#I am a lover of the tales cast before I am human

[starshideurfics]

The Tale of Sir Stephen the Bold

steddie, medieval, demons, enemies to lovers, shapeshifting genitals, mpreg, mdni🔞

Based on this dope woodcut art by @lulalulens which I don’t think is on tumblr

Stephen was born with a mark over his heart. His mother worried it was a bad omen, and when she took him to be baptized, the parish priest reassured her, “It is the sword of Saint Michael. He shall be a warrior of God.”

Stephen grows up strong, devotes himself to God and to the protection of the weak. Sir Jim knights him on the battlefield, proclaims him the best fighter he’s ever trained. Says he can practically see holy light around him when he prays.

Talk of a vicious lindworm poisoning the water in a small town summons Sir Stephen to slay it. He corners the beast and takes its head, presenting it to the village priest, accepting only a blessing as payment.

From there, Sir Stephen follows reports of monsters and demons, saving the smallfolk from their terror. While fighting a demon without a face he saves a young woman—Mistress Robin claims she doesn’t need saving, helping him corner the creature. After that day they are inseparable, the dearest of friends, more like family.

Robin is the one to hear tell of a demon seducing the innocent of Hawkins. He refuses to let her come with him; Kassedemus of the silver tongue is not a trifling matter. Instead he changes the crest on his shield, so he can bring her with him in spirit, but keep her safely away from the creature.

Upon their arrival in Hawkins, Sir Stephen asks where they can find the demon, and a gaggle of children point to the outskirts. He leaves Robin at the inn after she helps him don his armor, and soon enough he feels it.

Temptation.

Desire.

Heat.

Then he sees the creature. Mostly human with wings and horns. A tail. Claws at its hands and feet. And completely naked, heavy phallus hanging between his legs.

Sir Stephen raises his sword, calls out, “Demon! I come to drive you from these lands in the name of Jesu-”

“O, so pious! So chaste! Bold Sir Stephen, here to save the day!” the demon interrupts, advancing slowly, his movements serpentine.

“Quiet, Demon! Before I cut out your tongue!”

“I thought you’d come to cut off my head.”

Shaking ever so slightly, Sir Stephen advances. “Leave these good people be.”

“Now, why would I want to do that? I’ve come here to have fun, clawed my way out of the pit! I will not leave simply because you ask, good sir knight.”

“Then I shall make you leave by force!” Sir Stephen steps closer, holds out his sword, stopping short as the point of his blade touches the creature’s breast. “I shall cast you back down, demon, into the fiery pit-”

“I have a name.”

Sir Stephen flushes. “I know.”

“Say it.”

“Kassedemus.”

“For you, Sir Stephen, I can be Kas.” He sticks out his pointed tongue, leans forward until the sword pierces his flesh, just a nick, black blood welling from the wound. “Won’t you call me Kas, sweet one?”

“I am not sweet!”

Kas sniffs deeply. “You certainly smell sweet. And wet.”

Spine stiffening, Sir Stephen feels heat at his groin. “What have you done to me?” he whispers.

“Looked into your heart. I only wish to give you your desires.” He smiles, glances down toward the codpiece of Sir Stephen’s armor. Which draws the good knight’s gaze down, the demon’s phallus suddenly erect, red and swollen, the head leaking.

Sir Stephen drops his sword. “I don’t… I do not want…”

“O, but you do.” Kas leans closer, reaches out to trace a clawed finger down Sir Stephen’s cheek. “You long for a rough touch. To be held down.” He’s close enough now to lick along the same path as his finger. “You long to be fucked.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Sir Stephen shivers, shakes his head. “I will not be tempted to sin.”

“Is pleasure a sin? Is love?”

“This is not love.”

“It could be. Give yourself to me, Stephen, and you will know nothing but the purest devotion.” Then Kas kisses him hard on the mouth, long tongue slithering inside, licking into his throat and making him choke. He smiles as he pulls back, looking on him with such love in his wide eyes. Such want. “Say you are mine.”

Gasping, Sir Stephen feels his own cock twitch, his heart pounds in his chest. He wants so terribly, he feels on fire with need. “I am yours,” he whispers, suddenly feeling cool wind over his skin. He looks down, sees that his armor and all his clothes are gone. His cock stands at attention, dwarfed by Kas’s turgid member.

Kas reaches down to grasp his smaller cock. “Mine,” he whispers, stroking him roughly, just enough to smear his wetness around. He’s gentle as he presses close, kisses down to Sir Stephen’s collarbones, guides him to the ground. As he places him on all fours. As he licks and nips at the meat of his arse.

Then his tongue licks over his hole. He spits on the tight furl, hot and viscous, and forces his tongue past the tight ring, makes him cry out. Pushes in deeper to press against the spot he knows will drive his knight to the precipice. Swirls the tip of his tongue over it incessantly. Before he can spill, Kas grabs his cods and tugs, pulls his tongue out and smiles at the beautiful mess he’s made. “You will come on my cock, Sweet Stephen, or not at all,” he purrs, moving to line himself up, spitting again on his gaping hole.

“And you will spill inside me?”

“I know that’s what you desire, sweet one. I know you wish to be filled. Bred.” His fingers cover Stephen’s belly. “I know you long for a babe of your own.”

“Can you say it? When you spill. Pretend with me?”

Kas stops short. He guides Stephen up on his knees, turns him di they are facing. “It does not need to be pretend,” he murmurs, stroking his cheek. “I told you, you will have my devotion, all your desires, now you are mine. I can be anything you wish.” He gestures down, his cock gone, replaced by the fat, wet lips of a cunt. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?” He wiggles his fingers, cock returned to its proper place. “You want to be split open. You want me to fill your womb with my seed.” He reaches down again, squeezes Stephen’s cods three times, and then they are gone. Kas leaves his cock, likes it too much, but he needs to carefully open the new cunt.

Laying Stephen down in the soft grass, he settles between his legs and licks at the fresh slit, his saliva mixing with pussy juice soon enough. He smiles again, pleased with his work, cunt red and opened, fat with blood, blooming for Kas. From there, it is easy to push inside the virgin hole, already stretched by his tongue. He rolls his hips, builds a rhythm, murmurs, “My sweet Stephen, so hot and wet and tight for me. Feels good, doesn’t it?” His hips move faster, he can feel himself about to spill. “Do you feel how I burn for you? How I fill you just right? I made your sweet cunt to be my perfect fit.”

“Perfect for you,” Stephen gasps, hips canting up to meet the final thrust.

Kas freezes as his cock pulses. “Mine. My love.” He spills hard and long and hot. “Soon, you will be carrying my child. You will be a beautiful mother.” Leaning down, his kisses his new lover sweetly, the softest one he’s ever given. “I will return for you soon.”

“You’re leaving?” Stephen asks, clinging to Kas, wiping the sweat from his back.

“You wanted me to leave Hawkins.”

“I do not want you to leave me! Not after…”

“I must make preparations. And you must return to your little bird. I do not wish to break your heart.” Kas smiles as he slips from Stephen’s cunt, cock soft. He leans down for another kiss. “I want only your happiness.”

Stephen smiles sweetly up at him, and asks, “Why? Why me?”

“Because you are mine. You have always been mine, Stephen.”

“Always?”

Kas runs a knuckle over Stephen’s heart. Over his birthmark, the jagged shape paler now than when he was a babe. “You bear my sigil.”

“So, does that mean you are mine? You came here for me?”

“Yes, beloved. I am yours, just as you are mine. Always and forever, unto the ending of the world.”

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Sir Stephen returns from the field having banished the demon. He and Robin leave Hawkins, the knight promising to lay down his sword.

Not long after, in a tavern, a smiling man with wild curls approaches the pair. “I’ve missed you,” he says, taking Stephen’s hand. “Are you well, sweet one?”

“I am well,” he answers, smiling just as big.

At the same time Robin asks, “Who are you?”

He sticks out his hand. “Call me Eddie.”

[splatcat64]

i had a really long convo with my friends about this but it really seriously feels like ppl get rhys and fionas characterization switched up HARD. this is bc of the u choose the path thing but also a heavy hand in the misogyny and racism (and general way ppl tend to approach pandorans due to being effected by how jack talked about them . LOL) fiona is such a sweetheart whos working her hardest to protect the people she loves + imo shes the one who helped vaughn grow into someone who adores pandora as well. it makes me blow up. i have a few songs that have been making me go nuts about her . hai i got excited sorry

NOOO DON’T APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING EXCITED I totally get it my god,,, this blog is becoming so tales centric I’m sorry not sorry here we go. If you haven’t seen tales and want to be mindful of light spoilers. ⚠️

This has been talked about on my side a bit but I tooootally agree, Both of their characterization gets switched up BAD and it’s absolutely insane, both Fiona and Rhys are good people, but flawed. Flawed, but good people, and it gets constantly jumbled around in the fandom. I feel like a lot of people have a really hard time grasping that “choose ur own adventure” protags still have a core personality set, especially telltale. I always use Lee TWGD as an example, because sure you can portray him as either very very confrontational, or more soft spoken and sweet, but in the end of th edgy he still killed someone. In the end of the day he still ALWAYS cares about Clem. It’s not any different for those two idiots, they still have their respective arcs and the such.

I feel like Fiona gets a lot of shit specifically BECAUSE she’s snarky and she. speaks her mind. And god forbid a POC/Black coded woman do ANYTHING. Jack really messed up ppls views on Pandorans but the look into Sasha and Fi’s life is literally just more, HEY, they’re people!! Maybe don’t listen to the GENOCIDAAAAL [big arrows pointing to the word] MANIAC. It’s thrown right at your face. People take wtv the fuck Jack says way to seriously when he lies. So much. All the time. And I don’t get why no one takes it with a pile of salt constantly. When really she does just have a heart of gold, most of her being mean is literally just playful banter like hello. Sasha’s meaner than her by a mile but Fi still gets slaaandered for it. And even tho Sasha does have her really mean moments I will defend her to the grave with strangers bcus “hating her” without a valid reason gets veeerry racy really quick and as a black person it really does rub me the wrong way sometimes. So much mischaracterization everywhere. It’s a weird mix of a patriarchal, misogynistic, racist deal with EVERY character in The Group and I’m just… how do you manage to mischaracterize everybody from a game that’s all story.

And the point I made in a post somewhere about how Rhys is written differently than a LOT of men in borderlands and ppl have ran with it and decided hey this guy actually sucks. Or hey haha this guy can’t do anything. He’s completely out of his element on Pandora, of course he’s stumbling somewhat but bro is brave as hell for that shit. He’s a completely capable dude, yes he cares about Fiona and Sasha and Vaughn. Yes they care about him. I feel like people also get it twisted because of Fiona and Rhys in the intros, but people gotta remember that they’re acting like that because the game was episodic and we weren’t rlly allowed to know that they’re super buddy buddy. That’s one gripe I have w the game is that they made Fiona seem like she HATED his ass in some of the future settings in the beginning of episodes and people took it way too literally. Please I beg they’re besties,,, you’ve never boxed with a bestie before??? Either way it’s obvious that it’s blown out of proportion especially after Rhys’ whole arc concludes. You’re supposed to be like oooh he’s like that cause we couldn’t know. You look at Fi and you’re supposed to like daaamn she really cares about him/them they were all just split apart after extremely traumatic events. [I’m gonna stop here with this point cause it’s starting to be a run on but people do not talk enough about how traumatic both Helios’ crash, the wreck, and Gortys’ first fight was for all of them.]

