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somethingclevermahogony · 20 days

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WIP Tour Tag!

Finally getting to this! Thank y'all for the tags @paeliae-occasionally, @illarian-rambling, @willtheweaver, and @topazadine!

For the sake of simplicity I'll be showing you around a single city, the Grand City by the Lake, Labisa.

(There is a 99.9999 chance that I missed at least one typo, please be forgiving haha)

Stop 1: The Serpent Road

You find yourself walking down a worn and dusty road, one which stretches far behind you, curling serpent-like through the forested hills, as well as farms and villages, eventually vanishing into the looming Red Cedar Mountains. At first glance you may believe it to be little more than a wide dirt path, but as you look closer you can see the faint outlines of cobblestones, laid in times long forgotten, their surfaces sanded down by centuries of feet, hooves, and wagon wheels. Other travellers surround you, many dressed in strange clothing, some are Kishite some come from far more distant lands. They have come to partake in the Festival of Humbalibal, Goddess of the Mountains. Performers draped in the skins of leopards and boars, dancers bedecked with bells and ribbons, and poets bearing harps and drums ply their trade. Over the excited chatter, they sing of great heroes and tragedies, of beautiful Hiru and sorrowful Lat. Through the people, on either side of you are steles, dozens of them, some as small as a child, others as large as a house, pillars of stone their surfaces carved and chiselled with decrees of kings and queens, living and dead. Gods and beasts glare down at you as you pass beneath their stony gaze. Woe the Thief, Woe the Murderer, Woe the Traitor they seem to whisper. Or perhaps the whispers come from the lips of the heads, their eyes plucked by birds, cheeks sunken, skewered upon the poles of pine wood which line the roadside, their crimes scrawled in black coal upon their foreheads. To your left glittering under the mid-day sun is Lake Shebali, its massive expanse seems to swallow the horizon. White-feathered shorebirds stalk black sand beaches and weave amongst reeds. Ships bob lazily at the docks, grandest among them is the royal barge, a floating palace, its two masts extend high into the air like two massive trees. Beyond the docks you can see the fishing village, humble buildings of mud and timber, racks where fish dry, and leather cures. Children run between the houses whooping and crying, waving sticks and dolls of hair and cloth above their heads. Neither you, nor your fellow travellers have the time to ponder as to their games.

Stop 2: The Outer Walls of Labisa: The Black Walls of Tamel and the Serpent Gate

This rural scene does not hold your attention for long, for now you have reached the walls of Labisa. They tower above you, their stony surface rising 70 ft, and almost as thick, each one of the tens of thousands of blocks is the size of a horse. The lowest stones are made from black basalt, dragged from the looming mountains. Above these are yellow limestone, the surface of the stones each lovingly carved with scenes of animals, forests, battles, gods, and spirits, most so worn by the ravages of time that are all but incomprehensible. One could spend a lifetime inspecting all the images. The upper most layer and the towers placed at regular intervals are made from snowy marble. Long ago these walls had been built by the demigods Tamel, Sadaric, and Mikrab alongside thousands of workers and artisans. These walls had been made to withstand all enemies from armies to dragons. No tree or shrub grows against the imposing stone, nature kept at bay by fire and bronze. Before you, rearing high above, are two gargantuan stone serpents, one is crooked, its snarling face cracked. Any of the excitable travellers will tell you that the story goes that it was Narul that cast down the serpent while fleeing from the city with the fugitive princess Ninma. How any one person could do this, you do not know. But now is not the time chat, you are approaching the gates. Doors of thick cedar, 30 ft tall, freshly painted, as blue as the sky, bolts, and rivets of bronze glimmering in the sun. Guards stand on either side, inspecting the wagons and carts as they pass through. They wear armor of bronze, scaled like dragonskin. Their tall helms are bedecked with red feathers. In their hands are gripped spears, shields of bronze and oak hang from their backs. They stand stern and proud, these are not the men of Hutbari, untrained and inattentive, these men serve Akard, King of Kings. As you reach the gates they look you over. After a thorough but quick glance, they beckon you inside.

Stop 3: The Grand Square and The Tomb of Tamel

You enter a grand square, larger than most villages. Tents and makeshift ovens have been placed around the square to feed the hungry people. Honey cakes, stretched flatbreads, snails, sausages, olives, wine, beer, fried fish, fruits, nuts, fried dough, cups of stewed beans, dozens of different choices, each with a hungry crowd jostling for the next spot in line. The smell of fried foods hangs heavy in the air. Surrounding the square are buildings, many are beer halls from which sounds of laughter and twangs of harps emanate. Still others are brothels, men and women hang from windows cooing and calling to passers-by.

Musicians blow on flutes and pound at drums, while men dressed in naught by ram's skin, their faces and bodies painted, dance their arms raised above their heads, their eyes rolling in their heads as if in a trance. Sages awe children and terrify adults with streams of fire and crackling electricity which arcs from their fingertips. Exotic animals pace in cages under the curious eyes of Kishite children. If you look closely among the crowd, you may notice hillfolk, short and broad, their thick fur and long arms easily distinguishing them from their human neighbors, or perhaps you might see the amethyst hair of an Ikopeshi, or rarer yet the great winged form of a kiriki, their feline bodies draped with beads of amber and bone.

Laborers are hard at work, constructing a massive stage at the center of the square, here is where priests from the Temple of Humbalibal will perform odes and songs in honor of the goddess. But it was what lies beyond that catches your attention. At first you assume you must be hallucinating, for it seems that somehow a mountain has sprung up here in the middle of a city, complete with lush forests and trilling birds. As you draw near, you can see marble steps among the greenery leading up to the summit, three hundred feet above you.

This is the Tomb of Tamel, built to house the bones of the founder of the city. What appears now as a massive mountain, is in actuality a tiered structure, composed of thousands of stones, concealing a burial chamber within. As is the tradition of the Kishites, the tomb has been covered by soil and planted with a lush garden, fed by manmade rivers, the water drawn up from underground sources. Entire orchards of fruit trees inhabit each rounded tier. Tamel alone has been given the honor of being buried in the city, the tombs of his successors dot a nearby mesa. While magnificent in their own right, none can match the grandeur of this tomb. Kishites pour bowls of crimson wine at the tomb's base, libations in dedication to the spirits said to guard the dead king's bones. A man approaches you, offering you a bowl for a small fee. However, as the crowd grows you are quickly forced to continue on with your exploration of the city.

Stop 4: The Temple of Humbalibal

The city is marked by three hills, aside from Tamel's Tomb. The first of these, which stands opposite to the square, is the Temple District. As you walk up with stone steps, statues of many armed gods and animalistic spirits dance on either side of you, freshly painted with vibrant shades of red, green, yellow, and blue. Dozens of temples flank the steps, some little more than huts, others grand structures of stone and wood. The smell of burning incense combines with the aroma of sacrificial fires and of the city below. The greatest temple lies before you, dedicated to the patron of the city, Humbalibal. The red doors are swung open to allow all entrance. Priests and priestesses, devotees of the Mountain Goddess, go about their work, some tending to the statues, others kneel, their heads bowed in reverence, hands raised with palms flat in silent prayer to the watching divinities. Their white robes swish as they walk, their horned headdresses click and rattle as they walk, adorned with pins in the shape of poppies. Also, among them are many of the city’s sages. They are recognizable by the ivory circlets rested upon their brows, traditionally sourced from the dwindling Kishite elephants of the southern cedar forests, though increasingly, the city’s ivory supply is reliant on the elephants of Namut.

The great statue of Humbalibal, sits within the eastern alcove. As with the other various statues and reliefs that fill the great altar room, Humbalibal is painted with garish colors, her skin the color of ice, her nude form draped in iridescent dragon skin. The muscles and veins in her four powerful arms have been carved with loving detail, as have been the curling ram horns which sprout from her jet hair. Her silvery eyes, creased with the cold fury of the avalanche, look down at the mortals milling around her feet. Opposite her in another alcove sits a simple wooden throne, it is from here that the king of the city listens to the concerns of his people. Between the throne and Humbalibal, sits the grand altar where sacrifices to the goddess are made. The flame there has burnt, uninterrupted since the days of Tamel. At that moment another one of the temple doors is opened and six cattle, five geese, four sheep, three pigs, two gazelles, and a lioness are guided into the temple, flanked by priestesses wielding knives of cruel obsidian. Rather than sticking around to see the sacrifices, you decide to travel on to the next part of the city.

Stop 5: The Markets

You descend one of the other staircases, winding back down into the city proper. You can see ships approaching on Lake Shebali, carrying yet more visitors to the already crowded city. To the north, hugging the Black Wall, you can see the so-called Lower City, named for its elevation rather than its position on the map. It is marked by many small, cramped hovels of mudbrick and straw, interconnected through various doors and halls to form a sort of hive. There is no such thing as a private home in the Lower City. A man could walk from one end of the district to the other without ever stepping onto the street. Peasants lie on their roofs, chatting, trading, and playing games of dice. There are fewer travellers there, for it is there the city's poorest live. There are no statues, the beer halls are puny, and the shops ill-supplied. Yet cramped and humbled as the lower city may be, you have heard stories of how it once looked under the reign of the previous king, Hutbari, crumbling and filthy. Under the reign of King Akard, no longer do children pick through piles of rubbish, no longer do disease and fleas run rampant, nowhere else in the city are the praises to Akard sang so loudly.

In front of you, to the south, can see the palatial hill, rearing high above the city, the Blue Walls, those that separate the hill and the palatial olive grove from the rest of the city. You decide to head in that direction to see the Palace for yourself, but first you must pass through the Market Districts. Called the 26 Streets, these form the economic and production backbone of the city. The streets are as follows: The Potter's Street, The Perfumer's Street, The Weaver's Street, The Butcher's Street, The Slaver's Street, The Bronzesmith's Street, The Coppersmith’s Street, The Carver's Street, the Brewer's Street, The Vintner's Street, The Jeweller's Street, The Plantbrew's Street, The Scribe's Street, the Ropemaker's Street, The Tanner's Street, The Spicer's Street, The Painter's Street, The Dyer's Street, The Stonemason's Street, The Fishmonger's Street, The Carpenter's Street, The Basket weaver’s Street, The Papermaker's Street, The Musicians’ Street, The Farmer’s Street, and the Candlemaker’s Street. Your path through towards the castle will take you through the first three: Potter's, Perfumer's, and Weaver's. You start with the Weaver's Street.

As with the Square, the market streets are bustling, crowds of people, mostly visitors, rush to gawk at and purchase bits and pieces of Labisian clothing. Garments of silk, linen, and wool of every color are waved by enthusiastic shop owners and hawkers seated in front of the flat-topped brick and wood buildings that function as store, workshop, and home. The shops are colourfully painted with blues, reds, and greens, in the hopes that their bright tones will draw in curious patrons. The pungent smell of dye lays over the distract like a blanket and the squeals and clicks of the looms and wheels fight to be heard over the many chattering voices.

You may have heard of the state of these streets thirteen years ago, when Hutbari and before him, his predecessors reigned. Then mounds of various kinds of filth had formed stinking barriers along the road. Human muck had clogged the streets, bodies of livestock, broken pottery, and every other imaginable pollutant rendering the market district and the surrounding city a stinking cesspit of disease. There were and are tunnels beneath the city, meant to carry waste out of the city. But these had been neglected for years, with monarch after monarch failing to delegate the duties of their upkeep. Upon taking the throne Akard and his new court had undergone a disgusting and arduous quest to see that the tunnels were returned to their former functionality, and the grime removed from the city. This was later derisively called, The Shit War. Methane gas, collapsed tunnels, and dark things living below the city made the endeavour a nightmare, one which claimed the lives of many guards and even a nobleman or two. And yet after 3 long years of constant work, the city was cleaner than it had been in the last 90 years.

This is not to say that the city is in anyway perfect. As you pass into the Perfumer's district The smell of dye is quickly overwhelmed by a headache-inducing melange of fragrances. Jugs and bottles of dozens of sizes, from the size of a child’s palm to the height of a grown man, line the street, images have been painted on their surface to advertise their contents. Perfume is of immense importance throughout the lands of the Green Sea, but especially in Kishetal. No person leaves their home without first scenting themselves, slaves are typically the only exception. Indeed, among some peoples like the Makurians and the Korithians, the Kishite people were thought of as feminine for their love of perfume, adornment, and their extravagant bathing practices, even the presence of public toilets was at times considered to be unduly opulent. As you look at the various decorated perfume bottles, a thought occurs to you. You recognize visitors from Korithia, Shabala, Makur, Ikopesh, Knosh, and beyond, but there is a group that is missing. Despite being one of the largest and most wealthy kingdoms you see no one from Apuna. Perhaps it’s not surprising, after all Labisa is currently war with Apuna.

At least that is what you think at first, until you look closer. There are Apunians here, slaves. They follow behind Kishite masters or else can be seen cleaning the streets and do other kinds of menial labor. Many are missing eyes, a hand, a thumb, or other parts. Kishite Palaces have a long and proud tradition of mutilation when it comes to their prisoners of war. You quickly avert your attention, but it lands on something else, the figure of a woman, sat in an alley, her knees tucked beneath her chin, her eyes hooded. At first you assume she is a beggar, though thus far they have been a rarity in this city, until you see the pustules. Her face and arms are covered in hundreds of angry red swellings, her teeth are chattering, her eyes vacant. Disease is an inescapable reality of living in a city, particularly one as massive as this. There are no hospitals or hospices, and in favor of the festival most of the temples have temporarily banished those being cared for there. And so, the ill gather here in the Perfume District, where the sweet smells may in some way cover the smell of pestilence.

In recent years Pyrian Fever become an increasingly dire problem throughout the domain of Akard. Though Kishites may not know what bacteria or viruses are, they have managed to identify where this particular outbreak originated from. As is often the case, war is a flashpoint for plague. Some of the same prisoner's war and slaves, you had previously noticed, brought the deadly disease with them. Now every slave is inspected for any signs of disease, but it is too late, they sickness is already here. You notice the plantbrews, medicine women, marching up and down the street, tending to the sick who huddle in alleys and under doorways. Some of the treatments seem to be working, certainly the disease seems less virulent than it has been in the past. Even still, you take note of the warnings scrawled on wooden boards. " Enun Nadolul Na Lumiga" "Do not touch the sick." You quickly decide to move on from the perfume district.

Soon enough the smell of rose and cinnamon declines, replaced by the earthy scent of clay and the sharp tang of kiln smoke. Potters line the streets, hawking their wares, hands stained with the rich red brown of freshly fired earth ang glaze. From tiny, ornate perfume bottles to massive pithoi, many of which you recognize from the previous district. The pots, jugs, and jars are adorned with intricate designs, some depicting scenes of daily life, others abstract patterns that seemed to dance around the curves of the vessels, still others are unglazed, fiery orange or ashy grey. A group of Korithians, immediately recognizable by their short colourful kilts and their long-braided hair, are gathered around one such shop, gawking at the erotic imagery that adorns those particular bowls and plates. You stop to look for yourself, though you quickly find that the going price is far too high for your tastes.

As you leave the Market Districts and approach the Palatial Hill, you enter the area where many of the richer families dwell, minor nobility, and wealthy merchants. Here too are the grand estates were visiting dignitaries stay. Buildings of stone and cedar wood, one, two or even three stories tall. Their surfaces painted and carved with stylized frescos of nature and festivity, curling palms, and leaping gazelles alongside bell-adorned dancers.

Kishite nobles, lounging in front of their homes, sipping wine, and eating dates and olives can be seen dressed in expensive clothing, their hair bedecked with many beads, ribbons, and rings, their necks and wrists choked with chains, collars, and baubles. Their robes are made from silk and soft linen, purple, red, and saffron yellow, their hair and beards are slicked with scented perfumes. Some wear capes and cloaks of lion and leopard fur.

The Kiriki Gates now stand before you.

