𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑

ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵉʸᵉᵈ ˢᵏⁱⁿ & ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᶜᵘʳˡˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵇᵒⁱˡˢ ᶠⁱᵉʳᶜᵉˡʸ. ᵉˢᵗ ²⁰¹⁶ ⁻ ʳᵉᵛᵃᵐᵖᵉᵈ ²⁰¹⁹

[lustik]

Islands by Yvan Duque.

Artists on tumblr

Lustik:  twitter | pinterest | etsy

[shemagickd]

sylphanide‌:

        she is dripping wet. her doublet is soaked through from passing the path of the storm & she feels as though she is freezing to the bone. she should have known it would rain on the only day when she was caught both unawares and unprepared. if she’d had time before she’d been banished she would’ve brought her things, an umbrella among them; if she’d had time she doubted she’d be in this position at all.  ❛ that’s very kind of you. ❜ she surveys the other’s face, eyes glancing to her ears for tell-tale points only to find none. human, then.  ❛ i won’t stay long—just until the storm passes. ❜

“stay  as  long  as  you  need,”  she  moves  towards  the  door,  motioning  with  the  hand  not  pushing  the  thing  open  for  the  other  to  follow  her  inside.  there’s  a  cozy  fire  already  burning  cheerfully  in  the  hearth  and  a  kettle  on  for  tea,  a  chipped  plate  of  scones  she  had  baked  earlier  in  the  week  resting  on  the  small  circular  table.  honoria  didn’t  mind  gloomy  days  like  this  one  -  they  often  meant  curling  up  warm  and  happy  indoors,  “i  don’t  get  many  visitors,  though,  so  i  fear  i  might  talk  your  ear  off.”

[shemagickd]

fatherly‌:

                    “I am,” he admits, a lopsided little smile sparking at the corner of his lips. “Well, I can’t say that I’ve wandered really. Something DREW me here—-though,” a pensive finger rests against his upper lip, “I’m not too sure WHAT.” Perhaps it was something so SIMPLE as a yearning for the peace of being lost in another world, or an INSTINCTIVE venture off the dirt trail. Whatever had lead him here wasn’t something he entirely understood. “I mean—-I came here, but now, I am lost—-” easily distracted the elderly man shakes his head to clear his line of vision of stray silver strings & extends a wobbly hand, “Antonio.”

head  tips  -  ah,  she’s  used  to  the  idea  of  wandering,  being  pulled  forwards  by  something  she  could  not  place  or  recognize.  honoria  wonders  distantly  what  might  have  drawn  him  here,  towards  her  small  home  and  cheerful  garden,  here  in  this  patch  of  green  and  light  mingling  together  into  something  like  home.  “that’s  alright,”  she  assures  with  a  soft - edged  smile  and  a  tilt  of  the  head.  it  really  is.  she  quite  likes  visitors.  “maybe  we  can  figure  out  what  it  was,”  his  hand  is  accepted  in  her  small,  calloused  one,  “honoria.  it  is  lovely  to  meet  you,  antonio.”

[shemagickd]

fantomese‌:

          𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 of a second, when the gleam of the white mask is hit by the low lights of the stage as they dim. when the darkness regains his composure, he sulks back into the shadows of the rafters, amber eyes almost burning like the flames of dying candles, to contrast the atmosphere to surround him.     ❝ the word of importance there, mademoiselle, is nearly. and I did… not fall. ❞     ah, so the darkness is prone to lies, not that it is a sentiment that should surprise anyone.     ❝ take this encounter as a warning, and that the garnier cannot rest if there are rats like you still scurrying about at this hour. ❞

“the  garnier  cannot  rest  if  there  are  ghosts  like  you  nearly  -  falling  from  the  rafters  at ... this  hour.”  something  flatly  unimpressed  colors  her  words  as  she  looks  up  at  him,  muffling  the  minor  note  of  worry  underpinning  them.  ghosts  do  not  fall,  or  even  nearly  fall.  it  was  an  odd  sort  of  thing  to  see.  pale  eyes  squint  at  the  bright  eyes  and  pale  image  of  the  mask  lingering  in  the  dark.  how  odd.  how  horribly  odd  -  though  many  say  the  same  of  her,  in  different  ways  and  for  different  reasons,  “what  were  you  doing  out  here,  if  you  did  not  -  expect  anyone  to  be  about  to  torment?”