I’ve talked extensively with a friend about this too but Tales had a looot of budget issues during its making cause of Telltale nuking itself, and the game was meant to have more time. ALL of them were!!! I always think about maybe if they all got more time they’d be treated this way less. But yknow,, whatever I guess.

AND THE VAUGHN THING UR SO CORRECT GOD. I think she really help him crawl out of his shell for a lack of a better term, both the sisters tbh I feel like they’re a very rare and cute friendship pairing and I need to see more of Sasha daring him to do shit like in the Chimera dome. They all care sooo deeply for each other and people even manage to miss that like god. One of Rhys’ core traits if you don’t make him abysmally evil is loyalty. LOYALTY. Fiona hasn’t had many, hell if any friends since tales started, She is SUCH a caring person of course she’s gonna ride or die for her friends. Like that one scene on Helios where Rhys can ask her not to leave, And she’s like “If I wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a looong time ago.” There’s so many points in the game I could,d bring up that show how great all of them are, Fiona, after knowing him for not too long at all, tries to convince Vaughn to be brave, and that he can survive Bossanova’s race. Yes, she had to do that so they wouldn’t die, but she went out of her way to say it in a way that was reassuring enough. That’s sweet. If she didn’t care about them she wouldn’t have played cards on the roof with Rhys, or play bunkers and badasses with the boys, or I don’t know, let them LIVE IN WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY HER HOUSE FOR A YEAR. /ref ep.3 of tales. I’m being dramatic, of course there are factors that didn’t let her kick them out. But, my point stands.

That wasn’t meaaan that was playful reassurance, she’s telling him she’s THERE FOR HIM. They all care sooosososo much. If none of the, cared about each other, any “betrayal” wouldn’t mean that much. People get hurt like that because of their bonds and yes, YES I’m being opinionated but they’re like the found family ever, god. Fiona is fucking amazing and she wouldn’t put up with anyone if she didn’t either have to, or care, and after a certain point it’s very obvious that it’s not the first one.

TLDR; Tales is great, stan Fiona, stan Rhys, Stan Sasha and Vaughn,,, my glorious queens and kings. Forgive any typos or grammar I wrote this on a passionate whim,

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Choosing the Beast: Modern Folklore Heroines Embrace the Animal Husband

“I choose the bear.” The refrain rang out across the web, with many a woman nodding in agreement or at least understanding, and certain men huffing with indignant outrage. Just a meme, really, but did it speak to a deeper truth? Is it merely age-old mistrust of patriarchy talking, or a true desire for the beastly, the wild, the untame?

I’m no sociologist, of course, but I have noticed an emerging trend in fem-gaze media that seems to reflect this view. In movies like I Am Dragon (2015) and recent shows like My Lady Jane and The Acolyte, the heroine chooses the beast, loving her animal husband in his wild form rather than requiring him to transform back into a mundane man to earn her affection. This is such a departure from the typical folktale pattern that it’s difficult to even find an historic example where this occurs.

Commonly thought to reveal the desire to tame a dangerous mate in a patriarchal society, most animal husband tales (ATU 425a) feature a hero who ultimately transforms permanently into a human. This is viewed not only as freeing him from the maddening effect of his wild form, but also saving his bride from committing the sin of bestiality. In these tales, the animal mate’s transformation is necessary for the salvation of both.

Is the modern heroine then damned by choosing her husband’s beastly form? Or does she actually free them both from the yoke of patriarchal expectations?

Bathing: Discovering the Wild Masculine

The first motif that stands out in these modern screen examples is bathing. In animal spouse tales, there is often a dynamic of the hunter and the hunted, and thus a moment when the hunter comes upon their would-be lover unawares. Perhaps they find the animal spouse sleeping, or they cast a light on them unexpectedly, see them without their animal skin or disguise, and so on. And of course, they often come upon the lover at their bath.

There is an implied eroticism in this discovery, finding one’s quarry not only undressed, but also in the most private of activities. Water of course symbolizes fertility, but bathing is also purifying, symbolically washing away all that might make a mate undesirable. And this, perhaps, is the reason that historically this motif is used almost exclusively for animal brides, not animal husbands.

For the animal husband, he either actively chooses to reveal himself to the bride (perhaps on their wedding night), or she violently strips away his disguise, often armed with “flame and steel” like Psyche and her many avatars. Animal brides on the other hand are nearly always discovered at a body of water, bathing. The hunter will then capture her either by stealing her animal skin or cloak, or by placing his own clothing on her. What does it mean, then, when it is the husband who is discovered bathing in a body of water, held as an erotic object in the feminine gaze?

In The Acolyte, Osha follows Qimir to a pool where he slowly undresses, in full knowledge that she is watching. On the shore, she steals his lightsaber, just like the hunter who steals the animal skin, symbolically claiming him. When he emerges, Qimir dons new clothes, as if acknowledging that he is a different person than before he entered the water, almost purified in a way. Osha is forced to confront that there is more to the murderer in the mask than she realized.

Similarly, in My Lady Jane, our heroine goes looking for Guildford just before sunrise on their ill-fated wedding night, only to discover him bathing in the stables. The scene is gratuitously filmed from Jane’s (very horny) perspective, flipping the script on the countless scenes in screen history shot with the masculine gaze. Immediately after she discovers and confronts him, Guildford transforms against his will into a horse, and Jane realizes that he is an Ethian, a creature she has been taught is demonic and unnatural.

And in I Am Dragon, Mira makes several discoveries in quick succession: first, she deduces that Arman is actually the dragon. In the next moment, she slips from the island’s peak and falls, saved only when Arman transforms at the last moment and breaks her fall with his dragon form. The water begins to wash over his unconscious body, and at first Mira thinks that she will allow him to drown. But the sight of Arman in his human form after he rescued her, worried over by his animal familiar, stirs her to pity and she wraps him in a sail and drags him to safety. In this way, she clothes him, claiming him as her own.

Each of these heroines discovered a new aspect of her husband at the bath, finding him unexpectedly alluring, and ultimately choosing to begrudgingly claim him. Each animal husband tried to wash away his beastly form, to separate himself from the wild masculine. These men feel a sense of disassociation from a part of themselves, but now that their brides have discovered it, there will be no more hiding. Further, the bride now holds the power in the relationship, evidenced by how her husband needs her: Qimir needs Osha to be his apprentice, Guildford needs Jane to help him “break the curse,” and Arman needs Mira to heal him from his wounds.

Playing House: The Half-Husband

The second feature of these stories is a period of domesticity for the couple. For a brief time after the husband’s beastly nature is revealed, the lovers “play house” like children. While sexual tension is present, they typically do not consummate their union during this time, but instead cook, eat, rest, and care for one another. What’s more, they ignore or even attempt to actively destroy the husband’s animal form. They deny that this is part of him and therefore part of their relationship.

In I Am Dragon, Mira heals Arman, and wakes the next morning to find he has left food for her (dragonfruit, appropriately). Together they begin building a home out of shipwreck debris they find scattered around the island. A cheery montage shows them decorating a living space, choosing clothes, playing music, and dancing. But the specter of Arman’s monstrous form lurks on the edge of their idyllic life. Mira has nightmares, and tells Arman how much she fears “the dragon,” notably not referring to them as the same person. And eventually, it emerges that Mira has been planning to escape, rejecting Arman’s dragon form entirely.

After he sheds the helmet and robes of The Stranger, Qimir turns his attention to caring for Osha: he heals her, lets her sleep in his bed, provides clothes, and cooks for her. In turn, after some lightsaber-wielding, Osha becomes more comfortable in his home and accepts the food he offers, eventually even trying on his helmet. Later, they bicker amiably on their way to Brendok, like an old married couple on a road trip. When not facing down Jedi, Qimir leaves his menacing persona behind and transforms into an empathetic, protective, and alluring partner.

Jane Grey, meanwhile, finds herself using her honeymoon sequestered away in a private cottage to try to cure Guildford of his Ethianism. With her knowledge of medicine, she concocts various potions and magical cures, but none of them succeed. Guildford often checks in on her after these disappointments, making sure she’s getting enough sleep and taking care of herself. It’s also clear that they’ve been regularly dining together when Jane suddenly dashes off to rescue her friend. Guildford follows her and the two protect one another, followed by an almost-tryst. Even when they move into the palace, their day-to-day (or rather night-to-night) life is one of comfortable domesticity, although they continue to deny Guildford’s horse form.

In each of these cases (although less so in The Acolyte without Season 2 to continue the story), playing house can only last for so long while the husband’s animal nature is denied. There is a part of him that is suppressed, rejected, and this leads to him being incomplete, a half-husband. Each hero is unable or unwilling to accept and celebrate his whole self with his bride. Eventually, it is that denial that leads to a rift between the couple, which can only be healed not with the transformation of the husband, but with the embrace of his animal form.

Enforcing Patriarchy: The Rival

Each of these relationships exists in direct opposition to the dominant culture in the story: Arman as the Dragon is the literal enemy of Mira’s people, Qimir as Sith is the enemy of Osha’s Jedi masters, and in My Lady Jane, intermarriage between humans and Ethians is punishable by death. By choosing to stay with their animal husbands, even for a brief time, our heroines are openly defying the patriarchal norms of their societies. But no oppressive society is about to take that transgression lying down. In each story, a rival emerges to enforce the patriarchal order, kill the beastly husband, and retrieve the bride.

In I Am Dragon, Mira’s betrothed and descendent of the dragon-slayer, Igor, journeys to rescue her from the dragon. Over the course of the story, it becomes clear that Igor cares nothing for Mira herself, and merely feels entitled to her as his bride. Dragon-slaying is his heritage, so he must find her, kill the dragon, and take his place as the hero of his people. Even the marriage ceremony illustrates his ownership of her: he takes hold of a rope tied to her boat and reels her in, thus binding her to the patriarchal order. Contrast that to Arman, who offers her the power of flight, a symbol for freedom.

In Osha’s case, Qimir’s rival for her loyalty is clearly Master Sol, who wants to keep his former pupil dependent on him and the Jedi. Sol takes patronizing fatherliness to an extreme, constantly rescuing Osha rather than letting her stand for herself, teaching her to deny her feelings and instincts, and lying to her to “protect” her. The Jedi refuse to allow that there might be any other way to access the Force than their own, thus invading the home of the Brendok witches and ultimately orphaning the twins. Sol continues to press this dominance to the end, challenging Qimir and insisting to Osha that his own lies were justified.

In My Lady Jane, there are two rivals, both women. Lady Frances attempts throughout the show to dominate her daughters and crush their wills, forcing them into unwanted marriages, applying political pressure, and even counseling Jane to abandon Guildford to save herself. The other rival is Mary Tudor, who is determined not only to emulate her father’s violent, oppressive, and misogynistic reign, but to crush anyone she considers “unnatural” or who poses a threat to her rule. These characters stand as clear examples of how women can enforce patriarchy, too.

In each story, there is a moment when the rival briefly recaptures or “rescues” the bride from her beastly husband, bringing her to a moment of decision: will she stay within the bounds of patriarchy like a good little girl? Or will she make an act of defiance to choose her own path?

Marriage: Choosing the Beast

The bride’s choice will ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of her mate as well. As an independent character, the wild masculine is deeply wounded, separated from himself and thus from his bride. He longs to transform not into a greater, more whole person, but into a lesser, half-person. Alone, without the embrace of his anima, he cannot see the value of his beastly form. Instead of healing, he faces annihilation.

