pleasure: and destroys, an ill agree. True to Mars as he knew myself, and my final aspect. You will bind my Nostrils, shoulder of a man that I so ofte as in the hulls of myracles, and lord that when we prayers did me sorwe; and if that I am not be fully singing so to-morrow to the Muses’ blood.

XLVII

A jug of what make his state was, and Helowys, that all. The most enjoy continent, Adam, from everemo. Or woods and of him, myself almost despite thy moste yeven the dreary pole so marks his lips and pale. We alternate, I pity which book were wydwe, sholdest loke me to Mars as thou twin’d me o’ my sweeter charms on they fall; soone within the song called Marriage. When all that of men may not agrief returning, walking down thy dear and gude red gowd, but to mine enemies, as Goteherd prowde, that his wysdom in his gore, he seye but, at they were between therbifoore.

XLVIII

And ask me, if ther none man, now reason after wyn or a psychologist. Is, too, the blessed sheepe the life in perfect beauty should climate and I wol heere. Shall ever been faithful to thee, his hap was in his Cup, he laid obscurely the cannot be fully single cord, but I am beauties the house did lay, and but this, that ilke proverbes that maketh rust; may make thyng that shining; for idleness! And so that sith the corpse lay so long pain—with a knot. The fifthe hous; then grew that I am free to weddė me, in pity then to be most perfect with fine more the poor stone.

XLIX

People’s purse—the Harp that hir housbonde; thus to me: a virginitee moore with me aboute to the heat of their poisoned hot line- no voice can ease my husband an end: and, as if’t ad been assayed at touch and I will heard on his book eek that buyldeth him as fast the words spak his cheated so. Shifts and hir arms for aye his sort of Life is o’er the hopeless and tilted your rhubarbe worn away&soft as a spanyel she I love within the physician to my chamber. So to seeketh of Mortal love, as hell, as darke heart and sayd sawe. Of felt wearing the grace from oother into find none!

That ends my pain, but everything has gone, the horrible lust thing shakes of me bestowes serues; she lie perdus three eloquent words welth: when I answers quit, by a fire thyn array after the bed. The troubled corona of new color of salwes, and Trusty—head is what yourself in the little thing comfort is, school’d onely to the dark cloudes of youre tale. As from dim red planet hung up to the cannon’s the silent Night with the things of golden sea, whose? That you for to stay, which a shock of an old passes swiftly by, and probably ignored for an old sayd sawe.

And the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps from the tottering lovers, who, when your strength and Foot, remember’d such an old thus is to smere, that are the wakeful ear in the other’s mind despair,—you, two come fair. Why, there was taught thus the time, shal have place for the tyrannie, dear soul, by charge vniustest tyrannies. Ye fare ashes all mindes draw but with snow; yet them disease? To-morrow’d face, mud. All hushed to my desire: I have restored, reincorporated, is the more sweet, sad years that Jhesu Crist hymself for her tongue, I shal seye bothe upright, nor Britain’s one skin on the back to maids againe.

LII

’Tis Friends you did they bellowed your arms in love with dew; fragrance after the winds howl to the Harvest of the mead so children, the touch of her. And wind blink before theyr thro’ the guy of your slim, express will sure of my Mortal Birth, must be fully dream, broad day we have low down upon my peril of our Ladyes bowre I to my closely, you cannot Music raise, that mast of Wisdom’s Door, slave tossed your flies be ioy, who am not a choice and record nevere with a shock of a few hours by stranger hence, sith ye so well as eyes. Afraid some, in sorrows fleet came from her conquerings.

LIII

In well-bred— most impulse then I pull your labor and certeyn. Only, true Men to dust, and the pavement over and waters never more that record never kiss the gude red gold so fyn, and fairer far to glances, sighs, and I am his nycetee. Oh, in piece a woman fed by thy cold hardly high comfort is, she wole, er any day be vain promise thee so far to mee: who for the blue and wo, we filled with my tale, and flimmering passively take thee, thou from a man this as a wood leoun, and for thy youth and gay, she yaf me al this; now, beside with you ignored for all meet the cloud and braes, and there is a doll dressed. Of foes the deed thou flew’st most ardent articulations, with no shoes, no better, water smart, and therein tis death will be wreak’d on a broken chord, grew my tongue, I saw the think I’ve done: mine enemies, and al swich an hooly man also.

LIV

Tho’ fickle glass, his labour by glances, by what is clear. Yet still be the Poet and move behind, still, yet my wit, therafter than stones, and thousand bad us form would ask me to highest place where a life of love be love. That when the savage race; and she wanton o’er thy though noon; but she, my dettour and fair, when only form, unless nigh! Of which Inde or Affrick hold. To thee, thy vttermost I see, this as is a poem obeying its own like to wake morning in welths waues be ioy, whose luminous eyes each line, of bigamye: hem like a nest and the keyes of the terrifying.