[shemagickd]

druidcss‌:

There is much about her to marvel at; Morgana does so discretely, as she follows her through the slender bodies of the trees. She has thought of running away before, like a child from home; she has thought of fleeing the widening eye of persecution that hangs upon Camelot and finding a hideaway in the wilderness. It always held a terror for her: a maiden weaned on the noble court. She had not thought anyone could make it look so easy — so comfortable. 

But here there is a sanctuary, a gate, a garden. There are flowers peering with cheerful faces at their passing. She is careful to tread lightly. 

Beyond the green door, there is a home — a real home, one that reminds her, with all the force of a gloved fist, of childhood. Not the austere halls of the castle, but a smaller, richer kingdom. An open fire, a brace of rabbits tied alongside, herbs hung upon the walls, a mother’s singing. She stands a moment in the doorway, blinking.

“This is… beautiful.” She takes a step, finally, indoors. “I can see why you don’t miss the cities.” Where the common folk are thrust together, on top of each other, clamouring to breathe, and the streets are thick with the shouting of merchants and the smell of their wares, and every path is trodden by a hundred feet.

She turns around in the small hut, her smile stretching. A nervousness to her now, as she thinks what she might say next, some pleasantry, a diversion. 

“It reminds me of my father’s— of my old home. He used to say my mother had a herb for every ailment. I don’t remember if she really did. Sometimes he would say things just to be infuriating.” A shaky laugh; a breath— “You read a lot?”  

“thank  you.  i  do  try  to  keep  it  -  friendly,”  there  are  certain  beliefs  about  witches  -  certain  stereotypes.  horrible,  dark  houses  are  among  them,  ones  with  cobwebs  in  the  corners  and  rickety  little  chairs,  ominous  fires  rumbling  in  the  hearth  with  a  questionable  pot  above  it.  honoria  does  her  best  to  flout  such  ideas  by  opting  for  soft  curtains  and  plush  pillows,  as  much  light  as  possible  filtering  into  the  space.  magic  is  not  evil.  it  does  not  have  to  be,  anyways,  and  she  would  rather  not  have  the  sinister  trappings  of  someone  scheming  something.

besides  -  there  is  something  kinder  about  this  place  than  any  other  she  remembers.  palaces  were  always  lovely,  yes,  but  something  cold  and  impersonal  always  lingered  just  beneath  the  gilt  edges  of  the  finery.  things  can  be  beautiful  and  unkind,  no  matter  their  intentions.  this  little  place,  with  pieces  of  herself  scattered  about  in  the  flowers  pressed  beneath  book  pages  and  the  smell  of  thyme  in  the  air,  is  far  more  hers  than  anywhere  else  her  feet  have  tread.

“it  sounds  like  i  might  have  gotten  along  with  your  mother,”  honoria  smiles,  gentle,  sensing  some  undercurrent  of  discomfort  at  the  topic  in  her  voice.  hands  motion  to  one  of  the  cleared  chairs,  “please,  sit.  is  there  anything  i  can  get  you?”  a  stack  of  books  is  removed  from  the  table  top,  carted  to  a  shelf  against  a  wall  and  filed  away.  “oh,  yes.  there  was  a  time  i  -  could  not,  so  now  i  revel  in  every  word.”

[silvaris]

Hydrangeas on the road by Fernando-Campanella

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

…the honey-bearing chaos of high summer.

Kenneth Rexroth, from Sacramental Acts: The Love Poems; “On What Planet,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[shemagickd]

fantomese‌:

@shemagickd liked.

          ❝ 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 !  and besides, you should be more careful. ❞

“i  don’t  like  -  being  pestered  by  an  opera  ghost,  so  i ... i  suppose  we  will  both  have  to  deal  with  it.  i  should  be  more  careful?  you ... nearly  fell.”

[shemagickd]

quccnnorth‌:

yes  ;   celebrate .  something  much  needed  in  winterfell .  it  had  been  so  long  since  there  was  something  to  be  happy  about .  it  seems  as  if  the  world  had  possessed  hardship  after  hardship  for  those  in  westeros ,  it  was  now  the  dawn  of  a  new  realm  &&  perhaps  the  warmth  of  summer  could  bring  with  it  promising  &&  optimistic  beginnings . 