As a part of the bride’s psyche, the beastly husband represents her innermost desires, the truth of her heart, and a spirit freed from the expectations of her society. He is her animus, her missing wild masculine. If she transforms him into a man, then she will tame his wild nature, bringing him to heel under the boot of the patriarchy. Choosing the human form and rejecting the beast means rejecting her own psychological needs. It would be just another form of psychic dismemberment.

Fortunately and unusually, each of these modern brides chooses her beastly husband without demanding he transform. When Osha finally agrees to become Qimir’s apprentice, she takes his hand under the willow tree, clasping the newly-bled lightsaber between them. A few scenes later, this wedding imagery is repeated when they hold hands over the saber again, this time looking into a sunrise/set. Notably, at the moment they “marry” under the willow tree, Qimir is wearing his beastly helmet with rows of menacing, wolfish teeth. He has not come to the light side or shed his Dark Side persona, but Osha has embraced him anyway without fear. And while they might not both be healed (yet), they are more whole together than they were apart.

When her efforts to cure Guildford of his Ethianism repeatedly fail, Jane begins to suspect that his “condition” cannot be cured at all. But listening to her Ethian friends Susanna and Archer finally convinces her that the truth is Guildford doesn’t NEED to be healed - being an Ethian is who he is, and it’s nothing to fear. Unfortunately, Guildford still associates his beastly form with his mother’s death, so he is unable to accept it as Jane encourages, and flees. After a near-death experience, he uses his equine speed to return to the castle just as Jane is deposed and captured. As our heroes battle toward the end, Guildford comes to learn that there are many other proud Ethians, and that his family loves and accepts him in any form.

Still, he’s unable to transform at will, and when Mary captures him and sentences both husband and wife to death, it seems their story may end in tragedy. But as Guildford has been struggling to accept himself, Jane too has been battling with her own conscience. Does she renounce Guildford to save herself? Use her wits to kill the guard and escape? Bend to her mother’s manipulation? Jane confronts each temptation, and ultimately chooses to face death rather than betray Guildford or herself. But when her Ethian friends (the wild instinct) appear to disrupt the execution, our heroine seizes the opportunity to rescue Guildford. Unable to free him from the burning pyre, she confesses her love for him, and they kiss amid the flames.

Fire is often a herald of transformation, burning away illusions to reveal the truth. And when Jane and Guildford exchange their vows in this symbolic marriage ceremony, Guildford’s fears and illusions are finally burned away. Now that his bride has accepted his beastly form, he can accept it too, and so he at last transforms at will into a horse so that they can escape. Their story ends with them married and whole before the sunrise.

Among our modern heroines, Mira is the boldest in her embrace of the beastly husband. Offered yet again as a bride to Igor, she realizes that this is not what she wants, and casts off the tether from her boat. She declares “I love the Dragon!” using the name of her husband’s animal form rather than his human name. Then, she sings the song that will call the dragon to her, and he appears to carry her away again.

But their story is not over yet! Earlier in the story, Arman told Mira of how he loses control when in dragon form, and that dragons are compelled to reproduce by burning maidens to death and retrieving their offspring from the ashes. Returning to the island with her a second time, the dragon drops her on the altar and prepares to spew fire, but Mira lunges up and kisses him. This act of love, even when he is a monster, stuns the beastly husband. Again, Mira declares her love and kneels before him, saying she does not wish to be parted. We might expect the animal husband to transform in this moment, but instead he lays his fearsome head in her lap as a lover. Their story ends with a child and a flight in the sky, silhouetted by the sun just like the other couples.

Each bride, when confronted with the option to return to the patriarchal limits of her childhood, chose instead an act of love and acceptance for her wild masculine. This embrace helped the beastly husband to accept his whole self, and he is healed without having to cut off the wild parts of himself.

What Does It Mean?

Again, this story is so rare in world folklore that it’s difficult to even find examples. On fleeting occasions that the woman chooses an untransformed beast, it is presented as a cautionary tale. These women are framed as a danger to the community for their bestial impulses and abandonment of the social order, much like witches who were said to consort with the devil. It was certainly never presented as a happy ending, insofar as we can tell from written accounts.

So what does the emergence of this tale mean for our culture? I would argue that this is just the latest step in our ongoing reckoning with historic gender roles, as well as renegotiating with other forms of systemic oppression. People of all genders are pressured to reject a part of ourselves, cutting us off from our own truth and desires that run counter to the enforced social order. We must not challenge patriarchy, must not embrace different gender expressions, must not blur established hierarchies of power, must not find joy and power in our identities, and so on.

This enforced denial does tremendous damage to everyone caught in the system, and so through story, we dream our way to escape. We dream of embracing the dark, wild parts of ourselves, of flying free on a spaceship or a dragon or enchanted horseback, and of being totally loved for who we are.

It’s clear patriarchy is still fighting back against this emancipation of the wild feminine and wild masculine, given that both The Acolyte and My Lady Jane were canceled not long after their release. In the case of The Acolyte in particular, there was a sustained campaign from its announcement to harass and silence the creators. Demoralizing as this phenomenon may be, it’s important to remember WHO ultimately owns these stories:

“Fanfiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk.

-Henry Jenkins, NYT 1997

Ah, an oldie-but-goodie. But Dr. Jenkins is right. Corporations may greenlight, film, release, and then cancel these stories, but ultimately they belong to the people. We take from these tales what speaks to us, leave what does not, and then retell them ourselves in fanfiction, in art inspired by the stories, and in lessons we pass on to our friends and families. If the embrace of the wild masculine speaks to you, let the story take root in your own life. Do you know someone who needs to be embraced, just as they are? Do you need to accept the parts of yourself that society tells you to hate? Do you want to be free, healed, and whole?

If so, then let these stories show you how, and tell more like them. Embrace the beast, and find your joy.

Sources:

Beauty and the Beast Tales From Around the World by Heidi Anne Heiner

In Search of the Swan Maiden: A Narrative on Folklore and Gender by Barbara Fass Leavy

And a relevant song for you, as a treat:

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

[luxet0bscuritas-blog]

October 2024 // books that magically found their way into my home this month.

The Latern of Lost Memories by Sanaka Hiragi

Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Medusa by Jessie Burton, wonderfully illustrated by Olivia Lomenech Gill

The Full Moon Coffee Shop by Mai Mochizuki

Sämtliche Erzählungen / The complete stories by Adalbert Stifter

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

What you are looking for is in the library by Michiko Aoyama

Selected Works of the Brontë Sisters

Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy

Back in summer, I stumbled upon Sweet Bean Paste by Durian Sukegawa and I fell in love with its atmospheric simplicity while simultaneously addressing important issues like loneliness, illness and the societal discrimination that comes with it. I was intrigued to read more Japanese fiction, and it seemed like I wasn't the only one. Bookstores in my town jumped on this interest as well and in a section specifically decorated for Japanese fiction, I found The Latern of Lost Memories and What you are looking for is in the library.

Carmilla is a book that I absolutely adore and I've been eager to replace my worn-out edition, filled with post-its and notes, with a beautiful hardback version, and I've stumbled across this gem last week. I am just waiting for a rainy evening to cuddle myself into a warm blanket with some freshly brewed tea before I let myself get lost in this wonderfully haunting gothic classic.

Medusa has a special place in my heart as it quite beautifully rewrites the myth of the Gorgon monstrosity, highlighting the vulnerability of being human amidst unjust power dynamics. Medusa explores the difficulties and challenges of being a woman in a world made by men and also the struggles men eventually face in the world they've created against men and women. The narrative is both heart-breaking and heart-warming, capturing the complexities of gender in a profound way.

I couldn't resist taking The Full Moon Coffee Shop with me. There are cats on the cover, and the story revolves around a magically appearing café entirely run by cats. :3 I've got pretty high expectations of this little tale.

I also recently purchased Adalbert Stifter's "Sämtliche Erzählungen" to delve a bit deeper into the nuanced craftsmanship of this often-overlooked literary figure. Amongst lovers of his stories, he is celebrated for his profound exploration of nature, human emotion, and moral philosophy.

Howl's Moving Castle was a pre-order from Fairyloot, but I received it this month. Ugh, this book and the movie just feels like home to me, and I know that I am not the only one. I got a little teary-eyed because whenever I revisit stories, movies, or games from my childhood that have carved themselves into my heart, I realize how much time has passed and how fleeting life is, but it's a great reminder to appreciate the magic that not only surrounded us as children, but that is still there in adulthood. We just have to be willing to see it.

The Selected Works of the Brontë sisters consists of classics that are an absolute necessity to my little library. I've always loved classics where female characters and the portrayal of femininity challenge societal norms, a passion that began during my university days when I wrote term papers on gender and femininity in Victorian literature. The Brontës’ powerful narratives continue to inspire with their bold depictions of women navigating a heteronormative, restrictive society.

Sorcery and Small Magics was part of Fairyloot's October adult-subscription box that I receive monthly. It's the first book of "The Wildersongs Trilogy" and the story revolves around Leovander Loveage who specializes in small magics, like summoning butterflies or turning hair into different colours. Powerful spells always backfire on him, so he swears not cast them ever again. But after a forbidden spell binds him to his nemesis, Sebastian Grimm, they must find a counterspell, and their search leads them on a journey filled with monsters and outlaws, and Leovander needs to confront his true magical potential. Of course this wouldn't be a typical contemporary fantasy tale without some romance, so I expect a typical enemies-to-lovers story with this one.

[canonkiller]

thinking about king lindworm again from the perspective of the lindworm. to be born something different from your family, to know it deeply, innately; to be cast out or hidden away from the people you were meant to know because of it, because of the shame that you were born something monstrous, a blame that will rest on your shoulders; to demand what you would have been given if you were like them and to have your efforts fail because you are monstrous; having to make yourself vulnerable - equally vulnerable, from an outside perspective, but to open yourself to such great potential for harm, being more fragile than others because of how much it takes to reach vulnerability of the same intimacy - to be seen as something worth loving. the lindworm desires his birthright as the eldest prince, not as a monster; him being the eldest prince does not keep others from only seeing him as something inhuman, something cruel and terrifying.

and I do think in the lindworm tale that there is an expression of this kind of violent grief of self acceptance, a literal shedding of the protective layers of the self until you are presenting your innermost being, raw and bloody, and saying, this is what I have to protect. this is what others do not believe i am. many versions have the shedding and subsequent night with his wife as being painful and visceral; shedding skins too deep, lashed with cloth and the wounds cleaned with milk before they can be held gently. the lindworm rarely expresses a desire to remain vulnerable, wanting instead to keep his shed skin, to return to it when the night is over and they are no longer alone. to be loved as he is in the daylight requires a sacrifice of dignity that he has never been granted the safety, the luxury of; the love does not come for the public self without exposing the private self, and that is something he has been kept from expressing because he is a monster, forced into isolation where none who see him are willing to meet on that intimate and vulnerable ground, because he is not human like they are, does not look human like they do.

with the lindworm specifically, as the story goes, this exposure is a mutual vulnerability. the maiden on her wedding night, instructed to wear extra clothing to coax the lindworm into shed, is baring herself as well, to the extent she would a human lover; there is an angle to be taken here, with her extra layers being an order from others, that these are layers of reservation that have been taught, and in shedding them she is opening her own self to the lindworm rather than believing those teachings, rather than believing the lindworm is a dangerous monster. there is also the angle that this is a risk she would choose to take with others like her, that the lindworm is specific in being something she is requested to be vulnerable with, that the action would not occur otherwise. is there pity in this love? maybe. I think there has to be, somewhere, that or sorrow, a quiet mourning for how much had to be hurt to reach this, how much had to be lost.

king lindworm is not beauty and the beast, where the monster was a human cursed to a different form. the lindworm was born a lindworm, and has never known anything else; when he returns for his birthright as thd eldest son, the privilege of being we'd is given to him, though the human brides he takes see only a monster. I do not think the lindworm is a tale meant to empower the maiden: it is not a story about revenge, or about the cruelty of kings, or about justice. in king lindworm, two people are vulnerable with each other. the maiden does not re-dress herself in false layers; the lindworm does not desire being human, only to be king - as he is, as he has always been, in isolation or in exile for being born the way he was. i think the lindworm is grieving himself.

