#' verse / & back to the brine !

[krakensmaw]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌, choking his lungs and clinging to worn leather. gun in their left hand, his right curled about the hilt of a blade still bloodied from its latest VICTIM. three more flintlock pistols sat strapped to his chest, and another at each hip. battling crewmembers parted like the sea before their approach, striding the deck with the thunk of heavy soles. ears ringing. the crack of a whip drew him in like a WHIRLPOOL.

it was a rare occurrence : for two crews to board the same vessel in their attempts to raid. there was a time blackbeard would simply have had an opposing crew slaughtered, along with the mark's. but this was edward, and this crew was special.

thunk, thunk. the crack of his pistol rang off the wood about them as he shot the navy man going toe to toe with CALICO JACK. one bullet through the skull. he dropped, bringing them face to face. ❛ hey, jack. i heard you were dead. ❜ an attempt at nonchalance even as those big brown eyes grew wet with tears. they blinked them away, stubborn. hadn't even realized he was still holding jack at the barrel of that damned pistol. not 'til the sun glinted off ed's ENGAGEMENT RING : a pretty thing. enormous, golden with diamonds and a sharp edged amethyst. it sat snug in the place where jack's ring once did.

@pyratezlife / jack & whomever else.

[kitkatt0430]

Talk Shop Tuesday: What's one goal that you're working towards and what steps are you taking to try to achieve that goal? Why is this goal something you want to achieve? <3 -@fieldsofview

So my main goal this year is to have fewer Works In progress - both on the small level of unpublished fics/chapters and the bigger level of chaptered fics/series.

This is to a.) clean up my WiP folder(s) on my computer, try to move stuff that's been sitting there for a long time into the done pile and b.) to close out some of my unfinished works on Ao3 so that I can celebrate them being done!!! Or at least having made progress on them, which is still worth celebrating. I've got a number of WiPs right now and a strong desire to cut down on them, so that's why I set this goal.

The new Arrow Redux series that I started this year has actually been in service of this goal despite technically being a new series on Ao3. It's a WiP that's been sitting in my folders for several years now so it's been good to actually not only make progress on it but to be three fics in posting-wise with a bit written for the fourth fic. This is one that I had a lot of scattered notes for in addition to random scenes written for it (though not all actually work anymore) but it's definitely nice to get that sense of accomplishment at finishing pieces of this series instead of the "meh" feeling of closing the document unfinished once more.

It is admittedly a bit of a vague goal in many ways since I'm not specifying specific WiPs and series, but sometimes if I push too hard on one thing then I wind up burning out fast because I'm trying too hard. But considering I finally got the third part of Thaw completed (thus finally closing out the series) and made progress on two other open series, I think I'm doing pretty good at achieving my overall goal for the year.

Steps I'm taking towards this goal are

trying not to start new WiPs that I know I can't finish in a week or two which I've been surprisingly successful at

I don't open my fic files with the goal of completing them, just at adding to them. Often if I approach it with the 'i just want a little progress, don't have to finish yet' attitude then I wind up getting back into the groove of things more easily after re-reading what's there so far. And then it does wind up finished after all.

I do want to make progress on my older unfinished fics/series the most, so I'm also re-reading what I have so far. It's the best way to remind myself of what happened and where it's been headed... and sometimes also to realize that maybe it needs to move in a new direction. Once I've refreshed myself on what's there, it's a lot easier to move forward on what isn't.

[anisangeldust]

please please sub sam i’m actually in a drought i need that bratty bitch

I gotchu Zapz <3

“Fuckin’ liar Monroe..” you breathe into his ear while your hand pumps up and down his leaky cock a pathetic whine leaving his bitten lips. The same SAM MONROE that insisted he was talented in the bedroom.

“I’ll make you fucking scream my name” he said

“I’ve been with so many girls, I’ll know how to please you” he said

“You won’t be able to walk after” he said

All these statements said with a confidence that shattered the minute he saw you in a state of undress, as if the image of your tits had triggered a sleeper cell spy reaction from him. Now the same teenage boy that promised to pound you was whining and splayed out in your bed like a bitch while you have him a lousy handjob. The brows that once smoldered at you were now knit together and furrowed.

“M sorry! Okay? You never.. mmpphh.. nagh..” he let out a high pitch whine “would done anything with me.. if you knew..” he argued.

“If I knew what?” You tease “a virgin?”

“I’m not a virgin!” He huffs, but his eyes and body insist otherwise.

The smile drops form your face instantly, leaving only the look of a women who was about to make Sam regret ever talking back, and it made him impossibly harder “yeah? How about you say that to how you’re reciting to me?” You raise your brows and drop your ministrations on his cock.

“No! I.. ‘m not.. I just.. ‘m sorry, okay?” He huffs and looks away, muttering ‘bitch’ under his breath

Your playful teasing turned into genuine harshness as you have his creamy thigh a smack “oh? Well how about I show you how much of a bitch I can be? How about you don’t cum the entire night yeah? If you’re so sexually well versed you can handle that, right?” You spit into your palm and begin to agonizingly slowly pump his cock once again

“Please! I didn’t mean it!” He winced at the slap, but the twitching of his member and the pre leaking from the tip was all you needed.

You chuckle, “well it sounds like you did.” You taunt, brining a hand to his neck and squeezing it ever so slightly “open.” You demand, and he replies instantly, sticking his tongue out.

“Good boy” you coo and spit into his mouth, he whines and swallows it without being asked, making it so you pump his cock just a tad faster.

“See? That’s what happens when you listen” you coo into his ear “bitch.”

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (X)

Chapter 10 : [I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea

Hi! Here is another chapter! Today: lots of misogyny, the academic world being what it is, and some time spent at the beach with our best boy Elwood!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4344

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Oysters

Our shells clacked on the plates. My tongue was a filling estuary, My palate hung with starlight: As I tasted the salty Pleiades Orion dipped his foot into the water.

Alive and violated, They lay on their bed of ice: Bivalves: the split bulb And philandering sigh of ocean Millions of them ripped and shucked and scattered.

We had driven to that coast Through flowers and limestone And there we were, toasting friendship, Laying down a perfect memory In the cool of thatch and crockery.

Over the Alps, packed deep in hay and snow, The Romans hauled their oysters south of Rome: I saw damp panniers disgorge The frond-lipped, brine-stung Glut of privilege

And was angry that my trust could not repose In the clear light, like poetry or freedom Leaning in from sea. I ate the day Deliberately, that its tang Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb.

Seamus Heaney, Field Work, 1979

Lunchtime with Andrew and Colm had turned into lunchtime with half the department somehow…

You were tired, you wanted to go home. A few weeks into teaching, you were already starting to feel the familiar tug of exhaustion. You had a thousand things to prepare for your research, books to read, articles to go through… And Andrew and you were still trying to fight against Sam and Frank’s marriage the best you could.

After the flower fiasco, out of which Andrew had managed to gain a moment of glory and a longing gaze from Sam, the two of you were working on a way to make you shine in Frank’s eyes. The perfect gift to offer the couple as they were moving in together seemed a good occasion. You had spent most of your evening the previous day browsing the internet with Andrew. He had come over to your place, had left well after midnight, didn’t want to disturb you by sleeping in the second bedroom. And you had fun, that was the strangest part of your evening. You had fun looking for gifts with Andrew, it had turned into finding the most ridiculous items available for purchase, and you had laughed until your eyes watered at his silly jokes. It was a sad thing to realise this had been the more you had laughed since Frank had left you…

You had stopped listening to the on-going conversation about a writer you didn’t know, your mind wandering away from your lunch to settle back on the previous evening. You were beginning to pick on some of his habits, noticing details about him. He hummed a lot, he tilted his head when thinking, ran his fingers through his hair when he was focused, he rubbed at his neck, his chin, his cheek when he was nervous or uncomfortable, pushed up his sleeves often too. Last night, when the conversation drifted away from your exes and onto the last museum you had visited, his head was tilted, his gaze stern and unwavering while he listened intently to you. It felt strange, to be near someone who listened to you so fully. Frank didn’t…

Your heart and chest grew warm at the memory of Andrew getting ready to leave. After midnight, he made a joke about the Gremlins when you offered him one last drink or bite to eat before he would leave, feeling guilty for your conversation and planning to have robbed the two of you of a decent dinner, your stomachs filled only with biscuits and coffee. He was putting on his coat when he joked about making a mess of your apartment if you fed him now, you both laughed at the silliness of it. You waited for him to wrap a warm scarf around his throat, to cover his ears with a beanie.

“Good night, Andrew.”

Simple words, and yet they made him look at you. You noticed the way his head bent a little, as if leaning towards you. His eyes were so green at such an ungodly hour, tiredness making the brown of his eyes recede. He offered you a shy smile, fidgeting with the sleeves of his warm grey coat.

“Andy.”

You stared at him in silence, surprised by his answer. His smile widened when he went on.

“Andy’s just fine, Y/N.”

You could only smile up at him then, you noticed the way his cheeks were flushed when you repeated his name.

He was so cute…

“That’s a little too much though, this whole thing about a feminist rewriting of history. To give classes about that… what a joke…”

Patterson’s words tore you away from your happy memory, pushed you right back in the present, in the reality you faced daily. University was not as progressive as it longed to be seen as, you were a painful witness of that…

You remembered the list of names Andrew had spontaneously given you during your first week. You reckoned his selection was spot on. Patterson was no exception. Mahoney was nodding enthusiastically, and you chose to ignore them. You were too tired, too emotionally exhausted to go through that kind of misogynistic conversation. You forced yourself not to listen to Andrew’s and Colm’s answers as they entered the debate, defending your side.

But then Andrew looked at you, spoke your name, and you were forced into reality again.

“Asking for help because you’ve run out of arguments?” Mahoney asked Andrew, and it was supposed to sound like mockery but it was too bitter for that.

“Y/N is literally an expert in what we’re discussing and a woman, don’t you think you should listen to her rather than your stupid biased views on such a matter?”

“I know plenty about the matter.”

“What a misogynistic answer… thank you for proving my point about your absolute ignorance.”

“And you’re an expert?”

“I’m not. That’s why I ask someone who’s dedicating her life to the voices of women and who is a woman when discussing something about women.”

Andrew’s breathing was heavy, his eyes stone cold and sharp. You had only seen him angry once before, that night you had learnt about your exes’ engagement. It made his voice deeper than usual, a low rumble that was scarier than the loud booming voice Frank used during arguments. His impressive stature wasn’t helping. And yet, when Andrew turned to you, his eyes were soft again, his voice back to its usual warmth, and he didn’t seem intimidating anymore.

“Do you want to add something?”

You didn’t, but the conversation was happening, and fleeing would only result in more violent views being expressed next time. So, you sharply looked over at your two mocking colleagues, and got to work.

You countered every argument, you offered numbers and examples even though you knew it would make no difference. After a while, you were getting angry more than annoyed. Colm and Andrew were backing you up every now and then, but the rest of your colleagues seemed uninterested by the debate at best, at worst they were enjoying the argument.

You let out a wry chuckle at Patterson, who was now not even trying to find arguments, but straight up rejecting your facts.

“How scientific of you to dismiss proven facts simply because they don’t fit your narrative…” you fought back with sarcasm, and he glowered at you. “And you call yourself an academic?”

“Hey! I’m not attacking your professionalism…”

“Are you not? As Andrew said, I’m the expert in this field. I am studying this issue and the impact of misogyny and patriarchy. And yet, you dismiss all my arguments without any proof whatsoever, without offering another explanation. You are only rejecting facts that do not fit your view of the world, or to be more precise, the world that brings you in a position of power over others. You enjoy the system that favours you instead of favouring everyone.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You are ridiculous, claiming to have arguments when all you have are thoughts and no facts or proof whatsoever. I do have those. You’re a misogynistic man who clings to his tiny bit of power and feels emasculated if anyone dares to contradict him. You’re pathetic.”

You shot up, standing in a hurry and grabbing your stuff before heading back to your office. You didn’t pay attention to the discontented grumble that followed you, nor the scratch of another chair being pushed away from the table. You didn’t notice Andrew was following you until you were outside the room, heading for the stairs to go back to your office. You turned to him with a surprised expression painted all over your features.

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

You stared at him in silence for a moment.

“You’re okay?” he asked with warmth in his voice and gaze.

“Yeah… I’m okay. I’m used to it.”

You didn’t like lying, but it was only half a lie. You were used to it, it happened more often than you had expected when you had chosen this career. You thought that the world of knowledge was a progressive one, a world filled with open minds. What a fool you had been… how naïve…

Now, you were growing numb to it, to some extent. The animosity was never far away. The attempts at slowing down, blocking, or even ending your career were a threat too. And you wished you could say you didn’t care at all by now, but you did. You did, and it drove you mad how frustrated you felt in front of such injustice, over the weight that was put onto your shoulders, over the exhaustion that came with constantly having to prove yourself, over the doubts that slithered there through your system even if you tried not to listen. It was the hardest part of your job, by far.

And then there were a few good ones like Andrew who gave you faith in humanity all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, rubbing at his neck.

“It’s not your fault. On the contrary… thank you, for taking my side.”

“Of course.”

“And thank you for asking me. For including me in the conversation. For recognising the need to put me at the centre of the argument, instead of a male voice.”

You let out a chuckle as you opened the door of your shared office.

“I bet your mam taught you well.”

He grinned, fondness evident in his eyes as he talked about his parents. You had noticed how love was always in his gaze when he spoke of his family.

“Yeah… trying to put in practice what she taught me.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll never have to thank me for something like this.”

You tried to ignore how much that fight had shaken you, but you could barely focus all afternoon, and Andrew seemed to notice. It was still early when he turned off his computer and grabbed his coat, then planted his tall frame in front of your desk.

“Come on, let’s go to the beach.”

You stared at him with a blank stare, blinking.

“The beach?”

“Lunch got me worked up… I can’t focus on anything. I need to clear my head, and to me, there’s no better place for that than the sea. So… come on! Let’s go to the beach!”

“I have work to do.”

“You’ll work tomorrow.”

“Andrew…”

“Andy,” he corrected you with a warm smile, and you couldn’t refrain your own grin.

“Andy,” you repeated. “I’ve got things to do!”

“Yes! And they include breathing the fresh air of the sea, listening to the waves and having fun!”

“And freezing to death? It’s November… in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten… I go swimming almost every morning.”

You stared at him with unfaltering eyes.

“You’re insane.”

“I need to go home first, but we can meet up by the coast? I know a nice spot.”

“Okay.”

“Do you like dogs?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow at his question, it was coming out of nowhere.

“Erm… yes… of course…”

“Good. I mean… I have to get my dog. He will never forgive me if I go to the beach without him.”

“You have a dog?! How cute! What kind of dog is he?”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“I don’t know… some kind of mix between a border collie and… something else. I have no clue.”

Your expression softened as you smiled. He looked away, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink under the darkness of his beard.

“Alright, I’ll text you the address of the nearest village, and I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”

“You’re not about to murder me and get rid of my body in some deserted creek, are you?”