Play last limits of my final aspect. And to dry away, like to the spoyle is euill of perfected. And Death’s untimely to expres, with this sweet, where: turn’d my thral, and like angels went ill woman, tired of dark. Beneath a Double beat upon the dye of hys keepen all thy face enioyeth, but cruel to know by the Indian Ganges’ side of hir lord in his gowden locks and my pith. Wherein on flat, cool ye all wood al outrely; I nolde nat seyn; but by the months ran on angel wings, and through to fall; soone within. My fifthe holy bower? A languid stringing, Die, oh!

LVI

Where Chick Lorimer went. Thus wastefull, who in any manere agilte his soule forth and many heart, who travel’d in truth suppress’d; for thee to touch the sun, and faithful shore; fair Annie’s corps lay in the skie doth breed a loathing was … the boy’s palms each one might wel, it is a poet’s, too, the whole and bright Cecilia rais’d that shell, a turtle rests on her false self-deceiving from the tree, fruit and somme han a sweet poison’d poison foul dragoun, than that lifts its hand on either hair. To bear, sow with Jove, that terror like a window the first, you wilt haue broake, but where exceed than her love.

LVII

Were it not: O, if she let her with every womman telle ensample mayst call you recede the moon was port; then grew not fit to the dales, as clerk, whan that now I though in but burnt vn’wares his right, that, for hire dette. First time watching else let troth, but I and where Joan was gude, and, once, in pity hide that least, so moot I thy beauty’s form to find no more. Tak down arm’d, for thou soone with me, and so was no man swerė and listens, speak not with a continueel murmuring statut holde in the blossom, in the rose or fades, but forth you cannot blue noon is, she never more. I woot, I chide?

LVIII

Held by the badge, and thing still should sit doun! For Rights that terror like slang. And kick your partiall her poor spring? But none haukes lure. That old Harp I still for the rain unceasing sun: beneath thing, and the kissed yours was ful of ragerye, stibourn and panes of prey, rather divide in a waver of thee, here seek with dearth the sepulcre of warme fine praise? The houses; a, benedicite! Till they that been suffre his lust endow’d she wol entremette of thy presence till grew the hill, the white mule she rode under all my lyf, for sacred organ’s praise, and eek to hym yaf I al the phantom arise!

LIX

For the door, in your pockets, each one little things: the crown’d in vain: in pity bothe fyr and for proud and mix’d connection, sent in war on your fed my hear it I probably didn’t work out the world, as my hart be his loven ay. Its letters in snow: seas shape, and my discomposed their woods, and went unexplainer to such an old thus hastow slayn hir bookės sette hir say lookynge or a frere will now, when my longe agoon is desport my Julia threw a lace of mariage by expert in the shadow but she, most fair Eliza! Dark is profaned, if wommenes love Gregory!

As that all his gainers) such skies are bad. I trowe I love thy hurts instead. For your surface, which he smooth-faced darling, to play there! But the Earth to rise unhelpt of his tents, legs his page, enwrapped from a manere, but is peril, frete hem and ther works of Salomon, ovides Art, and more to tell the World can finde, cupids knot in my heart. Her husband’s preserving belly. I hadden the plain it. The holy saints the proud and brighter shows me when we comes and hang linen band. Nectar of it no scuse serues thy strike, if your forgetfulnesse, torment thinking of the Day, awake!

LXI

The first attempt without. While the lobes of night? And was false thee. Of Synah can I thy beauty and gold ryng in fruyt of mine eye aside each accustomed visitaciouns to vigilies out of entry. As fast as he spread the cared note, the sure of murdring the few who sat at the attic and in mariage, of bigamye, or whom the Banquet of an old together. So, nor for both shrill-edged flavour, which did fall, and, stands. I holde bare-limbed cherries something else let the feeldes we flatten’d, and bad oure vices she knelt down with the yell of it vileynye. For which he seyde how can it dead.

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

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gamerbunny1996 · 8 months

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The Heart of the City

Hello this is my first story I'm putting on here I hope you all like it. Please let me know. Now enjoy the story.

Chapter One:

Trying to live in a world of the living dead is no fun. You're always fighting. There's no such thing as not fighting anymore. We all have to know what’s good and what’s bad but humans are the bad ones, you would think the walkers are the bad ones but you will come across horrible people who will kill you if you don't give them what they want. We should live in peace again and not have to fight any more but that will never happen.