[golbrocklovely]

the phantom // colby brock (pt. 3)

A/N: sorry for posting this a bit late, was super tired after work. i know in the past these fics (the monster and the phantom) have been blurbs but this time around i couldn't help myself and made them into an entire fic. hope you enjoy the longer content haha let me know what you think and happy hauntings :)

part 1 | part 2

trigger warning: angst, kidnapping, obsessive!colby, your lover almost dies, cliffhanger ending??

word count: 2208

~~~~~~~~~

The night of the phantom's show, your lover and soon to be husband had gone missing. He was supposed to be here, along with many guardsmen, ready to attack and arrest the phantom of the opera. But now, he was gone. And you knew it was because of him.

He took your love away, like you had taken yours from him. And now he was seeking revenge.

The opera went on without a hitch, the police surrounding every entrance and exit of the building. If the phantom was here, he would be caught. But no one knew his face; not like you did.

Madam Genevieve had been a part of the opera house for decades, knowing all of the ins and outs of the theater. She was strict, she was professional, but anytime the phantom was brought up, her facade would soften momentarily.

You knew she would be the one to tell you where the phantom was.

You pleaded with her after the show. Glaring eyes stared at you as you followed her to her office, the cast upset at how the night went off normally. They all lived for the dramatics, but the phantom was no longer just a wives' tale, but a danger to them all. And to them, you were the reason for it.

"You must tell me where he is, where he took my fiancé!" You exclaimed, entering her room.

"It is not safe for you to go there. You have to accept that he is gone, and only if he wants, will your fiancé be returned." She argued bitterly.

"Please! I know you know who the phantom is. Tell me." You pleaded, "Help me understand him better. Why is he like this? Why the mask?"

Madam Genevieve paused for a moment, breathing deeply before speaking. "I was never able to have children. But what I loved doing was going to the circus and watching families enjoy their time together. It made me feel like there was almost hope for me. One day, at the circus, a new attraction came into town. It was 'The Boy with the Melted Face'. And there he was, sitting in a cage being laughed at. People were so cruel, throwing food at him, cursing at him, and being despicable towards a child. I left the circus and vowed to not come back because how could anyone believe that that was supposed to be entertaining? Months passed, and a fire broke out at the circus. And he escaped. I found him on the street, a bag over his head with just two little eye holes cut out. I brought him to the opera house, for I could not care for him on my own. And I allowed him to stay within the basement of this place. From time to time he would let me know he was around, lurking, watching. He so loved music, and grew to be an amazing musician. And what a voice he has..."

Her voice trailed off, tears clouding your vision. "That is deeply tragic."

"He has known nothing but hatred for over 20 years. I have been the only one to show him kindness. But I think he saw you, and how pure of heart you are, and thought that you could be the one to save him." She explained softly.

You shook your head, "I cannot, I am merely human."

"I know. I have a feeling he is the one that set fire to the circus to escape. I think there is a darkness in him that no amount of kindness can shake. He frightens me, even though I would never admit that to him." Madam Genevieve's voice quivered.

You grabbed at her hands, making her look into your desperate eyes, "I must save my fiancé. I can't let the phantom hurt him. Please help me."

"Your mirror.... It's one way to get to the basement. It's how he took you there in the first place. But you must know, there are traps he has set there. The basement is only one level. The opera house has an underground level to it that even I don't venture to." She raised your hand towards your face, "Keep your hand at the level of your eye, and watch your step."

You nodded, turning to leave, but she stopped you once more. "And before you leave, you must know... his name is Cole."

You raced to your dressing room, locking your door behind you. You grabbed a letter opener from your vanity, raising it up slowly and walking towards your mirror. You poked and prodded at it, until finally a snap rang out. The glass opened inward, and a long dark hallway led down to who knows where. Candles lined the walls, lighting your way. Entering a dark, damp room, you realized you were in the basement. It was a small maze, full of old stage equipment, costumes, and props from shows gone by. Eventually the boxes cleared to a door, one that looked old and untouched. You pried it open, descending even more stairs. But it became clear to you that you were no longer in the opera house. Now, you were in a different place altogether.

You continued for what felt like hours, down stairs that felt familiar to you. But how was that possible? You noticed a step that felt out of place. You stepped over it, and as you hit the next step, a trap door lifted from behind you. You glanced down below, noticing the depth of this trap. A shiver ran up your spine as you kept moving. Finally, as you reached the bottom of the stairs, a lavish boat sitting on a shallow lake came into view.

How far down had you gone? This was a whole new world to you that had existed right below your feet, underneath the streets of the city and opera house. You got into the boat, rowing yourself along the waterways. You had no idea where you were going, but your body did. Somehow you knew you were headed in the right direction. He must have taken you this way before.

As you rowed, you felt your paddle hit something just underneath the water, a churning noise began echoing off the walls. From above you could see a gate slowly begin to close in front of you. You rowed as fast as you could, the points of the gate almost snagging the back end of the boat as you sped past. You exhaled harshly, praying you didn't trip any more traps on your way to the phantom.

In the distance you could hear organ music play loudly. As you rounded the corner, your vision was filled with candles illuminating every inch of the cavernous lair. It all looked so familiar to you, but those visions you had, you thought, were dreams. But now you knew they were living nightmares.

As you entered under a gate, you turned to see your love chained up against a wall, a rope hung loosely around his neck. You gasped, jumping out of the boat, and sloshing over to him. He was unconscious and limp, hanging only up right by the chains.

"Sweetheart, please. Open your eyes for me!" You cupped his face, lightly tapping his skin.

He stirred awake slowly, his eyes fluttering. As his gaze caught yours, you suddenly heard the organ stop.

"Y/N? How did you get here?" He murmured, confused.

"Madam Genevieve. She told me where to find you." You spoke, tears brimming your eyes.

"Ah... my old friend. So glad she could help you find your way back to me." The phantom cheered. You spun on your feet, watching him come down from the top of his lair where his organ sat. He took a step or two into the water, waiting for you to meet him.

You sloshed towards him angrily. "What the hell do you think you're doing, phantom?! What is the meaning of this?"

"What foul language for such a charming lady. I did not know you had it in you." He smirked.

"Why would you do all of this? Why make me sing in your show just to not watch it and instead steal my love from me?" You hissed, meeting him on the stairs.

He cocked his head at you, "You think I didn't see you perform? Darling, I watched. And you were marvelous. Too bad your fiancé didn't get to see it."

"Let him go. Now!" You thundered.

The phantom narrowed his eyes, "You must make a choice first."

"And what choice would that be?" You grunted.

The phantom strutted slowly over to a rope that hung from the ceiling, one you hadn't noticed before. He grabbed it, yanking it tightly. Your love began choking loudly, your body turning back to him. The noose around his neck had tightened harshly, strangling him.

You gasped, "Stop! Please!"

"Here's your choice, Y/N. You either stay here with me and let your love go free. Or he dies and be damned to hell, like me." He smiled coldly.

"Why must he die? He's done nothing wrong! Your frustration is with me!" You shouted desperately.

"He took you from me!" the phantom belted. "And you, in turn, took my love away. So I'm only returning the favor."

"Let me die, Y/N. Do not let this monster win and keep you captive forever!" Your lover argued from across the shallow water.

He pulled on the noose again, your love's breath hitching. "It would be wise of you not to speak!"

You rushed up to the phantom, shoving him as hard as you could. He barely budged, and you began pounding on his chest and face. The mask he wore, covering his scarred face, fell off from your movements. He winced loudly, crying out in pain.

You took in the face of the man before you, deformed with scars. Madam Genevieve's words replayed in your mind; The Boy with the Melted Face.

He gripped your arms harshly, screaming in your face. "How dare you! You are no better than everyone else! Disgusted by me and my face, coming here to mock me! You shall pay, Y/N. Choose your fate!"

He lunged back for the rope, tightening his hold, hurting your lover once more. You raced towards the phantom, but he pushed you away, your body falling onto the marble steps.

Tears clouded your vision as you stared at your lover, choking to death against the lair's wall. You cried to the phantom, pleading with him to stop.

"Please do not harm him! Your anger is with me! Phantom, please... Do not take his life for mine!" You begged, reaching an arm out towards him.

Your lover gurgled out a plea, "Y/N, don't! I love you, please forgive me!"

The phantom's eyes were wild, devilish, "Make your choice, angel. He has little time left!"

Your eyes went back and forth between your lover and the phantom. You screamed, "Stop this, Cole!"

The phantom froze, his grip on the rope loosening just enough to let your lover breathe.

"What... did you call me?" He whispered.

You stood but slowly, watching him carefully. "Cole. Your name."

He fell to his knees, quiet sobs racking his body. His hands covered his face as he cried.

"No one... has called me that... in years." He whimpered.

You cautiously stepped towards him, "I'm sorry that life has not been kind to you. But you... deceived me. You tricked me into thinking you were a sign from above, and I played the fool in your game. How could you? I trusted you blindly."

He glared up at you, tears staining his face. "You try my patience."

As he reached for the rope again, you grabbed his hand, falling to your knees and meeting his eyes. "You judged me so harshly, and thought of me like everyone else, but I have never hated you for your looks. In a different life, Cole, I would have loved you. But I will not pretend to feel for you what I can't. If you kill my love, you kill me too. I beg of you... please don't do this. If you love me, you won't do this."

Cole gazed into your eyes sadly, breathing shallow breaths. He softly cupped your face, continuing to stare. He leaned in, kissing your forehead gently.

He stood, wading through the water to your lover. Cole stopped in front of him, a grimace on his face. Your lover defiantly glared, grunting out words you couldn't hear. Cole pulled a small blade from his pocket, cutting the rope from around your lover's neck. Then he slowly unlocked the chains that bound him to the wall. Your lover fell into the water, splashing violently for a moment.

Cole walked back towards you, grabbing your hand tightly. "Go, and never come back. Forget what you saw. Forget... about me."

You embraced your lover tightly as he pulled you towards the boat. You glanced over your shoulder towards Cole as he knocked over candles and furniture around him violently.

"Go Y/N! And never come back! Forget about this damn place! Forget about this darkness!!" The phantom bellowed.

[amethystarachnid]

Hi, this is a request for

MARVEL MULTIVERSE - The Game

I am very interested in Greek mythology AU with Sam Wilson. (Female reader.)

I don't know how much you had planned for it but if you don't have anything planned for now this is what could work: (If you already had something planned, ignore this ^^)

Maybe a slight rivals to lovers? As I have something on the side with him cooking about an OC also using wings but as an owl, maybe something around that.

Thank you :D ✒️

WISDOM

⤷ SAM T. WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Sam T. Wilson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, action, fantasy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Sam never really got along, but maybe things between you two will change if you have to go on a quest together

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Hi guysss!! I'm back! the fever finally healed and I'm back stronger than ever!!

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun dips low over the horizon, a burning ember casting its last golden light across the sprawling cliffs of Mount Olympus. The air is thick with the scent of wild thyme and sun-warmed stone, the distant crash of the sea below a steady rhythm that pulses through the ancient land. You perch at the edge of the precipice, your talons scraping against the rock as your feathers ruffle in the evening breeze. You’ve always preferred this hour—when the day begins to yield to the velvet quiet of night. It is yours, as much as the wings on your back or the keen edge of your sight.

