ad infinitum

ARTHUR LOCKE Male (he/him) // Student at College of Eolas there is only one good: knowledge; and one evil: ignorance.

postlog

info

ARCHIVES

cartography of 1707

---

earlier 1707 / /

1. it's just politics - Ayr Echo
   
   • The night before, Arthur has learned that his father died in one of the Rebellion battles, and struggles to cope with his loss. His childhood friend, Echo, finds him up on the peaks.
2. glass ships on stormy seas - Melrose Echo
   

autumn yr1 / /

1. thyme is of the essence - Melrose Leilani
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
2. Hey yew over there - Arboretum Kylar
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
3. finding the fae - The Fae Forest Elwynn
   
   • Arthur finds himself in the Fae Forest after several sleepless nights; he encounters a strange woman, and the thrill of danger is in the air.
4. arthur x ara class thread - location Involved
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
5. faerie hunting - Tir Na Nog - Bonfire Ara
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
6. an occult encounter - fae forest Zoltan
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
• description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
7. Fae have Feelings Too - Maiden's Braid Ara, Satchel, Monarch
   
   • Ara is holding a rally in favor of the Fae -- Arthur attends to support her, but some aren't quite as supportive...

winter yr 1 / /

1. beyond the hills - Melrose Alexei
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
2. ask ara to garden woops - location Ara
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
3. don't you dream impossible things? - location Alexei
   
   • Arthur finds himself in the Fae Forest after several sleepless nights; he encounters a strange woman, and the thrill of danger is in the air.
4. GARDEN PARTY - location Involved
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
5. title - location involved
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
6. title - location involved
   
   • description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
• description of what happens in the thread because YAY.
7. Fae have Feelings Too - Maiden's Braid Ara, Satchel, Monarch
   
   • Ara is holding a rally in favor of the Fae -- Arthur attends to support her, but some aren't quite as supportive...

Spring Y1

thread name;

stuff stuff

thread name;

stuff stuff

thread name;

stuff stuff

thread name;

stuff stuff

thread name;

stuff stuff

archived threads

year 1

none yet, but soon this chapter will be filled.

code by rae

TEXT HERE :) study all the faeries - hummingbirds - peace and quiet for Rionnach - books - books - books

<center><table background="https://img.nickpic.host/55tJjY.jpg" style="background-position:top; background-color:transparent; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:5px solid #5d5558; outline-color:#e0dddb; width:600px;padding-bottom:20px;padding-top:20px;padding-left:15px;padding-right:15px;<tr><td height="0px"><tr><td align="center">

<div id="outerDiv" style="position: relative; border: 2px solid #e0dddb;overflow:hidden; ">
<div id="semiTransparentDiv" style="position: absolute; background-color: #b0a9a3; filter:alpha(opacity=80);-moz-opacity:.80;opacity:.80; height: 100%; width: 700px; z-index: 1;"></div>
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative;z-index:2; padding-bottom:35px;padding-top:25px;padding-left:15px;padding-right:15px;">
<font style="color:#eeeceb;font-family:verdana;font-size: 10px; line-height: 11px;letter-spacing:0.1em;word-spacing:0.2em;">TEXT HERE :)
<center>
<font style="color:#f2e0bc;font-family:georgia;font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;letter-spacing:0.2em;word-spacing:0.2em;">study all the faeries - hummingbirds - peace and quiet for Rionnach - books - books - books

</div></td></tr>  </table></center>

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. “my sin, my soul.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

ART ➤sealoon

<center><table background="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/697c7bcb-05ff-40de-b874-6a49d83a0975/decpbdy-662c8d6f-8ceb-4384-abd6-b2201d49d37c.png/v1/fill/w_840,h_951/by_jlynn_by_amphispiza_decpbdy-pre.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTQ0OSIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzY5N2M3YmNiLTA1ZmYtNDBkZS1iODc0LTZhNDlkODNhMDk3NVwvZGVjcGJkeS02NjJjOGQ2Zi04Y2ViLTQzODQtYWJkNi1iMjIwMWQ0OWQzN2MucG5nIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEyODAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.BzgjoQT-UJthxHm8Skf2Oq3AMYjREUV_8hlxfh4XsHQ" style="background-position:top; background-size:100%; background-color:transparent; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:0px dashed black; outline-color:transparent; outline-style:double;width:600px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:400px;padding-left:275px;padding-right:0px;<tr><td height="250px"><tr><td align="center">
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative; padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;"><div style="width:355px; height:300px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;padding-top:13px;padding-bottom:15px; background-color:#ffffff; background-color:rgba(175,163,159,.6); overflow-y: auto;"><font style="color:#eae7e7;font-family:verdana; font-size: 9px; line-height: 13px;letter-spacing:0.0em;word-spacing:0.1em;">“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. <font style="color:#e8d7be;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #fbf3e1">“my sin, my soul.”</font>  But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”


Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

</div></td></tr>  </table><div align="center">  <font style="color:#110d0f;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 16px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">ART ➤<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/sealoon">sealoon</a>  </font> </div>     </center>

Normal Text
Bolded Text
Italics
Speech


@NAMEHERE

code + art by claerie

<style>.arthur_clae b {color: #a3a3a3; font-weight: 600;} .arthur_clae i {font-style: italic; color: #a3a3a3; font-weight: 500;} .arthur_clae h {font-style: italic; color: #b89640; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10.5px; font-weight: 600; transition: 0.5s ease;} .arthur_clae { margin: auto; padding: 40px; background-color: rgba(33, 33, 33, 0.6); transition: 0.5s ease;}  .arthur_clae:hover { background-color: rgba(33, 33, 33, 1); transition: 0.5s ease;}.arthur_clae h:hover {color:#a3a3a3; transition: 0.5s ease;} .big_arthur_clae { margin: auto; width: 520px; padding-left: 40px; padding-right: 40px; padding-bottom: 40px; padding-top: 550px; background: rgba(89,88,88,1) url('https://i.imgur.com/Is2J2LN.png') no-repeat; font-family: 'source sans pro', sans-serif; font-size: 10px; color: #808080; line-height: 20px; border: 1px solid #0a0a0a}</style>
    <div class="big_arthur_clae">
      <div class="arthur_clae">
      Normal Text
<b>Bolded Text</b>
<i>Italics</i>
<h>Speech</h>
        
        <br><center>@NAMEHERE</center>
      </div>
    </div>
<center><font style="font-family: cambria; font-size: 7px; letter-spacing: 2px;">code + art by claerie</font></center>

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. “my sin, my soul.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” “my sin, my soul.” Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

ART ➤ art by snow-body

<center><table background="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/697c7bcb-05ff-40de-b874-6a49d83a0975/dem1ipc-1fac5c55-e0ec-4ccd-abc9-ee435d5d83ef.png/v1/fill/w_850,h_940/arthurpages_by_amphispiza_dem1ipc-pre.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTQxNiIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzY5N2M3YmNiLTA1ZmYtNDBkZS1iODc0LTZhNDlkODNhMDk3NVwvZGVtMWlwYy0xZmFjNWM1NS1lMGVjLTRjY2QtYWJjOS1lZTQzNWQ1ZDgzZWYucG5nIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTEyODAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.yZtkFVRCXTVRgbjFluQ4f8DuVSwlWrt2KEvCFkN8XFY" style="background-position:top; background-size: 100%; background-color:transparent; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:0px dashed black; outline-color:transparent; outline-style:double;width:600px;padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:540px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;<tr><td height="250px"><tr><td align="center">
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative; padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;"><div style="width:335px; height:300px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;padding-top:13px;padding-bottom:15px; background-color:#ffffff; background-color:rgba(175,163,159,.0); overflow-y: auto;"><font style="color:#efd7bf;font-family:verdana; font-size: 9px; line-height: 13px;letter-spacing:0.0em;word-spacing:0.1em;">“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. <font style="color:#e8d7be;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #fbf3e1">“my sin, my soul.”</font>  But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

<font style="color:#7284cb;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #daa7b6">“my sin, my soul.”</font>

Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

</div></td></tr>  </table><div align="center">  <font style="color:#110d0f;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 16px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">ART ➤<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/snow-body"> art by snow-body</a>  </font> </div>     </center>

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. “my sin, my soul.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” “my sin, my soul.” Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

ART ➤ art by ashon

All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names. I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground. I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes. He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said: "I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will." I like that very much: "If the accident will."

STOCK ➤ dawnthieves ART ➤ amphi

<center><table background="https://img.nickpic.host/5y9aPq.png" style="background-position:top; background-color:transparent; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:0px dashed black; outline-color:transparent; outline-style:double;width:600px;padding-bottom:30px;padding-top:50px;padding-left:335px;padding-right:0px;<tr><td height="250px"><tr><td align="center">
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative; padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;"><div style="width:205px; height:600px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;padding-top:13px;padding-bottom:15px; background-color:#ffffff; background-color:rgba(207,191,175,.4); overflow-y: auto;"><font style="color:#140d0c;font-family:verdana; font-size: 9px; line-height: 13px;letter-spacing:0.0em;word-spacing:0.1em;">All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground.

I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes.