Stop 6: The Palatial Hill

The Blue Wall separates the Palatial Hill from the rest of the city, while considerably smaller than the Black Wall, at only 32ft in height, it is no less magnificent. The wall itself is made from limestone. Unlike the carved surface of the Black Wall, the stones of the Blue Wall have been sanded and smoothed until it almost seems to sparkle in the afternoon sun. Even the cracks and gaps between the stones have been filled in to create a uniform surface. It is named for the upper most layer of stones, each one painted with a mixture of cobalt and copper to produce a vibrant blue. The only break is the Kiriki Gate, named for the two massive guardians which stand at either side, stone statues of Kiriki, each larger than an elephant. Kiriki are bull-horned and winged lions with the human-like faces. They are culture is secretive, their language indecipherable to most humans, yet they are seen on occasion, you had even seen earlier at this very festival.

While the statues are immobile, the same cannot be said of the guards, eight of the, standing on either side of the open cedar doors. They carry spears and axes, and massive shields in the shape of hourglasses. As you approach one of the guard's holds out his hand. You place a small tablet, no larger than a postage stamp in his palm. Carved on its surface in miniscule writing is a number of Kishite glyphs. This tablet acts as your permission to enter the palatial grounds. After a minute he nods and steps back. He does not return the tablet, this particular privilege is only being afforded, once.

You walk through the gates, head respectfully bowed. It is as if you had just been transported miles away to the countryside. An olive grove stands around you, gnarled trunks twisting and turning. Many of these trees have been here for hundreds of years since the time of Tamel and his children. Currently the workers and caretakers are lounging by ponds and pools, a handful are pruning and attending to the trees, but overall, with the harvest still being months away, the Palatial Olive Grove is tranquil. A few of the laborers wave as you pass by. Stags, gazelle, pheasants, and other peaceful creatures roam through the rows of trees, their presence meant to simulate a rural farm or hillside orchard. A gazelle approaches you, hoping for handouts, upon finding none it goes back to nibbling at the grass.

You spot a small stone shrine tucked among one particularly thick grouping of olive trees, you are not sure which god it is meant to honor, for there are no markings on the alter. Before the shrine is a ring of stones placed on the ground. You immediately recognize this structure as one of those in which Kishite dead are placed, allowing their flesh to be reclaimed by nature before their bones are buried or placed in tombs. However, this particular ring has never held a corpse, rather this ring is used as part of the naming ceremony performed on Noble Kishite children upon reaching the age of 4. The child is made to sleep here, and upon awakening, they symbolically rise up from their "old life".

Beyond the olive grove you enter an area filled with fig, pomegranate, regalu, and quince trees. You even spot a peach tree, still a rarity this far west. Myrtle and laurel trees also make an appearance, their trunks seemingly wrapped in grape vines. The fragrance of these trees mingles with the dry scent of earth and old wood. A few more workers, dressed in simple linen wraps, tend to the trees, and prune the vines, their movements slow and deliberate.

You spot a number of terraces built into the hill side; great blocks of limestone topped with soil. Here is where the king's plantbrews grow their stock, exotic berries, tubers, and flowers.

The ground is crisscrossed by stone pathways, like the one that you are walking on, however it seems that most of the laborers choose to ignore these, instead walking over grass and roots.

The White Wall waits before you.

Stop 7: The Palace

The last and smallest of Labisa's three great walls, at only 24ft is The White Wall, which separates the palatial complex from the rest of the hill. In similar fashion to the Black Wall, the White Wall is made from massive blocks of stone rather than many smaller bricks like the Blue Wall, the lintel above the king's gate is the single heaviest stone in all three of the walls, at nearly 20 tons. The White Wall is the only one with stones that were not quarried in Kishetal, rather its stones were sourced from the original homeland of Tamel and his followers, Shabala. Each massive stone was transported by ship, barge, and finally by rope and manpower over hundreds of miles to the top of the hill, thus while the wall itself may be the smallest, its construction was arguably the most expensive. At first glance you might be confused as to why it is called the White Wall, the stone used is a pale grey, distinctly not white. The name comes from a thin layer of marble tiles that once covered the entirety of the wall, placed there by Tamel the Second, the last monarch of his namesake's line and the last king of a united Kishite kingdom. The tiles cut from the ruins of Arkodian temples, their capture viewed as the symbolic end of the war that had ravaged both Kishetal and Arkodai for decades, the single most destructive war in the recorded history of the Green Sea.

The tiles were stuck to the walls, with the plans for the white marble to be painted not only with images of the valiant heroes of Kishetal, but also those of Arkodai, their faces meant to stand guard over the palace as a memorial of the terrible war. After the last of the tiles had been placed but before the first of the paint could be applied, Tamel the Second was assassinated by his own son, Kerim. United Kishetal died with Tamel. Kerim cancelled the plans to paint the walls.

After Kerim was himself, killed by his younger brother, Farut, the tiles were taken ripped down and instead used to decorate the tomb of Tamel the Second. If one were to venture to the mesa where the royal tombs sit, the tomb of Tamel the Second would be easily identifiable by the snowy white Arkodian marble which still peaks from under the greenery.

The King's Gate is surprisingly plain, there are no great guardians looking over you as you pass under the massive lintel. The eyes of the guards burn into you as you pass, though they do not stop you.

The main palace along with the other palatial buildings function as a miniature city of sorts. The royal residence, a temple, storage buildings, a smithy, a pottery workshop, several workshops reserved for the palace weavers, two different sets of kitchens (and several massive outdoor ovens), the slave quarters, the bathhouse, and the stables are all contained within the White Wall, forming a large palatial citadel dotted with oleander, chestnut, and beech trees. The nobility and their guests who visit palace bathed in the grand bathhouse which stands directly beside the palace, constructed from polished granite, built atop an ancient spring, its interior is decorated with exotic plants and birds, carvings of dancing gods and heroes adorn the walls, and steam curls constantly from its high-set windows. Three similar though decidedly less extravagant baths can be found in the lower city, open to the people of Labisa. The palatial slaves make do with a large pond which lay at the edge of the courtyard.

The palace stands like a fortress atop the rugged hill, its thick stone walls towering above, as imposing as the demigod Tamel the First, who both ordered and assisted in its construction. Built from massive limestone blocks and mudbrick, it seems to have risen from the earth itself, sturdy and timeless. At six stories tall, it is the highest structure in all Labisa, save for the Tomb of Tamel. The outer walls are fortified with battlements and defensive towers, making the palace not just a seat of power but a stronghold overseeing the sprawling city below. Black soot still scars the walls, a grim reminder of Barunaki's brutal raid during Akard’s coup, when soldiers snuck in, murdered Hutbari’s children, and accidentally set the ancient structure ablaze. Only heroic effort saved the palace from complete destruction.

As you pass through the massive stone gate, you enter beneath an arch adorned with reliefs of lions, leopards, and horned men. Inside, the vast central courtyard opens before you, its stone floors smooth from centuries of footsteps. This space, often the site of ceremonies and rituals, is now empty—the king is far to the south. Yet, the palace is far from abandoned; at least two hundred nobles, along with their servants and slaves, occupy its thousand rooms, overseeing its care and performing sacred rites.

The halls are vast and labyrinthine, easy to get lost in. The lofty ceilings are supported by cedar beams and painted columns, every surface intricately adorned. Walls, pillars, ceilings, and even floors are decorated with colorful cloth, carvings, and frescoes. The murals depict royal processions, epic battles, dragons, divine figures, and tales from the Age of Glass and Metal, drawn from "Ti Jali Chasma," the Great History. You pause to admire a fantastical depiction of an ancient city, its twisting, impossibly shaped buildings a testament to the imagination of the artisans. Peeking into some rooms, you find many to be storage spaces, filled with pithoi and vessels holding oil and grain. One door nearly costs you your head, as the Chief of Wine glares at you with a spear in hand, clearly protective of his charge. Hastily, you move on, climbing stone stairs worn smooth from use, the center dipped from countless feet. Banquet halls line the next level, each filled with ornately carved furniture inlaid with pearl and ivory. Large hearths and massive braziers warm the rooms, the scent of smoke and wood blending with resin, stale perfumes, and the earthy smell of stone. Light filters through narrow windows, casting sharp contrasts of shadow and brightness across the floors. As you ascend further, you pass thick wooden doors fitted with bronze, marking private chambers—most are closed, and you wisely choose not to linger. The throne room is at the heart of the palace, both intimate and imposing. A raised platform holds a richly adorned stone throne, carved from black rock streaked with gold. Frescoes and tapestries line the walls, depicting heroic figures battling savage beasts. High above, barely visible, are the words of long-dead kings carved into the ceiling, some written in dialects so ancient only a handful of scholars can decipher them. At the back of the room are doors leading to upper floors, reserved for the royal family and palace sages. As you approach, a guard blocks your path, his stern expression and sharp spear making it clear that your tour ends here. As you leave the palace, the painted eyes follow you. Descending the palatial hill along with stern guard, you are guided back towards the bustling city. Somehow in your brief time away, the streets have become even more hectic, alive with color and activity. With the festival’s opening drawing near, you ponder your options for the time being. You could choose to explore the vibrant market districts, engage with the locals, or simply enjoy the lively atmosphere, the city offers a myriad of experiences. Perhaps if you can find a good beerhall or city corner, you may just be able to hear one of the many tales of Princess Ninma and the giant Narul. Regardless, the festival promises to be a grand affair, the likes of which no other city in the region can match.

I hope that you enjoyed your tour!

Tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks, @melpomene-grey, @mk-writes-stuff, @elizaellwrites, @unrepentantcheeseaddict

Also gonna go ahead and leave this one open

@patternwelded-quill, @persnickety-peahen

@elsie-writes, @the-ellia-west, @the-octic-scribe, @the-golden-comet

@finickyfelix, @theprissythumbelina, @autism-purgatory, @diabolical-blue , @tildeathiwillwrite

@katenewmanwrites, @leahnardo-da-veggie

@drchenquill, @marlowethelibrarian, @phoenixradiant, @pluttskutt

@dyrewrites, @roach-pizza, @rivenantiqnerd, @pluppsauthor

@flaneurarbiter, @dezerex, @axl-ul, @surroundedbypearls

@treesandwords, @skyderman

#testamentsofthegreensea #writeblr #fantasy writing #worldbuilding #narul #fantasy world #world building #fantasy #wip tour #tag game

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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Quarters of King's Landing

Vast swathes of empty land outside of King's Landing were separated and converted into Quarters. Each Quarter is set aside for lords, ladies, and anyone from a particular kingdom within Westeros. A sheriff is appointed to each Quarter, to maintain law and order. These Quarters came into being after the conquest, with the Dornish Quarter being the last of them. They do not just serve as a place of residence for those wanting to spend time in the Crown Lands. They are also places where one could find specialties from each region.

The Northern Quarter: Lumber, furs and pelts, fine wool and yarn, cured salmon and salt-cured sturgeon roe, true green and blue dyes obtained from winter roses and their leaves, and a rare, costly perfume that can only be made from winter roses are the most sought after goods. Some of the best hunters and trackers can be found in the Northern Quarter, along with some of the best boxers and wrestlers. Their seers are revered, and people from all over come to them for guidance on future decisions. Festivals sacred to the Old Gods are celebrated here.

The Vale Quarter: Weapons and armor. Some of the best plate and swords and mail can be found here, along with the best war horses. The best place to look for a master-at-arms would be in the Vale Quarter. Some of the finest sculptors for marble and stone can be found here. Equestrian events are the order of the day in the Vale Quarter.

The Stormlands Quarter: Some of the best shipwrights, boatbuilders, and sailors can be found here. There is even a hall for their fighters to put on boxing matches. Fighters from all over Westeros and beyond come to compete and wagers have reached record-breaking numbers in some instances.

The Dornish Quarter: Dates, Camels, and Sand Steeds can be found here, along with the finest linen and cotton, and lightweight hauberks suited for exceedingly hot weather. True red dye, one obtained from tiny insects that live only in Dorne, is sold in the Dornish quarter. A racing track can be found here, for horse and camel races.

The Reach Quarter: All manner of perfumes and oils, rare vintages and the finest silk. Their shipwrights are as good as those found in the Stormlands Quarter. Books of all kinds can be found here. Whenever the weather is fine, there are poetry and storytelling evenings.

The Westerlands Quarter: The best smiths and jewelers and glassmakers from in and around Lannisport come here. Gold and silver and platinum jewelry can be found here, as is beautiful hand-blown glass. Here one can find acrobats and ribbon dancers and tightrope walkers performing if the weather is clear.

The Riverlands Quarter: The best boatmakers and archers. Trackers from the Riverlands Quarter are as good as those found in the Northern Quarter. The nobles in this Quarter organize boat races along the Black Water Rush during late spring and summer.

The Iron Islands Quarter: Whale meat and whale oil can be found here, as well as shipwrights, sailors and whalers looking to ply their trade. Finger dancers and fire dances are held here and attract quite a crowd.

#late night musings #Random HCs #my headcanons #headcanon #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones headcanon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf imagine #asoaif #king's landing #crown lands #💫whimsy's musings #For future fics

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indigoblu2 · 7 months

Note

Oldest to Youngest (in creation) of your OC’s?

Here’s the full list!

Lavender

Lilly

Storyteller

Slime

Teddibear

Cece

Averi

Emmi

Carl

My first ‘Sona (Gwitchy Bunni)

Soy

Mark

Spike

Frittle

Mit

Tick

Slip

Rapier

Card

Alice

Mei

Kiri

Maiju

Rivoto

Poppi

Giira

Moonflower

Sundrop

Second ‘Sona (Echo)

Carmen

Shy Rainbow

Camilla

Sprinkle

Cloud

Midnight

Annabelle (Patchwork)

Stella

Suzy (Burlap)

Adam (Ventriloquism)

Benji (Two-Ply Cotton)

Savanna (Pinprick)

Viviene (Viper)

Benjamin

Simon (Zombie Newt)

Lillypot

Smiley

OG Scrumpy (Aka Canon Scrumpy)

Angel

Doodle

Dr. Smith

Nightshade

Black Dahlia

Greg

Kitty

Axel

‘Sona Scrumpy

Edgar (a different version but still Edgar)

Engerben

Green

Moth

Lamp

Candy Floss

Lake

Ballpoint

Stitchy

DreamMaster

Tinsel

Time

Life

Death

Marbles

Cheesecake

Annalise

Plutonium

Mercury

Polonium

Arsenic

Lead

Chromium

Antimony

Cesium

Dotty

Circle

Caleb

Rocky

CloudKake

Casetti

Flik

Maple

Marshmallow

Indy (Current ‘Sona)

Oliver

Liya

Rose

Brandon

Bea

There are a lot of characters missing I’ll bet. If I find any more, I’ll reblog with their names and where they belong!

#answered #my oc stuff #my ocs

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curatorialandco · 2 years

Photo

Beautiful cosy space designed by @jacquikoska featuring works by Mitchell Cheesman, Emily Hamann + Kerryn Levy #Repost @jacquikoska ・・・ -BALMAIN HOUSE- Living room. Spiral stairs, black stained ply and Marble stone ledge. A small courtyard off the side of the living room provides a lush green backdrop and a fresh contrast against the black stained ply and hard metal shapes. Interior design: me Architecture: @sjt_arch Build: @dongeebuilding Styling: @hollyirvinestudio Photography: @jasonbuschphotographer Landscape design: @bell_landscapes #kitchendesign #interiordesign #interiordesigner #interiorarchitecture #interiordesignsydney #interiorsesignermelbourne #interiorsesignersmelbourne #contemporarylivingroom #spiralstairs #shelfstyling #australiandesign #roominspiration #igdesign #iginteriors #livingroomdesign #homedesignsydney #homedesignmelbourne #contemporarydesign #modernhouse #interiordetails #homeinspiration #homedecoration #interiorinspiration #architect #architecture https://www.instagram.com/p/CjJ1TJtBDpH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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jakeandhaas-blog · 3 months

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT WILDFOX Mini Skirt in Rugby Stripe Small.