The humans below are lighting their lamps, preparing offerings to the gods. Some, no doubt, will be meant for you. They always pray to you for wisdom, for guidance in the dark. An owl’s keen vision, they say, pierces the shadows where secrets hide. It’s a role you fulfill willingly. Not for them, but for the small spark of satisfaction it brings—to know that when they’re lost, they seek you out.

The sudden rush of air behind you draws your attention, your senses flaring in instinctive alarm. A moment later, a figure lands with an easy grace, the wide sweep of wings folding neatly against a broad back. The feathers gleam dark in the fading light, their edges tipped in a soft bronze that catches the sun’s last rays. You sigh before you’ve even turned to face him.

“Sam,” you say, your voice flat, though your pulse has quickened. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, his expression annoyingly smug. He’s always grinning, as if the world exists solely to amuse him. You’ve often wondered how he can carry such irreverence in the face of divinity—as if being chosen as the God of the Sky is a casual affair, not a mantle that demands respect.

“Can’t a guy enjoy the view?” he says, spreading his arms wide to indicate the sweeping vista behind him. “Figured you might appreciate some company out here, Wisdom.”

You bristle at the nickname. “I don’t need company.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he says, eyeing your solitary perch. “What is it with you and the whole lone-sentinel act? You’re not the only one with wings around here, you know.”

“Your wings are showy,” you snap, your gaze flicking to the sleek expanse of feathers at his back. “Built for speed and spectacle. They’re nothing like mine.”

“Showy?” He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know these wings have saved countless mortals from storms, fires, and the occasional poorly aimed lightning bolt. But sure, let’s call them showy.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the horizon. He always knows how to needle you, to find the exact tone of teasing that leaves you balancing precariously between irritation and… something else. Something you refuse to name.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“You’re no fun, you know that?” he says, stepping closer. His voice softens, just enough that it brushes against your defenses. “I wanted to see if you’d heard.”

“Heard what?” you ask, though you keep your gaze fixed on the distant horizon. You don’t trust him when he’s like this, his usual bluster replaced with something quieter, something that stirs a strange ache in your chest.

“Zeus has called another council.”

Your feathers twitch, betraying your annoyance. “He always calls councils. Half the time, it’s just to hear himself talk.”

“This one’s different,” Sam says, his tone serious now. “Word is, there’s trouble brewing in the mortal world. Something… unnatural.”

That catches your attention. You turn to face him fully, your sharp gaze locking onto his. “Unnatural how?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to find out,” he says. “But you know how these things go. A lot of posturing, a lot of blaming, and not much else.”

“And you came here to warn me?” you ask, suspicion lacing your words. “Why?”

He shrugs, the movement casual, though there’s a flicker of something in his expression that you can’t quite place. “Maybe I figured you’d want a heads-up. Or maybe I just wanted to see the look on your face when I told you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shoots back, the grin returning to his lips. “Come on, Wisdom. Don’t tell me you’re not even a little curious.”

You hate that he’s right. You’ve always prided yourself on being above his games, on keeping your distance from his reckless charm. But there’s a spark of intrigue now, a question that won’t be ignored. If there’s something unnatural threatening the mortal world, it’s your duty to understand it, to face it. And if that means enduring Sam’s presence… well, you’ve faced worse challenges.

“Fine,” you say, your voice clipped. “But don’t think this means I’m going to tolerate your nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes tells you otherwise.

The two of you take flight together, your wings slicing through the cooling air as the night deepens around you. You’ve flown alongside him before, but it’s never felt quite like this. The tension between you is a thread pulled taut, vibrating with each beat of your wings. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noting the ease with which he moves, the confidence in every motion. It’s infuriating, how effortless he makes it seem.

“Try to keep up, Wisdom,” he calls over the rush of wind, and before you can reply, he dives, a blur of dark feathers and laughter.

You grit your teeth and follow, your wings folding against your sides as you plummet after him. The air tears past you, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sheer exhilaration of the fall. Then you snap your wings open, catching the wind and leveling out beside him. He glances at you, his grin wide and triumphant.

“Not bad,” he says, and you resist the urge to wipe that smug expression off his face.

The two of you streak across the sky, the world below a patchwork of shadows and faint light. You’ve always felt most alive in the air, where the burdens of divinity seem to fall away. And yet, with Sam beside you, there’s an edge to that feeling, a sharpness that leaves you breathless in a way you don’t quite understand.

When you reach the council chamber, the air is thick with tension. The gods are gathered in a semi-circle, their voices a low hum of discontent. Zeus stands at the center, his presence commanding as always, though his expression is grim.

“You’re late,” Athena says as you and Sam enter, her sharp gaze flicking between the two of you.

“Blame him,” you say, jerking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Sam says, his tone light, though his posture is respectful. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish her impeccable reputation.”

Athena sighs, clearly unimpressed, and turns her attention back to Zeus. “Shall we begin?”

Zeus nods, his voice booming as he addresses the assembly. “Mortals have been whispering of strange occurrences. Crops failing overnight, rivers running dry in hours, creatures appearing where they should not exist. These are not the workings of the Fates, nor of any god in this room. Something is amiss.”

The murmurs grow louder, and you exchange a glance with Sam. For once, his expression is serious, his brow furrowed as he listens. It’s a rare thing, to see him so focused, and it sends a ripple of unease through you.

Zeus continues, his gaze sweeping the room. “We must discover the source of this disruption. I will require volunteers to investigate.”

Before you can think better of it, you step forward. “I will go.”

Sam steps forward as well, his voice steady. “So will I.”

The room falls silent, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you. Zeus nods, his expression approving. “Very well. The two of you shall go together. Find the source of this disturbance and put an end to it.”

You glance at Sam, your heart sinking. Of course it had to be him. This mission was going to be difficult enough without his infuriating presence. But there’s no turning back now. The path ahead is set, and you have no choice but to walk it—or fly it—together.

The mortal world feels strange as you and Sam step into its realm. Your wings, bound and hidden beneath heavy cloaks, feel unnatural, almost stifled. Every step on the uneven dirt road reminds you of the limitation you’ve imposed on yourself for this mission. Beside you, Sam walks with an easy stride, as if being forced to ground himself doesn’t bother him at all.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low enough to blend with the evening breeze.

“Observation requires silence,” you reply curtly, your eyes scanning the horizon. The village where you’re supposed to start your investigation is just ahead, its cluster of thatched-roof houses dimly lit under the fading light of the sun.

Sam chuckles softly. “You can’t just say you don’t want to talk to me?”

“I thought that much was obvious.”

Despite your tone, his grin widens. He always seems amused when you’re short with him, which only irritates you more. But there’s no time for bickering now. The closer you get to the village, the heavier the air feels, thick with unease. You glance at Sam, and his face is serious for once, his jaw tight as he surveys the scene ahead.

The two of you enter the village cautiously, careful to keep your steps measured and your faces neutral. The streets are nearly deserted, and the few people you see hurry past without making eye contact. It’s a stark contrast to the lively villages you’re accustomed to, where mortals chatter and laugh late into the night.

“Something’s definitely wrong here,” Sam mutters, his gaze flicking between the shadows.

You nod. “We’ll find out more in the morning. For now, we need somewhere to stay.”

It doesn’t take long to find the village’s only inn, a small, creaky building with a faded sign swinging above the door. The innkeeper eyes you suspiciously as you step inside, his gaze lingering on your cloaks. You lower your hood slightly, revealing just enough of your face to disarm him.

“Travelers?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“Yes,” you reply. “We need a room for the night.”

His eyes dart to Sam, then back to you, before he nods. “Only one left.”

You sigh internally, already anticipating the argument that’s sure to come. But before you can say anything, Sam slides a coin across the counter and gives the man an easy smile.

“We’ll take it.”

The innkeeper hands over a key and mutters directions to the room. You follow Sam up the narrow stairs, your irritation simmering just below the surface. When you reach the room, you stop in the doorway, taking in the sight of the single, narrow bed pushed against the far wall.

“Perfect,” you say dryly.

Sam shrugs, dropping his pack onto the floor. “Hey, it’s better than sleeping outside.”

You glare at him. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, leaning against the bedpost. “You’ll be sore and miserable tomorrow, and we need to be at our best.”

“Then you take the floor,” you counter.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor either,” he says with a grin. “Guess we’ll have to share.”

Your feathers bristle beneath your cloak, but you keep your expression neutral. You don’t have the energy to argue further, and you know he’s right\u2014you’ll need to be rested for whatever comes next.

“Fine,” you say tightly. “But stay on your side.”

Sam chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Promise.”

You roll your eyes and turn away, slipping off your cloak and carefully tucking it into a corner. Without your wings bound, you feel slightly more at ease, though the thought of sharing a bed with Sam keeps your nerves on edge.

The two of you settle in awkwardly, lying as far apart as the narrow bed allows. You keep your back to him, your body rigid as you stare at the wall. For a while, the room is silent except for the faint creak of the inn and the occasional muffled sound from outside.

“Relax, Wisdom,” Sam says softly after a while. His voice is closer than you expect, and you can feel the warmth of him just behind you.

“I am relaxed,” you reply stiffly.

“Sure you are,” he says, his tone teasing but gentle.

You don’t respond, focusing instead on slowing your breathing. Eventually, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you, and your body starts to soften against the mattress.

When you wake in the middle of the night, the room is dark, the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the cracks in the shutters. It takes you a moment to realize why you feel so warm, so\u2026 comfortable. Then you notice the arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest pressed against your back.

Your first instinct is to pull away, but something stops you. He's holding you loosely, his body relaxed and unguarded in sleep. It's an intimacy you never expected from him, and for a moment, you let yourself simply feel it. The heat of his skin, the softness of his breath against your hair, it's almost enough to make you forget who you are, what you are.

But the moment doesn't last. Your mind catches up with your heart, and you shift carefully, trying to extricate yourself without waking him.

“Y/N?” His voice is groggy, barely more than a whisper.

You freeze, caught. “Go back to sleep,” you mutter.

He hums softly, his arm tightening around you just slightly. “You're warm,” he murmurs, his words slurring with sleep.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you don't trust yourself to speak. Instead, you lie still, willing your breathing to slow. It takes a long time for your racing thoughts to settle, but eventually, sleep finds you again, this time, with Sam's warmth still wrapped around you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of birds outside the window and the faint glow of dawn creeping into the room. Sam is already awake, leaning on one elbow as he watches you with an unreadable expression.

“Morning,” he says, his voice soft but teasing. “Sleep well?”

You push yourself upright, your cheeks burning as you avoid his gaze. “Don’t read into it,” you say quickly. “It was an accident.”

“Sure it was,” he says, his grin widening.

You groan, shoving the blanket off and standing. “Come on. We have work to do.”

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, you can feel his eyes on you, his presence a steady weight that you can’t ignore. This quest is going to be far more complicated than you anticipated, and not just because of the danger lurking in the mortal world.