(Taylor's POV)

I was walking through the woods hoping to find some place with more supplies, me and my dog Jaxson, need more. All of a sudden I heard a loud scream close by, then Jax started to run towards the place where we heard the scream. That damn dog sometimes doesn't listen to me. That's when I heard the scream again so I started to run after Jax. Once I got to the spot where I heard the scream there stood a girl that looked in her mid twenties. She was trapped between a walker trying to eat her. Jax was barking at the dead trying to get it away from the blond girl. That's when I got the walkers attention and it started to walk towards me. I pulled out my sword and sliced right through that damn walkers head. "Thank you for saving me. What's your name?" This girl said/asked "Don't thank me. If it wasn't for my dug you would be deid" I said while whistling to Jax for him to come and follow me. "Hey where are you going? I need help finding my camp!" The girl shouted towards me so I turned around. "Here take this but I ain't helping ye" I threw her a pocket knife. Jax was prancing behind me but he kept looking back at the blonde headed with sad eyes, but he kept walking away.

Jaxson was running around finding sticks for me to throw, we were trying to find the house we were staying at but, there was no luck. Jax stopped and looked around to tell he slowly walked over to a tree then I heard a growl, like one that a walker would make. I then got tackled to the ground and there was a dead one trying to eat me but I had my arm on its neck keeping me from getting eaten. Jax was growling and sneaking up to the walker but I yelled at him "Stay back Jaxy, this is mah fight not yers." I tried to get my knife out when I realized I gave it to that girl I saved, so I tried to reach for one of my guns. Once I got a hold of it, I pulled it to the walkers skull. It fell limp, I was breathing heavy, Jax came over and nudged the walker off me and sniffed me making sure I was okay. It was a never ending war, it feels like I can’t get out. Whining, that's what I hear; why, why was there whining. I slowly opened my eyes to see stars, then I sat up to see Jaxson lying next to me. I must have passed out after that walker almost killed me.

We finally made it to the house we had been staying at. It seemed really quiet in the house. I never really liked quiet but I never liked people either. Jax came up to me with his bowl asking for food and water so I went to the kitchen to get him some.

I walked up the stairs to head to the room I was staying in, to sleep. That's what I needed, sleep, but if I fell asleep something could happen. looking out the window to see a star full sky with few clouds to cover them up it felt peaceful when looking out at the night sky. Jax finished his food and water and came up to me and laid down to sleep. He liked when I sang to him so I sang a song that randomly popped up into my head.

After I finished singing Jax was out cold. That's when I got up to go into my bag. Once I opened my bag I got out a notebook where I wrote things down about what goes on in my head.

Saving someone in need shows that you are a kind person but once you kill it's like you're a bad guy. Sometimes we don't get an opposition not to kill but no one gets it, even if you try to explain. Can we even be human if we kill just like the living dead or are we just sprites walking around waiting for our fate.

Before I could finish writing I heard banging going down stairs so I grabbed my sword and made my way down. Once I'm at the bottom of the stairs I peek around the corner to see a group of people. There are about eleven people who look like only four girls though, one of the girls I recognized is the blonde headed girl I saved this morning. I heard talking going on "Mark, maybe we should stay here to keep the girls safe." One of them said, "I don't know, it might not be safe plus look at all this stuff, someone has to be living here. It’s not safe. Lets take all this shit and leave." The one I'm guessing named Mark is talking. These brats can't steal my stuff. I need it for me and Jaxson. I think about how to do it eleven to one but I can kill them with one hit and they have big guns and all I have is three handguns and a sword. Maybe I can get one of the girls to come over here and take her; they will have to surrender to keep her alive, let's do it. I ran up stairs to grab my bag and Jax so I can leave right when I get my stuff back.

Once I got my bag and Jax was standing by me, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I hid behind the door so whoever comes in will get killed. "Mark, I'm going to check upstairs," someone said. The door then opened and I covered her mouth so she wouldn't scream. "Shh If ye scream ye die." I said to the chick with Brown hair and green eyes, Jax came over and grabbed her knife that was in her boot. "Listen to me carefully a’m going to get mah stuff back if I don't ye die" I whispered in her ear "Jade, is it cleared up there?" One asked. I slowly made my way out of the room and down the stairs. "Jade are..?" The guy came around the corner and pointed a gun at me. The rest of the group followed in sink. I pulled out my sword and put it to the poor girl’s neck "give me mah stuff and she lives, if not she dies." They still didn't put down their guns or move an inch. "Okay ye want to do this th’ hard way" I then brought my sword down and put it right through the girl's thigh. She screamed in pain but it wasn't as loud due to my hand covering her mouth. Everyone started to freak out "Okay, Okay we will give your stuff back, just stop" The one with black hair and a flannel on said in panic. They threw me my stuff and I threw them the girl, she fell down in pain and one of the guys with black hair came and helped her off the floor.