He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said:

"I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will."

I like that very much: <font style="color:#e5d3a3;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #ffbd3c">"If the accident will."</font>


</div></td></tr>  </table><div align="center">  <font style="color:#110d0f;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 16px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">STOCK ➤<a href="www.dawnthieves.de"> dawnthieves</a> ART ➤<a href="www.deviantart.com/amphispiza"> amphi</a> </font> </div>     </center>

All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names. I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground. I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes. He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said: "I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will." "If the accident will."

STOCK➤ Dawnthieves ART ➤AMPHI

<center><table background="https://img.nickpic.host/5y2POz.png" style="background-position:bottom; background-color:#564a3e; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:1px double #000000; outline-color:black; outline-style:;width:600px;padding-bottom:820px;padding-top:15px;padding-left:50px;padding-right:35px;<tr><td height="0px"><tr><td align="center">
<div id="outerDiv" style="position: relative; border: 0px double #3b170c;overflow:hidden; ">
<div id="semiTransparentDiv" style="position: absolute; background-color: transparent; filter:alpha(opacity=40);-moz-opacity:.40;opacity:.40; height: 100%; width: 100%; z-index: 1;"></div><div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative;z-index:2; padding-bottom:20px;padding-top:10px;padding-left:05px;padding-right:05px;"><font style="color:#e1decc;font-family:garamond;font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;letter-spacing:0.1em;word-spacing:0.0em;">All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground.

I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes.

He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said:

"I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will."


<font style="color:#e5d3a3;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #ffbd3c">"If the accident will."</font>

</div></td></tr>  </table><div align=center>   <font style="color:black;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 12px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">STOCK➤<a href="www.dawnthieves.de"> Dawnthieves</a>   ART ➤AMPHI </font> </div>      </center>

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” and more here and stuff? “my sin, my soul.”

ART ➤Snow-Body CODE➤ twisty

<center><table background="https://img.nickpic.host/g2AQTs.png" style="background-position:bottom; background-color:#000000; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:4px solid #231023; outline-color:black; outline-style:double;width:500px;padding-bottom:395px;padding-top:365px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:180px;<tr><td height="350px"><tr><td align="center">
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative; padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;"><div style="width:285px; height:170px;padding-right:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px; background-color:#ffffff; background-color:rgba(70,34,65,.4); overflow-y: auto;"><font style="color:#f7ebcf;font-family:verdana; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em;word-spacing:0.1em;">“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”<BR><BR><BR>

and more here and stuff?

<font style="color:#ffdc5c;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 14px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 12px #e9c33b;">“my sin, my soul.” </font>


</div></td></tr>  </table><div align="center">  <font style="color:#231023;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 12px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">ART ➤<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/snow-body">Snow-Body</a> CODE➤ twisty  </font> </div>  </center>

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. “my sin, my soul.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” “my sin, my soul.” Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

ART ➤ art by TheArtOfVaruna

<center><table background="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/697c7bcb-05ff-40de-b874-6a49d83a0975/dg02zsv-2ff594af-339c-4a23-9018-ec9a556401da.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzY5N2M3YmNiLTA1ZmYtNDBkZS1iODc0LTZhNDlkODNhMDk3NVwvZGcwMnpzdi0yZmY1OTRhZi0zMzljLTRhMjMtOTAxOC1lYzlhNTU2NDAxZGEuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.JBbn57QPnf7h2OKg3TNfDcJnD4fv2O2KlRXiguVNKjQ" style="background-position:bottom; background-size: 100%; background-color:transparent; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:0px dashed black; outline-color:transparent; outline-style:double;width:600px;padding-bottom:360px;padding-top:50px;padding-left:80px;padding-right:60px;<tr><td height="250px"><tr><td align="center">
<div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative; padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;padding-left:0px;padding-right:0px;"><div style="width:425px; height:300px;padding-right:15px;padding-left:15px;padding-top:13px;padding-bottom:15px; background-color:#ffffff; background-color:rgba(233,197,189,.7); overflow-y: auto;"><font style="color:#1d1819;font-family:verdana; font-size: 9px; line-height: 13px;letter-spacing:0.0em;word-spacing:0.1em;">“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. <font style="color:#e8d7be;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #fbf3e1">“my sin, my soul.”</font>  But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

<font style="color:#7284cb;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 13px; line-height: 10px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #daa7b6">“my sin, my soul.”</font>

Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.” But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.”

</div></td></tr>  </table><div align="center">  <font style="color:#110d0f;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 16px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">ART ➤<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/theartofvaruna/art/Untitled-967429085"> art by TheArtOfVaruna</a>  </font> </div>     </center>