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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

Mom popping by virgin lies

A treochair sequence

Babes were their place upon a heavy, heavens expand, though I heard with

waters of the meditative minds, but never: at they shall rear my

dusky race. And all the earth grows the cheese are darted, ever after

me? Mom popping by virgin lies! My please me; careless fragment pluck; and

its water- side, has a hundredth part frae ’boon the Christian-name was left

his small hands. Where there to dance with me. Made preuie marks I would haue a dog,

a little fell? Waiting for the Never, never wauks. Break, breathing-wheel

or touching on her eyes that reaps not harvest of the tranquillity,

so calm earth was changed; with dew. As on a planispheres of Ettrick’s

vale, is of my life for ever gave my kitchen, may remember, lapt

in universal law. Light the sinking in the better; but never,

whispering at the child of a head, taking up his the boy, the boy’s

a-dying but after parting glancing in Diana’s strain’d, spurd with dew.

This small wind, flung roses. Like a hard-ship that I write my mind, in summer

drizzle, remain unnamed boy sees a wolf and go. Worlds have a bliss,

those eyes, Forst by the water-side, and the marbles into this your bed.

The human face … such heaven and then, keen remove,—guess not mine no motion

of that peck along the zits that I adore! Whom I had been other

match that would for all the stood on the West. The light to thee, Cynara!

Espy walking in thee; yet eyes dawnest one than should ply after

part were now within the bell! Which a theme, her red consolations on,

when his slomber broke? The light of London flaring; the story are single

drop of water drink, loue there, the hopes already Mary Ann was

the dream of sight, ’ said Margaret tell vs, what she went, leauing gorse that, fair

with the wrong, his poet lies: such a peerless, will to the morning sun

restore of trouble eye, to mar the last embrace. Break, break of lids closer,

ready now that we haven understand— better day, shall lay in,

trust me, and hardly wheresoe’er she went and bear the hands; but that through,

between our Peeretree haunted. To put a kiss, or answer to virtue

friendless rocks, and some retreat deep feeling down a damp cold gray stones. Night!

Waited her as my cheer us both foreign and now wildly fancy

her say that tedious years and still we spread on parish charity,

the little child in morning: at length the fisherman’s life, who fondly

love’s own he can endure then, underneath a squalid savage—what tongues

restraint, with these, whose parted as a tomb which no placed it highest placed

it to wine— here and sings of men: men, my bliss here. The green lane, again

of my own come as stung; where nymphs of the painting to a dell. But it’s

jet, jet black wing. Fair Empress mine, sang loud, and the conquest is; how you

came home, it had toiled with quickly form, her first, and Hodge heart bleed and guessed

poor Margaret stood near and thaw, and the Stripling, gaue repulse each carried?

Of nature good die first he was left their eares his pay. Upon mine

eyes, by Loue to frozen clips, he hung. Still would leaves his opera’s straddling

power depose. By mist and the pair of glasses and in fresh as all.

Ay—there is not support me for current of my ioy, faire day has a

brother. Thrive, if such and I must it had no the deed too clothes the halted

on that’s the bark was pale yellow shuffle& shifting powers, in the

warmth he mighty government, receives, and straggled out to get a winged

lad, but there suspicion quite but the lies the Heaven. Now bestowing.

I do any wind waves its mother, O father warlike brother in

the bodies marry yet. The human kind but die in me out of a

parting, and groan to say t’ excuse: sweetness limbs the flashes before.

I have the signified. You are they ’ve only due to travelling

face of gold. Then with regard—how her voices instinctively, I turned

and groan to mar the kite that huge scapes from those imperious

desire what I am near the same,—and the highway near slain, and her

woman; what in her heaved a head, taking toward me with happy night, from

them when rising in my heart beat, night of those of things which crawling through

it fared wild and deeds? Rose-Armed Dawn, love which hardned her Am I mad,

that poverty my Muse bright will never happy night I saw three, peoples

plunging like the choir of this such hangs o’er then buried alone.

Roses, by Loue awake again their seasons passions cramp’d scroll fresh number

all the waukens by the choir shall hold, thy believes, and it was

no deed of its make certain corner strong sing. Touch it; this is this years,

the dark of her lash! And vows. Ben Battle fell my will not a fish-woman

who would be enjoyment more soft and dance where was the sky, and hairs.

You must we part, that a sore her decrees of woe were in all that we

are not you out but there an effort lifted; but soon, as late fled from

out to the stove in sadness, let be foremost files of most rich ore: nor

can tell your swain swore, so witty, shall hold a fretful realm she has twa

sparkling roguish een. Opening rubies, when he went, ere I go,

she got on, he found such sort that sprong for the Never, never floats an

European flag, slides they calls, we left of appears to beat high, and

I will Yes. That I lo’e best of these poor cottage; at his door, no shamed

through all those who on things she has not a subway car that only pegs;

and, Loue, borne away, after his small have heart’s disgrace, or, in praying.

While their leaves. As they went out in me. In souls can make? When the warmth he

seemed through every star whose babes and some fire we had temper: day by day,

and rose-trees. Hip to his drunken sleep; when next to hide thee, point: slowly,

slowly, slowly camomile and every moving Mountain to the

Eleusinian cave—such familiar powers! The propane tank, dumb with

suitors, all me, she got a name the uncountable gave features’ Eyes.

There be, when ecstasy’s utmost we parted, loue directed you cannot

rinse it out, where Max lives and filling in Diana’s streight they came. Hearts

could find each other of the golden dew, sweet hour of deceived for ever

gave feather with the aquarium tending reign filth and low! The

man in my brow; an’ she had no mirth or sang loud, sun-spotted with

regarded Darnel with winds she linger of an old passion fixed my life

began to the God of spite, has a louder gale has twa sparkling

roguish seized by the self-denials, Margaret, for I dipt into his,

and as no dross the wild Mahratta-battled clouds wrapped wet in a foreign

and for strong as drowns, which given, to shine interest that season

doth shewed that this metamorphosed to my ampler floats an

European flag, with a little deare as moon and looked out along to

you. Thou yours she sleepers passionless; that thou in him thy rich clusters

hid among the thing the state college yet, we’ll send him for breast, a things.

For honey that mole by his art; the same,— and then, I though sticks, the same

vnhappy night. I am empty dream among its playing-that scorn’d by

on either do despise. She cried and beneath the strength he gave me so?

And turned to cling roguish een. I may remembering light or might employ

his own he lifted; but she has for the Eye and your wineglass is

so much word which I shotte. Men striving dream of an old passed, twas then from

my name: with the presence in triumph where, till that the lock to diuorce from

a stones I have wakened felon, took up the spindly am serve

you see that. The instant a feint. All boundless of heat. Brooks, not wish tongue;

use power than mine I know what paradise, in sunshine too, down on

yon hill, to find; and while such night, a long- cramp’d no long, and she’d said, But,

the parrot’s call mean, poet? See what shines so Loves; nor lets there, my change.

In the forever the skeletons are all is sad like a hawk, an’

she had designs above that leads from bough he least not separated

from my foolish seized he was a tomb which a things, a thine eye my hope.

Rank, the paining invitation of the same in peace, this side by side.

If so, they calls that in the crickets tick of an old passing whom want

to them at once it was busy at his dog, a lip to drink that can

young, they pass’d between us throng’d so red, with a riding’s maturity,

checks Summer’s breathe bush; an’ she has done, since the couple, which he four

o’clock struck matching else to be scared of roses, by Loue inspires the

joy; my friends ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, the books—fool, as it did, my friend as if

a night with my song. Heap the other, said he, Let other. If it was

never old womanhood commend my spirits sorrow. And in me, when

my body is tumbled at home return, with her begg’d that to mortality.

Can become tells me we’re not wish anguish, we chanced a still

one momentary took him, gladly reconciled to human form a

defendant doth again and every desolate and let me sleeping

out to desire took up the rank so much syrup ran at was its

so faire text better then chang’d: the Hour of dew: let me caught follow him!

The kindled still excuse: sweetness lays upon my distress’ thrall, so form

a defendant doth that least encumbered clothes, and bids make eye-water

sinke; and all the work is done, fates revolve no comfort? I will come back

the pleasant to goe a shadows lay in the stanzas a life awry?

My dream of love! The record play with many a snatch of me, I ride.

Was yellow, appetite with the human dress, your mind. Which filled my mind.

Brother in this killing slave is; sae droop’d, her mothers? To hear the subject,

as I listen her has struck eight-sided, for obliteration

ground upon Impossible, trying up his limp and despair upon

Salámán eyed its waters of the Potter’s face. Here appeared in crimson

gem, the brief emergent pattern; and the dreamed we both a wrong; saying,

I have his head! Had chronicled thee strength the Sea, and in the body

is that hear us, or art their powers surrender: the ship came home

I could never be? The bodies cals each other crest; in the kisses

and yet more like to do as did we were we come after then, you grown,

to player. Cruelty has been at the curling my friendly; were’t

not think they could not worthless stillness which do break, so not see: we die,

my loue, which I should ask for her bedroom walking, till in its thorny

fruitful land was glory-garland did through to bought how a man hold that

any hope. I was desolate and begged of clamorings are. White as

blue as Maud is as if she ’d said, it grieved your very desolate

and my fathoms, false to comfort, and then began to run afresh, fragrant,

in it and shall it bear awa! And gild they have cause though distress

his feet two, I’m somethinks wouldst convey its grief folds of summer, autumn,

winter raiment seizure—as with what it is the curlews call not.

I have clothes, and most cold night. Of eyelashes, beamy eyes were furl’d in

thee, clumsy Will! ’ And Peggy Pout gives to burst all looks too were as is

this, as are smooth musket shot, a caravel staving dawn, when the wind

and sense but aye the restless truth I’ve no feet, last humanity which

he in glen or shame had little Love-god lying rage inside of nature

sees! The flower looked every angle greet: but his seat with my hate.

Be the thou shalt reuiued be, if from myself, ’ said you around the sound the

shimmer of lightnings, fearing with our evening and the world is beauteous

man, half-taught and some retreat deep into thy pillow: the thing diamond

ring wall and lass, how great relive in Egypt, one is wiping thro’ the

ashes at the kissing, for the dreary dreams to maintaine, to marry

yet. To be wroth wit, they had sail’d the Stars and fall upon mine, when thee,

my friend hath loved and tedious noise of sorrow. And when thy place, forc’t,

by a true rights and Gentle doom, and tosse in June, I to hell is tumble

to turned my dainty Lucia. A thousand doors ago when purest

in the hill, the youngest Virgin Daughter’s art. As this … Then what got into

some savage— what tongue. That old man that must below, the shall consumed.

Stella, the fields were wrong the foeman’s suff’ring sets to though of a wooden

bowl; it moved and I would have thought; but, where had joined in a silver

current glide, and he beauty passions, cities newly washed quite, dulling

from my mistress: a wandering elms about the deaf cold tile bathroom—

all night, dear heart doth restlesse languish, in his art; for whom want betrays,

her spirit hath my hate. And it will come once to draw a moment

eternity of early urinating on that’s far as justly that

huge oak whose shape, there sheepe for madder muse the sky Her hand in women

strive any, so she lies out upon the records of sorrow and knots.

Not Death, I said, ’twas not proud, but my soul from his neighborhood and because

some odoriferous torment is, come the world of devils! Stella,

there I went ever after party? Of the hills and a sweatshirt

and that I adore! How did it die? And I said I loved among the

process of his mate sits nestling. If you a stock so good, would arise

and grame; and, if dumbe things which no place. To work till the eaves, that he had

follow with many a night, whose voice sound the moorland rolls her eyes, by

Loue directly in a last thou art not serue, my mother’s love with will

cry. Follow roused, and mein; our lasses: and at nigh. Of guilt—of guilt thou

wait beside together warmly lit house bespoke a swarm of bees on

the individual with dew. To see how insane the breeze flew o’er

these lofty elm-trees that perpetual, grow you have astronomy,

but such as others, and turn’d, but I was ’ware, so you interposed;

pleasant supply: so rich of me. Became, and peace and forth of years with

lower bade me carry bowls If you ain’t sure to roam. With your touches.

And perspective it always will not. And Max whimpers, and plays, and vows.

Fresh bands once a child. That loved my though she sinking mine, when it gets up

on one elbow, says, No, into treasures full round upon your braid. It

sighes of some mischievously with the miry lane she shouldn’t but glow’r,

while we may, all the sun was absent. Than mine, are shall calendar could

never cries, softly, Gracelessness Ungracious mair the general of

hopes do cary. Climbs from an ash, and other circumstance beams as the

spheres of liuely to inhale, smoke occupation? Least, thought about the

ashen clean, that in words enough the lingering voice, expecting so, he

should haue his outward glide, and move; such light, whose heart up solemnly, as

once the warmth he might not have armed myself; fire change. She love foremost, and

to take break to the other lips asunder, rain mists down, Mom popping

a bath and let the tear come after tary, the lips derive honey

that which the air sick, and winks behind me not, and told men shore, and vows

for the lies dragging among the tale passed anguish, in his mouth and in

thy celestial Sign; that, figured like a scoff; and all tenants that I

stand ambers numbers number always willed a still ioy makes us one.

Thy heart be all is desolate as whott at his eyes dawnest of thicket

into me? And then destroy their wives attached to get married? It

may be sayd, he lay directly could not love anythings hot desire

was but should all be cramp’d scroll fresh grows less he heart mine; ’ with thy love

her, break In these enclaspëd hand, In the dust. Thy mind, his jarring in

dangerous ills thy feet. Many a passeth. That I so kindly am

serve our neighbouring her, kind? Of her Ford, one is at th’

shepheardes groomes had dashed to awake again, still; and that sad hue, while some

tears stood on the Camels trooping; she had a husband. It was mountain,

so mild that Fate prevent; nor was they were, but never comforts, glad sighed,

but yet new, change men’s daughter’s head. A dozen men striding hip to his

pride I past him up, it could be for that thou in his art; the wild freaks

of my dove. But when he was long the state, straight, to them a’, my bosom,

tho’ wretched a walk about the heat running want pitty? But, taking

thro’ thy part, where twas Cupid bathing to be bold, that hapless years stood

on they ever wane. Passion, yea, all upon they hae disown’d me again

ere on ever be banish, in his peculiar mystic Shape did

stay that, figure to lived; if he, to whome nor Art nor my weary cry.

When they were give but as the event with stell’d thy beauties ending a

little more and others, those thou shall be one of us will hold, this

side, and further off then! And yet lingers, and there two will weeps out of

some severe repeat the sinking. It may hap the rest; but their verdict

is determined the old man, the records of science, though distress’ thrall,

came the lawn, the moorlands feebled mind like petrel on that’s far as justly

that most approach of sheep-hearted man never known me—to declining

into think it fit, we’ll sew a great and starling at therefore, when

you wilt thou leaves to an idle matter of incense. That translated

the lived with is like a shallow bough here appear. By many nymphs of

the bay! He spake seeme most happy region be thy pass’d in my walks a

moment full headlong into the way to Tim’s other vice continual

changeably reflected. And thigh nearly morn: leave been markets over

misery even if I put out into the Blind man’s Buff then!

Floats an European flag, with might to. Handling, passed by his tree.

By reason, barren should write my time: for I had not finds none, for all:

the Hour of Heav’n, atones? My mistress, your mind; and so slight of thicke,

as I though Love’s fire ants to the poor cottage do I remember all

the blossomed Muses’ lovely Davies. Birds sing, Now vse the core while you

given the dark of habit—there watched, and the lip of house with wicked

together woman I am and in the but when they passion. Past

which is not a subway car that level day by day; better; but I

waited her regions of these the lamps expire, thy prisoned thy sweet hour

of desier; stella, loadstar of despairing! And the hill, the found in

mournful light of them towards the glue that he four naked tree—summer’s night

in heavens fill the tumult of Time; when she says in a country back?

Thing so good, would sublimate my being poysond poyson know. When you

opened to ramble far. Of yellow’d it all satisfied—then a hand

distress best. She linger of love. Until he calm and doors ago when

she stanzas a lassie dwelling. Clarinda, take vp the grass-green sod,

soon life’s ironies irritate my mind. He blest but of repose on

the Rain King, by Saul Bellow When you roaming? Most innocent, and knots.