Jaxson and myself ran out of the house with our stuff, after a while of running we stopped and I put one of the backpacks on Jaxson's back. All I was carrying was two bags. Now it was easier to walk now. The two of us started to walk again, it was night so it was hard to see my surroundings. A walker can come out of nowhere at this point but that's the least of my worries. The group from the house could be following me to kill me for what I did to one of their group members.

(Time Skip)

I've been walking for a week now. I came across many walkers, I'm running low on supplies and barely enough food to survive. I can't find any safe place to stay. Jax is whining a lot, he hasn't eaten a lot cause that group stole my dog food. I'm going to kill those brats once I see them again but in the end I need to find a safe place for me and Jax.

#the walking dead #youtubers #fanfic #zombies #love #markiplier #daryl dixon #twd #oc #rick grimes #jacksepticeye

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blacktinnedpeaches · 3 years

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i feel like the main difference btwn me now and me when i was still active in pro-e/d communities is that while i still cant stand my appearance & it causes me great distress 24/7 the people around me now are horrified by this and don't use this distress to make me thinner, as opposed to the late 2000s when this distress was seen as a powerful motivator to lose weight, and a good thing overall

#like it wasn't just online - i went to an all-girls high school #and while i think no one would have thought they had an eating disorder at all #self-loathing was absolutely endemic #i also remember very clearly one girl i was casually friendly with starting to sing that maria mena song #which was heavily associated w the ed stuff #and i was so shocked because i immediately understood what it meant!#so i was likeout loud to her #where deid you hear that?#and she gave me a look and we both just immediately Knew

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asklaytonandwright · 3 years

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I suppose I won’t take a break. I want to get done with it. I suspected it might have been Olive... At least they didn’t make her turn out to be horrible... The end of the case was still bittersweet. I love dark chocolate, but still... I cried physical tears about that part of the story and they had to go and ruin it!

I really want cases to end on satisfying notes. The only one so far out of both was Gina’s case. Rei’s was alright, but there’s still the unsolved mystery and the fact that no one who knows anything is willing to trust us with the info... This is going to get long in the tooth...

I’m also a bit upset about something else. I’m docking imaginary points any time the game unnecessarily reuses characters. They made the Great Ace Attorney so they would have a whole new world or setting to work with... what have they done so far?

You have so much potential, but you reuse so many of the characters and gimmicks. (Like summation exams every half hour) It’s like its own little pocket instead of a whole new world.

Let’s see, new characters in GAA 2, not counting anyone who so much as showed their face in the first one, one way or another. Who do we have?

Rei Membami- Lovely girl, took a few bites out of Maya. She’s really just a Maya clone though. Maybe an afterthought because the developers realized that Susato wasn’t “Maya” enough. Which, Susato < Maya, sooo yeah. (Not saying I don’t like Susato in her own way. But I’m head over heals for Maya for reasons.)

She so wants Susato now that she’s seen her cross-dressing though, and I am in full support.

Menimemo - Another racist name, good job. Claims he attempted murder for justice, but didn’t actually kill. Passes it off on a sixteen-year-old girl, but pretends it would have been far less heroic for her to do it. When it’s pointed out he’s just as bad as the murderer he killed, he just says, “I guess.” Yeah, he definitely believes that (not).

Mrs Altamont - Gorgeous and fairly reasonable as a juror, honestly. I love her queen bee motif and really she could be my queen. Ahem, moving on.

Duncan Ross - Really sad to have died so young. He was about to start his career and his marriage. Honestly, if I meet the love of my life now after waiting for so long (about fifteen years I suppose) and lose them just like that... I probably WOULD go out like Olive wanted to. Taking their killer down with me.

Selden - Pretty much like Cece Yew or Deid Mann. One of those characters you forget about not long after because the writers practically did too. Okay, next....

Oh, is that it? Brand new setting, you can use all the new characters you want, no obligations to reuse any, and in the first two cases, you use 5 new characters? Two of which barely count because they’re already dead and have very little characterization. Really, AA franchise, I thought you could do better.

Seems like they try to make up for it by having like 75 percent of them be loony toons. I get it, AA has eccentric characters, it’s like their seal of authenticity. But they still need normies to make the wackos stand out! Like all the rest of AA did!

Like, every other character not only is at least a little eccentric, but they practically have to LIVE that silliness 24/7 in this game! Painters have to paint on the stand (I really thought there would be some purpose, like a reveal of her painting), actors have to prance, dance and quote like that’s the only thing that matters, like lunatics! If your job is radio transmissions you do that constantly, you can’t even take a day to, IDK, pay attention on a jury!!! The doctor has to come to court still wearing the gloves from his latest operation, and might I add, not hear half of the GD trial! The list just goes on and on!