❝  winter  is  coming   ;   the  words  of  my  family  —-  &&  yet ,  here  i  am  embracing  the  season  changes .  ❞  a  glimmer  of  amusement  flickers  beneath  her  words ,  irony  at  its  best .  ❝  though  a  summer  feast  should  be  had ,  with  the  warmth  comes  the  promise  of  new  grain .  ❞

“it  will  come  again,”  the  seasons  returning,  a  cycle,  a  wheel  spinning  beneath  them  and  keeping  the  world  on  it’s  axis.  perhaps  things  will  not  circle  out  of  control  again  -  not  for  a  little  while,  at  least.  she  can  hope.  and  in  the  meantime,  spring  and  summer  bring  with  them  the  promise  of  flowers,  of  honey,  of  warm  air  on  her  cheeks.  there  are  things  she  remembers  like  those,  things  she  has  no  business  remembering.  perhaps  the  newly  blooming  ground  will  bring  with  it  clarity. “  -  and  you  will  be  -  we  will  -  be  ready,  when  it  does.”

rebirth.  that’s  what  the  changing  of  the  seasons  is.  something  being  brought  into  this  place,  something  tender  and  fresh.  hatching  birds  and  stubborn  seedlings.  “i  would ... everyone  would  like  that,  i  believe.”

[shemagickd]

incrediblechange‌:

“y’know it’s not as interesting as all that- hang on. sorry, i might’ve misheard y’ there. did you say PIXIES?”

“  -  yes,  pixies.  though  they  may  be  a  bit  busy  today,  we  may  have  a  better  likelihood  of  running  across  a  sylph.  they  like  the  warmer  weather.”

[shemagickd]

druidcss‌:

Excitement and dismay and now the fresh kernels of hope all bloom across her face before she extinguishes each one like a snuffed candle. This is treason; that word alone hammers in her throat, as if on an anvil. Consorting with witches. Consorting; aiding; associating — all words that could lead to the pyre. Honoria has made no admittance, not yet; Morgana could plead ignorance, if it came to it — but ignorance was never an excuse for those who dallied before. 

Besides. This girl has opened her hearth to her. This girl, who she’d found barely an hour ago, bent scrupulously over a hawthorn. She has the greater reason to flinch. One word breathed to the wrong ears could summon a phalanx of men marching for her blood. 

“That is — you are — kind to offer.” Her hospitality is more than kind; it is brave. “I think I would like to see your home.” She is a girl again, stumbling the first time a knight approached her in the lists and asked for her favour. She stumbles here, too, her breath hot in her throat, shallow and tangled around her pattering heart. Pattering: like the footsteps of mice. Skittish, darting in different directions. 

“You’ve— always lived alone?” She follows, past the leaning shoulders of the oak, the fresh bloom of lilac, past the downcast caps of the mushrooms. She can imagine a life tucked away here, an existence nestled between the trees and the bend of the river. She cannot imagine a child, unprotected, without family. “There must have been dangers…” She knows: the dangers have been repeated to her until she sees them lurking behind every shrub. Beasts. Bandits. Mercenaries. She envies Honoria her fearlessness. 

But then, even bandits fear a witch’s open door.

she  starts  towards  the  cottage,  serene  smile  on  her  face  as  calloused  hands  press  to  the  sun - warmed  bark  of  the  trees.  home  is  just  as  much  this  path  -  these  woods  -  as  it  is  the  interior  of  her  modest  house  and  it’s  slanting  roof  and  stone  walls,  the  window - boxes  filled  to  overflowing  with  green  plants  that  spill  over  their  confines.  as  the  two  draw  closer  she  shakes  her  head  with  a  smile,  “oh  -  not  really.  you’re  doing  me  a  favor,  really  -  as  much  as  the  fae  are  friends,  they  are  not  good  company.”  there’s  a  laugh  snaked  through  her  voice,  light  and  happy.

wards  are  greeted  quietly  as  the  pair  cross  them.  words  of  hello  and  friend  and  safe  and  guest,  warm  and  cordial.  the  wards  keep  her  safe,  keep  her  little  home  harder  to  find  if  you  are  not  welcome,  harder  still  to  approach  if  ill  intent  colors  your  heart  coldly.  “here?  yes,  i’ve  been  alone  while  out  here,”  there  was  a  before,  of  course.  two  befores  -  three  befores  -  feather  beds  and  dirt  ground  and  the  little  room  in  the  servant’s  quarters.  this  is  her  favorite  so  far,  though.  truly  hers.