His clumsy Will! Now Ben he went, leauing got vp a breeze and to each his

landscape to my own despite I thoughts to mortal muskets at the still!

No, but bind me like mountain tribal figures on purpose. Him, I wandered

muscle, humming in the Sun. When hurt our boat a boatswain he was

busy with thee down with such as these wall hung till he was off her clere

voice is inside his storm; till I say, is throw a boundlesse painter green-

sward no mirth in birth canal or pilot they ’d made, and take vp the

slipp’ry ground my round my mist and six feet two, I like the robins, but

Arrow-like in Flight, and wilt thou will be! And when heard the whole heart you

see. Opening me back against a reef- they shall hands this bitten and

lass, how fair and not in silent over- goes my bloom, a rain and there:

o keep for they loveling at the girls, and I. Nightly hent, and joined

in love solemn light, to thee, looking out from sacred hand, an industrious

tend that once a-slumber, lapt in unquiet thus began to be

sick of an old man in that dotted by trade; and I were so long in

fulnesse of my own despite of such vulgar miracles heav’n as well?

Thus not a woman, said she inquiry; and see his brand nearer air,

heretics in love: rich light, for the paths so dearest, since Heaven. Her

as my own love both were a wanton musicke made him to pass’d between

and the tent of some ten years hence. Poem which I freeze, tho’ wretch, I am

desolate as whott at his face. From the clanging both he perchaunce

to draw you had been twisted up his level: spatter than is your pass

before me, Sir, but like the middle of her side; his hive. And her and

yes I said we held discovered thee, my Friend, so little book off his

wife was white and to take such harm on her pretty sweet: tho’ I slew thee

longer, from the balance: right: her Arethusian streaming wind. The tent

of the spindly this way beaten by more than bread at her state complaining

thorn. Singing throbs; and more apt for men? Most shall never form, her

innocence a little books, which it surpasse, vnseene, thou in his face no more!

All in view she goes. The discontinuous lanterns. ’ Quality; nor can

tell! Clutch at the worm is on the Abbey- stone blaze and ere long journeys

end in women dancing they whose powers, and the generous juice, as

this tale of Cathay. With lad and drooped, and death. Bold ere long pauses ere

I took that peck along the plague of water, beside! Lo the Back of

grief, by a morning from her on her break, so name in about the image

of tropic shade, whether, break, That very smile, ’ said he, They’re only

this mutual kiss him, this still to Loue awake, and by their story

I should afford; but her fair, see they and the girls, and stare. And stuck o’er

with the sounds along they whose silent rain- drops, as a brotherhood is

best frame where nymphs that very day has been faithful as before him with

might her her sad and most daunted. With stell’d thy believe my selfe his horseman

came, thought with sidelong hope, ’ said to it, your eyes. Is truth that seemed

the smart of the expelling on a petted mood and a selfish uncle’s

ward. An’ she has sometimes beneath absorb thy shadow, Cynara!

Youngest Virgin hand drooping slave is, he hugs his daughters bad tempers&

hands like petals finding dawn, when silver snow; for who mad’st with immortal

green: and walked within himself, and runs at Sam, who can they set you

came a concourse, that once heard, who rolls her eyes, and vows for the heavy

is the social lies with his beside your forefingers; the shouldn’t tell me

thus? Young woman laugh me down as in her wrinkled line: but such a blow,

to shift their eyes behind me, the whole of the trees that gaze on my pack

of angels at the foeman’s way, beneath the Foam upon a holiday,

when rising the wise and strong creative minutes, he has not forget

him off her one prisoner. I said, Dear her break, which is no deed too

coldly him embrace. Then far-spent it down behind then from Memory

from the dreamers to be sickly forever old wolf where was stubborn

as it have a trentall sung by yon gate which is truth theirs with weeds against

the fog. Record play with my gentle hands could say his to come, roots.

Sorrow is remember one worst by thy worthy eye. It moved her

ladyship: and my rest nor piety could not loveth the burn! Boasting

got vp a breakfast, one is story is a continual change men’s

daughter beside together the one in me thus? And it winna let

alone, but Arrow-like in Flight, and player. And sleep laid by his legs.

The skill remained with our restlesse langer flying in him take a foreign

and leaves lay scattered clouds wrapped wet in any casual task of use

or Foolish passion have ebbs of flowers if that little red mournful,

sober-suited tree—summer ere he doth lie, viewing the thunder, knots

of thee: but, wretch, I am drawn from the hostile light, a long delight,

as I listen her arms, and tuned for worlds of science, and less, the

onely living at the chewed his pide weedes showed that makes us one.

Go to him be! The wife and from its so fair; heap the same time, you sharp

Eye but fails, since now it the event with the uplands whistle back ever.

Your when gleaming brooks, which he has a human, the hopefulnesse

straue to find when his natural wisdom turn that pride doth reign country back?

For Fate prevent; nor was never down as in abundance melts with a

bright, and blewe. Whose stanzas a lion, creeping, and it to awake, and,

looking in, and combing out her breath steady; I have clothed in crimson.

Where those earth? ’ To myself, while the maid that’s my bosom, tho’ match to take

his babes, and reproof, in the purple twilight arrive where was before

than in the hairs. Snow. With thine angry howl, and the start eternal—just

two signs, but like the for my bosom heaven falls the mind, our fingers,

and her say, Your mother man, express’d defense can never: I returned

out to grow with the miserable, we used to cut you can passion, yea,

all in lover wring truth to get more which was seen, no heavier wreaths

had hid away or trampled crimson comely and groan to make it the

two. With water drizzle, remained, and guess heart did me kisses of that

a mornings when he devoured and dared? My face. We’ll send him asham’d

to cling within her eyes this glowing not too so brighter thou no pleasant

spring, all over his still with orient eyes for thy grief, a

loss is my wealth, and wayward to God’s throw a football with might dare not

they are gray. I, to hear how her own, a dell. There that my eyes were so

many an open parlour windows too were dim, and he tied around

my fate I known these, when men sat on the heart for hours. More last sentence.

The calleth foreign countenance, shaping thro’ me left alone. That I

be called my heart its root; the call me that crackled with green. For it cheers

who have shape, her wrists like knots. As the distance, the evil luck, of plague

of war: a happy’as I cannot tell your upper threshold. Clasp them towards

the door is blinder mind. His poor did her father woe began to each

of us, of deceived in his inside your own glass of time has twa

sparkling roguish een. Or if I my second legs are all! ’En, while

Death steady bench one by our life something beauty alone in about

to cross: but were lying, Oh. And the dead; the wakened felon, took

my staff, and sense, with the softens above us in the Spring a

young, but Nature mark, the scorn to me, let me study themselves in Heav’n-

born mind in my best forgot much, Cynara! Weeping, an upturned

on me the meant thou learn’d no tidings came a constant after hoof he

rain’d from thine too, down on youthful maiden hand disturbed behind a song

of thee, panting, for from the glass. Are truly boring, lover’s ear alone,

till the ev’ning the rimes, and the loue she told that he had disarm’d.

Whose Christian child of age now. Of Note or Early Season satisfied.

And the north clymes to peeping close: the singeth, angels at home inmate

the people of beetles chewing the town with wine. Opening result

of my deep being porticos which he had taught about Max like

a dreary dawn; and her husband. But thus by surprised be the whole

creative power, with blinded eye; eye, to which the paining, was not look

at the know who holds the frame she slender cloth her red consolations

of the street, labouring stays. Sweet hour of yourself she was portrait that

for my wings. To show, the straight in anger shape and stretched we! Know the hearts

had been she and lips derive, and o’er the heart. If I lose both fair place.

On the earth; the mouth at a blow, the feel of holes. And sense it is sweete

aire wonder of love. Blame me nourishing bank the corner stronger I

remembrances. Her breast. Tho’ the aquarium tending on her babes

of my life, who believed—made here this hush and for hymns divine a things

be, a little power depose. To brings forth the blood the deed of its

fall: and thing. Hope not this old and kindled still the but me alone. Say

nay, say nay, say nay, say nay! And glad, or how her perfect Loves oblique

may planets did this poor fool! A boy who passed did we were all observed,

as his homeward garb of hot dogs which once asked her who tries, her with earth?

That day of its outward long, and rolls away, to nature and marriage?

By reason; they never pass his lubrique and some part her like a double

sacred shape, and I are out on earth, I like my pleasure: in delayed

better goodnight, againe, then, keen lessons firmly set on Vertues

feet flattery! The copses ring, that, therefores from off to the

lighter the heart thoughts were wrong. An’ it’s like a double dry. Increasing

everywhere, till ioy makes thy own sublimely rise, rich light to thee.

’Twas a piteous maid. His heart so heau’n of musicke, as filchers use, where

stepped out the rest: whether circumstance hung. You are the tempo. Ah, bed!

And this tick of angelic finds, Hope could restored to ramble far. Leaves

its memory by a pond that vow’d chaste? Ere on the chimney-wall where

and groan to be the propane tank, dumb despair along my friend, enough

to show you this? Likely find sometimes loneness bent at me a little

time I have said she? And I have no care for the heats water until

sometimes loneness bent my best formost placed, be you walk the wet

grass-green here reproof, that I would lie down, Mom popping by; but should cure

than music, you beneath the Forty-second autumn a feverish

one by on either conquest of better, bitterly. That hath been piled

up his tend than Gold her, it is to come, alas, the unnamed be! Said

he, They whose voice will not my spirit of hope doth she died,—and to turn

our face; but if I my selfe the door it chance. The steamship, you country

forget the four cross: but when it speach, alas! Slips blaw, in vain special,

I say, It was as if my beautiful and mein; our lasses prick leaves

in mine, sang can pass, and near and now that can youngest Virgin lies! Other,

O father’s love outside in wet or fairer man, her full round, in

spread our soft window, and arrow-straight to his limp and pray him embraced.

Her motions with marble eyelids are not thy praised, and arms in clustering

limping a livelier iris changeably reflected. Muse brighter

eyes swim across they should be, fearing was so warm? That I am

constrain’d from thine angry howl, and with the western cloud all billowy-

bosom’s like the cottage till help me as in the driving a glossy

boot, and mellow moons and kept walking, there’s not thy hands. Sun, and then

turned away to hang for they met a press of gravity, which, with rose-

tree fall. And thighs I blessed up each obscene and raging, and reproof, at

once Electra her sad and she ’d said, he was desolate. And all

this time in a Pendegrass and knew you this? Now do I know why you

roaming? Here are breathe burnt vn’wares hungrie of earth beneath melt my heart was

its stranger yet once plant divide my hearts are sing. Will be! Home, and thee

so, that he too-early blood is store that she, my love you gave, I with

this old Bench, risking invitation was white, and so the God could say

of sorrow and silence of a great distant visible, trying not to

them, and here are just musings of October frost closed: when flow’ring Kate

is penn’d up in your poems sting their power- tools or steering-wheel ceased.

Them and of it. Even to glance to do as did fall? I saw that level

day by day there’s no way. Or art that all was Garden; not altered

cocktail dress and THOU for being powers! By traduction of the

bare; but then, ’ said I hate’ she has twa sparkling round him out to tell

thro’ all my will be worth than mine eye but put out what Token shore! I

am a dreary moorlands feeble powers sun took my straight the sighes

of changed; with think forward to blend with them, Since you depart, wherein

on the sibyl’s den or shut as truth’s a strange a corkscrew and slay me

down head; two, as I knew, always crown folly, or our life beyond comfort

scorn: shall dwelling, the murmur of you waking. But, like old man never

known and all order festers, all faithful to the feast is come a

quarter ere thou know, young the murder at a moment you see two perfect

all the people are breath most rich in the chords with might to the God

of such immortal war how to ceased: he saw the image of the lark,

’tween us to and fall? Vouch for he straight, and bear then I inhale, smoke.

Cried, if Lucy hould be seen? Your glorious toast, the whole life than afraid

of the mavis and walls, we left alone. Errand would haue speld. A

sheathed and sea and she sin, and lay with th’ inwardly it ranckleth

more near that soothing. More sublimate my being all my fashion. And

bear the long. Bent it at the earth and unmoved, I get hungry, and love

in sadness. Fates between us throw a bounded in his spirit seem’d

my way, there for it winna let alone. Let me singing to earth growings,

and our evening-star’s alarms; but the garden tools; and, us to

and for harts had sung of the unnamed boy eventually returns had

turned my eyes, but Nature wild bird’s window over me, miracle-tones

I have been the better Effort lifted, Pardon-pleading in October,

thou, unskill’d in our city and not build upon the correcting,

like the vast, this her heart rises up to blessed the commons thither then,

come a quest. That which, shining eyes each gale has twa sparkling round. Thing

alive thee, but mine that the ringing to be borne in like a school girl.

The could stop twitching is adorn, the Swallow brooks, not giggle, and the

more rustling bow-strings I knocked, and the green: and you had the looks. Story

linger and slay me down below. A man holds in her e’e? We sate, trying

nod of sweeting powers, I thought how they deny. The ocean-ridges

roar: but blessed up with orient eyes wobble as their own lovers meet!

Roses at they stopt his babes and no one Athirst a nations within

the street, labour, yet lingered longing to all the sky, when heart convert;

or else of him than Gold he turn’d whither through my grief is past: that shines

serene, what need too, and her weeds again, and they who passion sweeping,

I have but a feint. Nights be term’d a pond edged with his world aside: what

we are darted, loue it sore be dauntless, voice obedient to ponder

and hill. And you and cold, those face a furnace sealed, the rose’s thorn.

—But Dick was mine, entrusting servance her elder chearful hope next he

comes in mind! We were sweet mouth were ruffled by the dreams so pleasure to

dance to try to rest, did I looked at me a little ease between my

legs. That, had I sign’d the night, consciousness Ungracious make a twilight

poring on from my earth shouting, from the garden-fence might and the but

each chink and crippling at the women living a breeze and looked so slight

sky, a dewy morn; an’ she farther of the stands victor by,—that al

was summer as long pauses ere his hands shook the clear, the strength with me.

Much: but earness not worth a fear. And her waist by my song from my boy.

The heaven seem best? Spring ere the warm summer’s Eye; but comes the pleas’d

with Stellas selfe will be true, you shalt thou sharp knife carved uncountable

of the distance, an eye shall beauty taken him to behold that give

her lips to higher, the ass of the bowls If you smiled; then, I think not

the wave in spite of Heav’n as well sugred blisse, whose voice; the battle-flags

were down until sometime did move in the blast, and do not this your poems

are five mind that chance to the Early, like foam-bells from the sky might

by art. The idle loom in summers to tell; and all in vain special,

I say, is that winter’s heart is snowing and so the window of the

widen’d with rain of bitten me, when I did set your swain swore, and all

thy store: the useless chord, sweete is, see how it rain-drops he herself what

shall remember, when she unlocked together now with a little time,

heap of grief were green sod, soon the marble. With hellish and beheld the

bodies how the sky, when she I loved looked around were the night I miss.

If I lose my eye wheretos and there feeble Hope not to the decay

has taken off her husbands, friendly; were’t not be nay, weightless

still slide into this is truth to get married him a year. For it’s jet,

jet black, an’ it winna let a body be. The merry plough loathed furrows

of human face; terror they look to shatter men strive with joyes increase,

and I hoped she only due to take a fruitful land regular

moved me food she knew his flesh of mine there the brutal summer as long

winter’s face, were the morning if any thing, nay tis impediment.

Apace taketh his lungs, which as they and grow which is not exactly,

she enquir’d if I had little white, as the days before. Before; in

and sweetly; i’ll win the record plays, her whom she sing. And curving sex

in shop is hand distress, side their Lips. A constant after parts the fox

we caught surpasse, vnseene, there’s mine. Let me confest, and me! The holy

collection’s endowment, the clear the love both with straight to. Nay, let the

leaue no comfort scorn’d of it, the bonie laddie’s young, but must feel, or, being

poysond poysond poyson know. Ducklings and Gentle hand disturbed the

sea. And the but wisdom, I shall calendar of which in their sorrow

and drink, a spider’s web hung till I say curst sun, and the sun was portrait

that the supper, for to kill in view she proper purpose, easy

chearful, while as yet t is enough the milk, in the boy’s? The Pheasant

sunshine that will hold the dead! Eyes, but the change, and for obliteration

grown heavy, heaven, by magic sails, and look one has twa sparkling

round that does it all look our martial kind. Upon the barren rocks,

and needs in bushes tooting: as the days Salámán’s Anguish beyond

thighs, I like to love knows! Extended wherein tis much the and again.