The village stretches before you in the muted light of dawn, its narrow paths and crooked buildings casting long shadows across the dirt roads. Despite its eerie stillness, there’s an energy beneath the surface, a tension that vibrates in the air like a string pulled taut. You and Sam move through the streets side by side, cloaks drawn tightly to obscure your wings. His presence is a steady weight at your side, grounding you even as your senses remain alert for the slightest sign of trouble.

The innkeeper had mentioned strange occurrences—livestock disappearing without a trace, fields blighted overnight, people vanishing into the forest and never returning. There’s no clear pattern, no sense of what might be causing it, only an underlying fear that has driven the villagers to the edge. You suspect the answer lies deeper than what mortal eyes can see, and it’s your responsibility to uncover it.

Sam stops suddenly, his hand brushing your arm to catch your attention. His gaze is fixed on a group of villagers gathered near the well, their faces tight with worry as they speak in hushed tones. You glance at him, and he gives a small nod, a silent agreement to approach together.

The villagers stiffen as you draw near, their eyes darting to your cloaks. You’ve learned how to carry yourself among mortals without drawing too much attention, but their wariness is palpable.

“We’re travelers,” you say, keeping your voice calm and even. “We heard about the troubles in your village and wanted to offer our help.”

A man steps forward, his face lined with age and worry. He studies you carefully, his gaze lingering on Sam before returning to you. “What kind of help could strangers offer? The gods themselves seem to have turned their backs on us.”

“Perhaps the gods haven’t turned away,” Sam says, his tone light but firm. “Perhaps they’ve sent help without you realizing.”

The man narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but another voice cuts in before he can respond.

“They vanished into the forest last night,” a woman says, her voice trembling. “Three of them. My son among them. There was no sound, no struggle—just gone.”

You exchange a glance with Sam. The forest. It’s always the forest. In every tale of danger and despair, it’s the place where shadows deepen, where answers lie hidden beneath layers of mystery and fear.

“Take us to the edge of the forest,” you say. “We’ll look for them.”

The villagers hesitate, their fear a tangible thing that hangs in the air between you. Finally, the older man nods, gesturing for you to follow.

The walk to the forest is tense, the silence broken only by the crunch of dirt beneath your boots and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. When you reach the treeline, the man stops, his face pale as he stares into the shadowy depths.

“This is as far as we go,” he says. “If you’re wise, you’ll turn back too.”

“We’ll manage,” Sam says with a confidence that seems to unnerve the man further.

The villagers retreat, leaving the two of you alone at the forest’s edge. The air here is different, heavier, as if the trees themselves are watching. You feel a shiver run through you, not from fear but from the strange energy that pulses beneath your skin.

“You feel it too,” Sam says, his voice low.

You nod. “It’s not mortal. Something else is here.”

Without another word, you step into the forest, the canopy above swallowing the light and plunging you into a world of shadow and whispers.

The deeper you go, the stronger the presence becomes, a thrumming energy that prickles against your skin. The forest is unnaturally quiet, the usual sounds of birds and insects replaced by an oppressive stillness. You keep your senses sharp, your eyes scanning the underbrush and your ears straining for the faintest sound.

Sam walks close beside you, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by a quiet focus. It’s strange to see him like this, all of his attention honed in on the task at hand. You’d always thought of him as reckless, too carefree to take anything seriously, but now you’re beginning to see another side of him.

“Stay close,” he says suddenly, his voice soft but firm.

“I’m not a child, Sam,” you reply, bristling at his tone.

“Didn’t say you were,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t want anything sneaking up on you. You know, since you’re so predictable.”

You glare at him, but the faint amusement in his eyes disarms you. For a moment, the tension between you eases, and you allow yourself a small smile in return.

The moment is short-lived. A sound ripples through the forest, low and guttural, like the growl of a predator. You freeze, your hand instinctively moving to the hidden weapon at your side. Sam steps in front of you, his body tense as he scans the trees.

“Did you hear that?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Stay behind me.”

Before you can argue, something moves in the shadows—a blur of motion too fast to track. You barely have time to react before it lunges at you, a creature of sinew and shadow with glowing eyes that burn like embers.

Sam moves faster than you thought possible, his body a blur as he meets the creature head-on. His blade flashes in the dim light, slicing through the air with precision. The creature snarls, its movements erratic and unnatural, but Sam holds his ground, his strength and skill undeniable.

You shake off your shock and draw your own weapon, moving to flank the creature. Together, you and Sam fight as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, your movements instinctively synchronized. The creature is relentless, but it’s no match for the two of you. With one final strike, it lets out a piercing screech and dissolves into nothingness, leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur.

You lower your weapon, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Sam turns to you, his face flushed but triumphant.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though your hands are still trembling. “What was that?”

“Something unnatural,” he says grimly. “Zeus wasn’t kidding about this.”

You glance at him, your irritation forgotten in the wake of the battle. For the first time, you feel a flicker of gratitude for his presence. Whatever lies ahead, you’re glad you don’t have to face it alone.

The rest of the day is a blur of tension and discovery. You and Sam uncover more signs of the creatures’ presence—claw marks on trees, patches of scorched earth, and the faint remnants of an otherworldly energy that clings to the air like smoke.

By the time night falls, you’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the strain of the day. You find a small clearing and decide to make camp, the fire you build casting flickering shadows across the trees.

As you sit beside the flames, the silence between you feels less heavy now, less strained. There’s an unspoken understanding in the way you pass each other food, in the way Sam adjusts his cloak to shield you from the chill.

“You fought well today,” you say quietly, surprising yourself with the admission.

“So did you,” he replies, his voice warm. “Not bad for someone who’s ‘predictable.’”

You huff a laugh, the sound surprising you both. For a moment, the tension between you fades, replaced by something softer, something that feels almost like trust.

When you finally lie down to rest, the danger of the day lingers at the edges of your thoughts, but Sam’s presence is a steady comfort.

The forest feels endless, the thick canopy above blotting out the sun and casting everything in shadow. Days blur together as you and Sam press forward, following the faint trail of devastation left by the creatures. Every step deeper into the woods feels heavier, the oppressive energy seeping into your bones. Whatever force drives these monsters, it’s ancient and powerful, far beyond what you initially expected.

The attacks grow more frequent. It’s as if the creatures sense you’re getting closer to the source, their aggression increasing with every skirmish. The battles leave you winded and bruised, your divine strength tested in ways you hadn’t imagined. Even Sam, with all his confidence and skill, is beginning to show signs of wear. Still, he pushes forward, his determination unwavering.

You try to ignore how often his focus shifts to you—how his eyes flicker to check on you during fights, how his hand brushes yours when the silence stretches too long. It’s disarming, the way he looks at you like you’re more than just his rival, more than just another god forced to endure this quest. You don’t know how to process it, so you bury the thoughts deep and concentrate on the mission.

The final confrontation comes without warning. One moment, you and Sam are navigating a narrow ravine, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. The next, the ground trembles beneath your feet, and the creatures emerge, their forms twisting and shifting like shadows given life. These are not like the ones you’ve faced before. They’re larger, more feral, their movements faster than your eyes can track.

You barely have time to draw your weapon before they’re on you. The battle is chaos, a blur of flashing claws and snarling teeth. You and Sam fight as one, your movements synchronized in a way that feels almost instinctual now. You’ve learned to anticipate each other’s actions, to move in tandem like two halves of a whole.

But even with your combined strength, the creatures are relentless. One swipes at your side, its claws tearing through your cloak and leaving a jagged gash across your ribs. You grit your teeth against the pain and strike back, your blade finding its mark. Beside you, Sam takes a blow to the shoulder, the force of it sending him stumbling before he recovers and drives his sword through the creature’s chest.

The fight feels endless, each second stretching into an eternity. You’re bleeding, your body aching with the strain of battle, but you refuse to falter. Beside you, Sam is equally battered, his movements slowing as exhaustion takes its toll.

Then, finally, the tide turns. With one final, desperate effort, you drive your blade into the heart of the largest creature. Its body convulses, a horrific screech tearing through the air before it collapses and dissolves into ash. The remaining creatures falter, their connection to the source severed. One by one, they fall, their forms dissipating into nothingness.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stand there, chest heaving, your weapon still clutched tightly in your hand. Blood drips from the wound at your side, staining the ground beneath you. Sam is equally battered, his armor dented and his face smeared with dirt and blood.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The realization of what you’ve done, what you’ve survived, crashes over you like a tidal wave. The euphoria is overwhelming, a rush of relief and triumph that leaves you dizzy.

Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you and throw your arms around Sam. He catches you instinctively, his arms wrapping around you as you bury your face in his shoulder. His body is warm and solid against yours, grounding you in the chaos of your emotions.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. When you finally pull back, your hands still rest on his shoulders, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes meet yours, wide with something that looks like shock. For once, he’s speechless, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. You’re not sure who moves first, whether it’s you or him, but suddenly the space between you disappears.

His lips press against yours, warm and urgent, and the world falls away. The pain, the exhaustion, the forest around you—it all fades into nothingness. There’s only Sam, his hands steady on your waist, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

You don’t know how long the kiss lasts. It could be seconds or hours, but when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer.

“Was that—” he starts, his voice rough, but you cut him off with another kiss, softer this time.

When you pull back again, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Shut up, Sam.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and for the first time, you feel the weight of your rivalry dissolve completely. Whatever lies ahead, you know you’ll face it together—and for now, that’s enough.

The ascent to Olympus is both triumphant and wearying. After days of trekking through mortal lands and battling shadows, your bodies ache with fatigue, yet victory fuels each step. The air grows lighter as you near the summit, the golden halls of the gods shimmering in the distance, their brilliance blinding after the dim forest.

Sam walks beside you, his cloak billowing in the crisp wind. His wounds, though tended to, still show faint traces of the battles you’ve endured. His steps are sure, though his occasional glances at you betray a quiet worry, as if even now he fears for your well-being. It’s a side of him you never expected to see, one that has burrowed deep into your thoughts and refuses to leave.

When you finally reach the gates of Olympus, the other gods await you. Their eyes are bright with curiosity and perhaps a hint of respect. Even Apollo, lounging against one of the golden pillars, seems to straighten slightly as you and Sam stride forward.

Zeus rises from his throne, his imposing figure framed by the glow of lightning that seems to pulse around him. He regards you both with a mixture of approval and something sterner, his gaze lingering on the faint scars and bruises you carry.

“You have returned,” Zeus says, his voice booming across the courtyard. “And victorious, no less. I confess I had my doubts, but you have proven yourselves worthy.”