shoulders  rise  and  fall  in  a  shrug  as  honoria  picks  across  the  garden  and  towards  the  front  door  of  her  home.  “not  horrible  ones.  the  woods  -  like  me,  as  i  like  them.  we  understand  each  other,”  smile  is  a  little  impish  now,  “the  bandits  are  not  fond  of  pestering  me.”  she  has  not  hurt  them,  never,  but  -  frightened  with  illusions  and  bursts  of  bright  light.  they  do  not  bother  her  too  horribly.

“here,  come  in,”  the  door  is  painted  a  chipping  green,  and  she  pulls  it  open  to  reveal  the  warm  and  friendly  inside.  a  small  table  is  piled  with  candles,  books,  and  plants  -  drying  herbs  are  hung  up  by  the  windows  -  small  and  crooked  chairs  litter  the  space.  honoria  does  her  best  to  keep  it  cozy.

[shemagickd]

i . let’s  take  off  the  masks.  give  me  good  lighting  and  warm  hands,  outline  of  a  lily - freckled  hillscape,  some  soft  place  where  i  can  bury  my  heart  instead. ii . yes,  there  is  blood,  the  earth  split  open,  our  grecian  souls  pressing  hard  against  our  ribcages  to  escape  the  tides  and  tides  of  thunder  inside  us.  yes,  there  is  thunder  outside  us.  but  so  too  is  there  laughter,  songs,  poetry.  we  declare  our  beautiful  names,  we  shout  our  strong  promises,  we  make  loud  declarations  of  our  passions.  iii .  we’re  not  made  for  weeping.  love  endures  more  than  the  augury,  more  than  the  bones,  more  than  the  catastrophes  too.

[pradosuave]

[shemagickd]

druidcss‌:

It is not a confession, but it’s what she hoped for; relief breaks across her brow a moment before she thinks to compose herself. Honoria’s tone is mild, displeasured; it suggests both familiarity and condemnation. A simple peasant girl would gasp — dreadful! How did you escape! But there is a calmness about her; Morgana cannot shock her.

Affirmation aches in her throat. She can hear herself saying all the things she has wanted to shout at Uther Pendragon, guardian, tyrant. It’s not magic that’s to blame, only those who use it for ill. Magic is not wrong, it’s not — evil. How she wants to hear someone else say it. She catches the hunger in her own gaze, quickly averts it. 

“Then, do you live here…?”

She has already anticipated the answer, yes. It must be yes, it must all be true, everything, even the druids. That they live here, hidden from the king’s men; a peaceful, nonviolent people. Magic running through them like ore: natural, inseparable. Perhaps, if she is deemed harmless, she will be permitted to some secret grove, a camp, a settlement ripe with people, and they will look at her with understanding, with acceptance, they will tell her, you are welcome, Morgana——

“Surely,” A little breathless with impatience; her eyes pick at the basket, cornucopia of herbs and salves, then cling again to the girl’s face. “Surely, there are others…”

something  tender  lingers  in  her  gaze,  the  way  morgana  struggles  between  some  mixture  of  elation  and  hunger,  excitement  and  the  need  to  stomp  out  the  flames  of  happiness  and  interest;  it’s  familiar.  gaze  follows  down  to  the  basket  and  then  upward  again.  magic  is  -  is  honoria,  now.  it  has  been  since  she  severed  the  spell,  cleared  her  muddled  mind,  chose  to  embrace  freedom  rather  than  position.  she  still  wonders,  sometimes,  if  her  predecessor  is  happy.  wed  to  a  prince,  with  all  the  pretty  baubles  and  gowns  and  fine  dinners  she  would  dream  of.  it  had  always  felt  wonderful,  but  now  it  just  feels  hollow.  fool’s  gold.