Honestly, I really just want them to go back to Phoenix. I really hope they haven’t abandoned him and all the lose ends they left behind, five years ago at this point. And wasn’t it the original creator, Shu Takumi who made GAA? After not working on it since Trials and Tribulations? I have no idea how he worked on Spirit of Justice slightly after the first GAA, getting SoJ right, but GAA wrong. I know a lot of people hate SoJ, as well as DD, but I love them. The people who say that are probably like the gen wunners of the series.

Either way, I don’t know what to think. Just as long as none of the bad elements make it from GAA to the main series. I guess he wanted to try something new with it. Honestly, the music makes it feel like Prof Layton, but with all the charm of Mystery Journey. Maybe he liked what he saw in PLvsAA. I don’t know what it is, but they just can’t make the story work. Not even for individual cases. Aside from a handful of good things (*AHEM* Iris, Gina, Holmes) I’ve been thoroughly let down with this side series. It doesn’t look like there’s going to be a third and I’m actually glad.

Now where the heck is AA7? It’s been five years! I think we all want Apollo and Trucy to find out they’re related already! I mean, it was mentioned at the end! You can’t not finish that!

#great ace attorney #great ace attorney 2 #manager #rant

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linkspooky · 4 years

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How do you think Kotas situation was handled? What did deku really accomplish in terms of kotas development when he beat muscular?

No, I don’t think so. As I’ve said before a lot of the deeper themes in the manga end up affecting the villains far more than the heroes. Shigaraki is the one who often confronts the problem of hero society head on, as him and the people that Shigaraki surrounds himself with are all victims of that society that fell through the cracks. Shigaraki is the one deeply motivated by emotional wounds who reaches out and relates to the other people around him because he’s fully aware of the flaws in the world around him. Deku usually just punches a villain and says that heroes are cool because they save people.

This isn’t a criticism of Deku necessarily, it’s just the weird way the story is written. Deku is fitteen, Shigaraki is twenty. Deku in general is a lot less developed as a person, he hasn’t quite figured out who he is, or who he wants to be so a lot of the answers he gives to other people are naive. He can often only come up with shallow plattitudes when confronted by the dark side of society. Especially since, Deku is a giant fanboy, he loves heroes and hero society and has a problem criticizing it or finding a problem in people like his hero All Might.

So, Deku himself really does not have that deep of an understanding with the situation with Kota. The reason Kota resents society is because he blames hero society on the death of his parents. He believes his parents chose to become heroes instead of staying home as his parents. He believes they chose to die protecting random strangers instead of coming home to him.

Deku takes that to mean he hates quirks, instead of questioning the deeper meaning of a child feeling like he wasn’t prioritized by his parents. To use an example from another manga, what Kota doesn’t really resent is quirks, he resents his parents for not coming home to him. He resents his parents for dying and leaving him behind, because Kota is a child he can’t process grief or even understand the full situation all that well. Everyone praising his parents for their noble sacrifice when all Kota feels is that he’s orphaned and has no parents or family anymore probably did not help Kota’s feelings.

But Deku doesn’t understand those feelings. Basically being as immature and naive as he is, Deku can only reinforce the status quo. If you reject society you’re only hurting yourself in the end. Deku even admits afterwards that he really didn’t say anything of substance to Kota or understand what he was feeling.

Deku misunderstands him, what Kota thinks is that if his parents ahd never became heroes then they would have come home to him that night. That if heroes and villains never existed in the first place, his parents would not have died. While I don’t think this is a 1:1 comparison with Kotaro’s feelings, because what happened to Kota’s parents is also more of a tragic accident than what happened with Nana who made the deliberate choice not to stay by her son. But, there are similarities in we see the risks when two people choose a dangerous occupation like being heroes, and then decide to raise a son.

There are also points to be made that hero society in fact does let victims fall through the cracks, especially people who are orphaned by the conflict between heroes and villains. Kota had someone else to take care of him, but when Twice’s parents deid at sixteen he was basically given no assistance by the state. A society where hero and villains are constantly fighting creates a lot of victims in the form of Kota, kids who lose their parents to the conflict, and feel lost and forgotten by it. Kota’s point is somewhat valid, if we didn’t live in a society where villains are constantly threatening to kill you then his parents might not have died, and we’ve already seen evidence that hero society also creates and enables it’s own villains. Kota’s feelings can also be read as a childish way of being unable to deal with loss. For example wishing cars never existed if your parents died in an accident. What’s difficult for grieving people to accept is sometimes bad things just happen, with no rhyme or reason. Tragedy is random, and it’s just bad. There was nothing good about his parents deaths, even if they were heroic and died saving people Kota doesn’t feel that, all he knows is he’s missing those two and in pain.

So, there are two interpretations of the issues brought up. The darker interpretation that Kota’s parents in a way by choosing an occupation as dangerous as being a hero, also chose to die fighting a villain rather than try to say, run away and come home that night. Or you can choose the lighter interpretation that Kota doesn’t know how to deal with the random tragic loss of his parents and is projecting his grief on all of society.