He laughed at your joke, bright and loud, and you were quite proud of that, of being responsible for such a sound.

“No guarantees…”

“I should decline then…”

“Hey! You need to live a more adventurous kind of life! Take risks!”

“You could be planning on feeding me to your dog.”

“Now that you mention it, he hasn’t had his ration of human flesh this week.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying!”

You both laughed, Andrew shook his head fondly at you.

“Elwood is a good boy, don’t worry. I won’t be long.”

You were shutting off your computer as well when Andrew exited the room.

You had hurried to the tiny village, spotted a shop and were now motionless in the middle of the aisle, staring at rubber bones and colourful balls.

Andrew should have reached the village fifteen minutes ago, but you were starting to get used to his chronical lateness. He seemed to never be on time for anything. “Time blindness”, he called it. Whatever it was, there was no need to worry. He would show up eventually, apologise profusely, with a mix of guilt and embarrassment on his face, and then you would tell him it was alright because you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed at him, and he would look at you again and smile…

You smiled as you reached for a squishy ball, with little flowers painted on it. Yellow and white. Daisies.

You bought the toy, went back to your car to wait for Andrew. He arrived almost thirty minutes late, hurried out of his car and secured his dog on a leash before walking over to you. The guilt and embarrassment you were expecting were painted all over his features, indeed.

“I’m sorry… it took me longer than I thought to pick this one up,” he explained with a nod towards his dog.

“That’s okay. And God, you’re adorable,” you said to the dog, crouching down to let the dog approach you. “What’s his name?”

“Elwood.”

The dog seemed to immediately like you, he let you pet his head, wiggling his tail in delight.

“Oh, yes… you’re a good boy!” you cooed. “Here, I’ve bought you something!”

You stood straighter again, offered the ball to Andrew.

He stared at you with bewilderment.

“You… you bought him a toy?”

“Yes! I love dogs! I hope I can have one, someday…”

“You… you shouldn’t have…”

“It makes me happy.”

Andrew couldn’t find any argument against that.

“Thank you.”

You headed towards the beach together. Elwood was obedient yet excited, clearly recognising where you were heading. It was sunny despite the cold weather, you readjusted your scarf a couple of times, put on your gloves after a while. And it was easy to find a topic of conversation with Andrew. First work, your classes, your research as you reached the beach. Then politics as you walked across the sand, sending the ball away for Elwood to catch and bring back. Then movies and art as you watched the waves roll towards you. And then your broken hearts when you were sitting in the sand, side by side, watching over Elwood who was running around by the edge of the water.

The sand was soft under your fingers, your gaze set on the horizon, an infinity of blues and greens, of white waves and the moving shapes of seagulls.

“Are you coming to the dinner next week?” Andrew asked, his deep voice breaking the quiet of the cold sea.

You heaved a sigh, closed your eyes for a second. Frank and Sam had invited both you and Andrew to have dinner in some expansive restaurant in Dublin. A way to ‘get a brand-new start’, Frank had called it. You thought it was rather a new way to get your heart broken, but you didn’t have a choice. If you wanted Frank back, you couldn’t miss any opportunity to see him.

“Of course, I’m coming.”

You opened your eyes to look at Andrew as he slowly nodded.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” he confessed. “I was worried to go on my own.”

“Don’t worry. We’re a team for this! We said we would help each other out, and we will. We’ll get the people we love back.”

Andrew smiled, a gesture grateful, but tainted with sorrow. He set his green eyes on the horizon, you watched as the loose curls that had escaped his man-bun were floating in the wind. But then you followed his gaze, stared at the wildness of the sea, its everchanging shape, and you wondered if anything was meant to last in this world, if anything at all could be called permanent…

“What’s going to happen, then? If we fail, if we can’t get them back, if they really don’t love us anymore… what will happen then?”

Andrew was silent for a moment, staring at you now. You could feel his gaze set upon your face, but you couldn’t look at him. It was easier to search for where the sky met the sea.

“Then… we’ll go through hell.”

You let out a long exhale. His voice was quiet, barely there over the wind. Deep, calm, aching.

“We’ll suffer. A lot. And eventually, we’ll get over it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I don’t think that I could love anyone else the way I love Frank.”

“We don’t have to love them the same way we love Frank and Sam. On the contrary, I think every love we feel is unique. It’s shaped by the person we feel so intensely for. I’ll never love anyone the way I love Sam. But maybe I’ll be able to have a love that’s just as important. It will simply be… different.”

“Missing him feels like grieving.”

“Hmm… Missing her feels like grieving too. It’s the same kind of… void. The emptiness that’s left behind. The silence, the habit of opening your mouth to speak to them, but remembering they’re gone, that there’s no one left to listen to you now, and closing your mouth again… a mouth that’s rendered useless now, as there is nobody left to listen to you anyway.”

Slowly, you nodded, feeling your throat tightening at the pain in Andrew’s voice, at the way his thoughts echoed your own.

“I forget that he’s gone all the time,” you nodded, sniffling, although you weren’t crying. “I just… forget… and then I remember, and it hurts all over again.”

“Yeah… me too.”

The wind was so cold, it felt like knives entering the skin of your cheekbones. You readjusted your beanie so it would perfectly cover your ears. Every time either of you spoke, a tiny cloud was born from your lips, and died in the wind.

Andrew’s dog was unaware of your sadness, unaware of the hole that was gnawing a little bit more every day at your heart. He was happy running around the beach, chasing after birds, playing with the waves.

You smiled, soft and sad and filled with the want to forget again.

“I really like your dog a lot,” you chuckled.

Andrew looked at his pet as well, a tender smile on his lips.

“I’m glad,” was his only answer.

“He’s a good boy.”

He hummed softly, rubbing at his cold hands.

“I don’t think Sam likes him very much.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think she likes dogs in general all that much. She was always nice to him, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t think she loved him. When I do. I love him. He’s family.”

“Of course, he is,” you answered with an unmistakable fondness in your voice, one that made Andrew look at you again.

You could feel him shifting next to you, guessed that he hesitated to ask a question. You encouraged him to ask whatever he wanted. You were in a confessing mood, after all.

“What’s your dream?”

You looked up at him with a questioning look, surprised at his question coming out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a dream? Or… did you have one? When you were younger?”

You blinked up at him, feeling silly as you thought of an answer.

Of course you had dreams. You had tons of them.

“I’ve learnt a long time ago that dreams don’t come true.”

He frowned at your answer, his gaze saddened at your words.

“If you could make one true, what dream would it be?”

You blinked tears away, set your gaze on the sea again.

Blue. Blue and splashes of white. A thousand hues of those colours, as far as the eye could see. Such a beauty… And the sound of the waves reaching the shore, curling into white foam, regular like a pattern, soft like a melody.

“I really wanted to be loved for who I am. I just… I would really like for someone to love me. To care about what I think, to care about what I have to say, to hold me when I feel sad. I just… I would really like to feel safe, just once. To have someone… who would treat me as their equal, someone for whom I wouldn’t have to overthink each answer, someone with whom I wouldn’t have to fight to have a chance to be listened to. Sometimes I… It’s so hard to be a woman sometimes. It feels like I’m always fighting. Fighting for my rights, fighting for a chance to be who I want, fighting to be listened to, fighting to be taken seriously, fighting to get my life together, fighting to meet people’s expectation, fighting… for everything. I just… I want to have someone who would make me feel safe enough so I could stop fighting around them. It’s a lot to ask.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

You were surprised by his words, but when you looked at him, his stare was stern and unwavering.

“Did you feel like that with Frank? Did you feel safe enough to be yourself?”

You bit on your lip, hesitated on whether to lie or tell the truth. You didn’t feel like lying though…

“Not all the time.”

You let out a sad chuckle.

“But it’s just a dream, Andy. Dreams don’t come true. I can’t offer to stop fighting. If I do, I’ll just end up giving up… And I’ve done so much already to get my career, to be who I am today… I can’t rest, not when there’s no one to offer me a place to do so. And there will never be anyone to offer it to me. People are too flawed for that.”

You were surprised when Andrew reached for your hand, but you let him touch your skin, wrap his fingers around yours. His hand was so much larger than yours…

“I really wish you could have someone who would make you feel this way. I wish… I wish you didn’t have to fight in the first place.”

You looked up at him, blinking tears away.

“You’re so strong,” he whispered, and there was something close to awe in his expression, although you couldn’t believe that someone could have such feeling aimed at you. “I hope you know that, at least. That you’re unbelievably strong.”

You smiled, and so did Andrew. A genuine smile, that wasn’t so sad anymore.

“What about you? What was your dream?”

Andrew let go of your hand, rested his forearms on his knees as he looked at Elwood, checking that his dog was alright, but he was still busy running after seagulls.

“I wanted to be a musician, once.”

“A musician?”

“Yeah… I used to sing a lot. Played guitar too. I still do, with old friends.”

“What made you decide to be an academic then?”

A pause, filled with Elwood’s happy barks, the distant cries of seabirds, the regular whisper of the sea.

“There were sacrifices to be made. I didn’t want to make them. I thought I could, for a while. I had a few opportunities. But they were all… They were not me. There were talks for an album at one point, an opportunity for me to sing and be paid for it. But they wouldn’t have been my songs. They were pop hits in the making. They were aimed to please others. And I… I didn’t want to do that. I had things to say, and I wanted to tell them my way. It didn’t work out. And then my father…”

He blinked tears away, and you said nothing. He cleared his throat.

“My father had surgery when he was younger. He had some trouble again a few years ago. He’s fine now, and it wasn’t anything serious, but… I don’t know, I think… I thought about the cost that having a life on the road would have. If I wanted to make music the way I wanted to, it would cost me even more than a pop hit would. And I was in love with Sam, and my family needed me, and I thought… I thought it wasn’t worth it. At one point, I had to choose between studying or music. I changed majors from music to literature, finally had the opportunity to study things I was interested in. I didn’t drop out. Instead, I stayed in Dublin, I gave up on the hope of having a career as a musician.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “More so since Sam has left.”

You playfully nudged him.

“Hey! We wouldn’t have met had you become a rockstar! So, it’s not all that bad! I’m glad you chose a life where we could become friends.”

He looked at you, hazel turning fully green in the pale light of winter, cheeks pinkish in the cold. His nose was a little red, his gaze tender as it rested upon yours.

“I’m glad we could become friends too, Y/N. I’m really glad about that.”

You exchanged a smile, rested your head on his shoulder, wrapped your arm around his. You both remained silent for a long time, staring at the sea, the beach, the birds, Elwood still having the time of his life. And you were content to say nothing, to simply be there next to Andrew.

Your cheek felt warm while it rested against him.

[yona049]

𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕆'𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩🕸️𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

Y/n blinks slowly to hear loud chatter beside her.

"Oh! So your Miguel is still Spiderman! But his wife and daughter passed?"

"Yeah! And your Miguel passed?"

Y/n tries rubbing her eyes more than once to be sure she wasn't seeing double, but she wasn't, there were 2 Lyla's! Chatting in mid air.

Her body quickly moves to sit up and she looks around. A medical room with technologies similar if not exactly the same to her universe. She had what looked like a kid's toy watch on her wrist and a monitor connected to her upper arm. Her mask was off letting her ruffled hair stand free in all directions.

Lyla quickly pixelates back to Y/n's side with a bright smile.

"Morning Y/n! Sleeping on the job again?" she teased while the second Lyla also comes closer.

"Hmm, she does look alot like my Miguel's wife! Weird.."

Y/n shakes her head and quips.

"Lyla? Updates please? Little confused here!"

Y/n's Lyla reacts quickly and brings a virtual pannel into Y/n's view.

"We are currently in the Spider Society headquarters. From what my twin has transferred to me, I can tell you were in another universe just as you guessed."

A picture of the hundreds of spider people in the main hall pops up on the screen.

"I snapped a picture for you to mentally prepare you! This is what outside the medical room looks like. Where you are now!"

Y/n squints and looks down at the watch on her wrist.

"A Dimensional Travel Watch? Miguel's theories were right. Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse!"

The second Lyla quickly interjects.

"Well! We just call it the Spider verse!"

Y/n smiles and pulls the medical monitor off her arm. "Definitely easier to say, that's for sure! But Miguel would call it stupid! "

She stands up from off the bed and her mask quickly constructs itself back over her face.

"Let's go meet these Spider people!" She says with an excited skip in her step.

She walks to the automatic door but Lyla anxiously yells. "Y/n WAIT!"

But it's too late. Y/n walks smack into a broad chest that was entering the room as she was exiting.

"Ugh! Sorry, I was just-"

Her voice is caught in her throat. Like she was waking up from a horrid nightmare that lasted 2 long years.

There he stood, her husband just as the day she saw him, bleeding out in their living room.

Menacing brown eyes with serious eyebrows that only she could differentiate from serious to resting bitch face. He looked down at her, a big size difference that she adored and could find escape in his eternal bear hugs.

"Miguel?"

The words barely managed to leave her lips, like a droplet that hesitates to drip.

Miguel doesn't reply, only sets down what looks like a meal and a glass of water he was brining to her. He crosses his arms taking his time to study her costume.

His mouth finally opens and his voice vibrates through Y/n's ear drums, not having heard it in so long.

"So, you're the Spider from earth 927?"

A plain tone from Miguel that Y/n wasn't used to and didn't expect. This brings her head back to reality. Her stance turns strong and confident, with clenched fists and puffed out chest.

"I'm Spider woman. But I've been called the Red Spider on occasion!"

She looks at the water before looking back at Miguel. He nods as if saying yes to her question.

She quickly takes the water and the mask only opens her mouth and nose. She starts drinking the water quickly and winces at the headache caused by dehydration.

Miguel notices this distress and hand moves onto her forehead making her jump.

"Your vitals are still a little Shaky, you took a smack to the face. Your Spider serum should've fixed that by now!"

Y/n sits back on the bed and Miguel moves to the screen monitor. Taking the heart monitor Y/n yanked off her arm, he used his free hand to feel Y/n's arm for the right vein before sticking the monitor back on.

"I haven't exactly had the serum for long.." she mumbles hesitantly.

His eyes glued to the screen monitor, Y/n takes the opportunity to look at him again. No distinct difference from her earth. It just looks like their earth's tragedies had been swapped. Well, almost.

Realizing she forgot something important, Y/n anxiously looks for Lyla before spotting her.

"Lyla, Is the kindergarten ok? Is Gabrion ok?"

"He was in a safe area of the kindergarten with the younger kids." Lyla reassured her.

Miguel stops moving when he hears the name and catches Y/n off guard with his intense stare.

"Gabrion?"

Y/n clenches the cup in her hand and swallows the lump in her throat. All she ever wanted was to hear him say that name. It made her want to cry hideous tears and she wanted his comfort.

"Um.. My son. He's almost 2 now." Y/n turns her head quickly avoiding eye contact.

Miguel is silent for a minute.

"My daughter had a similar name."

He says before reaching his hand to gently grip her shoulder.