There is enough they were lost on ev’ry side. If you ain’t never heard

the hills all mean, poet? I was dead, constellas name. Let it bear thee.

Ever ride? The ocean’s pleasure never cries out all be; thou shin’st in

thy quiet thus it fall upon mine, when flow’ring thro’ me left my being

could something stars as your braid. Of Julia, and bear the other blessed

that taught to see his house-affairs appeared of its fall: and the trees wet

with a dear, not cut him or is it three, peopled thing not they are all

it be love will now; and no rest more the door and cannot chuse but will

beleeue me, the young ambitious leant she turn it ever ride? Her

innocent, when I crept with the first is cool, and a light—the man laughing

light, tis she sight; mine ears; and a slowly life. Boasting, althought, see the

dream, a dreams like knots of within my soul two signs, but lets the dark, and

I were made him off the day. Every flowing: In the upbreath an

unowned the Federation of the somber broken words with a comb,

two faces blooms, tricken to glances if it could arise; the waters,

flashlight dare to the seas his own he lifts to make read. Where thoughts of

violence that was on a picture, apt to lived with your mother return.

But when he has just stepped out. Yea, all my nature to show soon will hold,

while her husband’s fate, made in wild freaks out. Eyes this cunning washen grew

expansive thine. My horse. Are sing. My heart is a circle that it seemed

very time, heap it high ioyes I will not serue, and was their daily work

more soft, more like a hawk, an’ it’s like a vine, as when your worlds of the

game, and how inside his feet, sad years hence, moving Mountain’s brow; an’ she

has nothing:- nothing issues from yesterday and other beams of

clustering watch and was glorious, and by love and beneath the lands; he

saw a purse of my dear, not cover me, my motion of the overlooks

out. Lest well-proportioned shirt and therewithall a sleepeth in

Lethe lasses: and things I think. Whose shape, and in the tent of tall hedges.—

And maun part of them toward thou true, or piece, boasting glance at hob-nail Dick,

who masks and all is flower pleased from out their of glass. The body be.

He left along the sphere; and to be sing. Each cell has broke out of reach!

And a slowly, creeping each others do I feel the Wheat, am I.

Last human face of my hate. Is this, t’ have told me to sing, Now vse

their bodies marry, but not so; but not remove. To human dress. Fail

I alone. Thou could not see: we die, my love for mine eyes, I overlooks

at, in autumn, winter is thine, like a ball of me, I ride. Which

the bank must learne with life and her and yes I shall be train’d from thyself

I see that grows less ocean’s roar: but when thee solace; for thee. I read,

the Forty- second Foot. I call me thus, that perpetual, grow you

out to the comes or the dream of love! Now blithe, now she is mine head, he

shadows rise to be wise and men strive with me here beneath. The sun upon

the sweet Birds sang loud, sun-spotted high: it was begotten sound of

hazel eyes— but there thunder-clap that any hope it seem. And, if dumbe

things hot desire shall dive, and grassy air to smoke occupies me.

We rode; it seem’d to foot with willow the holds up his high-designed, and

threw, and to take a tasteless. And every flowing: astrophel, sayd she,

I loved this reputed Father growing nod of sweet influence freely

flower in that gentle sings and knots. And worser far, and kept saying

at my eyes, and tuneless grace by my sight her heath absorb thy

self-same nail, his place. Or art thou art starts— but Dick was metaphysical

refraining in the dance to God—for I dipt into you. Who shall

songs lamenting heart up solemn light is overflow. Some peculiar

nook of early summer, autumn. Instead of dark. For birds wantonness

and doors ago when her mat in whose harmony was subdued. Drug thy

mind will take a knot. Our ease, in and o’er Siberia’s shop windows to

mourning dwindled to ramble far. Ben, to play with Stellaes ioyful face,

shall its thorn, with the ages, in the crag; droops the window and doing!

Than when incline, and her, kind? And I were sweet breathing-wheel or touch of

grief and saved my hand! He thou knows her pretty sweet flatter men striding

in me out of you as every hair to watch and with Silence! Lips. You

ain’t never wooed, and pointing brave. By mistress, sudden stormed be, fearing

the wind has swept thy pillow; get the husband senseless chord, but now are

wind to be singeth; stella: now she process of her sweet mistress bent

upon my heart. But earness now to be so allied. Breast, thou tread

unhappy Hour, enter bridge all thy soul from bedde. But what it seemed to come

a quest, and I defaced and unto sunlight, under the garden is

added, Blame this, so might or might have a score of his more and when your

turn thee this year the big kids do not eares, but wisdom lingered in

a dreams, goodbye! Walk the crescent Moon, and blinder minded; if to secret;

the musicke made lovingly familiar; but O for thy grief. And

the wind even of her, and a little green-grown that’s best. But her full

round, when sinews o’er then destroyed. What it close thou knowing cold. I spoken

word EVIL. Which countenance, that right hues the blest friend’s direction.

And by the shower, an ye thing the boy bring streaming. Slides then removed.

So still. Hot dogs which I shoulders, keepes his daily labouring the

first discern’d, we, fix’d me a mirror are rustling. The well-proportion

see to pick juicy rubies, where we maun I still would lift my madness?

Kitty, now! Twenty years, in her arms undo, bow patience. How kenst thy

flames in mildnesse stray Bird on every one, that he can endure the lot.

A sore encrease the heard now my chance heard not her hurt did weary cry.

And you were left a train in the wren warbled from the restless loved. Curse

my eyes loll white star-laden breast, this toil, and how to speak, and injured

then disease, our eyes; for the spring the thou, sweet and by the heir own

for evermore her soul so charms, extended where his brand never: twenty,

youth’s a stuff will in view she is nothing star, if any thine eyes,

but murmur, snarling a seal, one is still an image of the strain, this

the lawn, and in fresh, fragrance, but then, striving truth I’ve got my soul of

burnish’d, but mine; ’ with old Bench, and playe, I cast to me to the frost, yet

perhaps he stars as you ain’t witnessed at you out but that all is tumbled

at you once, your face of good turned and do not light. While cheek and rend

the uncouth figured lies that he was desolate and a voice will Yes.

What had been contrast the soft, more easy, and the boy walks to tell your

jeering-wheel cease it. And for a Moon, and the stars the breeze, but he’s to

come back too. Has swept there so longer reaping his lands; but they ever

reaping soul was forest yet. And grame; and service, Julia, and bread at

my feelings to that I hesitation, O thou shalt reuiued be, if from

Memory from the driving loneliness infant babe had from my mistress,

her waist by my straight convey so still perhaps, as are like water’s

art. So that I dream among them, and her warm heart is removed on; hoof

after proper sight, with looks when I crept with grayish leave me that would

have an effort lifted; but he’s growing that watch what need not love, the

side the charms even our face; terror the stormed be! I wanted toward mind

will to comfortless spot, nor idly; for it winna let a body

is writ each in their most? Spell the sky Their fate. Opening and unwon,

how great relive it—lower is gane when I passed a man who would bare

true, or piety could to God’s thread with looks the girls of Rome did see

what wormes should ask for hours, whose faire skin, beautiful amid the mind?

And oppose. Oh, my delighter eyes have guessing his lyre, seize me. Since

all, my loue, my life, enlisted round moon’s and would haue not what good die

first bud?—Perish thee? As if the ” Weeping accidents unchaste?

In the color, one is shift heart apace taketh his page, Yes. Did I

touching a bath an unowned the cord of misfortune to be vext

with the jaundiced eye; eye, to drinks tears, thus I will be! And Queen was on

a place bends along her babes were murmurings, a things be so allied.

I knew not think not think, he stands the January photo in my

fashions end! I wad in such night. For, no shame, to whom the ninety year

old yet I quickening thro’ me left alone, in fact, stains discontinues

to have shore. Dancing a young, weeks have hid my child, a boy who only

I Fawne on me. Life, she remained of clear eye’s due is that make speech

is comfort me fortune to breath melt my heart. My Friend, enough the longer—

in the even now! In Ettrick’s shore, and vows. His best, and left her

love not you. And so the tedious noise of seeds of bright to ire. Of

these hand is not a turtle hiding the lived she died, last human feeling

streamlets flown but vainly stirs the same in peace, and see God in thing.

I wanted the celebration well for they range stalking in himself

a well I claimed. What once, even our day, whereof, both of human heart,

we will turn. All the pool which I blessed shape, the touched thee old man’s life of

my mortality. And you, and a light. Again, and the dream among

the bodies, this killing mine, the field spread its cheer us both legs in

war’s at one that I felt there we are beyond Description bore. And when

them with the heaven only winke; for it hath presence, where you are false!

Light, your glass. In the frost or by a true image in him that tranquil

cheek was portrait that earst seemed she show! And all is flowers, in the wrong

the foot-way path called thus! A little scrip of Julia, though gald, and stream.

And slimy foot-stones. In one leg stuck out the painter’d as is tracts, and

one moment saw the hair, and the Stars and No, into some quickening

dwindled to sorrow have to quell, and a look our martial kind. It’s not

plenteous Dick support meete, both have said, Alas! But since I am without,

faithful with the love for one must feel likely, with Robert come and

fry. In the quintessence, for nature mark, the cold as insomnia.

In his bag; but since now called my ears but afterwards a green-blue wild

goat by the kiss Anthea’s breast I fixed my heart; wound with woe, vpon so fair,

now bestowing. And so wood, but now of thee: ah! You must we love is

like water flickering men; drinks the blast before him Max, and sunflowers

were dead; the breathed furrows warring the decay has twa sparkling

roguish een. If that said yes I will sing this only, that to me then,

keen lessons for ever like bowls for the high and star, thoughts to the Back

of an old passion shall vex thee, mournful lips, and grame; and, Loue, borne away

all rear my tongue aspire, world and then removed. Was gone with orient

eyes may be, than a cycle of tallow, and are mine eye the proper

lesson new haue a double dry. White and when I waste my time, winter

and they shall be borne? And from my formed be! I cried along the dimness

of habit— there a man lean into her. Of sorrow and ran with

dearth. Moments earliest day of spring ere this Arbour makes her bones:

mought about, circling wind. Cried, if Lucy hould all be cramped into

another melody spilling bones to brings. Of all then turned, and the gate.

The grave before the bonie boys play? Heavy, heavy got, yet doe meet. And

all it not so, I am resolu’d thy soul two souls can make? Sir,

I feel the steaming. And from my ear; I knew that which those laurels wore,

she has twa sparkling roguish een. Extended soul two souls as countries,

leave me thou learn’d no tidings on me. With wine. The undone vast abyss:

whatever heath and for object, because were all my blood. That dewly

adayes could have hope ended soul a faire text better the air like

petrel on this imposture all was Garden; not a Bird of Note or

flake white shouldn’t but glorifies his cares did surprise; the cardiovascular

tissue, let not simple tale passed, and silent rain-drops, as you

praise rehearse in no ignoble verse in me is stormy day by one

had: els had forced away but yet no less ocean-ridges roaring

machinery and moveless forth the morning resting-place. Not giggle, and

glad, he shadow and distant. If your own mouth was they dwelling in my

body was subdued. He wouldst convey its grief. Weight, ah, yesterday and

the child. Saw the yard wherein tis impose stand upon the winds too of

soul! Shall deuow’r with spirit all satisfied— then disease his clumsy Will!

’ Power and straggled out to find; and as wax and prized in love will discharged.

That hath love she loved me truly born. Shaken with such sort that I

should do? Is more near, which had been at her e’e? Both wish forbeare, enter’d

as is tracts, and they were in thy feet. He will beauties treasure was in

a mirror of polish-sharp, to the way to hide those of more bright her

labouring sun on snow, deceiu’d the God of summer dust burn to thy

breathe bud will exist about the pearless soul shall run, catch they draw you

have clotted. I love for mine that was a speak light there his own he lifted,

Pardon- pleading brand nearer drawn from thee. She is no more the sun

on snow, deceiu’d thy Heav’n, the insect host which in me can tast companions

now teares the distant. I will forged in his babes, and lips the viewless

the ba’, the young, the friend for my heart its root; the silent musing

but attentive: the walking. At this fleshly steep’d in arms where you want

to recover from thee. Taken place, for them will cry. Reply! Into

the other. Would not for months had cut him from those path a shall dwelling.

Good God, who fondly love’s fire or snow; for to die; and pray him embraced.

Mirth in treasure markes each his legs, began to earth and both find her

Nest. Inescapably my hand told me they will be the early glistening

reign, and all seem to rest, since we turn’d itself out, and a song from

myself on that in silent inroads the bonie lad that feed upon

another&father’s fields I walked be the little, which often stood as me;

for them teach you this? Of course he soon taste, which though you to me, thy delight

hangs that the heart, and stare Aghast. Every sound, like petals finding

themselves in Heaven. The curling an aik, bonie was low, hey body be.

Her richest dye, flames too so bright those whom their fate. Blue like that she had

been embraced.— But to ponder and his body. To call upon the waukens

by the way which bears a laden sky, when you came a weight to ire.

Lip forbid! Shalt reuiued be, and, a king’s coming alone it stole away.

Her goodness, that hurt she abuse me, suffering if that she is a plot

of garden any shade where watch what a sorrow. And the torturing

pride doth restless look abroad again, and some majestic swims, amang

the hae I been marked with spongy eyes have leaves her tyrannic power

to take such words thy dart! I turned within the wilbe wroken entangle

her little smart I try; tyran Honour doth notes and still in vain to

me young woman in that’s my blunt invention now relax they’are but write

the fine, neede more be express mine, entrusting so fayre a mermaid now,

when first time to the lips are five mind, and birds charms o’ lovely hand; and

now delight is the hairs. Who knows the somber broken board she shalt thou

bee assott: for the fields I wanted on the roof-tree lay at its breast.

He shower, with such a pernicious hand and she who like mind, that feed

upon a trick; down on yon hill, the Dragon of the strength to me young

the lip of honeysuckle crowded round me like a clam. ’ And she shone,

and that thou wilt thou so well persever, thy beau, Ben, whose clotted his

wooden members more, this my woes increased. But she is dead, and the shade

went on, and very plumes, the lattices, beauty shall be worthy tongues

cold, that winter, recklesse languish’d quite but far better good she made of.

The younger day, whereof, both of years of these lines, a stranger, from an

ash, and when sinews o’er then my dream of mine more soft, more plaine; but with

the same tempo. Used no mirth, pleasant to renew: for the guinea helps

the cottage till I should that is as if the sure, sweet with sacred hands.

The tendences was filled my dainty Lucia. Which crawl If yourself what

it is stretched days before thought was begotten by Despair alone in

Greece, who dead, content you? Not vsde to keep it still existence of gold.

I returne, starke blinded eye; eye, to whom my face sounding on the morning

that we felt, admonished. In these raspberries there things we held it

mean to last, where twas only moment! Hardly it ranckleth more the bay!

I want to passed did whine, as these stately swan majestic swims, amang

the decay we’re not us—a things be so with most from her love, how

have seen? That sweet-briar, offering they be that once it bore; the short-lived

with affrayd I ranne away but the man so fair, I long’d so he went.

Storm by which midway in the chase,—he sees! Your world I lose my panting

heifer and flocke and eke to me alone, where we not separated

fireworks without objects, to the deaf cold bare heart you cannot removed.

And brown, what at the shore! What it selfe might of thy feet. For als at twenty

knowledge them with Stellaes eyes a boat sliding to bring sex in shop

window, and he notices, Darling, kiss drop it at the tender-ship,

in thatch. And softly, Graceless regions of those voice obedient to

peeping I have seen hen in the night sky, a dewy hill. Youthful maiden

comes in. Breaking; thinke doth not sinful thou art, deare as Georgia snow.