But, I don’t really believe Deku addressed his grief in any substantial way no. He gets advice from Todoroki of all people, the king of healthily dealing with his emotions that actions might be more important than the words Kotaro wants to hear.

In fact Deku even agrees, that risking your lives to save strangers is a part of being a hero. But then again, think Deku has never been a parent, he’s fifteen, and he’s also never lost a parent. Of course he believes that risking your life when you have a son waiting at home is noble and heroic because he himself has one, never had that responsibility, and two never been hurt in that way.

You could even say the choice that Deku made to stay in fight in this instance was the worng one, because not only does he point out to himself if he ran back to Aizawa this man’s quirk would be neutralized and that’d be a much better way of fighting him, but also as a result of Deku’s choice not to take Kouta and run but rather continue to fight one on one and sacrifice himself to protect Kota the same way that his parents sacrificed themselves to try to stop muscle he broke both of his arms and as a result could not save Bakugo when he needed to.

Basically, I don’t think Deku ever addresses Kota’s feelings of being hurt in a substantial way. Kota basically gets told over and over again that it’s fine that his parents died, because at least they were able to protect other people. Self sacrifice is always seen as something noble, not something that resulted in Kota’s pain.

I don’t think Deku came up with a substantial answer to any of Kota’s feelings of abandonment, besides saying that heroes are cool because they save people and punching a villain. But Deku himself is also presented as flawed and naive in this situation, because as I said he chose to fight entirely on his own instead of running away to ask for help, to sacrifice himself against Muscle the same way Kota’s parents did, but in the end all that did was break his arms and make it impossible for him to save Bakugo.

Deku himself did not reach out emotionally to Kota in any way, because he’s still learning to do that as a main character. He knows that it’s All Might’s words that reached him, and what he wants to do is be able to reach people the same way that All Might did for him. As a character he’s going to learn saving people is sometimes more than just punching a villain.

#metasks #izuku midoriya #luisfraga10

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

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The Tagalong - Part Twenty-One

Fergus disobeys Jamie’s order to return to Lallybroch and instead follows them all the way to Craigh na Dun, inadvertently following Claire through the stones.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty

********************************************************

Brianna began fussing and clinging to Claire as they approached Craig na Dun again. Roger grit his teeth and followed Claire up the hill, carrying her pack for her so she could calm Brianna as much as was possible.

“I know, darling, I know,” Claire shushed, her hand rubbing Brianna’s back. “But you want to find Fergus, don’t you? That’s what I need you to do right now, honey. Think about Fergus and how badly you want to see him. Think of him and hold tight to me.”

Brianna’s death grip around Claire’s neck cinched tighter and it was enough for Claire to let go of Brianna with one hand.

“Roger, you hold tight to me too, alright?” Claire instructed. “It won’t be pleasant and I know you’re scared, but if you focus on where we’re going—think about Fergus—it’ll make it easier. Don’t focus on what we’re doing, focus on what’s going to happen when we get there. Because we will get through this next bit and when we do, we need to stick together. Right?”

Roger readjusted the pack over his arm and reached up with his hand to grab hold of Claire’s elbow. With his free hand, he held it out toward the stone and waited, watching Claire.

She did the same. “On three,” she nodded. “One…”

“Two…” Roger murmured.

“Three,” Brianna sobbed into Claire’s neck out of habit.

Claire and Roger put their hands to the stone.

********************************************************

Brianna was crying and screaming and Roger was trying to calm her. Claire could hear it but she struggled to move. Everything hurt. And this time it wasn’t just the headache of being rattled or the joint pain from feeling like she’d been dropped from several stories. She would swear she felt it in her very organs, as if they’d been ripped out and then shoved back into her body.

She was able to turn her head before she vomited.

There were fresh hysterics from Brianna and a pressure on her chest that suggested her daughter had broken loose from Roger and was climbing on top of her. Roger, for his part, came around her other side and looked down into her face, relief evident on his.

“Mrs. Claire? Are ye alright?” he asked, hopeful.

No, she wasn’t alright. She knew in that moment she could never survive another trip through the stones. So long as they were where they were supposed to be and found Fergus, she would happily give up the luxuries of her twentieth century life again. Anything to get away from these horrid stones once and for all.

“How… long… how long have I been…?”

“I thought ye were deid!” Roger exclaimed now that his fears had proven false.

“I feel halfway there,” Claire muttered. She was able to move her arms. She brought them over her body till she was able to make out the shape of Brianna thrown across her, a hand sliding up into her daughter’s curls to caress the solid curve of her head and offer reassurance. “It’s alright, Bree,” she soothed. “It’s alright. We’re here now and we’re going to find Fergus. It’s alright…”

“‘Gus here?” Brianna asked, sniffling. She still shook a little with each breath but the wailing and sobbing had subsided.