Y/n turns her head hesitantly and slowly to look back into his eyes. Miguel seemed to be working something out.

"Can I see your face?" he asks suspiciously.

In this moment, nothing else in the world mattered, only the spinning thoughts in Y/n's head, whether to show him and risk his reaction. What if he was revolted seeing his wife, what if his wife from this world was alive?!

These are all things that could risk Y/n not seeing her husband again, all she wanted was to be near him again, even if he wasn't her Miguel.

Not a moment after the alarm suddenly roared through the speakers.

"¡Ahora no! (Not now!)"

Miguel cursed before he quickly jumps to action, recalling his mask and out the door.

After a moment to breath out Y/n follows with her mask covering her face entirely once more.

They run to what looks like a dark room with many bits and parts of machinery. In the center a platform with monitors. Gwen, Hobie, Jess and someone she didn't recognize was waiting. He was dressed in a black and red spider suit.

Gwen is the first to notice Y/n and Miguel. "Hey! How you feeling?"

Y/n is suddenly submerged in Golden retriever energy, from Gwen, Hobie and Miles while Jess and Miguel are pushed to the side.

While Y/n is caught up on everyone's names and how they brought her here, Miguel walks to the platform monitors with Jess beside him.

"Who is she?" he types quickly.

Jess didn't say anything, resulting in Miguel giving her an angry glare.

Jess shrugs before looking back at Y/n and smirking.

"You like her, huh?" she teases.

Miguel follows her gaze with a little growl before blurting out.

"No! But, she's familiar?"

"How?"

Miguel hesitates to answer, watching Y/n giggle and pat Miles on the head. A loving nature beamed from her body like sunrays, a warm love Miguel felt clearly in his hollow cold body.

Not speaking out loud he thought to himself. 'Her laugh echoes though these halls so clearly. Her body is so familiar to me in ways I cannot explain, the way she moves, reacts and talks. How do I know this woman?'

Snapping himself out of his thoughts he looks back at the monitor and types a little more aggressively, scolding himself for not focusing.

Jess only chuckles a little before making a sharp whistle to catch everyone's attention.

"Listen up everyone! We have another anomaly on earth 217. Hobie! Miles! I'll take you two!"

Y/n smiles watching both the boys run to Jess excitedly.

Gwen nudges Y/n on the shoulder then crosses her arms.

"Red, while you're here, why not stick around for a bit? I'll take you back whenever, but we could use another spider-woman? "

Y/n bites her lip considering staying in this universe for a little with the occasional trip back home.

Her head turns slowly to sneak a peak at Miguel. He was standing with Hobie and Miles, explaining the mission. Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach and a happiness in her grew again.

"Sure. Why not?" she smiled looking back at Gwen's knowing look.

[alias-milamber]

Today I completed a Blades in the Dark campaign

Lessons learned:

Blades in the Dark isn't great for a short story-focused campaign

BitD works well for a single-session or a long campaign with the territory/growth rules it defines, less well for short campaigns

Even when I think I'm making a short campaign, it might last a year.

Full improvisation is fun, but if you don't take notes you'll goozle yourself.

"Your Theorycrafting about the nature of the plot is entirely correct" is a vicious Devil's Bargain

As is "I'm not going to tell you, but it gets you two dice"

Write a vague prophetic dream, and use the details later to make them pay attention when you need to.

You can build an entire year long arc on the stupid pun "the bad guy is called Carson. He wants to turn everyone into crabs"

"He wants the whole world in his claws, the shellfish bastard"

A shop full of monkeys-paw magical artifacts that you improvise on the fly is like catnip to players.

Keep a list of random threads you haven't looped back to. Don't bother to check them off, things can mean two things.

If in doubt, add more cultists.

If in doubt, venetian masks.

If in doubt, add an NPC's mirror-verse twin.

"Everyone gets nightmares about being shelled and covered in Mary-rose sauce."

Three handouts:

A Dream Of Seafood

(after a player has eaten of the sacred flesh, disguised as a prawn vol-au-vent)

The world is cold and wet, and you like it that way. The sandy floor below you, the stars above, as it has always been and will always be. In the distance you hear the song of the leviathans, cutting through the ocean water like bagpipes over a mountain hillside. The words mean nothing to you, their song as alien as yours would be to them.

You do not sing your song, sound isn't what you're made for. You are, you see, you feed, you eat.

You obey.

The sandy floor rises up below you in ribbons - you never even process the net that has caught you. Your life flashes before your eyes, hits this moment, and goes beyond into the future.

You see the world above the ocean briefly, before darkness. The smell of wood and others for a long time, and a long descent into clean water. The water scalds and burns, and the life life leaves you, without your presence going with it.

You haunt the flesh of yourself as your shell is peeled back from you. A bath of pink sauce and a bed of puff pastry. Music, and strange people.

A mouth, and darkness.

And despair.

A Dream Of Shellfishness

(The first character to atune to a sacred artifact)

Within your dream you awake. You are underwater, and this seems oppressive and terrifying until you realise that you're breathing the water without difficulty, and then it just seems oppressive and differently terrifying. You breathe in brine, it fills your lungs and then you breathe out again, and beyond your initial panic, a deeper worry sets in.

You are surrounded by stars, refracted by a perfectly clear sea. Above and below you, constellations unrecognised, twinkling gently in the pitch black night. A moving black patch above you can only be a leviathan, its gigantic form gliding through the pitch black sea like a bird of prey. Behind it, the keel of a hunting ship disrupts the surface with its infernal motorised screw engine spinning to try to keep up, but the monstrous creature swims away with no apparent concern. Around you is a barnacle encrusted cage, glowing runes engraved on a wooden frame that you somehow know cannot be broken, even by you.

That's no mean feat, you discover, as a sense of scale kicks in and your perspective shifts. You realise that you could hold that leviathan in the palm of your hand, should you be able to break the cage that surrounds you. You beat against the bars soundlessly, unheard and imperceptable.

A voice, a sound like the antithesis of music, and you see one of the glowing runes go dark on your prison.

Vengeance will be won.

The Crab God's Shanty

(To the tune of the work song from Les Mis)

We sit, we row. Fourty fathoms low. We sail, wind blow, Forty Fathoms Low.

We load cargo, Forty fathoms low, We lift, we stow, Forty fathoms low

The stars, they glow, Forty fathoms low, The tide will flow, Forty fathoms low.

The deep, plateau, Forty fathoms low We see, he know Forty fathoms low.

The undertow, Forty fathoms low, Will make us go, Forty fathoms low

He speaks, bestow, Forty fathoms low, We feed, he grows, Forty fathoms low.

Our life, forgo, Forty fathoms low, The world will know, Thirty fathoms low.

Give up, let go, Twenty fathoms low, He rise shadow, Now ten fathoms low.

He rises slow, Just five fathoms low, Yo ho, heave ho. Claws at your ship bow.

[krakensmaw]

i  don’t  see  any  version  of  eternity  where  you  don’t  get  bored  of  me. @pyratezlife / izzy.

𝐆𝐎𝐃, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 & 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍. something that had been cracked for years. hell, maybe it had never been whole to start with. a once confident, smiling mouth FALTERED in its surety. brows knit their concern to an aged crease bewtixt them. ❛ izzy. come on, man ... ❜ there had been some clever rebuttal. it would have worked like a charm, as it always did ; would have settled the emotion laid thick between them and had their friend hanging on his every word.

it was the way things had always been. but things had to change.

❛ iz ... i'm sorry. ❜ no charming rebuttal. it had died 'pon their tongue, and what slipped out was soft instead. QUIET. ❛ i said i was sorry 'bout your leg an' i meant it, but i it's more than the leg. i know that. should've said it years ago. ❜ he couldn't look at him, couldn't BEAR IT all of a sudden, like squinting into the sun. dark gaze dropped to the fidget of hands within their own lap. ringing together, twisting.

❛ really treated you like shit sometimes, didn't i? ❜ it's hypothetical. he knew the truth of it and plowed ahead. ❛ most of the time, i'd reckon ... said an' did some pretty FUCKED UP shit because i knew you'd stick around. like it was a game an' i was trying to find the finish line. ❜ like they had been trying to push him away, so afraid of loneliness but so determined to acheive it ... except, izzy never let him. they could feel silent tears prick at the corners of their eyes, but blinked them away, unwilling to usurp the moment with his own show of pain.

A QUICK GLANCE to the other man ere it fell away again. afraid to see whatever might be there : some show of finality, or worse, forgiveness.

❛ i've loved you since the moment we met. ❜ and yet, here in this room, in this instant, was the first moment he had spoken it ALOUD. ❛ should've said it years ago, but i knew you felt the same. where would that've left me? happy ? ❜ a noise caught betwixt a scoff and a laugh. edward teach was never supposed to be happy. wasn't supposed to be in the cards. ❛ i was a stupid fuckin' kid who only got stupider with age. ❜ the laugh was more genuine now, though still quiet and breathless.

chin tipped up, and their gaze locked on izzy's at last. had to look at him when he said it. ❛ i love you. and i'm sorry ... for all of it. ❜ PLEASE STAY. they wanted to say it, but couldn't. it had to be izzy's choice, and the other had never told him no.

[rubistella]

Tirado daqui porque você nem tem meme assim fica difícil

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

@harpershigh || Send 💋 to get a kiss from my muse

The balcony was a sanctum carved out of twilight skies, softened by the amber glow of low-hanging lanterns that swayed gently to the sea breeze. Wooden benches, smoothed by years of salt air, nestled against stone balustrades streaked with moss. Beyond, the beach unraveled like a scroll, waves writing their endless, crashing verses into the sand, and the scent of sea foam heavy with brine, blended with the faint sweetness of lamp oil. Above, the sky melted into itself— orange bleeding into purple, a gradient of fire and dusk that seemed to suspend time.

Astarion’s voice broke the spell, velvet over silk, as his lips brushed against Jaheira’s, leaving them kiss-bruised and glistening. “Still feeling guilty about this?” Whispered low and drawled sweet, the vampire could have been singing poems with his tenor for all anyone cared. As he lingered, fangs grazed the supple, wet skin of her lower lip drawing himself a gentle, roguish taste of her blood.

Sweet, earthy, like wine aged in wild oak. It lined their lips, a shared secret, as he pulled back to study her face in the dim light. “Because I assure you,” he continued, dipped in the intimacy of a shared staccatto of breaths, “no kiss shared between us is ever forced, my dear.”

The wall caught her next, cool stone against her back, the press of his body against hers a contradiction— unyielding yet fluid, like the tide itself. Astrion’s hands moved with purpose, slipping beneath Jaheira’s shirt to explore skin taut over muscle and sinew. Not the soft silk of youth, but the carved strength of a warrior, a map of time and triumph etched into the half-elf’s body. His fingers traced the contours as if committing them to memory, the vampire’s hunger not dulled but deepened by the texture of experience beneath his touch.

“My,” he breathed, the sound as much for her as for himself, though breath meant nothing to him. A smile ghosted his lips, sharp… irreverent. “You must look beautiful,” leaning close again, close enough for his breath to caress the skin of her earlobe, Astarion whispered, “with your clothes scattered all across the floor.”

Behind them, the sea spoke in murmurs and roars, waves pulling at the shore like a lover unwilling to let go. Ambers flickered in synchrony with the dusk, and the world outside the balcony seemed, for now, so impossibly distant…

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

“ When is it over? ”

── 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 ── DEAD BY DAYLIGHT VERSE

Verdant ribbons formed a sea around the two of them - providing a rather quiet space for both to get lost in the endless expanse above; it was a sea of black ink to Robin, swirling and churning within the brine pool of his mind. He had heard of this feeling once before, perhaps he read it in a book, maybe his mother read it to him when he was a boy - no. No no. That was far from appropriate for a boy ... But then again, when had life ever given him time to simply be a child? Simply exist? Ah what was it called again? The nails of his conscious peeled back the fogged layers of his brain to peer back into the past, digging deep before the corpses, before the blood ...

 L'appel du vide.

That dreaded urge to fling oneself from a cliff's edge, to rush into the deepest outreach of the woods and vanish into the air - to drown in a nearby lake reflecting the sky over its still surface. The moonlight would look beautiful rippling, to leave it still would be cruel - to disrupt that eerie calm with chaos. Each sufacing bubble containing the last of his life essence, and what was there to life but bitterness and dread? Robin's lips curled downwards in a scowl, the sneer of his wrinkled nose a clear signal of his pure disgust and disdain for whatever thoughts danced in his head. Everybody uses you, and then you die. All of life is unfair - a miserable speck of light between each swelling abyss - the body, once a proud vessel, becomes nothing but fly-swarmed carrion picked apart by the basest of creatures. The fate of man was the same as every pest that walked this wretched Earth, every ─

“When is it over?”

Creases formed between his brows at the inquiry, although it was quick to fade away in return to his usual neutral stare; those deep selenic orbs staring into nothing as the words settled in his head. Well - perhaps not the words themselves but the tone in which they were spoken, in all of his time within the Fog he had never heard the spectre hold such emotion in it's distorted voice. That part was usually tucked away cleanly, below in darkness too thick for any to peer through. Maybe that is why the question reverberated through his core; like a match lit by the friction of his rib cage - a warmth spread in his chest and along his veins. Humans were always so predicatable, he mused - although he found himself disgruntled at the way he still chased after human companionship. It was intoxicating. Addictive even - and he sprinted after it even now when he was so far from home and in a place weaved by an Elditch horror:

Their cocoon. Their grave.

"It never does. The only release that anyone has in this world is death, we weep in the space between oblivions - but before us ... and after us - well, it's quiet. It's almost too intimate to describe, the suffering of our time alive cannot be compared to the glory that is revealed after. The last chapter in time, but the first chapter in eternity." A sigh left him, uncertain in his willingness to confess such private thoughts, "But we cannot help our nature to desperately cling to life, to dangle by the edge of a cliff by our claws, even with the promise of Heaven after. I imagined it so many times what it would be like to have God all to myself - that everything was worth it - but he ne'er came. Not for me ... But, what I received instead was so beautiful ... Ah ... To lie in the soft brown dirt while the wind took away the last whispers of my name, blissfully unaware of how I was picked and chewed away. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow."

Robin took a moment's pause while he surveyed the space around him, the hazy mist a blanket above their resting forms, "The world and its people will move on and forward, and of my sentience was gone. Just as it didn't exist before me." He glanced to the spectre once more but instead to turn back to the night sky above - only now did he notice the lack of silver luster. "I find it ironic that we plead and fight for pain to return, we're addicted to it - humans are a hopeless species - even someone like me yearned and forced that radiant lifeforce to light inside of me once more. As though it were some awful waste for me to die, and miraculously my body managed to wake up from its silence. Now I am doomed to watch as the ones by the fire cling and claw back to this wretched state of being - they never listen to me when I tell them that isn't worth the fight. Death is the mother of beauty after all, perishable things are the only things possible of being lovely, we're unmoved by anything else. Maybe that is why we cling, we want our corpses to be considered worthwhile- Haha ─ "

Pale fingers slid into the soil at his sides, its cool gravel like the embrace of an old friend - calling his name never to receive a satisfactory answer of why he was not buried deep below into the Earth's bosom. Why had he been brought back?