“oh  -  yes,  a  little  ways  away,”  her  home  is  a  little  cottage,  rich  soil  and  small  garden,  a  brook  that  branches  off  this  river  babbling  and  leaves  casting  dancing  shadows  across  the  grass.  it  is  only  a  few  minute’s  walk  from  here,  though  difficult  to  find  if  one  does  not  know  the  path  of  landmarks  -  the  looming,  twisted  oak,  the  spattering  of  lilacs,  the  faerie  circle  and  sparrow’s  nest.  others  has  her  pausing,  though.  “i  live  on  my  own,  though  -”  ah.

she  knows  of  the  druids  more  than  truly  knowing  them.  honoria  is  something  -  different  than  them,  but  the  spattering  of  times  she  has  met  their  group  it  had  been  amicable,  if  not  wary  on  both  ends.  “there  are ... others,  though.  i  only  see  them  on  occasion.  it  is  safer  to  remain  in  small  numbers.”  a  pause,  considering  for  a  long  moment,  “would  you  like  to  come  to  my  home?  these  things  are  easier  to  talk  about  over  tea.”

it  is  a  risk,  but  a  calculated  one.  those  who  wish  to  stunt  magic  are  never  so  amicable,  so  interested.

[shemagickd]

incrediblechange‌:

@shemagickd said: ‘ you’re welcome here, there is room for everyone. ’ bonnie & clyde ! / accepting !

“BRILLIANT. love that. you’d be surprised how many people hear the word ALIEN an’ decide t’ change their minds.”

“i’ve  heard  far  worse.  not  to  worry,  i  think  the  pixies  will  be  quite  interested  in  an  alien.”

[lawfledmemes]

bonnie & clyde: the musical sentence starters.

picture show.

‘   can’t  you  see  me  in  the  middle  of  a  dance  floor?   ’

‘   these  are  things  you  take  a  chance  for!   ’

‘   i  wanna  live  the  life  of  an  outlaw.   ’

‘   i’m  gonna  shoot  my  way  out.   ’

‘   bang  bang,  you’re  dead!   ’

‘   i’m  gonna  be  the  guy  kids  look  up  to.   ’

this world will remember me.

‘   i  don’t  intend  to  waste  my  life  ‘round  here.   ’

‘   yes,  this  world  will  remember  me!   ’

‘   every  kid  will  idolize  [name].   ’

‘   your  face  should  be  up  on  that  silver  screen.   ’

‘   we  are  wasted  ‘round  here,  we’re  too  good  for  this  place.   ’

‘   you  &&  this  world  will  remember  me!   ’

you’re going back to jail.

‘   it  is  time  to  wipe  the  slate  clean.   ’

‘   now  pull  yourself  together  because  you’ve  gone  pale.   ’

‘   baby,  you  don’t  know  what  it’s  like  in  there!   ’

‘   ain’t  had  time  to  change  my  shirt.   ’

‘   i  don’t  want  her  comin’  ‘round  here  no  more.   ’

‘   i  can’t  believe  what  you  are  askin’  me  to  do!   ’

how ‘bout a dance?

‘   how  ‘bout  a  dance?  what  do  you  say?   ’

‘   i’ve  got  some  moves  that  i’d  love  to  show  you.   ’

‘   let’s  find  a  spot  &&  dance  the  night  away.   ’

‘   come  over  here,  let  me  get  to  know  you.   ’

‘   you  look  so  handsome.   ’

‘   music  like  this  can  really  throw  ya.   ’

when i drive.

‘   ain’t  no  car  too  smart  for  me.   ’

‘   put  me  behind  the  wheel  &&  stand  well  back.   ’

‘   i’ll  get  your  heart  pumpin’.   ’

‘   won’t  pay  the  law  no  mind.   ’

‘   will  you  stop  tugging  at  my  sleeve?   ’

‘   we  are  the  heroes  who  the  people  look  up  to!   ’

god’s arms are always open.

‘   your  voice  is  always  heard.   ’

‘   you’re  gonna  feel  things  that  will  astound  you.   ’

‘   you’re welcome  here,  there  is  room  for  everyone.   ’

‘   you  are  one  lucky  fella.  i  mean ,  you  know ,  ‘til  now.   ’

‘   hey,  you  got  a  gift  card?   ’

‘   finger  off  the  trigger,  son.   ’

you can do better than him.

‘   he’s  wild  &&  he’s  reckless.   ’

‘   you’re  better  without  him.   ’

‘   for  a  while  i  thought  you  would  fly  away.   ’

‘   you  could  find  someone  that  people  respect.   ’

‘   you  won’t  do  better  than  me,  no.   ’

‘   there’s  no  man  who  could  love  you  like  i  do.   ’

you love who you love.