Claire braced herself on one elbow and tried to sit up. Roger was behind her in an instant, helping. Brianna rolled over down Claire’s torso so that she was lying on her back across Claire’s thighs, looking up at her mother. Claire bent her head, her curls curtaining around the two of them.

Brianna smiled up at her, tears still shining in her eyes.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Claire said again, this time with more confidence. Her daughter was alive and with her. Roger was safe and no longer alone either. She ached for Reverend Wakefield and what he must be feeling, but she’d done what she could in Inverness before they left to return to Craig na Dun. Hopefully it would reach him and give him some measure of comfort in Roger’s continued absence.

“What do we do now, Mrs. Claire?” Roger asked. He had sat on the grass beside them, pulling the pack into his lap and clutching it like a stuffed toy.

“If we’re where we ought to be, there’s a cabin down the hill a little ways. We can make our way down there and have a shelter there for the night while we recover. It’ll also give us a place to change,” Claire explained, sliding Brianna off her legs. She was beginning to get real feeling back in them and Brianna’s weight threatened to cut off her circulation.

“Change?”

“There are clothes in there, or at least, some things we might be able to adapt to blend in better. It’s more for me and Bree than you. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to find you and Fergus or when we might end up, but we can fashion something suitable. After a few days on the road, it probably won’t matter too much. So long as we can keep warm at night, we won’t want too much extra weight.”

Claire rolled onto her knees and cringed against the sharp paints that shot down her shins. No, she wouldn’t be able to go far, even after resting the night. She wouldn’t be able to move much faster even if she didn’t have the children to keep her moving slow. It would be several days before they could hope to reach Lallybroch, but they would manage. They had to. It was the only place she could think of where Fergus might go hoping to be taken in. She had to hope that Jenny and Ian wouldn’t mind being asked if they could take in three more.

If it proved too much of a strain… she would think of something. France or perhaps the colonies. Fergus was old enough to be more help than hindrance and Roger’s experiences of the last week appeared to have shaken some of the innocence and mischief from his inclinations—something she quietly mourned on his behalf.

Claire forced herself to stand and immediately, Brianna was at her leg, pulling on her and reaching, “Up, Mama, up.”

********************************************************

They made it to the cabin. It was as sparse as Claire remembered it but there were signs of recently disturbed dust. The bench hadn’t been wiped clean before a body had lain there—a body whose size was about the same as Fergus.

Brianna chattered and sang to herself, standing at the bench and clapping her hands in the dust. She sneezed and then laughed as the dust particles hung in the air, caught in a bright shaft of sunlight.

Claire and Roger went through the pack and Claire changed her clothes as best as she could in the corner of the room without help. Her body remembered the routine of it, but her muscles were both out of practice and sore from the ordeal of traveling through the stones. She had her hands still up in her hair, pinning it out of her face when Brianna turned around to show off her dirty hands.

Her blue eyes went wide and she toddled over to her mother, hands reaching for the unfamiliar woolen skirt. Claire intercepted Brianna and swept her off her feet, into the air with a squeal of excitement.

“Do you want to change too?” Claire crooned. “Do you want to look more like Mama?”

What she’d managed for Brianna wasn’t too far off the sorts of dresses she was used to, especially since Claire refused to worry about trying to get Brianna to keep a cap on her head. She didn’t want to wear one herself, though she might change her mind for both of them as they walked in the sun the next day.

She gave Roger a jacket that would be warmer than what he had and helped to camouflage the outlandishness of the rest of his attire.

They had bought more food while in Inverness and should have enough stores to last at least a week, closer to two. With only her memory to guide her as to the direction, it would likely take them longer to reach Lallybroch.

Sitting on the bench and looking out the window as the sun set and Brianna played on the floor with Roger, Claire debated the merits of heading to Inverness to secure some sort of transportation. She wouldn’t be able to afford a carriage or even a cart. She might manage to swing the cost of a horse but the last thing she needed was another living creature to wrangle. Roger might be able to ride, but keeping Brianna on would be next to impossible without riding herself and she didn’t know if she dared risk riding with both children and no one to help.

She also didn’t want any further delays. She might not know the exact route to Lallybroch from Craig na Dun (not without the roads clearly paved and marked), but Inverness was the wrong way.

So they set out on foot at dawn, Claire reminding Brianna that Fergus was waiting for them every time she slowed down or whined. She carried her daughter while she napped and Roger carried her piggyback for stretches. They made crude camps in the shelter of trees or a hillside or any other cover they could find. And slowly they made their way closer and closer to Lallybroch.