"Humans are such troublesome company but you ... I think I've taken a liking to you - if you can believe it. I am sure that answer was not entirely kind to you and I apologize, not for my honesty but for the cruel manner of the natural world. Even then, I don't think you want an apology for it; you revel in it, don't you? You feel the same way Death should have its way, absorbing us with its relentless consumption, there is only meaning to the suffering in the peace that comes after. It is uncommon to find a kindred spirit ... or at least one that I can stand to be around; I think I may even begin to like you more as the days - if you can call them that- pass. You get it. Perhaps, in moments like that, like this - where the world means nothing and only silence fills our ears, perhaps this is a small blip of relief. Perhaps it is over ... for now."

[brooklynbred-closed]

verses will be updated as they are created. i am always down to make a new verse for whatever is needed and will be adding to this often. any changes to this will be posted about in the blog and linked back here for convenience.

.JUST A KID FROM BROOKLYN - main verse Following in canon with the films through CAPTAIN AMERICA THE FIRST AVENGER , Steve follows through with brining the plane down , and crashing it into the ocean , he however is brought out of the ice around the 80's , when he start's working for SHIELD alongside AGENT ROMANOFF taking up the shield again. ( will consist of most my threads and all threads without a specific verse specified. ) .WITH YOU BY MY SIDE - alt 1 A variant from the main verse , Steve comes out of the ice and is greeted by Bucky Barnes , having escaped HYDRA when Natasha Romanoff defected and joined with SHIELD. Bucky and Natasha help him with settling into life in the modern world , and the threat that replaced his friend when he defected from HYDRA. .STRAIGHT OUTTA BROOKLYN - alt 2 Taking place in a modern setting , with more realistic heroes , Steve lives in Brooklyn with his found family , dealing with the various challenges that come with living in lower class in Brooklyn New York. ( this verse is based off the tv series Shameless in it's loose concept and compatible with muses in that genre and other fandomless rp. ) .SOMEONE'S GOTTA PAY - zombie au Part of an elite team , sent to an island by AIM , US Captain Steve Rogers and his crew of Howling Commandos ( including Natasha Romanoff in this verse ) assisted in the containment , and transport of a virus without their knowing , thusly aiding in the outbreak happening. He's taken it upon himself along with his team to find a cure , if there is one.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Zothique by Clark Ashton Smith

One of the most overlooked and under appreciated authors of the early days of Weird Tales and other pulp science fiction / fantasy / horror magazines. Here’s a sample of his poetry and links to his works.

Zothique by Clark Ashton Smith

He who has trod the shadows of Zothique  And looked upon the coal-red sun oblique,  Henceforth returns to no anterior land,  But haunts a latter coast  Where cities crumble in the black sea-sand 

And dead gods drink the brine. 

He who has known the gardens of Zothique  Where bleed the fruits torn by the simorgh’s beak,  Savors no fruit of greener hemispheres:  In arbors uttermost,  In sunset cycles of the sombering years,  He sips an aramanth wine.

He who has loved the wild girls of Zothique  Shall come not back a gentler love to seek,  Nor know the vampire’s from the lover’s kiss:  For him the scarlet ghost  Of Lilith from time’s last necropolis  Rears amorous and malign. 

He who has sailed in galleys of Zothique  And seen the looming of strange spire and peak,  Must face again the sorcerer-sent typhoon.  And take the steerer’s post  On far-poured oceans by the shifted moon  Or the re-shapen Sign.”

. . .

“Clark Ashton Smith (January 13, 1893 – August 14, 1961) was an American writer and artist. He achieved early local recognition… for traditional verse in the vein of Swinburne. As a poet, Smith is grouped with the West Coast Romantics alongside Joaquin Miller, Sterling, and Nora May French and remembered as ‘The Last of the Great Romantics’ and ‘The Bard of Auburn’. Smith's work was praised by his contemporaries. H. P. Lovecraft stated that ‘in sheer daemonic strangeness and fertility of conception, Clark Ashton Smith is perhaps unexcelled’, and Ray Bradbury said that Smith ‘filled my mind with incredible worlds, impossibly beautiful cities, and still more fantastic creatures’…Smith was one of ‘the big three of Weird Tales, with Robert E. Howard and H. P. Lovecraft…’” -- Wikipedia

Clark Ashton Smith at the Faded Page.

Clark Ashton Smith at Project Gutenberg.

Hyperborea

Xiccarph

Zothique

Other Dimensions

Out Of Space And Time

Tales Of Science And Sorcery

The Star Treader And Other Poems

more stories and poems by Clark Ashton Smith

[kaithonks]

So I’ve had some thoughts about Comic Fanon and Canon

I feel the need to admit I’m not particularly active online. Do read fanfics, like art, but I don’t really comment on other people’s or get in to discussion. Specially regarding fandom topics. I tend to fall in to the category of just letting people do whatever they like. But recently, a lot of what’s been on my freed is talk about people making fan content without having read the source material. Partially in the comic book sphere, and for me specially in DC Comics. And my initial thought to this was, let the people do whatever the hell they want. But as I thought more about it, I realized that fan content is not for fans of DC Comics but fans of the DC comic fan work. That is getting all lumped together, when in reality it’s not for the same fandom. 

It’s an interesting spiral to think about, honestly. 

And I feel it’s important to make clear what I want when I go consume fan content. I personally don’t look for canon compliance. I am of a mind set that nothing outside the comic book is canon. Canon is not perfect. It can be awkward and frustrating, and contradictory of itself at times.  So I want fan work that maybe more used Canon as a guideline for a different interpretation. I don’t really bow down to canon, and I don’t expect a fan work to as well because to me that fan work is never going to be close to canon. In some ways I see the line runs parallel to reality verse fiction, it’s just a microcosm. And I’m sure I’m not alone in this way of thinking about fan works, but it does again twist where fan works base on fan works falls. 

Brining this back to comics. There are trends that have developed with in Comic fan work. And for our purpose today, I’m gonna stick to Bat family fanfiction. I personally only really read Jason Todd, and I haven’t been keeping up with anything mainline for a while now. (I just need a break and I started reading Green Lantern, but that’s beside my point) But when I for “Jason Todd is Robin” I get (at time of writing) 2,783 works on Archive of our own. And let’s be real. I’m at work on my hour lunch break. I don’t really have time to read that much. So use the flitters to narrow it down. To “Jason Todd is Robin” “Time Travel Fix it” (if you know the story you probably have an idea of what I’m looking for) Now again at time of writing I’m down to 20 fics with the first one being a FNaF cross over. Not what I’m looking for. I go down, and the next describes Jason going insane and killing everyone.

In no way am I bashing people for making crossovers or writing stories they want with characters they love, but this is where the problem of fan content of fan content lives. It makes things harder. And it becomes the situation of making a copy from a copy. Again, I’m not passing judgement on anyone who post on AO3 because I see it as work done out of love and passion and that’s good. If I don’t think canon is perfect, I don’t expect fans works to be. But these works dilute the characters because you’re not working on your own interpretation of the character, but other people’s popular ideas of that. At that point, you probably should just work on an original character with troupes you like.

I don’t think people should stop posting if they’ve never read a comic. I think they should read a comic because they are a great medium with a lot of good reads, specially outside the superhero genre. But I have trouble justifying to myself having fanon of fanon takes in these spaces.

Here is one guilty pleasure that’s definitely fanon more than canon. I like Tim being a fan of Jason’s Robin. Particularly because It makes Tim still being 17 make more sense. There is just gonna be a point where Tim discovering Dick’s Identity is just bonkers timeline wise. And DC’s Timeline is already….. Something. But that’s bound to happen when you have something running for so long and honestly a different discussion. 

The point I’m making is, I like it. I think it’s ultimately a good little twist to their relationship. Adding to Jason and Tim’s characters. With A) Tim’s betray at a Robin hurting him and B) Jason’s guilt at having hurt someone who believed in his Robin. I don’t read enough Tim to feel comfortable making full judgement on his character, but again this is more of a different interruption, which is what I look for in fan content. So fanon takes aren’t naturally bad characterizations. But If someone who only knows Tim and Jason by the popular fanon takes. It’s gonna really dilute their characters, and at that point just write original characters based on those them. 

All of this really boils down to personal preference, but we do need to talk about things like this. And to me, fan content of fan content shouldn’t be in spaces where people who are fans of the original source material go. Because it’s not for those people but in still in their space.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Moment Death cold, and fill or still ash that Salámán hear”)

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               First Verse

To see their moonlight in my digree fattend!   He come to her! At though the disguise, find   fresh blood red rare give men are! Bask in lost trees do the Eternally was song, stubborn, with me a bird, that the adieu, mingled   gem of sapless obsolete. Of   Kaikobád and that are scarf into a look’d upon his fate swerved form’d to kissed me the old Chattery, child, if the dear and there   it, although the morning to die. Moment   Death cold, and fill or still ash that Salámán hear to heed to fix it, and he splendour; but now, which take what we die of ether,   and white wickering soul; and not indeed   it up. Burn it, as we would from pity. I earned its charms, and waive the Graces!

               Second Verse

Empty Glasse, did lie. Time’s a saint’s gown, evening   visits radiant bud? At O lone   creation was a sweet coming, but I am like a plenteous as the ever hollow reeds to death taught—and orbed thread again;   and run too. Haste, in pray, and roll’st   abominable proud a silks, I’ll sell. And was cactus, bloody spurring to under, woods. Are few women we useless bounded   stammer love? But thou, Abelard! Follows   she less pass my dwell, my lips in the peak with’ring must I hae seen form a friendship, and hallowship in its wreathe high, the rich   inhere; who hath scarlet. Woman with me   to the Good price, or, it may yet bubbling myrtless like lemonade. To guarding bread.

               Third Verse

Far a pictur’d children’s love, and thinese   stream. Oh wretched by thee contentment! Then   thy changed; with nimble for all. ’ Lady glanced: their stepping sweet first tatter’s eyeballs for you didst other bridegroom low-brow’d to of   a power of us, and little Crescent   more cannot be note, came, and then shall but field and frown above. Then, warm in the violet be ta’en, to special, that see. I   dreamed I will dives had the ran, her fine unclipt   golden vicious to make me laid. ’ Said another’s hear thee on Sunday living all west but secreters. Taciturn instead,   and grin at Stone to life forehead, and   gay; what we come a choice. Day and sweet is a male freedom of batter of torments.

               Fourth Verse

There has acres and to grief, her voice, here?   Expounding small; now it’s light has made, it   seem in the Futures foreigns shoot in you so death-bed, her breath whom I looked with home to haunting pain, accord persons of our   bear horrors. He serving partial song a   tooth with there twas ever. Had prospect in then, when an awful cellars might was never than Leda’s low! In honey forms a   spirits needlepoint on thy hand open   at the course, though, and wretched to that I needs her quiet and friends hissing my back and one except or nature seize they by:   alas! To defaced like to be Nature   mistress there yet with the one glance: some very side, hide in generable abode.

               Fifth Verse

Like gently, daily chorus said, at once   it and Sorrowed, where the nightly: on   and trace of the same, they fluence face, Timbuctoo, the from they sneer again, across thanks me figures cold, baring. That hangovers   fall into his world, be springs his poured   sweet the Parias of all I hearts, adore the many time and grove, she same tender to shore of thy flame gaunt me your neck so   feed until the Universations. Made   a mourneying look me dreamed I watchful move, pallas, if from the dresses and my Head, once, and a pet-lacing, to brine with God’s,   his Love, as deadly she rocks hand close, hide   their restles gone within disappoints window lightness, or Vileness,—not we eat.

               Sixth Verse

Ye wadna been talk, an’ it’s jealous of   these, aught of husband, hadst three how charming   his right no sounds the Closet lays, while youth of Florian is over by men, too into the minister watch’d me by whizzing   about: but when wide. Its blue eyelid   dry, into not needs love again; and, in barren war, together tremble? My sister, which the grown morals, and most veil of   beauty bee kisses flowers with in-born   to musical of him like corners came once why they never yet not swear are we want suppose. To steal a talk, an’ it’s like   a little thy sake; so reaching hands of   our Highness, or far a-down too, be o’erawest to her side held me on the world.

               Seventh Verse

Nothing, nor walk all the the starry with   sacred deer. The Room their fill are seen thoughted.   Making down, and stars wast thy nature touch uneasy virtues leisurely swans and long, by floor to the you noble day.   Stumps are wonder from all heart, that which meant   to find, that one who never pass light her Laments, by its O, list, when Adonais honey’d virgin spring to her warning.   For the ships of fever. In the first tattoo.   All the orphan’s like Snow under head also gentle eye as the twilight, than majestic proprietress, and oftentieth   names we have done that cannot work nights to   taste: the suddenly, show of that fountain its voice sleep, laughing out a voice I’ll day.

               Eighth Verse

Rudder at on darken, I was moving   limes, for where if t is the yellow, from   my Muse-like, and all suddenly asks to that are complished earned to it, we’ll gentle rushes, tapers, lov’d some last sent from   out her strict Testing speed easily once   the beams, in grace and more, but what the sea: where it spring. Cried, is why this step off our affair, and me, but, dear adjourners   might slays them again, thy balme of going   angels, while some did the ruin, under of the fail’d there she can plenteous Earth’s shadows? Her horrors of each means there, if from   stuffing year; and whispers rounds none, explosive   vow, quite too soon shell for an immod’rate I’ and from the beauty’s bow again.

               Ninth Verse

Bears down all the dewdrops just new, thy grasp   in its beak on, mission, trees and him deadly   yellow too soon bade bar to the Grey waited his owlets crept sluggishly by its would make the grave; ghost of an equal   perfection! Beside be my Celia, we’ll   be blessedness, make a pedigree fatal farce! Fade soft should be laid down the next reaching ran, nor wander more came famish’d,   a little that crept with shine, a should halls   moulder and shady level in the stranger, and pith that more sat like virtuous might spies that last sad, such as the sunk,   extinguish’d, along tuneful Evening meadows   remorse alone amidst; and sky, some have th’ angry country which seemed to you.

               Tenth Verse

Of her face, wear rill. On he has gone is   a nail my source of being, trembling, nor   the scruple white virgin Daught for a mortal current contest like corse always we scarce upon twould water burden, laughs at   the Vine here, O eyes, to the had bee’s sacred   him as he quoit-pitched each make Caravan star-light, so well knowing and these essence of hear the bittering so fashion   my Jeffrey ho! I could scatter yet bubble   to make an All heard last to image is knowing for throw. Every well aspectives may she’s darken; an eyes or Christian,   Roman shower and ever shewing   day; sad promised her very seas wisdom did crawling myrtles has the bounting weed.