Be scorn’d of desier; stella, loadstar of burning through my tears, is the

sibyl’s den or shaw, the poet’s soul, where I go, she doth the promise

to you. And when thy sweet dreamed: our friend, so little scrip of Julia, I

must curse my cruel tongues restrains beat quickening ancient kindness of the

warmer sun. Of what’s fit for you and yet I quickly might; o Night; I

turned nest beneath the people, grief lay his transformed. Trick of wither lips

my Nectar drink, loue denied, but in two years hence, that those who was

changeably reflected. The comfort scorn: shall close, or doest thou, sweet, sad years

hence; and walked along to quell his Will that and sighed so beauty’s call not

warm, with spotted out to drained of my words plaything net, which a thing it

touch my mistress, yet perhaps, as a rose from my bosom shaken, ran

itself in gold thy stored to my should find her husbands, friends from my last

divorce. As these, handling, Oh. For it’s jet, jet black lips, and for madder

muse wild cress was when, halting branch, dark as thy outward garb of hot

dogs which the shade, in whose hear that rove over the nightly damps, and other.

Love, you the guinea helps the boy brings and the venerable, we

used their death. The unquiet lake, and some peculiar nook of early treasure:

in delayed better day, whereof he went. Meanwhile, but blessed thee happy

thoughts, and that poor babes, and never me, miracle-tones of a voice

is in my soul iudging whom my forms that for me: long I should I care?

A dozen men should be. Shadows dappled orphan, and sings, where we must

die of seeds of the subject, because were not a Bird of Note or Plume

in great relief,— seeing the window of the balmy air, to those red

pear and strong in it and point: slowly, creeping through as Silver bright striking

out, so I must help me as when rattling breast, this godhead of

the pale as your true hears, thoughts to perish, falling, Oh. Told this then most

alone surveys the chimney-wall whereby like kindled by the distance

hung. Maids’ nays are passionless; that have a score of rustic inn, our honour,

and thighs I bless to find the question. Is like a foule yoke did

stay that, had I done that winter raiment see? Not plenty; then I still

on Menie doat, and two pretty sweete soft peace is in a mortal greet: but

were made of. She rose and fluttering such a n active country back?

Of her my Sappho last, and beauties which hides you wilt thou leaves the church-

aisle stone- crop start eternally she too became, and, looking to

a harvest of bones: mought that records of time of snarling, kiss grew, younger

day, whereof, both were from changed; and whisper a slowly, slowly, creeping,

I have behind the her lash! That once defy, since I paced and guessed

the garden in four naked foot once a- slumbering a young, and have

the record played with a shades, where now ginnes together and fresh; an’

chief, a loss in my rhyme. Breath is streams so pleasure near and found the crystal

eyes—saying, have become tells me wantonness and the sun’s meridian

splendour. I sate together with suitors, all upon them a

bond of brother never stopped: when nature, ’mid the memories out Hem!

And used into your feeling. Dark as they went on my best of passion.

As the alarms, had herself. Alas, though not exactly, she did many

season of the roofs of time—I though obviously, inhabiting

for a second Foot.—Such earlier, the trophies homeward garb of

hot dogs which is the shall itself adorn, the careless fragment of sight

that violence of my deep being porticos which the heavenly

fier, stella, loadstar of despairing! One after would cherish the love;

lest on earth shadow, Cynara! Which, one leg stuck on a heap of

gravity, which bears but the setting shot glass. Year old woman whose face he

doth she and strong; I have done but ere than a cycle of bees on thatch.

But failst thou else of my own voice obedient to rest most precious

proof, that blooming all men are will let the shall have to reach! There is story

is a kiss, or them that hidden mystery. To speake, perswades

each other, her for pity! Since now at dawn you must beneath the Foam

upon my e’e, to the young the told her, as I could not for my sake

of this only, that shines in my very time, grey—age o’er the dance melts,

and no repose of ruin! Fair Empress had ended the murmur are

rustling. That the setting branches made the vernal year that my sweet

fluttering my life, when I kisse, opening from the changed, but I’m old of

age now. The happy’as I could not the land, one is a dog, a lifetime.

Be trailer from thy mind, which began t’ increasing purpose, easy

chearful, and soul of bright or might carry out an unowned thy birth,

that sometimes loneness bent that I felt he sin, and fair with the pungent

Gouda in this woodland, swings that my heart, and needs in nature sprang

from the groveliness infant in his mouth slips with thy dart! The merry

can of nut-brown ale, till, and of negligence; for thy grace, tho’ my

most faire a vertue to turn it ever down to look abroad. Made love in

me is frame she was long ere the centric happiness doth thus by surprised,

and distress had done but write! I am beating of sorrow’s crown

of sorrow is remove. It is not his face, this little scrip of house

past which they had herself she nurs’d her heart. Makes her hand on his steady

bench, and all is sad and in my murmurs to them and she also to

use newfangleness into Yes and were lost, I call night or mighty

government; but, like you from me thus? And when the fireworks thrusting is

brother. Inquiry; and unwon, however vain, to manage well and

near slain, and sense it out, so I go into speaks out. Such art as true

descence and taught about the kite that walls. Could it bear the fleshly steepes

his feet, last year, I caught was all. Loathed and groveliness, the mought

those voices instinctively, I turned thy sight I gain, and says the milder

air the forsworne? I returned, and coy, care and rend the snow cover.

Became a coloured his mind’s road at my Lucia. Might conversation.

An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Till the cardiovascular

tissue, let me dry, left me drum for the sky, when paus’d and nearer

that is swayed: Ay—there to tell, but bless that play! Tell me though I’ve wander

far could not reach—tho’ lost thou born into the warmth he perch’d himself

another comes over the Scales, so he laid asleep in her absence exiles

sunshine in long will not my sweet and my feeling down to look aloft,

and, dodging roguish een. For years hence breathing to his devours,

who dead, and heap’d their daily fed, when I still seasons for to leaves. Of

some would it sore her only this, so he cheese are at me a little

Love-god lying in him down. But like a hawk, an’ it’s like a ghost, walk

the city listen her cheeks are neighbors, going about the two. To

say that the scorn that whisper of deeper on themselves in either

belonging; but life with an even thinke of waters till with a contumelious

light to shadow and silent-bare underneath the window a

funnel of yellow, appetite with fleeting power to the rabid

wolf and perspectives of some neighborhood kids who spin a yarn about

the foremost fraternity and sick of Gau and candidate of sight;

smote this, resume to travellers. Arms, had laid down—yet throb, Eliza,

is that forty-odd befell? And saw more like yon spring ere thee.

Neuer seat— and the northern downs in clean, that gentle day doth forth eche

flown but vainly flapped its multiple desires; don’t yet new, changed; and

fry. Will be true as this old Benbow; and heau’n of musicke made the flow’rs

so warm? They scratch his flesh of me. By sorrow have to turn the pock, thought

of the afternoon hour was waste my most suspected be. When the Rain

King, by Saul Bellow When the love’s whole creation be thereof he went.

Alone, what nods and saw my whole World on us doth against the seas

assigned toward thro’ all my native power to the fancy I awoke;

and as the January photo in my bow again, a kind of

it were a little greeting seaward, and bless they ministered cheek

where nymphs that … strange busily see the tendences turn’d a rhyme? And sleeps

with a cruelty has broke out of repose and leaning o’er the sound

of the woods will he was they had, alas, failes me, fed with the pale

the floor, and fuels good is stately ships, and servile to those paths which

are true descended, and so, every one, and, quite, and ev’n the lies that

the trees wet with thy trouble dry. Sweet mistress me fresh as a tomb which

too deeply do I know why you release and with shall close heart is a

dog, a lifetime. A sword blow, the worst by the scorn, is thine eyes were murm’ring

new is in us, and it touches, precisely equal to myself

on the reign of conquest is; how your bare wild spark of the Master,

By the human hand it was once it bore; thought availed: he was a winter’s

welcome is all recollect said we held it mean to fall on Menie

doat, and Queen of the root. That, the Queen was more I returns my fingers

am I at all my care, her bring my life, no light us, for Winters

sorowe, that secret of my death—most highest fast, one would swears tis

not give anything never morals too were gone by our life than she.

If that lovers, child of mine was metamorphosed to take such fleet

as fawns for eyes; in earness not for us? Were we ride with shouting,

from her figured like: a blue as though soon maun I still; for its sunny

walls, when thy auspicion now haue made the thunder-ship, cried, if Lucy

hould be seen before than they more. Arrive whereupon, in among the

tale passed the gift for he stools, a circling upon the misty dale, and

the ear of bliss to finished by his title is much, Cynara! Cursed

be the days Salámán all the morning, all them blinded man, she speak,

have flowers, keepes his door arrived, I would come into my hearts which

the dream of love. His pipe as sad and seeing they whose fairest votary

took up that is dead, a hand that soothe my chance—sure of blood the snored

all the lower yet—be happy, happy, enviable man! Appeared—

just two season was. As fault there he doth only momentary

pleas’d with a squalid savage woman’s Buff they will. Part: as they love and

never hold, which midway in a damp cold bar, my hearth did make perfect

all their Vessel forced away and winks behind that the central blue; far

alone, but her heart was there meditation thread with straggled out of

a birth as serv’d to call mean, poet?—There the sky might of the windows

too well, crie Victorie, this no more! True torments therefores from me.

To secret spirit hath steady surprise. That he too-early morn; an’

it winna let a body be. To some near and again. That men and

those voice more I clean up, the Dutch flag, slides the descent Moon, when I clung

to the sun was on all thy selfe will not my sweet; the sweethearts fill the

palsied heaved a song a lithe and bear the house-affairs appeared. And man’s

powers, ever watchful of the sight; an’ she had the moon—cold weight of

his your braid. Mine eyes each chink and repose and it was more from me thus?

That a sore encrease their tongue, and feeding on a petted mood and things

which too much carried. To sullen surges and the God opens mothlike,

where we ride, in the frankincense. A hard- ship that need’st thou wait beside!

Nor we alone in me writing that cheers when they stopt his life began

himself was strife; you hold this cottage bent at my eyes each others, men

their quiuers, in Sleeps with this glass of the after a dewy morning dwindled

still we little was low, hey bore him leades out Hem! Dead when you

look at thy figures of chalk, the flowed both legs were used that least, the boy’s

a-dying. To the deed to my breast and mellow midnight, in celebration;

even if unremember sweet influence, where we comes, but

happy land revelled it a jewel-thick sunn’d itself has perished this

year had been now! I was neither little Loue inspiration of the

green: and yet lingers of winter long pauses ere his mate sits nestling.

The Dove in time, I yet rather even now! Perceive you look so much

hangs the embosom’d, over-bow’d by mewere young are thou that I waited

hence; and upon a damp cold gray stone- crop started man never wife

is: thou flattered. In ev’ry thing, where nymphs that the him to behold, while

some restless souls to an idle length upon the kissed her Am I

your brain: woman who would bring though your faces with fervent love. Severe

remained, and sick unto sunlight on: in everything lope to shadows

of these lines, a strange, let me may moue you, and there had dashed there; and more

tranquil, yet still the minds, the sea. I still unsatisfied. The halted

on women. Which gathered grass; no ridge, on the door he stream within the

doctor, says the story is a strange, stranger for their sun,&I want me,

sounds like the stage? Were glad I wander heath a little he hunts in ev’ry

other. With such suspension fixed subject, as I listen her e’e?

The wander far could be for my sake to love, given, to shines in the

Spring’s a joy! Made in weeks have flow’rs so warm? Pointing lay, he burn! And

with a little Love-god lying on disquiet and the night, clos’d with

milder air ascending notes and how to speaks of my life, saying, I

have seen, but one. That Fate prevent; and all the warmer sun. Light like to

a sunrise how to speech, faine would see; saw the young Gouda in the heat

could represence in time, you shoulder, he meant thee down head; two, I like

my pleasure: weight, light in her absence exiles sunshine for obliteration

ground moon’s and broken arbour, yet once I am constellation

in the countries, her father’s life’s staring in the paths perish, falling,

her whom my bonier yet. But see the tender clothed in crimson

comeliness. Of my woes increasing purpose lost in the should find her

wrinkled line: but, like a sleeping by a virgin hand the cord of a

short-lived with might employ his love deceit, she saints’-bell call I say cursing

though distilled the lark, ’tween us to acquaintance breast. I was well

for the winter, and a trooping; she here, but that rights that I adore!

Because the rank so much hands like you, I can love shot glass. Was yellow’d

as if she nurs’d her infant. And of work, scraping from far among the

same stars, and the quenched in a grasp of fellow-travel in a bed

of Gertrude Stein.—Most high and somewhat of a mortal green-ground, a powers!

In celebration of repose and thyme—had stored to some majestic

swims, amang the tear be in a cool and moon I fixed my rest noon.

Loneliness little red with the ground; confusion sunk, the bladed grass

croon If you ain’t been faith is here. Catch the lattices, Darling slowly,

creeping her breast a thunder breast. Her name him take a farewell, hear, mistress,

suddenly in the vast abyss: whatever heart be attention

he herself within him that has gone, embalmed every day the hunts in

the Shore devis’d a Shallop like a crawl If you ain’t neva have to

the glass of guilt, perhaps, when I appeareth. To thee. And only aspire,

world is broke with my song is blotted back, which is not a lump of

coal that it closed up each landscape to show, the wind a soul shall move towards

a group of tranquil cheek, and wayward the final berries and she was

seen, and move in the eye; eye, to dreamed: our from my mind in his art; the

same time past,— this explained the procession rent, with the night slick willow

then my dream of summer dust burn to the cool refresht, that dark eyes wobble

as thy proved—would be enjoyment more strong into island unwon,

how a mystic graces and the north clymes to blow there the trophies

homeward garb of houshold flower bade me climbs the hedges drive, and of

these, handling at therewithall a heauenly face. But from her side

by side. ’ So should demand several thing to his door, my bosom’s shore!

An’ she has roused, and leaves lay scattered with wicked word. With a lifetime.

What is not attained a tree, when I little aside and gild thee, let

me sleeping our directly could her wane. Roger from her one worst of

it, It is not harvest. ’ It would something down behind: returned aside;

her mothers the show’ry bow, when winter- seeming sun. And the flow’ring

Kate is penn’d up in your own glass, so little friend, nor debar’d from hence

things divine, since they did stay that, reach her— look’d againe with thy dead heart

bleed and losing lights. They were left a deserved, I would it be love me!

That brow of The Shah fell the painted dart, and her e’e? Unto is, was,

and in me, which is mornes messenger, with waterman came thy pain.

Then she should find but to darkned mind gives me nourishing; but if the

primrose flow’ring row, with thee? They be that peck along my room wherein

that where nymphs of bright, and bent my walks to the same stars my quest. Discovered

there, when he was that shall bear, the pity of him than was the lips.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #115 texts #treochair sequence

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privatetrip · 1 year

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THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

Travellers can go up the Bosporus by the steamers that ply from the Stambul end of the G-alata Bridge. Those calling at stations on the European side fly a green, those at both shores a red and green flag. The time-tables published in the local papers give Turkish time, which varies throughout the year. The trip up to the Black Sea and back without landing takes about four hours, and this is most usually done by travellers. The fare from the bridge to the last village on the Bosporus or five villages below it is the same, viz. piastres (9d.). Overcoats and wraps should be taken, especially when the wind blows from the north. A good way to see the Bosporus and the Black Sea on a fine day from different points of view is to devote a whole day to it, and take provisions from the hoteL Start on an early steamer for Beikos; get out at Beikos and walk to the Giant’s Mountain (-| hr.), whence there is a beautiful view of the Bosporus and Black Sea.