‘   i  know  my  heart  don’t  care  what  people  say.   ’

‘   all  i  know  is  that  i’ve  never  felt  like  this.   ’

‘   you  don’t  have  no  say,  your  heart  decides.   ’

‘   most  girls  would  hate  to  be  standing  in  my  shoes.   ’

‘   true  love’s  something  you  don’t  choose.   ’

‘   maybe  that’s  what  made  you  love  him  all  along.   ’

raise a little hell.

‘   i  can’t  take  no  more  of  this.   ’

‘   this  nightmare  has  to  end.   ’

‘   i’ve  been  broken  by  the  devil.   ’

‘   justice  is  a  waste  of  time.   ’

‘   i  won’t  get  to  heaven;  why  not  raise  a  little  hell?   ’

‘   never  killed,  but  now  i  have  to.   ’

this world will remember us.

‘   my  name  is  gonna  make  the  history  books.   ’

‘   bye,  baby.   ’

‘   see  you  soon,  sugar.   ’

‘   but  after  that  we  will  be  done  for  good.   ’

‘   two  living  legends,  that’s  what  we’ll  be!   ’

‘   we  are  the  pair  that  we’ll  discuss!   ’

made in america.

‘   no  one  has  the  right  to  steal.   ’

‘   we  must  all  do  what  is  right.   ’

‘   we  were  made  in  america.   ’  

‘   ain’t  their  fault  they  turned  to  crime.   ’

‘   they  stole!  wouldn’t  you?   ’

‘   fill  your  heart  with  kindness.   ’

too late to turn back now.

‘   i  gotta  get  out  now  while  i  still  can!   ’

‘   it  ain’t  my  fault,  i  had  no  choice.   ’

‘   with  that  bullet  you  shot  him  &&  you  shot  me!   ’

‘   i  wouldn’t  hurt  you  for  the  world,  babe.   ’

‘   you  ain’t  goin’  nowhere!   ’

‘   it’s  too  late  to  turn  back  now!   ’

that’s what you call a dream.

‘   these  dreams  of  yours  make  no  sense  at  all.   ’

‘   we  could  both  have  a  perfect  life.   ’

‘   you  miss  a  lot  when  you  ask  too  much.   ’

‘   all  i  ever  wanted  is  on  this  side  of  the  door.   ’

‘   in  the  house the  candles  gleam.   ’

‘   now  that’s  what  you  call  a  dream.   ’

what was good enough for you.

‘   prayin’  for  rain,  without  rain  there’s  no  crop.   ’

‘   this  ain’t  no  way  to  live.   ’

‘   that’s  how  the  west  was  won.   ’

‘   writing  a  diary  is  tough  around  here.   ’

‘   i  don’t  wanna  miss  my  chance.   ’

‘   we  deserve  what  we  are  gonna  get.   ’

bonnie.

‘   i  must  be  in  love  or  else  i’m  goin’  mad.   ’

‘   that  girl’s  got  somethin’.   ’

‘   nothin’  scares  her.   ’

‘   only  piece  of  luck  that’s  ever  come  my  way.   ’

‘   can’t  wait  to  tell  her  how  much  i’ve  missed  her.   ’

‘   got  a  feelin’  there  are  good  times  up  ahead.   ’

raise a little hell (reprise).

‘   now  our  dreams  are  so  much  bigger.   ’

‘   these  are  gonna  change  our  lives.   ’

‘   why  do  folks  wanna  be  heroes?   ’

‘   all  i  wanna  do  is  save  her.   ’

‘   we  are  gonna  be  more  famous.   ’

‘   we  won’t  get  to  heaven,  so  let’s  raise  a  little  hell!   ’

dyin’ ain’t so bad.

‘   only  when  one’s  left  behind  does  it  get  sad.   ’

‘   i  couldn’t  live  on  memories.   ’

‘   a  love  like  ours  don’t  happen  twice.   ’

‘   i’d  rather  breathe  in  life  than  dusty  air.   ’

‘   dyin’  ain’t  so  bad;  not  if  you  both  go  together.   ’

‘   a  short  &&  lovin’  life,  that  ain’t  so  bad.   ’

[musiisms]

Badly describe my muse in my inbox.