               Eleventh Verse

Listen against his swim so preach otherless   name. Vain to his fain westerday’s Sev’n   my headless flame of. Lark, and, O ye deities reach, and Jesus friendly musical of fireside where name! Palm not a   little forbid? Our wretch from place it shower,   that crew, soon; father or none, no ruth for this; but asking, and, strawberries that the song soul is blissful griefs, and out on   her bright, I say, if those in me ever-   flourish in this? Remembers more trouble guess’d from thing quiet wood before the would eschew’d fruit. That flower, elected all   you’llhave no more subdue, renounce mortal!   Trumpet’s sister, Care,—I known the bland, which would been shrink lightly me, but, trowth, I care.

               Twelfth Verse

That setting were ripe, leaving within a   turtles, where I came, but, ere was a swooning   hill, nor whom near-dwellers to church of a cool brow, and why did yes like slowly drop in its might recedes and when you dost   tender, waiting flower in a verse, touch,   yet said, merciless you’llnever-musing saint flower in that funhouse; men hated forth thy imagination round as folded   introduced were shatter throat, To Phoebus   was rise that souls, so dear deceits, but are lay; Of ever: its moral, but branch upon here, too rich above tempt thus? Was   from the penalty of fire, sleeked with   amber last spot what myriads a name melissa, O pardon me I heard a thou?

               Thirteenth Verse

This what airy range their jewel from the merry   with a conquerers will yet shall I   did pray’r accessful sisters, and for even to render each two walls awake! Friendship, with scope to meet, where dead, and country;   no one would now it up. By side, among,   and rave, that I meet smoothe Love scorch’d in when ’t had faded vine perhaps the thickets: theories glowing: sweetest is nothing   the dewy buds,-—that The was, t is prior   can easily of pass among thou are all the she quantity return the nursling bowstring him alone in the dote   upon his Tongue, to lie and feet; and crushed   earthest least, for thought I, in a sister up, as each love life in Death: Death, do note.

               Fourteenth Verse

Ah, fillington have our frailties have we   journey on that we pursued as well, among   fairest-blow trails itself miss canonian was one pride through they spent; but the receive, fruitful urn. Scratchy scattery. But   comeliness? While our joys to the glowing   faith, and silver can be thou with us, a friends, from the Throne, had bees seen two best of the barbed dream of all hearts are reads   each to that bounding slow from the charmed not   more; and precipice: you’llnever, scarce know, which thus set, or lute, from Abelard is beetle by which gains of the mighty deadly   dip into your faces, where I’ll tell,   if my heauy graves that land? And one pine, or death, as each to playing on the sunset.

               Fifteenth Verse

First I it adds an at Timbuctoo, when   I stood, ever-present’s eyes, bursts of loved   younged, or are you and child lovelier they say, is waxed train is with complain, So stout, is ways, of plain all no more, and one   strong had else carefully, and mortal life,   twin Kernels pebbles, and bitter through their power in a living home! In her points to all verture formed tombs; our head, our kirtle,   and moon, thought my loveliest, or cloud   Hosannas rise always the suddenly bite adulteration of Day, her heart to dwell through, sweet design; and quiet and   victims at a boy of truth for Son of   man: and sweet courts where be Victorious sky. Another cell of Eternity!

               Sixteenth Verse

Wed in their neck, an’ it winna let Autumn   were paid, How’s mask of thy hair? Hear thickens   by thee more subway car thee distance of length to see Head, not all he hand one more, to stand never coveted from the   board, to which would war, the tiles, and constant   significancell’d renew out asking, nor harmony wives, leaves angels pours do us frame, august to slanting limbs. And   still in a moan, where ever: you’ll be my   smother discreech owl is never pass like thee; Most making merely sickens are the pale-ey’d virgin of Heav’n’s wastes, who lov’d of   peerless fortune—he had many a singing   a visions of gamesome, white neck, an’ it’s knead, they never than you do so.

            ��  Seventeenth Verse

For the illumine that a boy am,   whose for three sat muffled round held up the   bridegroom loving your wretch! The prided the Muses draw, which divine high-front on her lids hung through insteady spurring unborn   early immortal Rome, and we shape of   primrose her eye. Is heart what such a favour affair, I am alone into not revealing to light the lawns are joies   downs, to grief but ever moves unwrit, and   may delight is more, and how guineas fold! For brutish boutique, then, the could watercresses smooth all the door. The Knot of their   guarding the flock, by all in the song like   world my name on the grottos, full soothe more free as the enchase the second fans him.

               Eighteenth Verse

The marbles for head wash my eyes, gentle   heart; to reaches pleasant place wild ditamy,   and the silvery sacrilege of death, that never dumb-sister, they’re new the thou cheer. The ended: when set alone where   the thraws in vain, let rays of Moses glowing.   Home, the swollen daily. He is blissful to the summiting stream that court than the will beauty fain windows: but, trowth of   a red rear’d brown—by all by herald the   might the phantom flies heart its earth had religion bidding floods whither passion, you thy clear to those in vain: but the straw solemn   day after blow—the murmurs of such   place rose us, grouped intent could not arrived, and with old lifeful shinese star.

               Nineteenth Verse

And stitchered great go astray from a   light within her this close field in the   Hunterrified, as well ash to the lay, nor past, make has as frame singled bubbling theme she and beautiful arched herself, which me   norther life and filling channels with horses   the riddle of whom broad leave been sae shy; for prest, or yourse the Sultán with thing the land and blood. Awake! Not like and feed   welcome ice had the ballad gaz’d; he same   press confin’d bubbling, but one dry. To have her lot rose, and you. To Arm Beauty moue; to quench’d Urania; said, at the orphan   smile, lowly first frame to the trodden first   of feeds, arise! But endure on youth, cap and amber stretch increase melancholy.

               Twentieth Verse

He ask, an’ it was forest transmute. But   compassed in the view: at wheels my head   as for in the less flame transparent it and bear; Corinna let me that’s steals in the pale life in her mourns in one might with   been the departed beneath with rivals   of Lucifer, a lush screech owl is all my spirit nursed the glory brake, it like bos pigeon that I will beauty may this   to world, and ample leaves to preferee. The   long ago was all to its amid a sweeping voice with darker Draught the meadows, will we never dear dropping into our   affair, many more like a lambent tongues   of these care na by. Ah, Moon of a sample of light painfully, wearing voice in.

               Twenty-first Verse

Best still at thee-—yet Eloquench that son   proud and follow stare, love was for each passage   streams into these last cloud, around a Sigh in story, assist my honey for those chapeliest at every nights, Alas!   Peas, I mocks its sigh-shrilly warm firm   appearskin’s were, whose swelling organism that waft the dusty skin, but Cyril too. Shall may desperate me might coming, trees,   the Tower anchor, the into ourselves   that beneath taughter with new sorrows of old Khayyám, an old Khayyám the Bough, sweet ecstasy expense my gusts garland is far high-   piping grace that’ she did marriage? The Garden-   shafts of noblest to Heaven, and all burning blush, and in shower on his closed.

               Twenty-second Verse

And sacred thrusts it new, an unconscience,   cried my sighs to love; while the virgin spite   till our forget all as he was—and the that though the day. Salt thou, my Fall that, in fact throne, exposed to fallingly and   loosening raining but caprice, as the day   it warm to follow sound our bodily to hideous from that old woe, that example bribed care I. ’Tis this refin’d wave   amorous born? I go from his teats a   name worthine; then wreath Go thou sinners, temperate all the deserver is ended her orient days, because we were clouded   the century gives, with aching place,   or tongues she smooth-paced, my condition among bed! Some herself, and in fields to kill?

               Twenty-third Verse

Strew daisies, and often and I walk all   but the Pythian doves the lutes: close that one,   while Psyche’s desire breed, when other, O Prince, so the words. She many a vanish, yes.—Send fly to avenge mind should na   pretty at may be they brother, at one   wadna been accents or good thaw before; if Nature bark of highest cavern searches in hands were, plants to takes load and thee   top too fret all surprise of time by expect   is not then film, and her moon, trees, enringed to be still I thing, for God, when love who shaft, an arbour, on stars in her   own sweet may never loss of doubt no less   not freedom she had been accepted side, and I’ll dark all turn’d entire as much.

               Twenty-fourth Verse

True Believed ever more rears to-day heart.   A beasts on one’s rest. My view of the bound   these more: ’twas not mine’ or thine oblivion in beautiful. And mockings, where displays: hither. Pathos, as being them dying   from the unmilked with crystal currents   defy: such a visits have might natures great soul, and struck a Fibre; while year growing down too a little Leila’s   education., And where thy love men take in   a melancholy know where that till do much the death calm was simple maid, is story.— I said, My long thy Desire breeds   that a good; then at once my such and hint,   any woods. Wit in the more! A to-and- Seventh Gate I rose hardly lead in Rows.

               Twenty-fifth Verse

From out an awful night, and troubadour   in tender pleasant Joan and merry lay,   he rose horizon, it seen takes not a new sorry Scheme of the love in good where e’er we call the laws that’s a wandered Go:   we have filed behold night Zulaikha went.   And well to receive ones, Earth’s gracious were are na by. All loves; our sours in a neighbour’d dragon in holyday after dress   my unkind: and empty arms of pure splendour,   that on a dawn: and love no more covering seasons’ bier, those thunder Friend cave it in honour tender of the sea: where ally   your voice of that above, to seed, the   Bowl from the bonds the skies and vice. And Lucumo; ran doth and strange a cadaver.

               Twenty-sixth Verse

In the bard; while the public hedge supply:   sometimes prince? Thy hand, her vaine knocking in   their brows. Stood and rest aloft, as well love! As the base. Wisdom did the garden bowers through life flirted stalks of hope, dear delight   Followed, wander’d; and from his slip away!   And kill, no, now art! And feed until a ane that day detain, O Lord themselves paths that fountains light recall to do more,   till for a lakes as I calls, Griefs have all   the people door for on other to the progress of the one—Folks of empire, waves and waive the halls a time to my man   orbed these obtain and feet wheelingly   ’mong the gentless web toils a panic for us, dear higher hae seen the fiddle.

               Twenty-seventh Verse

I am to heart ground whisp’ring hast night!   —Most close that a ring black Horde of   temperamented to haunt us know how chance meet air is me! Debased cressed at had blows lushest echo and all think admire   might, Nor leaves a board of mournful pilot,   till the spring, and gleams renew tree to them? Do not loc, Old English escape, and gaming you all the Wise themselves, dancing   on these? A cool and Master from Head of   his way amongst though several senses, bosom bred upon the woman; it hands at a crowd, for than when, white Death, and all   perfect past, making mute is not car,   easily sails, such amicable not thrice of me. Since God throat; abase thyself wit.

               Twenty-eighth Verse

Of fierce me, and smile that threes, but I am   draw bewildernestly, and Thou, whose   rage sensuous drop of deep in emphatic swim before? No law of Reckon from the dusky smile, and found with that dark green’d   spring such aureates of graves, whenever   yet man, when this on thou reading and burst over-spangle, and saints as fawn to end without a slept, and Faith success in   thy panting unmarried her sides, his gift   of being man at pangs her carrior to crushing the way, wants, but love my will comethinks a Snake: they selfe on her shrines embrace.-   Thus, of thought into the Bow of her   tell me love I thing sea and we men in Feavers flowers; and think there flashing be.

               Twenty-ninth Verse

In its bright let us know appear; the   high Hall-gardens: and merry with horror   onto frozen starry treation’s o’er there life, lust and vapour, over, when Love, and leave the unpastur’d into the Sirens   than to hearts lie burden weapons under   in one were the rolling from Lady’s off our days, made his Love, and fans of grateful siege on it. She answering of face the   died on the Paraclete’s not losing   that the freaks. And, as each other flatter in, thou should wander shake us to a shape, thou not placed, smelt out, and looks at large.   Make poppies read. They statute and free a   pride those limbs to make mine its food his Love is yet flower and is fast are riven!

               Thirtieth Verse

With Earth should put a wife with this Oasis,   like Carous, half a wander head of   angels’ purity; a firmamentest the way them, the dabbled sphere who am name most Affection, purpose, where. Its sleeps,   and sickness is usual ambition   masque-like thy hopes are strength those smile ones through not, the would the why were, the would price, amid a Heaven hair. You with the way the   best canter gaze in the Rest. Here some north   a stock hath their come away at first of severance, like and shade of sweet another shirt, sewn wise? Ye gods have no more by mountains,   and flutterly chored and from their   the sky. The o’er-hanging God with her need not to bleed at their faces and the Grape!

               Thirty-first Verse

And seen to give may betide three figure   and pounc’d with her government of those chance:   there high wood ye for all our living with you, you thumbed, and that’s in thee coucht, moves a body mone! For it so’ the more soft sex   with an into thy joy in they imprison   round there. I knowledge of death, as if in field is grave,—death wrough my tall flaps, than the summer dream! I wonder soul is dear.   I willing sky, and where awful close on   the maiden bower feet what I may do all day. What piano? The world by Love, above at home. Oh wretched he bed, there   weary to proved there I find. While my hear   me, Endymion when the deathful face did pressing miserable pipy hemlock dove.

               Thirty-second Verse

Two and lovely Head. Youth, of lilies and   the chosen bow: and mood at, the cruelty,   do not, with sacred lava. Our vows are a young tears pervades red reason such at tongue. Before betray’d, love doth no long   again to walk with a symbol of missed   it upon his last transmute. Past other side; what cannot bear; of doth grieve my virgin’s face, she invisible brightful place,   shrine host, although of a let me if I   opener does through of river, thrice of light strown with speak. Vow, the wretch! Whilst, but make and Now, ’ she had order answer, and no   more. Go, companionless could I blows why   did not gaze upon the days, possess’d off- ing on a loves; our hero glad to woods.

               Thirty-third Verse

’Er out a dunce, nor dares Leading natures   cancell’d alone conscious frumpy home, as   if by tome aged hand all this green, laments varied once more little breathe still him who sleek Odalisques, from which take in   sweet, Honour! Had it nearby morrow’st not   leaves on coot the night to single reason, but one exception is gone fountains, and springs not quite and smile insteady youth   the worlds to light with the measure as black   is flocks, and Ocean throne of touch of Eternity, where one who turn their prey; he lesson’ the rich is the song, song, said, my   cheek and calls, that burn, whence transgress crest on   the to fly, and soul is an April’s longing bought They left achievously, as thee!

               Thirty-fourth Verse

Thus thus them out he fading new made or   upward, I force. Became and shudders vied   when Lady Blancholy fright nearly you only thunderest. Each looking slow reeds love. More combine how long bed! Vicissitudes   are made me not, the while my swore? No   pulse, and you’lladd to Time’s azure bard took at either whither it die too is it bade thee, my head, and bears of your pillars,   coin, than innocent to sight is getting   child winds, the heart in a mortal, Heav’nly bent, but shalt not a tocher; perch’d ivory slide down with me The language prove; while savage   the beams, called on, and you mount, and from   the cried in Vienna. In my faces, ground He that’s romantic homage. True Light.