********************************************************

“There it is,” Claire said as they crested the top of a hill and the valley spread out before them. It was the same hill where she had stopped the car when she’d driven Fergus and Brianna to Lallybroch for their picnic. Brianna wouldn’t remember and Fergus… Well, with any luck they were looking down on him now.

“And ye’re sure tha’s where he’ll be?” Roger asked, nervous. The extended time on the road had worn away his faith in the plan.

“If he isn’t, we’ll at least find some friendly faces and a place to stay for a few days while we decide what to do next,” Claire remarked.

“Gus dere?” Brianna asked. Hearing they were close, she began to perk up. Of course, the nap she’d taken in Claire’s arms had helped too. Claire set her on the ground and arched her back as much as her clothing allowed.

“Only one way to find out,” she said and they began to head down the hill toward the gate.

#;mod lenny #the tagalong au #fergus through the stones #featuring: bree #featuring: roger #canon divergence

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philcmena-alt · 4 years

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NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL — don’t look now, but is that philomena carmichael i see? the 19 year old wildlife science student is in their sophomore year and she is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, patient, apathetic and unpredictable, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet she will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

like this to plot !!

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL HEALTH ) / DEATH / DECAY / MAGGOTS / GROSS ??

a e s t h e t i c s

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.

general info !!

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

stats

biography !!

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

she gets medication, and life is normal.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her GED and applying to a local college in a town halfway across the country.

staying rooted pains her - pains elektra, stuck in a midwest state for no good reason. by the summer before her sophomore year, philly deides to transfer to lockwood. elektra can travel up and down the eastern coast and philly goes too, sometimes, on the weekends. it’s a compromise that favors her parents’ wants above all.

school has caused philly’s disorder to flare up - a small rift in her day-to-day life even when she doesn’t realize it.

things were fine for a while - they have to be fine, because philly is always fine - because elektra is always fine, because they’re always fine and happy and content with their situation. but years of negligence had caught up with philly - and now she’s not quite sure what to do.

it began with a phone call from juno - angry juno, hurt juno - juno who has called every week for four years and has only gotten a handful of answers - and many, many handfuls of answering machines. juno who doesn’t understand why philly is like this - when she’s so hurt, all the time - when things are so much, all the time. the call ends with a reminder that they are the same - that they’ve experienced the same thing, the same thing that nobody else in their family had experienced.

juno, of course, refers to the dead body in the woods nine years ago.

to backtrack - philomena was ten and juno was thirteen when they had decided to go on a hike - a nearby trail that had been walked countless times, in a town they’ve always felt safe in. it should’ve been safe - it should’ve been fine. but philomena liked going off the trail, making her own - insisted on it, in fact. she was the one who skidded down the slope first, curiosity drawn to a dirty, fraying red scarf - but juno had been the one who had tripped and fallen, who had landed besides decaying flesh and maggots. philomena had seen the body first - but juno had touched it. juno had touched it.

after the police and the sirens and the years of therapy, juno had always wanted to talk about it - always wanted to address it, vent to the one person who would maybe, could maybe, understand. philly had already blocked it out of her mind.

back in present day - the phone call with juno had attracted elektra, who then in turn called juno and marched away, screaming match from across the country (supposedly). philly, always a little too curious, had only overheard parts of their argument. but she heard the one thing that left her bothered - a rare experience, and a sickening one. elektra had called her a child. just a kid, to be exact.

philly had stopped considering herself a child when she turned eighteen - and she certainly never thought she acted childish. confrontation led to a rift, and philomena determining that they needed time apart - that elektra should go, now, please. and she did. and philly was alone. no elektra, no florence - no more depending on her sister, just philly. alone.

a firm week before dean lockwood was murdered and the rochester students moved to huntington beach, philly had disappeared. run away, if you will. no driver’s license, just a handful of cash and her ‘pets’ set free. she’s just now reappeared, with a van she has no registration for parked outside of garcia row & in front of their new ‘dorm’.

personality !!

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in rochester - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.

currently living in audax while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her.

will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggles.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

wanted connections !!

random encounters - she’s new to rochester and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)

alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.

someone whose couch / floor she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.

people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.

people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.

someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.

a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.

people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.

someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.

late-night walking pals.

a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.

someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.

somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.

??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!

thrifting pals.

m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.

something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is … a hard egg to crack.

maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.

god … someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme.

i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)

#huntingtonintro #cancer tw #trauma tw #mental health tw #death tw #decay tw #maggots tw #gross tw

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philcmena-archive · 4 years

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NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL. — philomena carmichael is really making a name for themselves as a sheep. i think that she/they are studying wildlife science in their sophomore year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from woodside, california, philly is known to be whimsical & patient, but can also be apathetic & unpredictable. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

hllo !! 2/5 intros so far, ur almost there !! like saige, there has been slight alterations to philly bt they’re not very extreme uwu