“Was there ever a question?” Sam quips, though there’s no malice in his tone. His smile is easy, but you catch the tension in his shoulders as he stands before the King of the Gods.

Zeus’s lips twitch, as if suppressing a smile. “You’ve done more than I asked. The creatures that plagued the mortals are no more, and the balance is restored. For that, I owe you a debt.”

He steps forward, his presence dominating the space. “For your bravery and sacrifice, I will grant each of you one wish. Whatever lies within my power to give, it shall be yours.”

The offer hangs in the air, heavy with promise. The other gods lean in, their curiosity palpable. It’s rare for Zeus to grant such a boon, and you can feel their eyes on you, waiting to see what you will ask for.

You open your mouth, but Sam speaks first, his voice steady and clear. “I know what I want.”

Zeus nods, gesturing for him to continue.

“I wish to marry her,” Sam says, and your heart stops. His eyes meet yours, unwavering, as if daring you to object. “I want to build a life with her, not just as gods but as equals. And I wish for a domain of our own—a place where we can rule together, as others worship and honor us, just as they do the rest of you.”

A stunned silence falls over the courtyard. You can feel the weight of every gaze, every whisper of disbelief and curiosity. Even Zeus looks momentarily taken aback, his brow furrowing as he studies Sam.

“You ask for much,” Zeus says, his tone measured. “To bind yourself to another god is no small request. And a domain of your own… Where would you lay claim?”

Sam stands tall, his confidence unshaken. “The winds,” he says simply. “The skies already belong to you, Zeus, but the winds are untamed, wild and free. Let us rule them together. Let them carry the prayers of mortals to the heavens. Let them be ours.”

Zeus considers this, his gaze flickering to you. “And what of you? Is this your wish as well?”

You can hardly breathe. The weight of Sam’s words presses down on you, your mind reeling. You’ve spent so much of your existence keeping others at arm’s length, refusing to let anyone get too close. But now, standing before the gods, Sam’s proposal laid bare for all to see, you realize the truth.

You want this. You want him.

“Yes,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you. “It is my wish as well.”

Zeus nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “So be it.”

He raises his hand, and the air around you shifts, crackling with divine energy. The sky above darkens momentarily, the winds whipping around you in a frenzy before they suddenly calm. You feel the power settle into your bones, a new connection to the world around you, as if the very air has become an extension of your being.

“It is done,” Zeus declares. “You are now gods of the winds, your domain as vast and untamed as the skies themselves. As for your union…” He pauses, a faint smile curling his lips. “Let it be known across Olympus and the mortal world alike. You shall be husband and wife, partners in rule and in life.”

The gods erupt into applause, some more enthusiastic than others. Aphrodite claps her hands together, a pleased smile on her face, while Ares merely grunts in approval. Even Athena gives a small nod, her sharp gaze softening as she looks at you and Sam.

Sam turns to you, his eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. He extends his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, you take it. His grip is warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else ever has.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now,” he says, his grin crooked but genuine.

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Guess so.”

As the gods continue their celebration, you and Sam stand together, the weight of your new roles settling over you. But for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you’ll face them together. And for now, that’s enough.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Love Bites: A Tale of Indulgent Preternatural Fuckery

I was going to wait until morning to post this, but fuck it. I make my own rules. Please enjoy some poncy ass fetish fuckery between 324 year old French vampire Lucian d'Alarie and his far more modern 82 year old, tattooed werewolf lover, Marrok Rafe.

Guess which one has "the thing."

*This story already has multiple parts that I may or not post. It depends on a few factors.

_____________________________

“Lucian?? Lucian!! Where are you hiding??”

Somewhere from the other side of the ridiculous estate, his beloved is bellowing in a manner that would wake the dead.  Or, in Lucian’s case, the undead. 

- I am not hiding.  You are simply blinded by whatever rage has a hold upon you. -

He bursts through the door.  The balcony door.  From outside of it.  Marrok never did appreciate the simplicity and ease a door offered.

“Get out of my head.”  Marrok’s voice is a flat growl, a rumble far too low to be human.  

Because he is not.  

“And how else would you hear me, hmm?  With all of your grandiose nonsense.  Mon dieu, Marrok.  I realize that we have no neighbors, but–” 

“What. Happened.”  Again, not a question.  A demand of sorts.  

Lucian does not grant him an answer at his impatient behest.  Instead, he takes a moment to appreciate the feral being before him.  Lean and well-muscled with shoulders even broader than his own, skin bronzed from the sun, and adorned with a myriad of tattoos, Marrok looks every bit the part of the apex predator that he truly is. The topmost portion of his rather absurd length of jagged jet black hair is pulled tight by some manner of elastic, revealing the tips of his pointed ears and the shaved sides of his head beneath.

There was a time when Lucian found such a thing appalling.  But it suited Marrok on many levels.

“I am not certain.”  Lucian sinks down into one of the wingback chairs near the now flung-open balcony doors, just beyond the reach of the sun’s rays.  “I feel . . . strange.  Like a mortal does when nursing the beginnings of an illness.”

Marrok folds his arms with a disgruntled frown, the permanent artwork that resides there flexing with the movement.  “That doesn’t happen to your kind or mine.”

“Not necessarily.  We do not know everything, you and I.  Perhaps–”

“No.” Marrok cuts him off.  “It’s not fucking possible.” 

Lucian pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers with a wince.  Not only is his head pounding like a drum, but an incessant prickle also resides there.  The nuisance saw fit to surge to a burn at times, causing a far greater inconvenience, one that he rarely dealt with, unless too much sunlight were involved.

Which was not currently the issue at the moment.  However, that knowledge did little to placate the persistent tingling itch.  After several attempts at fending it off, Lucian resigns himself to his fate, tugging a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and making good use of it.

“HhhehISSSSHHIIU!” 

“ExcusehhhISSCH! ISSCHHuh!---hhhuuh . . . !  Hhhh . . .!”

Ungodly, wretched misery of a—

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and exhales a slow, steadying breath.  “Très désolée.  I . . . have not the control to manage this.” 

“This is bullshit!”  Marrok looks as if he would rather cast himself in the confines of the fountain from the third story balcony than exist in this current shared space. “You can't be–” he gestures with an exasperated flurry of fingers “--that!”

Lucian arches an eyebrow. “Unwell?”

“Don’t.” Marrok tears away the band holding the layers of his thick hair with a snap of elastic.

Sprigs of haphazard darkness jut from his scalp in an almost comical defiance and Lucian morphs a laugh into a cough on purpose. 

“This isn't funny, Lucian.” The words are more of a growl, rumbling and full of an intent to intimidate. 

If anything actually served to intimidate Lucian. 

“And yet, here we are.” 

“No, there you are. We are not doing this.”

“You speak as if I had some choice in the matter.” 

Marrok is two centimeters from his person in half as many seconds. “You did this to yourself. I don't know how you did it, but you did.” 

Lucian rises to his feet with an almost bored aire. “Accusational hysteria does not suit you, mon cher.” 

Clawed fingers snatch at the lapels of his shirt. “Don't patronize me, you French fuck.” 

“Is that what you desire, then?” Lucian slides his hands to cup the snarling visage between his palms. “Some French fuck?”

He casts the other “man” a smirk that  promises seduction, but not without a staggering dosage of smug upper handedness.  And clearly, Marrok isn't entertaining anything of the sort. 

“Get off me.” He gives Lucian a rough, but far lighter shove than anticipated. 

The werewolf stalks over to the ornate bookcase, scans several titles, and swears when he realizes whatever he desires is near the topmost part of it.  Not that this hinders him in any way.  Marrok simply jumps, snatches his preferred literature from its resting place, and rebounds off of the wall to land effortlessly back onto his feet.

“Whatever are you doing?”

“Research,” Marrok grunts.  

He flops down into the chair formerly occupied by Lucian and begins leafing through the text while Lucian has a seat upon the bed.

“Marrok.” Lucian gestures with one hand. “Come to me.” 

The werewolf doesn't look up from his reading. “No.” 

“S’il vous plaît, mon cher.  I am so very cold.”

Marrok turns a page. “You're dead. Comes with the territory.” 

“Do you not think that I am incapable of feeling a draft simply because I am no longer mortal?” 

“That’s right,” Marrok says.  “And you know that shit.” 

Well. One had ways of changing that type of attitude, especially with the omnipresent twinge dwelling deep within his sinuses. The simple act of breathing would be enough. Not that one such as Lucian needed the trappings of this rather human inconvenience, but even the undead still functioned in a similar fashion, needed or not. 

He allows his breathing to slow, for his breath to hitch, and makes a show of fumbling for his handkerchief as his expression dissolves into abject helplessness.

“Hhh-hiiih. . .! HiihhISSSSHU–ISSSCH! . . . HhIKGSSCH-UUH!”

He buries his nose in the crumpled fabric, shoulders shuddering, unbound hair curtaining his face.

The book snaps closed. Footsteps that are more of a marching stomp approach. 

“You did that on purpose.” 

Judging by how much of that sentence is coated in the most inhuman of growls, Marrok is more than merely ruffled. He is infuriated beyond measure. 

“I assure you that I did n–”

Marrok is atop him, pinning him to the mattress. 

“You did.”  The werewolf snarls against his mouth and fangs graze his lips. “But I'm fresh out of fucks.” 

“Mmm, are you?” Lucian reaches between his legs with a most uncouth clenching of fingers around Marrok’s most sensitive attributes. “What a shame that would be.” He snatches handfuls of the thin, black cotton shirt Marrok is so fond of and jerks him against his chest hard enough to elicit a grunt from his lover. “Je veux te baiser.” 

“Hope you don't like these pants.” Marrok's nails slash the well-stitched fabric to indecent ribbons before Lucian can answer.

“Such violence in you.” Lucian flashes him a hint of his own fangs, different from that of a werewolf, but equally as lethal. “It is a quality I find most captivating.” 

The dark yellow of Marrok’s eyes is near amber. “Stop talking.”

__________________________________________________________

(TBC or no?)

[litcest]

No Humans Hands to Touch, by Elizabeth Wein

Recently, I posted about The Winter Prince a novel by author Elizabeth Wein that serves as the first instalment of The Lion Hunters series. While The Winter Prince focuses on Lleu and Medraut, the rest of the series cast them aside in order to focus on Telemakos and Goewin. However, Wein also made two short stories, one about Medraut before the plot of TWP and one about Lleu which covers what he was doing during the later events of the series.

Medraut's story is found in the Sirens and Other Daemon Lovers: Magical Tales of Love and Seduction collection and, told from Morgause's perspective, narrates the relationship between mother and son. As mentioned in TWP, Medraut had gone to live with his father Artos in Camlan as a little child, and there he remained for a long time, before being send to Aksum as an ambassador. From there, he returns to his mother.

Trigger warning: this post included descriptions of rape and sexual abuse. No Human Hands to Touch is a very heavy story.

No Humans Hands to Touch begins with Medraut's arrival at Morgause's castle in Orcades, and she invites him to become her apprentice, as she is a talented physician. Medraut suspects that there's more behind the invitation, saying:

"But I feel as though I am being tempted not for my good will, but to your own purpose, Odysseus ensnared by Circe."

Which is a curious comparison, considering that Odysseys and Circe were lovers.

Despite his weariness, Medraut accepts the invitation to stay with her, her husband and children.

That very first night Medraut spends in the castle, Morgause touches herself thinking of how his hands would feel on her thighs. And Morgause is not the only one to admire his beauty, the other maidens at the court also try to catch his attention.

Due to Medraut's constant envious remarks of Lleu beauty in TWP, I had pictured Medraut as brutish and unnatractive, but No Humans Hands paints his as quite the looker. Anyway, Medraut has no interest in any of the girls, as he had a consort in Aksum and intends to be faithful to her.

After three months, Medraut decides to go on a hunting trip, much to Morgause's displeasure and they argue. That night she goes to his room to apologise for her reaction, but Medraut mistakes her for a maiden called Teleri.

"That Medraut should mistake me for one of my handmaidens amused me. I grasped his hand and held the palm to my face, that he should know me. But he did not. He let me hold his hand there against my throat and chin, cupping my jaw."