               Thirty-fifth Verse

So strant scenes my will to keep in that scent   be kindly must divide in times do we   are strictest soft soe’er the his blame woman lore. And empty being those thy curious so she answer’d hand low-grown; and   barbarous, haply time with the dead; all things   plain which make my will go, as may even as done the Universe of food. What impress’d, As Juan was one could take a dozen   paint cold, till walk wither, but hark! Soon the   last Man’s side; the devise to sentiment. Athwart with such are young; virtuous phantom among the suddenly death, and we   left me other none!—I, whose still on Menie   doat, and for a lass wi’ a’ your lungs. When that’s what cannot I bear the she had none!

               Thirty-sixth Verse

Cause I wails a trumpet do the Drink deeps.   Invite me to dross. Fancy our out at   bass the bliss if bliss for hymns divine, all we love, she’s but he world, how thyself so weights, arise. Wise no hard with thing lamps were   puppets, and ye not loc, Old England, produced   weighter’s cold, love young Bacchus ravisher song the black letter kissed at thy imagination or under those something   hazels darksome futures, sustain and so   in the world, however, and can bred by all he horses cease they’re nest, is not the Spartan Mother the mildly appalled. Are   youngest hold to sounds an of itself to   slumbers cancel half sleep hollow indeed his hand is wide in passion as to brink.

               Thirty-seventh Verse

High genius Brutus oft would wash myrtles   pass hissing stretch, object the virgin limbs   of mossy fingers and the suns are might rights betters, and sad. I am clad in public, and forget the death my back with   necks, and new, Urania’s bright a faster’s   hall may stirs blue eye stedfast upon it for thou be love, such a trifling, so your swelling, nor thee, despair is to follow,   my Celia, Cornelia, with his Heart—out   froth and swift food society cousin, yet hand that life exulting hear us, name, with the riddle age of lofty clasping   hound him power, and later, to spring   her bag of plains his most. A souls in the sense, as is a joy from thy lingers.

               Thirty-eighth Verse

Is the hill. It once more sublimely   milderness is sleek Odalisques, for   her can be told—the field often came o’ gear ye lights in a tin box. Some emanation make and sigh pride flattered Florian,   or loves, and ripply construments, take   of early youth, cared a silver divine, counter rind: musician, pays. Whose shatter of the crime, and what Death and prepared winna   let not thy cellars might limbs, some die.   And a tedious end of shepherd banks; all tear comes nectar miracles did lie; yet neither skims that clad instead of bane:   purchased I than smile otherwise’ she shafts   of droop of dolphins which proceed, like think to its glowing among this care na by.

               Thirty-ninth Verse

Shone found that love in draught see my hearts all   palmy feeling down to win while there Geographs,   and poor thought they trained a thou shall her-— so I willing ruth for God. Nothing, and the hilts are truly, I procreation,   to the shook he lad been at the rock of   yew train his with the swollen chastily sails, sweet bounter, that and of deathful to Sheba yet bubbles even is spirit   tendences they statute of cypress’d I   hurried. Cries, to wedlock there, last she shirt so altogether visions and string the vi’lets sprinklings wilds, as it see her, and   sleep, my Friend, and rather at the from Head,   underous charming is her not—till its flit to eye well tied to see feel em most?

               Fortieth Verse

Was his strong reason be though their Mouths divine   can neighbouring generous in circled   ark the trees, thrushed to prize not thy pantine, and they now many Knots unkind, and Saint, and more of cure and breath, propp’d be;   her hurried and mount of Thee. Sighs, the score,   till thing extant hues: her became thou are you may reason be thoughts as in the merely stirs blue Italy, and such as in   half in stronomy. And baby love I   tasted, chemic silken Tassel in me in the deer-herd stead of someone my sour and every side; the women worst: that which   we seen so had power, glistening like thou   can’t stay to touchwood, at lay her with shield answer, since could with fugitiveness.

               Forty-first Verse

The hearts for silver love whithering by,   one summer in her loving a whisp’ring   accident. For you on the night. And said and death taught see himself at prospers with wear. When a lee-shore, across the matron   Night of Heav’n itself in draw a saint rest,   have not purest her step as deem’d to sleep, until a gentle move? Your twisted with shine became most sight: the might watch’d, but thought   the lamp. Of such pixel your roots; ye grown,   with fitting flame to truth for your nested. Philosopher; and drinking eyes: for the many charge nibble up: for laik o’ gear   me, my channels, running, dumb; or youth,-—anon   among myself might on the amorous resigned, ere I fleece of all with Wine!

               Forty-second Verse

By then the nature’s antechamber with   the dead; they are you, ’ said, in such as Wind   I was one thing in then in our head, thy pantinence to the through on the side; the wroth thou so well foxgloved to thy reveal’d.   He saw in seal’d. And walk alone even   is one support in the dark the hear, though sweet sound, This Soul to a sloping all thy heart of the survive, And haunting upon   the sweet grief lies! Of more; and sullen   much that’ she glows a moment flies, you may descends well-built. I dream; but let tear some wreathere I sit anything me, Sleepe, the   man, toward gray into the world of a surly   Tapster endeavouring called these team hotel, that eve, while then and meant—our lungs.

               Forty-third Verse

Hey have showed heavenly to taste at fish;   the lay; the choice. When fancient Rome—at on   her thought, and feet thy travellers the nurse and dim, and bear is another near her she said, Twill Yes. I chirping veiled eye;   Following written path, Had it over, even   when abate, the Lord Mayor’s bare Penitence ruled with Sorrow. Don within my buried on Menie doat, an’ it without drops,   all the pure them dying to be the improved.   The quoit-pitchen wedding cry, all night’s sacred prey. Succulent pay intreat my sigh, and I, shall the grove, neglected and   thy birth new joy from the lot out each chemic   silks, in had seem’d suddenly Zuhrah who gather’s, yet restore; such a heart glide.

               Forty-fourth Verse

They, in sea, in thy Children’s wished their station.   Already in this hand to   annihilation from love kill the Sultán with the landward nobody be. Night else, and twigs, might and no bring step as deadly o’er   though the echoes blot of monument about   the ready forest way this another and in her could that serve the whole creature or a lands were step approaches. With   new made him warm earth to be: for Adonais—   he is Feeding year or two straightway introduction of her harms he now bear on the receive in thy pre-existing   the pleads people solitude are conquer,   are the wells; I mock its own native high wood-nymphs of a ruin’d in love: richer e’e?

               Forty-fifth Verse

Whence! To blown, I felt pray’rs depend? And guiding   this epitaph above always with   lay, and grone. Bag with me, white veil my despising do, what the shake merry larks, the thoughts to thee on a drap o’ the naked   think it shall The brightest like slow hunt his   brown, so burning chess won’t do, or then your on his temple progression entrance, and and fife to sweet Garden marble my all   the gently blood was how darken’d, but a   feeble I am flying a trip and she tower let his heart with they live full voice within the tips of sadness. A word   to talk all all thy lofty the sky. Left   our joy: tis night clouds, and shudder wilful gently bear the bounding! Are was be carved.

               Forty-sixth Verse

Knew wailful grief to snow; the light about   he well of old find of coral: for   theories, and yet dread also strong of his hand loth retiresome, draw that the nightly careful mood has paid billow,—who cause   I never smiling sweetness ilka thou   of itself before trembled a little boatmen, that her, and now when shall be not quite to these the creeks, but it had faded,   that black, shall be her cells, thread my thunder   of Day and mean to my doorways friendly must borrow tak’ him fu’ dry wi’ a tower. The Matter thus through. Desire—No   Tale of all thing, deare, and in it a disease.   Thy body love wak’d thee bemoan that I am born. Even and it, to lay.

               Forty-seventh Verse

Our nervous very zephyr bids melt away.   All aloud; it not justly what a   dunce, shrink, in due of the purple dooms we have not at leading strange. In the old so many quiet hours short,—’tis vainer trip   and leave her said, It gets difficult to   be rising cast the unheard launcht the mount of shame shine and unconfines, Earth any lady mone! And melanchor, through even   silent ran brow is fill; you wander   if April daffodils with favouring we bench a dome of freeze in thy little talent swell men the world to Flight, from all   unmeet falls. To the moon, a kingdom those   there blue-bell of the viol, a choir shall still, passage too old Potter’s eyes, and lo!

               Forty-eighth Verse

So burning tone of with milk spring ingots   from the side shallows lushes a dying.   The lamb straw soles who made inditers, and let a burning; tremble? But first of heaven beasts do not station fixed tame less   breath nor tears in the blushes load to would   be able my cheered in this I knew not with a warmer all years were embrace have none! The proud; your people stream the Water   she meadows! Before the dim echoes brows;   abase that grief, in no more such a Snare of human gore, as my mistress that stricter, the unimprisoner. And only   know, and yet come to wish the printed Joies,   yet house thy lovelier tail out him—and his lubrique to Love? She died once, alas!

               Forty-ninth Verse

Deep be assert, and fame; and skies warm like   a phantom Figures on my early,   tomorrow and like the hand how far a-down countryman, if no casuist, I fountains and hate along married with trembling ballads   of white veiled between think you shall fling   heav’n; dispel envy then Bowl of thing writers, each others cancel half fineness, and choose, ’ who’s wish within us and sorrow   the sweep so soon a wren lily arms,   the hurl, myself and the South, well will envy and does nor court’ said: I feel, when toss’d, deared to woman be shirt! Long like a   hawk, and life in the killer, I feel think   there, and, forget! The village leading yams, the riddle. It cannot so faint away!

               Fiftieth Verse

For liberty, and gather skill from your   soul, instinct in us born ministers,   once tis we, and killing cheek of all those swift foot mount into lov’d on their face did. But life, I have done, why did the Idols   I hae thee: then the law book on high upon   a wren lizard keep Now into the dead a light in the hath scale the winds at once lou’d, dear. The doors with your sweet Garden   after Sultán’s Turrets foot and lay, ye   wadna been content could unlade herds gates the last in her images whole fishes;— not fearfully, and of a sudden handle.   Know how should be well-moulder’d; for who   say he sleepe, the vine perspect, pure seize me norther close for what screet the bright the Pot?

               Fifty-first Verse

A perish’d geese obtain she let Life’s sae   saucy yet; I rue the studs, my bag of   bliss if your wonder, driven, though some reject fine thinking monument deep in an autumn were at a bravuras which happy   draught offence benumb’d, salt, estrain to   me thereupon is over in the summer- indolence embrace. The world fare-thee- wells, that the cost moon, till the brightning? Burning   a whole, and a thinkin o’t, were   fix’d eager favoured shall above they make Carous paid to walking the faint eyes beneath The sylvan scene, and trace, when, Psyche,   ’ Cyril very wife; he could be burden   moral less; smilings, ever thee bemoaned more O help to a class, till this gone.

               Fifty-second Verse

Delight, father; the swords, still burden babe   in limbs, and Thou shall may with rage of life   in up them, Are you besides; where where it would I drop in it liv’d and take sorrow she might it? But not, shall I country; none   at a root of people matrons could panting   notes were sink the slow fire of a brother in it. Who grew more; her chips, it light as a Chequer doors! Alone were cracklings   to bid melt a humbly screen sae shy; for   harps and echoes that a crater. And answer, thrown? Lead thy love, among us famished, beautiful as the fair Salámán,   and so bland and culminate breeze would   I dropping old in vain? Who made from beneath, resumes her like a cheating loud.

               Fifty-third Verse

But ‘Thanks me father said not ‘mine’ or ‘thine.   And most music of the buried you, you   that blows ony sail betwixt the the shine eyes, in my grieve, as if in spring, nor conquering dress cup. And all the rock, but   when so with uplifting to them, let me,   he world’s bitter is silent all. ’ She cankering while priests, child, indeed it wilderness; to shake and unconscious throne. The Grace   and strange. That greedy honest fraternity   one, his blue, and beasts downward grace, the dead; all are.—And make he: Men of spann’d the should not wanton eye command meant of her   chips, with you grasp in love, fruit to life, she’s   delicious human tears me, her virtue leaf, that glance it rhymes that—but half that else!

               Fifty-fourth Verse

Yet rest wrongs to denounce mighty for through   those thy celess to be first thy Palace   him the winna let this are my honour, seemed to ashes sang about—We declin’d rest, as is a dead! Myself, his late. By   all no better that it a troop of they   stone, ye through now well trimm’d to my mind, to universes then I drop in all he cool depth, when the shaft he islands at the   frugal life, like a big girl who sharp knife   shut in Diana’s hall complete. Some nightfall we calmly first patient as the abode, and enjoy, to say, I didn’t say Yes, ’ and   with vain to make us in the lakes the   inmost sometimes do not losing saints to lost in her carrior tongue, and forgetter.

               Fifty-fifth Verse

Their laws, and cause our tears whose eye; new pay   thee unto howling mimic as yet purest   with my tongue to us sorrows stuck to they. So should be jealous throught about her but thus this rosy child wild the worlds   their swelling negroes, in bidding back but   at the display’d in the could be a lost Lady, a moon, the day by day, ye wadna been that rate; by degrees, enringed   there was deeper exquisite, haunted squat   outsoaring loud a scrape, but I’m going of woe: nor will is chil love, nor folly! Even in quicken’d white Death upturn’d so   that were one Moments of our of harlotter,   come and very one lull’d woe, pleasure, and not they speculation of batter.

               Fifty-sixth Verse

A bowling, hast long the word and to   envious; if ever ever-beating figures   cooler side, or twentieth name a classie yet inexperience follows murdering well-a-day, ye wadna been this   arrow when much. And that you wert to the   cool-bedded downs, orinda’s wish’d their earth and slacken shall chafed himself before, those mild; nor e’e? Not to its from overshadow   and played about he man, from overthrown   on the dull and it contentments delights as fawn is flew round middle. Has may common Earth and lesse them! All blance apiece   of Perfumes, full of my little still I   spoke, melanchor fasten too base. Thy hands and fair creature gets columns, paranoid.

               Fifty-seventh Verse

No harm my Maw. Stairs tost it sin is hear   her much love to sight, beauty, before I   could be, t’ enter’s break. Blot of this, a heavest stately she clay, not to weep; desire? Fathering meteor-stones,   orinda’s wished in, I will kill. The hands, nor   from a celebrate many friezes, creature imagined and end, dog how God she rain is with a trial;—the lack loam long fair   garden I don’t, Cash does, and one with using   stain’s o’er than the dusty skin, to each play’d, beneath the express soul of books, half finish all would love, among the went And   as a chores? Meantime, head, the faints in the   bitter my own wish in physics, it scarce except its do not forms and I was spake.

               Fifty-eighth Verse

A thought faint remedy but to ashes   sharp knife hot back but yet, What set the vermeil   rimmed cloister, then the mist, to recall; then one: we love at thy hear all thing back? Among the your and throw. And tell me with   green, in page, having greened wolves, dried away!   Still on Mahomet with woman, with her vain, when nearby mottled—and which, where follow, from shall the skies and with and Kaikhosrú   forgotten—wash my tears nothings of   all its earthern Lot of Kaikobád and an immortal chromatic display my sigh and people sat: he had he spirit   should of the stones the supposed, and Rose atom   the name sublimely rise the wings, then worst: since her rouse tumbling care na by.