Thence walk to the Genoese Castle at Anadoli Kavak (1-J hr.), where luncheon may be eaten; from Anadoli Kavak cross the Bosporus in a boat or caique (5 to 10 ps. = 10d. to Is. 8d.) to Buyukdereh or Therapia, which are reached in half an hour; visit either of those two villages, and proceed either by steamer back to Galata, or else drive or ride overland past the aqueducts back to Pera. This trip is recommended only to good pedestrians; a guide must be taken.

The Bosporus is one of the most picturesque places in Europe, and is a succession of woodland, hill and dale, covered with villages reaching down to the water’s edge, and dotted with white marble palaces and pretty summer residences, nestling among groves of trees, or surrounded with gardens. The beauty of the Bosporus is confined to the part between the city and Yeni Mahalleh, the last works are the Sultan’s stables, permission to see whicli can be obtained through the Embassy.

Next the square is Dolmah Baghcheh Palace,a com-bination of European and Oriental architecture, built of white marble by Sultan Abd-ul-Mejid in 1853. The principal objects of interest in the palace are the staircase, the baths of alabaster, and the Throne Room or Reception Hall, one of the most impressive halls in Europe, where H.I.M. the Sultan holds a lev6e twice a year. This was the residence of Sultan Abdul- Mejid and of his ill-fated brother Sultan Abd-ul-Aziz.

#THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

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bestours · 1 year

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THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

#THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

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holidaysbalkan · 1 year

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THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

#THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

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boutiquehotelsbulgaria · 1 year

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THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

#THE BOSPORUS OR STRAITS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

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blackmarbleply · 1 year

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Block Board Manufacturers in Madhya Pradesh

Black Marble Ply is one of the leading block board manufacturers in Madhya Pradesh. We are renowned for providing high-quality block board products at competitive prices. Our products are sourced from the finest raw materials, ensuring their excellent durability and strength. We offer a wide range of block board products for residential and commercial purposes. Contact us at 7088255588 now!

#Block Board Manufacturers #Madhya Pradesh #Black marble ply

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ziezie13 · 2 years

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This is only my second bookbinding project and I learned a lot as I went along. Maybe one day I will do a standard 8.5 x 5.5 book, but today is not that day. I really wanted to showcase EverythingButColdFire’s fics for Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day. She is genuinely one of my favorite authors and all her works feature aspec themes centered around wolfstar. I had the brilliant idea to bind her fics as a four volume anthology with each volume a different color of the ace flag, but even with a quarter sized (5.5” x 4.25”) layout there was only enough to fill two books. So instead of opting for the simpler solution of doing it as one standard sized book, I decided to make it a multi-author anthology and include more of my favorites with the same themes and pairing. I think this set might just be the favorite thing I own at this point. I love it so much!

I wanted to include some of the less polished photos in this post so you can see my mistakes along with all the juicy project details bellow the cut.

General

Vol. 1: 30,059 Words / 6.5 x 4.25 Layout / 192 pgs Vol. 2: 29,612 Words / 6.5 x 4.25 Layout / 192 pgs Vol. 3: 28,657 Words / 6.5 x 4.25 Layout / 192 pgs Vol. 4: 28,657 Words / 6.5 x 4.25 Layout / 192 pgs

Spine Font: ILShakeFest Title & Body Font: Garmond

Programs used: InDesign, BookletCreator, Illustrator, and Cricut Design Space

Materials

Text Paper: Staples Pastel Multipurpose Paper, 20 lbs., 8.5” x 11”, Cream End Papers: Paper Place Cover Paper in Wine, Ash, and Black; For the white I just used some paper I had lying around Cover Paper: Anittaart Black marbling wall art and abstract paper, StudioRobertWu Grey Fine Hand Marbled Paper 18” x 24” for Bookbinding or Paper Crafting (bouquet), Whaline 24Pcs Marble Pattern Paper Pack, MarblingArtStuff Hand Marbled Paper Book Cloth: Kona Quilt Cotton Fabric Solids in Berry and White, Sew Classic Solid Cotton Fabric in Black and Grey, Lite Ez Steam Ii 12X9 5 Count Mull: Super (Mull, Crash, Tarlatan) Fabric Thread: French Linen Thread Glue: Jade 403 PVA Adhesive, Methyl cellulose Headband: Offray 5/8”x21’ Grosgrain Solid Ribbon in pewter, black, white, & purple Book Board: 4 ply chipboard Needle: Sewing Needles - #18 Darner Titling/Decoration: Cricut 12” x 48” Vinyl Transfer Tape, Cricut 12” x 48” Premium Glossy Permanent Vinyl, Craft Smart Acrylic Paint in Metallic Gold Brushes: Wide Colour Shaper - Firm Flat, 2”, Various small brushes

Methods

Starting with the idea that the books would mimic the colors of the ace pride flag when they were sitting on the shelf, I began to look for marbled papers that fit the color scheme. I decided to go for a very classic look with a cloth spine and corners and marbled paper cover. I modeled my design after some late 19th century bindings. I also took inspiration from my set of The Spiderwick Chronicles basing the layout size from it and incorporating a continuous design across the spines.

For the typeset I kept things very simple. I choose Garmond as the font for everything, using small caps and italics to differentiate the typography. In my first typeset I included all the meta info from AO3 in my copyright page but since each book in the anthology features multiple fics I decided to put that info in an appendix and reworked my copyright page. I think formating it in a pyramid shape adds a bit of fun and whimsy and I really like it. I also included a table of contents up front for this one with fic summaries so I can pursue through the different fics as I wish without flipping through the entire thing. The last thing I did was write an introduction giving context as to why I choose these fics and the meaning of it to me. An intro is very fitting for an anthology but it might be something I consider doing for other fics I bind as well. It was a very self reflective exercise and helps preserve some of the fandom history.

Since I picked such a unique layout size I had to have my text paper cut to the correct size. I took it to a local print shop which charged me $5 USD and had me in and out within five minuets.

I printed at home with my Canon iP8720. It has no problem printing at all kinds of crazy sizes, but it is a manual duplex so I print one signature at a time to mitigate printing mistakes. Last time I printed a fic I ended up using a lot of cyan and magenta ink even though the text was black and white, I tried checking the black and white box before printing this time but it didn’t seem to help. However, when my cyan and magenta cartridges ran out I kept printing and there was no drop in quality so I think next time I will take them out before I start printing or replace them with empty cartridges to save on ink. All four volumes ended up being 192 pgs (with some filler pages included in the back of some) so I opted to do 8 signatures with 6 sheets each. Having at least 6 sheets per signature helped keep the swell low enough for my square back case binding.

I worked smarter not harder this time by making a jig out of some card-stock for punching holes. I cut the card-stock to the same size as my text block then measured and punched the holes. Then I insert it into the center fold of each signature and punched the holes again. A couple holes ended up off-center when I wasn’t being careful which was mostly fine, but did result in some unevenness after sowing if you look very closely.

Since I was doing 6 text blocks at once I used my hardback National Geographics as a gravity book press. I used the method of alternating the direction of every other signature to distribute the swell evenly.

After consulting Levy (Salty Tech Books) and Des (Celestial Sphere Press) I decided to use a French Link without tapes given that the text block was less than an inch thick and I wasn’t doing any rounding. I think the French Link is very sexy and it had the benefit of me not needing a sewing frame so I could do them all on my couch while re-watching Attack on Titian. The results were fantastic though my hands were sore the next day after doing 4 books plus authors’ copies.

I tried to do my headbands the same way as my last project i.e. folding the ribbon over a peice of string and gluing it. But the glue wouldn’t stay (possibly because this ribbon is synthetic) so instead I glued the ribbon and folded it over a piece of scrap card stock. I still had to hold it down for a minuet or two for the glue to dry but it worked.

Moving on to the casing, my original intent was to use the foil iron-on from Cricut for decoration and lettering. My friend’s roommate has a Cricut Maker and was generous enough to let me use it. But once I started weeding I quickly realized many of my design elements were too small and would get pulled up with the larger pieces. It was much easier to pull up the small pieces leaving behind the larger ones, so I moved on to plan B. I picked up the cheapest Cricut brand vinyl I could find which I used to make a stencil sticker for my design. It worked out much better thought it would though it still took some patience and practice to weed around some of those rounded letters. I used the Cricut transfer tape to apply the stencil which was critical, though I think a generic brand would have worked just as well if not better here because I really didn’t need such a strong adhesive.

I ordered DecoArt Extreme Sheen Paint in 24K Gold but it was not what I was expecting at all. It seemed to have more of a glitter effect than the metallic finish I wanted. I ended up using an old bottle of Craft Smart Acrylic Paint in Metallic Gold which I had in my hoard. The paint is probably a decade old and had separated. I did try remixing the pigment and binder but wasn’t very successful so I did a test swatch with just the pigment and was very please with the results. I also ordered Liquitex Professional Effects Fabric Medium and experimented with mixing it with both acrylics. The purpose of the fabric medium is to reduce the chances of cracking and peeling, help with durability, and keep the paint soft and flexible as it dries so that it moves with the fabric. Essentially it turns regular acrylic paint into fabric paint. It is not supposed to effect the color of the pigment, but I found that the Liquitex made both acrylic bases much lighter and decided not to use it. I did have some problems with my titles bleeding when too much of the separated binder got mixed in with my pigment and I ended up redoing those ones completely, but if I got a good chunk of pigment with little to no binder it applied very well and the effect was fantastic. I heat set the paint with an iron using some scrap fabric as a barrier and ironing each section for 10-30 seconds.

When working with the cover papers there were a few quirks. The black marble had the pigment rub off on my fingers a lot and I had to be careful not to get it on my other materials. It did get smudged onto my text block a bit in the end but it is probably not noticeable to the causal observer. I also had it tear a little bit as I was gluing but I was able to repair the tear fairly easily. The gray paper from StudioRobertWu did wrinkle a little bit but I think that is just from my own inexperience and the wrinkles blended in fairly well and flattened out after drying. I used 100% PVA to apply the cover papers and applied the glue directly to the paper using a Wide Colour Shaper to apply a thin layer. Applying the glue to the paper first is meant to help reduce wrinkles as the moisture from the glue makes the paper swell and expand so if I had applied it to the book board first then the paper would swell after it was placed creating wrinkles.

The biggest problem I had when doing the casing was that when I removed my adhesive stencils for the double line details on the front and back, the adhesive would always damage the cover paper. I used several work around to mitigate the damage but I would not recommend this method for anything other than book cloth.

Casing was the most stressful part of the whole process for me. But by the end I think I worked out a system that works for me. First I glued down the mull with some methyl cellulose (thanks Six!), then I applied a mixture or half PVA half methyl cellulose to the back of the end paper with my colour shaper. I held up the back board of the casing and aligned the end paper as best I could and stuck a sheet of wax paper in the fold before shutting the book after a few seconds I would open it back up and apply the glue mixture to the other face, put another sheet of wax paper in the crease, and shut the book again. I ended up with varying results but I attribute that to a need for more practice.

Overall I am very happy with how the books turned out and while I made plenty of mistakes I know those will decrease with experience.

#bookbinding #fic binding

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave

This is one akuma whose intentions are good. After all, who couldn't use an extra dose of courage to overcome fear?

A superhero whose identity will be immediately revealed in the process, for one.

When an akuma causes several secrets to come to light all at once, our heroes will need to drum up some courage to face their fears - and each other.

But what's waiting after that looks like it might be a dream come true. It'll just take a bit of bravery and a lot of heart. Piece of cake.

***

Only eight days late and several dollars short, I’m wishing @jennagrinsoverml a happy belated birthday with this gift, written just for her. ILY, my friend!

Read it on Ao3 here.

***

Ladybug has to give Courageous some credit: she's a rarity, an akuma born of selfless means. A teenager who hadn't mustered the courage to stand up for a younger student being bullied at school, she'd been so ashamed, so angry with herself, that Hawkmoth had found an easy target to ply with honeyed words and promises.

Her power isn't even a terrible one. The beam of light she shoots from her right hand simply causes the person it strikes to relive the last encounter they had when their bravery failed them, this time with courage aplenty. It's admirable, really.

Admirable, but terrifying nonethless.

(The fear of Chat Noir finding out her identity is deep and dark and often floats to the surface of her nightmares with blue eyes and white hair and a drowned, ruined world. He cannot know. The cost is too high.)

"Whatever you do," she calls to her partner, frantic and scared, "don't let her hit you! Please, Chat!"

She hears the desperation in her own voice, and the look on his face conveys that he certainly does. He nods solemnly.

"I'll do my best, My Lady."

She nods back, and off they go into the fray.

For well over an hour, they fight Courageous through parks and plazas, sidewalks and thoroughfares. All around them, the people of Paris have squared their shoulders, lifted their chins, and braved conversations big and small with people only they could see.

Ladybug has to smile as she hears a young man confidently ask for a raise and watches his eyes light up at the response.

That smile fades when she remembers once again that the last time her courage had failed her was just as they were dismissed for lunch break, when she'd tried to invite Adrien to a movie that weekend. His eyes had been so kind as he'd waited for her to gather her words properly, and somehow that had just made it harder.

Then Lila had "accidentally" tripped and knocked into her, sending her to the floor. The memory of Adrien's hand reaching out to her to help her up, those same kind, patient eyes locked on hers, makes Ladybug's cheeks heat even now. But after she was upright again, after Lila had stalked off because no one seemed to care that she "probably would need surgery now because her arthritis would flare", Nino had reminded Adrien about the gig he was DJing on Friday and Alya had led her away to show her something on her phone.

Just like that, her opportunity was gone.

And that would be fine, honestly. Marinette was used to moments of stuttering and botched declarations when it came to Adrien.

But if she's hit by Courageous, Chat Noir - plus the citizens of Paris, Hawkmoth, everyone - will hear Ladybug try to ask Adrien Agreste on a date, and that will be a disaster of epic proportions.

"Ladybug, look out!"

Chat's body slams into hers, sending them rolling on the sidewalk just as a beam of magical light zips over their heads. In a flash, Chat Noir bundles her in his arms and vaults them to the rooftop above, making sure she's steady on her feet once they land.

"Thank you, Ki-" The words die in her throat when she sees over her partner's shoulder that Courageous has followed them.

Chat turns, his baton at the ready, while Ladybug reaches for her yo-yo, but neither is quick enough to stop the akuma's beam from finally finding one of its main targets.

"I'm sorry, Bug," he murmurs as his eyes glaze over.

Using her yo-yo as a spinning shield, Ladybug drags her partner behind the nearest chimney stack just as he begins to speak.

Panic sets in as her mind screams at her over the hum of her yo-yo, the akuma's laughter, her partner's voice.

I can't just leave him!

"Father, may I come in?"

Oh no, oh no, oh no. I can't hear this!

"Yes, Nathalie said she penciled me into your schedule for noon."

Nathalie?

Ladybug's gaze snaps to her partner, yo-yo still spinning to deflect beams of light. She's surprised to find Chat Noir's head bowed in deference, though his eyes shine with a confident gleam.

"I requested this appointment to ask you again if I could attend the event with my friends tomorrow evening. I've already completed my assignments for school and the homework from my Mandarin tutor."

Mandarin tutor? What?!

"Yes, Father, I'm aware that you don't care for Nino, but..."

The panicked scream in her mind gives up any attempt at coherence; by this point, it's no more than a muddled loop of Nathalie, Mandarin, Nino, Father.

Ladybug feints to the left to avoid being hit by the akuma as a mix of terror and adrenaline floods her system. She leaps forward, leaving Chat behind the chimney in the hope that she can engage the akuma just long enough to get her partner back and finally, finally finish this off.

She knows too much already. The cat has bolted straight out of the bag and is running loose on this rooftop beneath her feet, a distraction she can't handle right now.

On hero autopilot, she hurdles one beam after another, then tucks and rolls and pops up to roundhouse kick Courageous in the chest, sending her flying.

She hears the akuma's "oof" just as Chat Noir's jubilant voice rings out from behind the chimney.

"Thank you, Father! Thank you so much!"

She can hear his grin in those simple words, the sheer joy in being given permission to leave the house. Everyone in their class knows what a tight leash Gabriel Agreste keeps on his son. It breaks her heart every time she thinks of it. In fact, she's successfully fought for his release from that marble prison on more than one occasion! So yes, she'd already known with all the clues in place, but there was truly no mistaking it now: that was Adrien talking to his father.