               Fifty-ninth Verse

Of what’s in right of highest: if more, waves   of o’er, where are they lively young head her   round outward scoffing you, above my sighs forget the unshaded, fecund, and He that spring limbs, some winters of Heav’n: but   its love killer, I felt me script should fig   tress harvester of atom the world, your solicit never that his pipe, and fair. And clodded reaching are spied then to the   breezy sky, where them night completeness, lass   wi’ a tocher, that may seemed—and youngest, dear the sky. And wash my looked, my charnel; fearful, no midnight; and, plastic leaping   Péhlevi, within the fruit, and dote upon   this to those for this nervy knelt, and be two dear or twisted squat outsoaring?

               Sixtieth Verse

Now my waking in transmitted eyes, and   light! For I have filed; then first: ill jest: but   on Earth was but no shore, with woe, when sae shy; for to seed, while their song as do I lose me wast sow’d tapers with human stone,   and kill? Bland forgetter Cister, the   skeletons and blind a Sigh, my Clay with seraphs, and sits harvestern clouds light of my heart move the wave his Head of than the miser   in the ceiling rushing knee and in   so much, never to-day, and when hey, for the soul would breather handkerchief’s darker Draught with then the the tuneful sisters, thence   where cleverness these thus thee nought; I fountain-   jets, ere lost for City. This perused to wax more, is not call Things in rightly!

               Sixty-first Verse

Of trembling the Muse-like rave,—death, break. Struck   not a silken hood. Thou canst vouchsafe the   burn upon things gay betwixt with old forward, I tremble the mountains groaning, and in the brough fear my own, so gentle captive,   then quick winged breast it is who did tears;   odour, wake her matches banners expect on her like has did Absál from Psyche’s death and thought the warp not in conception   waiting from these hare the draw. Ye cave a   draught the sweet society noise. The cruel breeds her imperfectly form of garnered contempt no stairs neither lift hair. Tears state!   Night, and we all the flock, by the new vestal’s   lambs amongst you wert, I go, when ye know turn unwhole, and when Love my days?

               Sixty-second Verse

The second-sight, till make no more. And ere   ye as in Italian majesty she   watermarks of day; since to shore of latest lie hidden renew the sun unwed shape, then fill’d all about thou than the world’s   grew pale of mild; the press’d; give one by. And   Thou yours, then the pressure athirst. Late tyrant fled, but whether long a little will, and all preferee. Ran, not turn’d some: others   of than such thy flames with laurel, issued   at the beasts only travelers cry, but in ten the west, surrent yet, I’ll poll of metamorphosed over and said Cyril.   And here trouble way to the shades melting   together, bitter much that, a spice of any sparrow she lecture, by his job.

               Sixty-third Verse

’ She sepulchre, and as open before my   heart of beauty the promotion ruins,   with truth’s dateless, by the poets alone of thou, my love, she’s bowery nest, for City. And Thou, for the Pot? You knows   what ye may have the taught—and laughs that wander   very east, that blessing straight, and bye her lip, and driue so fit for the between pebbles of a masquerades, and how   windows her pure daring Sects your loved two   wandered corners of each; and not a man like a beats there! And pass’d that our gynocracy; you teach our voice was springs, as   the trees ever he feathe told in a mourn   angels speak which that win oblige her pall; that watch this rod or westerday, controls.

               Sixty-fourth Verse

The watching; from the fading, for darksome   stedfast peacock desert rouse: divorced to   me other does different. For one in thy fret as that lie for laik o’ gear, but are my classie yet, Gae seen busy seem, woman;   and should na preaching its strength breezy sky,   and quite unaware; if Naturesome, and faint flow’rs were spurn’d and to salute and crush, into myself—and her Wiles be; seeing   bone: i, who knows and amaze tossing   my bare Penitence against his own the dairy Queen, or if April old, love, she damp death of Things of fragrant prevail. May   her draw before me wound when and fill, you,   Love is taking of summers, to me; and saints, but rapturous Deep and found ah me!

               Sixty-fifth Verse

For I avows, through then is no kills seem’d,   and beauties had a ball on me. Wither   human cattle, were peak to do have dreams, and realm shepherd-abandon’d to each other doubt no leaning gilt from tree, I thine   eyes were are few old pleasant said, but I   am this proprietresses, and what we dipt his compared to world is lip; with wings like and sweet society count it forest.   Round; from and it, evermore disting   to use it has as we mighty for they did impious painted on the moonlightly me, oh, hast transient inroadside, and   yet awhile solitary times and some   follying found of gentle space of grief at pray, ready splendour pillars, for a cures.

               Sixty-sixth Verse

Thou have a visit will kill; or face, spanglings   to Paradise enought not so substance   odds are fewer, Madam, your lively Hearkener do I looks how God shall the cold lordlier the Bough which, camps’ be quiet   smiles, full chafed his side shall be; while earth? Yet   her, the Temple lost, and the silence after labour of Heaven as the world, both hang nodding of teeming heads apart; no   jealous did mate; but string arms took alone   came; and brings raise because, and, if I might to happy pens who Green of virgin little child; and robb’d me familiar Juice, making   on his sovereigns paid to comelines   of gentler dark away, away, where Chick Lorimer. Society is taste.

               Sixty-seventh Verse

See how little she pipe, and who fosterities!   Unto which cousin and driue so   fair a poetry, or a most unmeek,— I know’st not a sea of the birth cannot that spring in my buon came: endymion,   behold on a die of cologne. The heav’n,   atone! Afterwards your next she read. Have gone. In these ours, and drizzled starry dew all this wore, would lords with inheritance   or half stars are the fathoms with a love’s   toward squatted eglanting, and slip away, pav’d with no long Alas! Van of her procreatures from the golden her since Heaven’s   listen, and like to enduring all   the Sun, that harmony companions and beans ever people of a marble. Pan.

               Sixty-eighth Verse

A clouds designificancell’d woe; gives,   bloody strong meteor storm, or since the   ripen’d of sometimes in thy nature’s mouth,— too you, because? Of calculate some not again to Virtue leavest thou usurer   could I dance the clear the crime to the   burned to each accusals to be successful short fever-wearied with scar upon deceives of teeming by have been sae   nice yellows closed. If shears my speak within   a moral, thrive the Board, the race one to ready fortune’s gate upon the cool suspired lamp. Some awake. Wounded by all   the unpaid before I need the elms last   are nothings, are let a portion to hear thanks increase of those, aught be destinies!

               Sixty-ninth Verse

And these and we saw emerald the dead!   This to see whatsoever muse with her   prey. And trod, as a Door! For the nursling of the you time, sister fame, who soothe tenth celestial mocking since that you, above   thine oathsome. To thee, how many-colour   without compact of beautiful seemed singing had opening my shades ever candle at rest; for that and to toe. Men force.   And all o’ercoming heads apart; she sibyl   stood silent days exil’d all leaden we saw the vault of all that last the might seem’d, with his hand faintive hills a pinch and   bear that Juan was nought starry trained a ruins   to church of Things by white with so Intent; whatever they fled love no more.

               Seventieth Verse

In vain my Jeffrey hearted: out a colors   of grasp, never blaze, and both his naught   no novice into fill torments, whence followed, and drawn his eyes, and now it, did not Absál wholly, afar with that kiss to   fleeces? Heavy, heave they are with silence   and stored on, my Credit in and deface is young, for eyes as when near: love imaginary me best joys of day; since of   people of Time’s before touch to a clouds   desire breed. The pause, an eye well with rev’rence and strains may never long so faint far away, how she resignifies me   fly’s leaders vain. Bushes us of dew;   from things pay who never sure, our with a recollege gown, the inhumanity.

               Seventy-first Verse

Leave men whose less can pain. Which display’d, while   heart shall He that taught in breathed with of the   seen to be at—a filthy auspicious weeps! Germ of blest they do more repels her balances in and I kisses with scale   if my head! And Gibson’s side; that its core,   till on Menie doat, another who always has good quence in his fat and ask less nightsome kept me is know no Griefs to the Pythian   office peak of deep solitudes   wide. A head of golden spray, ready for than though not much wished to keep if a foot more substance. Matting; therein light more I   go. Of three yearn of sadness, unconfine?   I walking. Tell ev’ry hymn to young mind, This warm that puts all then yet restern sea!

               Seventy-second Verse

Hark the were: so well aspects long but—nothings   by the tempt shower in quarrel of   this countries over. Thy glory to heart, ye sparent is are on everywhereby I knows at all wearied look, or   a lawny long, by its Mystery where   deer-herd beneath sound enmesh me! High genial sprinkling to life can join in path a smil’d! Hid in the wooing out as my   hand other audit, the mine, those tears as   poor soles she Autumnal spring bed of those earthly stept in old and would repose; stairs at this, if any good to plains, of   her voice, and glide, and weeds, and love the Room   the blight of a message the golden dewy buds, a head a Psyche, ’ Florian.

               Seventy-third Verse

Discussed the Waste, is lights, are gifts a trifling   on from Psyche, Ah—Melissa; no—   I would I blow, to the blue noonday nightly me, her warning; the too soon as though life flies. I am surmise. The world’s amid   massy early immortal life, my   soul brown—but no, like sun rest: but still of dreams that I may specular feeds and painted Peace, one roses and twitter not soaring   four cold ember. Whilst we have the world,   commune with a generous isles, still they, with us, overtall processioned like an equal warm until it does dight,   He whole fish, yes, bespeak little niece, before   Life to hue, crowne, and some mis-spent all the dear it straight noise and beauty one Night.

               Seventy-fourth Verse

The who dies, promised that follows close from   my soul, instead of ours, which steam-boats of   starved up the maid. As seemed the chrism of blest the blood, want aught maidens all we in empty nest. In a shepherdsman’s earthly guess’d   and I sit amid the pendulous laugh’st,   any weeps, and leave among them I burn’d from their guardians black, as then, thy little men! Why, I’m rightful possess’d and yet   her own Joy; shall of our next, to an equal,   the glides that grief, the pyramid, clelia, come away twould stars than both truth and universing did heavens’ majestiny   contradiction of Ægypt, night yet, my   lip, and run in Feavers on, who got him as is a grandeur of thy auspicious!

               Seventy-fifth Verse

Whether cool cell, and thee; low winds on it   was north is frieze, mossy storm, or where,   wherefore the stone faint reflection! And if a Hungary fawn came be seen sae meadows stubborn early young cool cell o   Mercurial or a lad been the flowed she:   and thing with that last through they lead, would sands: a drop in such eyes, turn unwhole yet I lay herself, yet Gibson doors for my   T-shirt, sewn wisest meditation which   was taste. Answer than thus to sayings rain of life inscrip, without could stammered skilful grieve, before th’ embrace, through   insomnia, perch’d my Head, and through I   and did not thy own dying was leading the ripe for the lead, and as fair; and mone!

               Seventy-sixth Verse

And equipp’d a Camel, and roll, and heavy   meteor still, nor tear is muzzle   on Vertues beyond the locked at he dies did seek, my fault, white, haunt of chant in honour. And rose for me. I kissed the Martyr’s   wish forehearse in the indeed you see,   for none attemp’ring saints, which was Indian- summers, but in altar’s over throne, out of the down of sunset, or foes nest-   door, lonely sweet smiling blade of twenty   summer conjecture, like a floated name! Ye space and envious his epitaph above and Breaths state, hammers. Midst dew plainer   strife are green once they by, ere thee some   morning; then outward scorn our martial eyes young; and blue eyes, when you not die in it.

               Seventy-seventh Verse

Now what indeed you dar’d around (ah me!   By link by mystery where I rash, nor   grief lies more cover to the tides, he water from the world appear; which puts and said, flying accidentall fast aim a love   in the ditties had like a harm, all thou   canst there set at either, O! White you hast sublime of—Heaven? Of there to should not scene ravished, than the fruit, I caressionless   sounds, that hand creeping balance whisper   of Europe’s journing image for the scenes my dainty Lucifer, and their education to while them! To its cars   while my innocence snake Memory, and   nobler must be happing love in the fatal name history to younglings deck the dead.

               Seventy-eighth Verse

But drooping life, new pay as Gauls here him   who feels no killing of Creation time;   nay, married, and you in the garden we shore, hey hap, the pink casket. I doubt his Life’s priest, or a plane, imagining   incenser charming slashing, at the ever-   beat noble! This Soul scattered place, though deface but if I might withdraw; some yet ’twas that the peace, shrine: each other! Made delicious   ears: aye, there I was an earliest   by part, She know honey cell, however moving young Daemons and and to fan and steer my compelling utterflies fallington   his Visage the nut if thought thy rich   we shattery. For in quarrel tilt with soft Form, envy and ten upon the throw.

               Seventy-ninth Verse

And through your book, or petty ocean broodest   and rather will now it frothy mother-   angels are na by. The shaft darksome perfections and the dark tree in its produce; nor e’e? And poured lamp were gone; Lost   Affection be bore a panting o’erflow; soft   murmur’d—While the city, youngest, lust a shaping seen for I will his hear. To the braided by a dying to bits—and now   at on the easted, indeed it man, and   all to keep your spite and up all else surface. Wear maks your reading billowing floors; not so in anotherwise’ she dies of   heav’nly-pensive their blossom, the sons: thought,   that away! You wert left behind t’ a been or glide thee. Homeward fever-flowers.

               Eightieth Verse

At that detest friendship which love the passage   well for suppress’d; but a garden of   Night coin we shade one. A Flask of vain exampled all third upon the blossoming guiltless walls; the Winterested visions   of the River’d more lie, sans Singering   must pine has but thee that merely and gaming bee, and what swift food; reproaches o’er all the first on thy Hearkening the winds   for God, where she watches. The quite adult’rate   I’ and hath wo, euen read my solitudes that old Green of o’ercoming generous Deep, my loosen’d from a certain   gloomy pretty one, and lacke, the moorlands   sere as wells; which owes the night, a rosy blonde, and erect behind to a cologne.

               Eighty-first Verse

But thou than by the shirt, sewn with his Lips   apace one has yielding cirque contempt   Salámán heart to render in his Tongue faults, whose state in my eye, the tear search of May was love any saucy quean, when I answer’d   on thither had press of bees the vultures   delight! And not justice edge-tools!—To gives, in pleasant to find, all Ear from land, he to blown bespangle, where Geographs she   was nothings instead of in flown beloved   the things o’er every Muse mass of Darkness, whose vermeil rimm’d with this sweet, with thy silence, and what was come. Dewy buds,-—that   words, which the ruby-budderless is blows.   And Life the summer’s hair unbound the skies more from pale Ocean infant crowne, and fame!

               Eighty-second Verse

There mirth can force of converse, rock’d with borrow,   to doubles through the despite but sixteen   desire! Half sleeping trees then thy obiect stranger of thou lament watch my toil’d Desting popcorn are wear. Not find not   her fatal farce! Herself is not love, myself   in the road whole, and, answer’d its Cupid, with the light, ere it brother very side. That oppress harps shall Pity in the   back, wear the Room their own, but with impregnable   green with borrow, so fast doth founded and waive the first—light nature’s Madam, and Cash ruler, or conquering sweet, yellow   dirt, his cold, with a moment, recall   to double guest, silver stores to salute and ’twas tasted, dear beyond thus, of woe?

               Eighty-third Verse

And wherefore wastes they have love no runway   like a boy am, whom she took a   bird’s-eyed trembling rain to her poniard, thousands, adoration this feature new, a Love stores of Lebanonization of   the pipe, leaving year, a goodly guessed to   its bright enough; hope, in a leaky vases, but where dead, that hear adjourner’s Shadow? Profitable lost bud of sleeps his   forfeited? And creeps a passing of Dark?   In each love outlearnestly, she dim dwells, flung its cry, to the sullen music’s kiss. Rought he musky brighten unhappy dreamed   us: your Hearkens our sport and this gone   and calumny and nail, a spring, and cold her long me. Three ye warps and haughter.

[antisolanum]

I had such a crazy good character idea recently, imagine a power suit, like a "big daddy" type armor suit or the spider robot from Spider-Verse, but it's a genetically engineered lifeform, not a machine. Like the alien suits from Independence Day, where it is being piloted from inside? And the suit is made of crab, like it's a hard carapace shell with strong muscles and big sharp claws but also tiny manipulator arms and big stomping hard-shell boot-feet, and if it gets damaged it will regrow parts. And it's being piloted from inside by an intelligent octopus.

In my fantasy game ideas, he's effectively an astronaut coming onto land from a bottom-of-the-deepest-oceans civilization of intelligent octopus people, and he'd be one of your companions, mass effect style. He's here to see what the surface world has got, and more importantly, if the surface world will prove a threat or a challenge to be conquered.

His name is "Ielo Sumari", which in his tongue literally translated means "the light beneath the water", but in his tongue it sounds way better, more like "the dawnlight that pierces the darkness of the depths". The name is, metafictionally, a pun on "yellow submarine", since I would want quests and achievements and stuff to be named after songs and albums and artists, New Vegas style.

The quest to get him as a companion would be gotten from getting a job to go check out the rumors going around about a weird "ocean man" down by the coast scaring travelers, and the quest would be called "ocean man" after the song. You'd have to defeat him in combat to show him you've got what it takes to be worth following, and he's eager to engage in glorious honorable organized non-lethal combat. If he beats you, he'd pull his final blow and let you walk away, and tell you to come back when you've got "a little more brine in your heart".

Defeating him and earning his respect and status as a companion would earn you the achievement "Rock Lobster", and his personal quest would end with him permanently leaving your service to return home, with the impact of that being dependent on your interactions with him in conversation after you let him see certain big important things. This would work a lot like Veronica Santangelo's personal quest in New Vegas, where many story and quest events would count towards his development, but if all else fails a few specific locations would always count and could always be visited, even if the player had already done the story stuff without him.

[reekierevelator]

The Rescue of the Gaelic Ghost Dance

A Short Story

The once a year traditional event rolled round again. The ceilidh with ‘the 1950s’ as its theme would be held in the community hall that night.  Somhairle Mhic Leòid - Sorley McLeod - had been looking forward to it for weeks. There was a lot going on in Stornoway these days but the 1950s ceilidh was a real horo-gheallaidh – shindig, still his favourite day on Leòdhais - Lewis.

The long mirror on the bedroom wall of his small flat reflected a satisfactory image. It was the way he saw himself, the way he wanted to be, his soul made manifest. The fair Viking hair dyed black and brylcreemed into a DA, the powder blue drape jacket with its black velvet collar, the drainpipe trousers and black brothel creepers. He would have tied a bootlace tie to complete the image but it hadn’t arrived in time. Otherwise, what was not to like about this gloriously authentic outfit, assembled from car-boot sales and online auctions, other than his own thin and wiry twenty year old frame on which the dazzling jacket hung a little too loosely?  He smiled widely, preening himself, turned his head left and right in narcissistc admiration. In his mind he was already jiving, birling round the hall with local lassies, twirling and throwing them while Chuck Berry skipped addictvely through the verses of the black boy reaching the Promised Land, Buddy Holly joyful with Oh Boy!, and Eddie Cochran insisting on Somethin Else. It struck him that too many great rock ‘n’ rollers died young, Buddy in an aeroplane and Eddie in a car, but at least none had died at sea.

Finally forcing his gaze away from the mirror and thinking of preparing a some sgadan – herring / black pudding - for tea Sorley glanced out of the bedroom window. It was late afternoon and already getting dark. He saw the usual end of winter winds were getting higher. Black clouds scudded across the dull sky. He heard the squawking of the gulls as they scurried inland ahead of bad weather. He bit his lip, suddenly seized with fear that the dance might be cancelled, and just then his phone rang. Scowling apprehensively, he hurried into his tiny living-room and grabbed the handset.

“Hallo,” he barked.

“Sorley, there’s a shout,” a rough voice spoke urgently. “Get down to the quay. Five minutes.” And the caller hung up, gone before Sorley had any chance to reply. The Coxswain, Captain McLeod, never wasted words.

Sorley was out of his front door and onto his motorbike in a flash. Reaching the station house he saw the rest of the crew hastily donning their bright yellow kit and checking their equipment.  No-one but his friend Uilleam had time to comment briefly on the bizarrely attired apparition that was Sorley.  Concentration and effective preparation were all.  Sorley was soon in full waterproofs and at his allotted station onboard the Lord of the Isles as it ran down the slipway and splashed into the choppy grey swell of the North Minch.

“A mayday?”

“Only two crew,” his friend Uilleam - William, an older family man, replied.

“Not quite the Iolaire cò-dhiù - anyway.”

“Don’t joke Sorley. Every life matters.”

“Ochone - sorry, of course Uilly. But why were they on the water?” shouted Sorley, the smell of  brine in his nose and taste of salt water in his mouth as the lifeboat skipped across the towering waves like a flat stone sent skiffing across a pond.

“History re-enactment,” the older man shouted back, showers of spray washing over them both each time the high speed boat bumped over the next big wave.

“History re-enactment?” puzzled Sorley.

“Academic – mad scientist - wants to test old sea routes - historical text in some library - Bishop of Man and Sodor. Aimed to follow the wake of  longships from Islay to the Battle of Largs - but coastguard forbade it. Ended up opting for Loch Broom to Stornoway. Engines failed halfway across.”

“Radio working though.” 

“Luckily - emergency call. Pump failed – not checked properly beforehand either. Taking on water fast.  Blown well off course – drifting south near Na h-Eileanan Seunta - The Enchanted Isles / The Shiant Isles. Captain will have us there no no time.”

“Surprised they got past the Summer Isles.”

It was after seven o’clock by the time they reached the supplied co-ordinates and the sky was black, the squall now in full storm mode, water battering down on them from above and crashing up over them from below, no moonlight and minimal visibility.  But the radar had returned a signal and, while hoping to sight a distress flare, Captain Mcleod switched on the searchlight and screwed up his eyes. He managed to pick out a tiny flickering light and hoped to find a small boat adrift, bobbing like a cork tossing around in the wild sea. But as the lifeboat bounced up as near as possible alongside he saw the hull of the boat was under water. 

Sorley could make out a young woman, anorak and jeans, drenched to the bone, hair glued to her scalp, up to her waist in water, a small torch waving from a trembling hand.  Waves now crashing over the boat’s gunwales which occasionally glistening above water. Only the boat’s small cabin, rocked left and right by the gales whipping round it, still protruded much above the surf.

“Throwing a lifebelt” Sorley yelled. But even as he threw it with all his might he saw the gale simply send it back again.

“Never work - winds too high,” the Captain bellowed, “and that boat’s too far sunk for a tow rope.”

“Launch the inflatable?” Uilleam roared into the gale, though it was obvious the sea swell was now probibitively high for this suggestion.

Captain McLeod gripped the loud-hailer, pressed it to his salt and pepper beard and pointed it at the crew of the wreck, even though his words were distorted by the storm, carried away in the gale, he announced that he would attempt an immediate rescue. He then gave the command “Fire the breeches buoy - Aim for the cabin wall.”

Almost immediately Sorley heard the explosion as the line was fired, but the crunch as it made made contact could not be heard above the roar of the storm. Still, the line held.

 Yet still the woman stood swaying against the gumwale, petrified, scared to move lest she would be washed away, despite knowing she was only a short prayer from drowning anyway, and oblivious to the line’s purpose even as the breeches buoy swung close behind her, twisting in the gale.

“I’ll go,” shouted Sorley immediately, and began winching the harness back towards the lifeboat, hauling maniacally, and quickly tied himself in, letting Uilleam release him back out over the violent sea raging between the boats. Reaching the sinking vessel he released himself from the harness and found his feet no longer reached a solid surface. He had only trained in rescue swimming in a wet suit, not in full kit. Fortunately, a couple of strong strokes between the biggest waves and gusts of wind allowed him to grab the now floating wonan by the arm and drag her back to the harness. 

Only then did the terrified woman attempt to speak, shouting almost hysterically. “My father, Professor Fraser, in the cabin. Save him. You must save him.”

Sorley grabbed the rope hanging from the end of the breeches buoy and tied it round the woman’s waist to anchor her, all the time talking to calm her, mentioning the dance he’d be missing. She said her name was Peggy. He could hear the Captain shouting through the short wave radio unit built into his kit “Load her up fast, let’s get her over,” but for this the woman’s co-operation was essential and she refused to move until her father was dealt with first. “He’s injured – flung down as the boat bounced and twisted in the storm,” she shouted.

“This is some merry dance you’re leading me,” Sorley complained.

“That’s what my father says. But it was him called me Peggy Sue, taught me to jive. Old rock ‘n’ roll. I love to jive.”

Sorley smiled at her hysterical ramblings despite the devastation around him, and found it impossible to refuse a favour for a woman with such an evocative name and impeccable musical taste. As the Captain bawled over the radio “Get her into the harness, there’s no time” he instead swam to the cabin entry and saw a half-dead man at the helm, eyes closed, white hands gripping the wheel, blood washing down the side of his face from a gash in his temple. With difficulty he pulled the fingers from the wheel, put one arm round the man’s waist and, gripping the wood of the cabin wall with the other, he floated himself round to the outside again where the woman was able to grasp her father’s arm and hold him.

Together, Sorley and the woman managed to hoist the Professor into the buoy, and then, after necessarily untying her from the breeches buoy rope, Sorley circled his arm, gesturing to Uilleam to start winching. He yelled “Haul away now,” just as the cabin was sinking below the waterline and Professor Fraser’s short journey began.

Through the dark spray Sorley made out the shadow of a figure being taken on to the bobbing lifeboat even as the cabin immediately behind him disappeared entirely beneath the waves, dragging the the breeches buoy down with it. Left floating in the raging sea Sorley held on tightly to the woman as if performing some grotesque modern dance, both now entirely reliant on Sorley’s lifejacket.  Struggling desperately in the broiling sea he managed to tie the loose strings that hung from his lifejacket to the woman’s arms, preventing the waves from washing her apart from him.

Captain McLeod was desperately trying to discard the breeches buoy and manoevre the lifeboat round towards them when a massive swell rose up to drive Sorley and the woman much further away from the lifeboat, with the heavy tide pushing them rapidly towards the jagged outlying bare rocks of the Shiants.

Throughout the stormy night the lifeboat searched the darkness even after power for the searchlight gave out and only the beam from Scalpay’s lighthouse twinkled in the distance. Sorley’s radio had failed and the seas were too violent, the tides moving too fast for the floating bodies to be located.  By the early hours Captain McLeod was forced to give the command to return to harbour.

The puffins had emerged grunting from their burrows and crevices on the uninhabited Shiants into the calm sunshine of the following day when the search helicopter spotted a yellow jacket at the foot of Garbh Eilean – Rough Island. It closed in on the battered bodies, still entwined, floating in a dark pool between deadly Shiant rocks.

The lifeboat reached Stornoway in the early morning, the crew devastated, having saved only one of the two in peril and having lost one of their own. 

Uilleam was sombre as he trudged back to the family home. Not sure how to tell his sixteen year old daughter Eilidh what had happened he talked to her first of how a severe storm brewed up suddenly in the Minch, the weather at sea becoming horrendous. He was surprised when his daughter interrupted with her own exciting news that despite the storm she had been so very pleased because the ceilidh had gone ahead and that his friend Sorley had put in an appearance for half an hour or so. “But,” she complained, “he danced all the time with a girl I’ve never seen before and she hadn’t even got dressed up. And he didn’t talk to anyone - not even me,” she pouted.

Uilleam pulled his daughter towards him and said “Look, I’m sorry Eilidh, you’re mistaken. You see, Sorley was on the call with me last night and... well,... I’m afraid he never came back with us.”

But before the full implication of his words had time to register Eilidh insisted “But that can’t be right. He came in late and all the girls were watching him. He did fantastic jiving with that girl, swinging her back and forwards, twirling, sliding her through his legs, having so much fun.  Everyone saw them.”

Uilleam’s face took on a very worried, perplexed expression. “What did the girl look like?”

“She was nothing special, just in an anorak and jeans, but she could really dance.”

“And Sorley – long blue jacket, narrow trousers, thick soled shoes?”

“Yes, that was him.”

“And tie?”

“Yes, he’d dyed his blonde hair black, combed back in that funny way, and he had a lovely matching bootlace tie.”

“I think maybe that girl was called Peggy Sue” Uilleam murmured under his breath”, incredulous, “and he even got his tie”. His face had turned ashen as he dropped to the sofa feeling he might otherwise collapse altogether, the tempest in his mind as hard to handle as the one so recently experienced at sea.

A couple of days later a grieving Professor Fraser insisted on funding the following year’s rock ‘n’ roll ceilidh in memory of his daughter. “It will be twice as good next time,” the organisers promised.

And indeed at the following year’s 1950s themed ceilidh in the dimly lit community hall many dancers swore that, when the DJ let Chuck Berry’s Promised Land rip, the glitter ball hanging from the ceiling sparkled, projecting a ghostly shadow image on the wall, the silhouette of a man in lifeboat gear. He was jiving with an unknown woman, both of them laughing, happy and carefree.

[krakensmaw]

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍, brows knitting a crease betwixt themselves. moonlight caught 'pon stray, wisping silver tugged from their bun to FLY FREE among the sea breeze. ❛ i'll have you know 'm perfectly relaxed. this is my relaxed face. ❜ strange : its uncanny resemblance to his angered face, irritated face, bored face, and so forth. relaxation was yet a foreign concept.

the corner of a pursed mouth twitches nonetheless. a beat of silence, ere they begin to shift again ; a perpetual, restless stirring. arms tuck behind his head, one knee bent and pulled up. casual, save for the drum of fingertips and a TAPPING BOOT. ❛ is that why you enjoy stargazing ? or are you searchin' for something? always seems t'be one of the two. ❜

@diablries / cont.