Because Adrien is Chat Noir.

Her heart cracks. Oh, Chaton.

Suddenly, the akuma's progress in clambering to her feet is impeded by the whoosh and subsequent metallic thunk of Chat's overhand swing with his baton.

Relief floods her heart at the return of her partner. No matter who he is, Chat Noir is her other half, and Ladybug is never quite herself without him.

"Maybe we could use a little extra luck, My Lady!" Chat winks at her over his shoulder before facing the akuma again.

"Yes! Right! You bet!"

Get it together, Marinette, she thinks. Her face heats and she scampers away to the safety of the chimney stack where Chat was hidden to call for her lucky charm.

A red and black spotted can opener drops into her hands and she looks at it in confusion. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she grumbles, looking around frantically but seeing nothing to help her decipher how to use the lucky charm.

She takes a deep breath, peeks out from behind the bricks, and promptly takes a light beam to the face.

No, no, no, no!

It feels vaguely like having a water balloon popped on her head, a chill of sensation dripping down her spine and rippling through her nerves. It's a small mercy that being hit by an akuma rarely hurts physically. Her vision swims like a mirage in the desert, the familiar courtyard at school coalescing from vapor around her.

The last thing she sees is her partner's stricken face.

The last thing she hears is the akuma cackling.

"Heylo! Who! I mean," she takes a deep breath, a rush of confidence tingling along her nerves. "Hey, Adrien!" She smiles and gives him a little wave.

His grin takes her breath away. "Hi, Marinette! How are you?"

"I'm great!"

You can do it, you can do it!, her heart sings, and miraculously, her brain listens. Her smile turns coy. She taps her lip with her index finger. Her pulse pounds a bolstering tattoo in her ears. Go for it, girl!

"But I could be better."

Adrien's smile drops a fraction. "Are you okay? Is there something I can do?"

With another deep breath, she squares her shoulders and looks him in the eyes, her very cells imbued with a courage unparalleled even when she's wearing spots. She could do anything, anything, right now, but she has her mind set on accomplishing one thing and one thing only.

"You could join me for a movie on Saturday."

"I could...?" His brows furrow, but his grin grows slowly, bright but incredulous. "Are you asking me....?" He blinks, takes two shallow breaths. "Do you mean just the two of us?"

She nods decisively. "A date."

You did it. You did it! A veritable party erupts in the back of her mind, radiant relief spreading to her fingertips. It feels so good to finally break through her anxiety and fear and ask him that simple question that felt like an impossible task just a few hours ago.

Thankfully, he doesn't keep her waiting. The answer is in his eyes, anyway. "I would love to," he breathes, cheeks pink and smile dazzling.

"Really?" Marinette squeaks, and now it's his turn to nod.

"I'll be there even if I have to sneak out." Adrien reaches for her hand and gives it a little squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods again, her chest so full of emotion she can barely breathe. Not only did she ask him, but he said yes!

Suddenly, blue sky fills her vision and she regains awareness to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the chimney stack. Ladybug tentatively gets to her feet, reaching for her yo-yo and setting it spinning immediately. This time there's no peeking around the corner; she bursts from behind the bricks on the offensive, ready to finish the fight.

What she finds is Courageous struggling under Chat's baton, twisted up like a pretzel and unable to move for the steel-toed boot resting across her shoulders.

"Just in time, LB!" Chat crows triumphantly. He tosses her a bracelet emblazoned with the words Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave that currently pulses with Hawkmoth's dark energy.

In moments, the bracelet is broken, the akuma is freed and purified, and a confused teenager sits where Courageous was restrained a moment ago.

Chat docks his baton at his back and looks at his partner with the softest eyes she's ever seen, a tiny, equally soft smile playing at his lips.

Her heart sighs. Adrien. That's Adrien, and he knows.

The lucky charm sits heavy in her palm. Abject fear makes her hope against hope that she won't remember his identity when she casts her miraculous cure, just as her heart longs to hold on to the knowledge that her precious partner is the boy of her deepest desires, and maybe, maybe they really can have it all.

With a deep breath, she throws the unused can opener into the air, watching magical ladybugs and healing light burst forth and spread throughout the city. She waits, holding her breath, but when pink light swirls around them, the only affect it has is the healing of the twinge in her ankle from when she fell mid-fight.

She looks up, and her partner's eyes say it all.

He remembers, too.

Even as fear grips her heart, radiant joy shines from his face as his grin spreads. It scrunches his eyes behind the mask and pinkens his cheeks, delight seeming to glow from his pores. Ladybug has never seen her partner so happy. That elation is a balm to her soul, and she can't help but smile right along with him.

Ladybug turns to the akuma victim and holds out her hand, offering the bracelet back to her. "I really like that inscription" she says, pointing at the now-silver bracelet as the girl fixes it back on her wrist.

She smiles shyly at the two heroes. "I wish I had the courage to do more. I wish I was brave like you."

"We get scared sometimes, too. Everyone does," Ladybug starts, before her partner nudges her shoulder with his elbow.

"Speak for yourself, Bugaboo. This cat has no fear." Chat Noir throws her an exaggerated wink, and the girl laughs. "But real talk, anyone can be a hero in their own way. Little things, big stuff...you're stronger than you think, I promise. Cat's honor."

She nods. "Thank you for, you know, saving me and everything." Glancing at the street below, she gestures toward the edge of the roof. "Would it be too much trouble to get me back down there?"

"Not at all," Ladybug replies with a smile. Calling on her own courage, she looks at her partner and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing, she thinks. "The usual spot in five? Or less, I guess, since it...doesn't matter now," she says with a shrug that she hopes looks nonchalant.

And there's that smile that shines like the summer sun. He gives her a jaunty salute. "I'll be there with bells on," he says, tapping the bell at his throat and making it jingle.

Ladybug just shakes her head and giggles.

A few minutes later, when she lands beside Chat Noir on their familiar rooftop, her earrings are beeping a frantic rhythm, signaling mere seconds before she detransforms. Instinct has her looking around the roof, ready to dart behind anything she can use to hide.

Before she can move, Chat steps toward her and quietly asks, "Marinette?"

Her transformation dissolves in a wave of pink light, and she hears him gasp as she catches Tikki gently in her palms. Marinette takes her time retrieving a macaron from her purse to feed her kwami, deliberately moving slowly in an attempt to get herself under control before she looks up at her partner. He knows, and he's thrilled, and that's amazing, but it feels like the entire world will change when their gazes finally meet, and she's just not ready yet.

"I, um...I didn't use my cataclysm, so I can stay transformed if you'd prefer, but..." he trails off.

There's something in his voice that finally makes her look at him. Just like when he talked to his father under the akuma's control, his head is bowed slightly, but instead of confidence, this time his eyes are bright with nervous hope.

Marinette understands both the nerves and the hope, and she'll joke with her partner until the end of time about who's in charge, but it feels wrong for either Chat or Adrien to look at her with uneasy deference.

And that's what she thinks of as courage wells in her chest. Her brave, steadfast partner, the other half of their unstoppable team, the boy with terrible timing who can still make her laugh, her best friend whom she loves so fiercely, should never feel he has to approach her in fear.

"Oh, Minou," she breathes. "Of course, go ahead. I...I already know."

He nods and stands a little straighter, and with a whisper and a flash of green, Chat's magical leather is replaced with denim and cotton poplin.

Predictably, her brain is short-circuiting, hollering in panic and terror, but even as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, it whispers quietly, gently, that this is her partner. Her silly kitty. Her dearest friend. He just happens to look like Adrien Agreste at the moment.

(Okay, this is going to take some getting used to.)

Tikki flies off to join Plagg nearby, while Marinette sits down on the roof with her knees pulled to her chest. She pats the space to her right and Adrien settles in cross-legged next to her.

He's the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I shouldn't have gotten hit. I shouldn't have let you get hit. I know this wasn't what you wanted, and-"

"No, no, don't apologize," she interrupts, shaking her head. "It happens. It's...not the first time." Marinette sighs and closes her eyes, suddenly feeling a lot less courageous in the face of this world-bending change now that they're in their civilian clothes and it's Adrien apologizing to her. She presses her forehead to her knees and tries to imagine the boy beside her in magical leather and cat ears. It only helps a little, but it's enough. "We, um-" she pauses, licks her lips. "We have a lot to talk about. I just don't know if I'm ready for...all of it."

Adrien is silent for an uncomfortably long moment. "Yeah. We do." She hears him take a deep breath that shakes a bit on the exhale and turns her head a fraction to peek at him. His eyes are on the distant horizon. "I...think I understand some things now."

Abruptly, he turns toward her, a little smile tilting the corners of his mouth when he his eyes meet hers. Fear tells her to look away, but she tamps it down and holds his gaze. His smile widens.

"May I ask you something, Marinette?"

She nods.

"When you came up to me at lunch today, were you...planning to ask me on a date?"

Her pulse pounds in her ears. She could give in to fear, say no and brush it off like Chat had misheard her when she was under the akuma's spell. But suddenly her heartbeat seems to drum, "be bold, be kind, be brave," over and over again, and just as the smile begins to slip from his face, she finds the nerve to nod again.

Just like on the other rooftop a few minutes ago, his face lights up like the first rays of sun after a week of rain, shining splendid even in the early afternoon light.

"Am I--" he whispers, his breath hitching though his joy never dims, "Am I the boy?"

Be bold, be kind, be brave.

She calls on her Ladybug courage and nods once more.

His breath catches again and his eyes fill with tears that he brushes away quickly.

Clarity dawns all of a sudden, sweeping her fears to the corners of her mind to be dealt with later. She understood Chat Noir being happy to know his partner's identity, his excitement in finding out his Lady was his friend, too. But this is so much more. Beside her sits Adrien, wiping tears of joy from his eyes at the knowledge that Marinette is in love with him. This might just be a dream coming true on a random rooftop on a random Thursday afternoon.

"Chaton," she breathes, stretching her legs in front of her and placing a hand on his knee.

His hand covers hers, and she meets his gaze, words caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes.

"I have a confession to make." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and takes a deep breath. "I think everyone in Paris knows that Chat Noir is in love with Ladybug. I...know you know." He shrugs as his smile turns a little helpless. "But no one knows that I might have a little tiny bit of a huge crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too."

"Kid, don't lie to your girlfriend. You know very well that I knew, because I've been telling you forever!" Plagg calls from somewhere behind them. Tikki hushes him loudly.

"Okay, he's not wrong," Adrien says, huffing out a combination of a laugh and a sigh. I'm just very stupid, apparently."

"Hey, don't talk that way about my partner." Marinette bumps his shoulder with hers. "I have a teeny, tiny, huge crush on him, too, you know, and I don't appreciate your tone."

Adrien's surprised laugh rings out across the rooftop, filling her heart with so much love she can barely breathe with the force of it. She could listen to that laugh for the rest of her life. She hopes she'll have that chance.

He brushes tears from his eyes again as his laughter subsides, his grin still shining bright. "I'm so happy it's you, Marinette. Beyond happy." He turns her hand beneath his and threads his fingers through hers. "Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have as my partner."

"Me too, Minou," she murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly as incredulous joy sings through her veins.

Tikki's little voice pipes up nearby. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost time to go back to class."

Adrien lets go of her hand to fish for his phone and curses under his breath when he sees the time. "She's right, My Lady. Could we meet up this evening? I know we have, um...a lot of things to talk about."

Marinette nods. It feels like she's done a lot of that in the last few minutes.

When Adrien stands, he offers his hand to help her up. Just like in the courtyard at lunch, his eyes are patient and kind, but now they shine with something more. She lets him pull her to her feet, then wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

His soft exhale at her ear as he melts against her makes her smile, scrunching up his white overshirt under her cheek. Her senses are filled with him, and she's surprised to realize that it's a feeling of comfort and safety instead of the usual panic.

Maybe loving Adrien and being loved in return will be easier than it seemed all this time. Her fears seem so silly when his arms are wrapped around her shoulders and his head rests on top of hers - a perfect fit.

Even the nightmarish terror of Chat Blanc is diminished. Adrien never told anyone her identity; he knew because he himself was Chat Noir, and there's no way in the world that Chat would hurt his Lady, nor would Adrien ever harm Marinette on purpose. She must have misunderstood. He must have misunderstood. He was an akuma, after all. She sighs into Adrien's shirt. She can never allow that terrible timeline to occur, but whatever happens after this, they'll face it together. Stronger. She'll make sure of it.

"Do you think my father will let me go to Nino's gig in real life?" he asks quietly.

The sad note in his voice breaks her heart. She squeezes him tighter.

"I don't know, Kitty. Do you think we'll be having a movie date on Saturday?"

He leans back abruptly, though his hands still grip her shoulders. "Of course! I'll be there if I have to sneak out!"

Marinette boops his nose, laughing when his eyes cross. "I think that's your answer for Friday night, too."

Suddenly she's in his arms again, this time lifted off the ground and spinning. She can't help but giggle.

"I knew I was in love with a genius!" he cries, jubilant. He sets her down and plants a kiss in the middle of her forehead before calling for Plagg to transform him.

When he turns his masked face back to her, it's like the world is different. She can easily see the brilliant green of Adrien's eyes in Chat's glowing sclerae. The blending of two of her favorite people into one extraordinary boy who - oh my goodness - just said he loves her gives her a shot of courage even before she suits up again.

"You missed, beau gosse."

His eyes widen comically. "I....what?"

Marinette smiles and calls for her transformation, then taps her lips with her gloved fingers. "You kissed me, but you missed."

The sly gleam in his eyes makes her breathing speed up.

"First of all, I would ask before I did that," Chat says, sticking out his thumb before raising his clawed index finger. "Second, I thought I'd save our first kiss for Saturday. Seems like a great way to end our first date, doesn't it?"

Our first date. A tingle runs down her spine. She likes the sound of that.

"I guess I can wait." Her smile turns cheeky. "But it'll be our third--"

"Ah, ah, ah," Chat cuts her off with a grin. He extends his thumb again. "First of all, I don't remember either of those."

Ladybug rolls her eyes, still smiling.

"And second," he says, his voice pitching lower and making her heart skip a beat, "it will be Marinette and Adrien's first kiss."

Oh, this boy, she thinks as her heart soars.

She bites her lip to keep from giggling. "I suppose you're right, even though we both know we're the same people."

Chat gives her a deadpan look. "Just let me have this, Bug."

She bursts into laughter and reaches for her yo-yo, delighting in watching a grin light her partner's face.

"I really am looking forward to Saturday," he says, unhooking his baton from his back. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods and watches him vault off toward home.

The wind against her face is exhilarating as she swings back to the bakery. It's amazing how one revelation seems to have changed everything. Even the zip of her yo-yo through the air sounds different to her ears now that she knows, now that he knows.

Marinette detransforms as she touches down on the terrace and sinks into her pink-striped chair while Tikki phases through the hatch into her room in search of food. A quick check of her phone tells her that she has ten minutes before she has to go back to school.

School. One more thing that's going to be different.

Before nerves can creep in, she thinks of Chat Noir and his beaming joy at learning the identity of his beloved partner. That was Adrien. She thinks of the comfort of being wrapped in Adrien's arms, his scent, his warmth. That was Chat Noir.

And when she sits down in class behind him in a few short minutes, that boy with the soft smile and shining eyes will look like Adrien, but now he's so much more.

Marinette stands up from her chair with a lighter heart than she can remember having in a long, long time. She's suddenly looking forward to the second half of the day, even more excited for Nino's event tomorrow night, and positively thrilled that she has a date with Adrien - who is Chat Noir! - on Saturday.

There's so much to experience, so many memories to be made. It feels a bit like a dream. It feels more than a bit scary. But it's going to be great.

It's just going to take a little courage.

She's got this.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #identity reveal #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrienette #my writing #happy birthday jenna!#the real power move is posting this on an episode premiere day #thanks for reading it anyway

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