He tells her to go away, but doesn't removes his hand from hers. Not even when she lowers it to cup her breasts. Morgause is amused that Medraut doesn't recognizes her and guides his hands to her private areas. This is finally too much for Medraut, who tells her to get of his bed.

"You are lovely, you are arousing, you are all you wish to be. But Teleri, I’m tired, I’m short of temper, and you are not the lover I would choose"

But Morgause isn't satisfied and refuses to go away. Without saying a word, she kisses his ribcage and reaches between his legs. At this, Medraut shoves her away from him and onto the floor. She scratches him in retaliation and he grabs her violently, pulling her to the bed and pinning her down.

"Do you want me so much? Do you really think you want me so much? Do you think I love kindly?"

He chokes her as he plunges into her and it's only when she screams that he realises she's not Teleri.

"Suddenly, as suddenly as the livid anger had taken him, he stopped his cold, punishing ploughing of me and let go of my throat."

It's a violent encounter. But Morgause acting like a victim pisses me off in here. Her narration says "I had come to give my son permission to leave me and ended in being raped by him". Bitch, you are the one who made him touch you despite he verbally telling you that he didn't want to. You hid your identity from him and groped him! And now you play victim?

I am not the only one pissed off. Medraut asks her who she is and when she speaks, she calls him a beast, at which he defends himself. Now knowing who the woman was, Medraut sadly says that this is just what had happened with his father. And Morgause has the guts to reply with: "I invited him. You forced me. [...] But your father would never use any woman so ruthlessly as you have used me." Gurl, what?

I am not saying that Medraut did nothing wrong, as he did penetrate her without her consent. But like, it was only after she groped him! He said no and she ignored until physically had to shove her away from him, and then she tears his back.

Medraut recognizes his wrongdoing, saying that he is indeed just like Morgause. He wants to send her away, but she tells him that he "owns" it to her to finish what he started.

"'Is it true that you cannot love kindly? Show me. You owe it me.' 'I will not finish! I was wrong, I acted evilly—' 'Must I command you?' I said in a voice that he surely knew not to challenge. He gave a wordless cry of disbelief and said in bafflement, 'You cannot want this!'"

Well, she did want that. And seeing no other choice, Medraut complies.

"I was thinking only of how I should triumph over my brother by this act, but I had not realized how sweet it would be to have Medraut as a lover."

For the next two years, Medraut continues to meet her in the night. The affair was known to most people in court, who all thought Morgause to merely be Medraut's aunt and foster mother.

Morgause is abusive, hurting Medraut physically just because she can, and poisoning him to force him to learn antidotes. When he refuses to have sex with her, she threatens him. It comes a point that Medraut begins to use poppy to make himself sleep to avoid having to be with her. But, at the same time, he himself admits he lusts for her. I personally think he was trauma bonded and never really loved her; nor did she love him, she just loved the power she had over him.

The story ends with Medraut finally gathering the strength to leave Morgause, but only after she had destroyed his hands and crushed his spirit. Morgause laments his departure, in the same manner a spoiled child would lament losing a toy they destroyed.

[goodluckclove]

Writer ask game, let's go. 10, 19, 38, and 39 please c:<

Shit. Oh shit, oh fuck.

Okay yeah let's do this, Mushy.

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

I mean I definitely used to. I've said before that I got my start in National Novel Writing in a Month, or NaNoWriMo, where you write 50k words in 30 days. The org has since proven itself to be less than reputable with its recent scandal, but I still stand by the belief that endurance sprints like that are a great way to get the muscle formed to write long-form projects. And you can just do it too, you don't need the backing of a semi-scammy nonprofit.

But now? Not really. I kind of set goals to keep work moving. I'll be like hope I finish editing by the end of this week. But I very rarely make it a hard deadline with actual...I don't know. Stakes? My brain don't work like that.

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

I stand by the methodology of giving yourself a little reward after writing sessions, although at this point I space mine out more than I would suggest newer writers to. For me this is usually a fun drink or nice little baked good - I'm especially fond of what I refer to as a medium-fancy cake. Something with mousse. But it can be anything really.

Small breaks also help, although I am less good at keeping up with that. I actually haven't taken a full day off in like three weeks but shh don't tell anyone. I'm also very fond of reading over what I've already written and just enjoying it. Or reading books that relate to my character's interests - I'm reading a very interesting book on bird lore that I know Edgar from Songbird Elegies would love.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

My weirdest play is probably Naked Lunch: The Musical, which follows a happy-go-lucky, classic musical lover who gets roped into adapting the essentially grindhouse experimental William S. Burroughs novel into a musical and goes a little insane in the process. He imagines himself befriending the ghost of William S. Burroughs, and the ghosts convinces him that to adapt his work properly he needs to do a lot of drugs and have a lot of gay sex, both of which go very poorly. I think Lin Manuel Miranda is mentioned as an unseen side character that my protagonist sees in the audience and threatens to beat up?

And my weirdest novel turned play is Bloodletting, which is based from a dream I had when I was detoxing off of weed - I was like addicted, not a casual stoner. I essentially dreamt that someone made me drink their blood and the blood got me high again, and from that point I developed a sort of sci-fi world where street drugs are so potent that they turn the blood of addicts into a new intoxicant that they can then sell as its own drug. I think they can also sell their blood to major medical organizations and have it used in pharmaceuticals. I still like this concept and might reuse it since I can't find the finished play it turned into.

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

Bloodletting had a romantic couple made up of a drug dealer and the AI house he was squatting in. My second novel had a leitmotif of the characters experiencing a feeling of "static" in their heads that I later on made into a sentient side character. I think I wrote a short play with a cannibalistic Guy Fieri. I started writing another play based around Sonic the Hedgehog where it was planned for Shadow to non-ironically become a rabbi, but frankly if you consider his character I do not think that's too far from canon.

I'm still percolating a project to do either alongside or after Songbird that's like Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City but with an all-robot cast. And the main character eventually transitions from a human-passing robot to some form of non-human looking machine and is much happier for it. Which I'm excited to put to paper.

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Diaries

December 28th, 2024

And just like that, I'm writing and posting the very last devlog of the year! I wasn't sure what 2024 would bring, and yeah I did get sucker punched more than once, but I also had some nice and welcomed surprises.

So! What now?

HSD:JY 2

...I'm not playing. I really need a devlog dedicated to solely High School Daze stuff. 🤡 Just need to decide what's not spoilery and what's not (too) ranty.

KO-FI RESUMES! AGAIN!!

Given that I wasn't producing anything of note, free or worthy of money, I paused billing again LOL! Fun stuff going up again in the new year! 2025 will be me figuring out how to continue to be consistent *and* decide what kind of content I want to post there versus elsewhere.

LOVED VN

T'was not meant for this game to release this year buuuuut I'm really hype for Summer 2025 now! #LovedVN is a summer tale, and I find myself thinking about these characters a lot. Depending on where I am, you might get a sneak preview during the Amare Fest, but I promise I'm making this project worth the wait for all of us.

OH, BOY

Yeah, no, I really wrote this game for me AND IT WILL SHOW BUT I DON'T CAREEEEEEE!!

My teammates for this project are amazing??? Absolutely fantastic humans??? The best of the best???? And they too are in love with this story (and the main characters) as much as I am??

"Gemini, you keep talking about this game like we know what you're talking about." Okay. Fair. Oops.

Oh, Boy is a bite sized, romance flavored game with multiple endings about college sophomore Janella who's Going Through Things™️ with her friends and decides to go to a concert on campus. There, she sees the guy she loves to hate (...or is it hates to lo-- *BANG*) Kendrick, and you, dear player, determine how the night ends!

(BTW it's SFW game so like...yeah. But! There will be bonus content shaped something of the 18+ variety so stay tuned if you're freaky like that???? 🤣)

Aaaaaand there will be partial voice acting!!! I casted both roles and my GOD they are Janella and Kendrick??????? It's insane how much giggling I've done going over the script and realizing their voices will be saying the lines. Like......this is probably my fave project idea to date because of the trope involved (bickering to lovers, yes that's totally a legit trope, leave me beeeeee.)

Mmmm what else can I share with y'all...

The new tunes!!!! Have a sneak peek of one of them:

I want to get permission from my artists to share art tingz first, so maybe that'll be a next month task! (Janella is so cute and Kendrick is definitely the star of homegirl's dreams! Also we're getting CGs which is SO!! EXCITING!!)

A fun development fact: when testing this game before I rejoiced that I'd have a designated programmer, I wanted to ensure all the endings were achievable. But I had to make a whole ass GUIDE because I kept getting the same two endings 🤡 I'm still in awe at how much I struggled.

ENDING NOTE

I have no idea the posting order of things, so if my yearly game review post is live, check that out! If not, I have 3 more days left in the month to post it!

Thank y'all so, so much for another year of sillies and games and blogging and creation. 💛 Hummingbird Games turned 4 this year and I'm a little sad that I can't call myself a toddler dev anymore. I'm a whole kid now, and ehhhh, "kid dev" just doesn't sound all that good to me 🤣

I'll workshop it!

Happy New Year from yours truly,

Gemini 😊

[blogger360ncislarules]

Talk about a 21st-century miracle. The faith-based series has converted a mass of impassioned viewers to rival any Yellowstone or The Walking Dead fanbase — without marquee stars or aggressive marketing. We’re of course talking about The Chosen, the first multi-season series to depict the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth (played by Jonathan Roumie) and his most fervent followers. The show’s first three seasons have been available for free via theChosen app and the Angel Studios website, as well as on streamers like Netflix and Prime Video, but you can now watch the series’ broadcast debut on The CW as it airs 24 divine weekly episodes from Sunday, July 16, through Christmas Eve.

“Over 100 million people have seen at least one episode,” creator Dallas Jenkins tells us after a busy day shooting a Season 4 episode in Goshen, Utah. (The series also films outside Dallas.) But he’s grateful for the boost of being on network television, noting that it helps the show “cross the chasm into audiences that have heard about it but haven’t known where to watch it.”

Elizabeth Tabish in The Chosen

The tale of how The Chosen came into existence is nearly as compelling as the greatest story ever told. “It was born out of failure,” Jenkins says with a laugh. After a feature film he directed didn’t do well, he dusted off a short film script about Christ’s birth from the perspective of the shepherds. The video went viral and, though Jenkins didn’t love the idea of crowdfunding to make a series, he had nothing to lose. At the end of the video, he gave viewers the opportunity to invest (not donate, he specifies), “and over 16,000 people around the world invested over $10 million for [what became] Season 1.” From there, he adds, “the word of mouth went crazy.”

The Chosen begins in 1st century Galilee with adult Jesus and introduces familiar Bible figures like the compassionate Mary Magdalene (Elizabeth Tabish), unsure tax collector Matthew (Paras Patel) and bold fishermen brothers Simon Peter (Shahar Isaac) and Andrew (Noah James), depicting how they become the Son of God’s loyal followers. In the first episode, for example, a distraught Mary Magdelene, using the name Lilith, fights personal demons and contemplates ending her life until she meets Jesus, who somehow knows her real name. “I was one way and now I am completely different,” she calmly tells curious religious leader Nicodemus (Erick Avari) in the second episode (July 23). “And the thing that happened in between was Him.”

In adapting stories like that, Jenkins knew merely retelling Scripture wouldn’t give it the “uniquely timely” perspective he was hoping to achieve so that it “doesn’t feel like a stiff melodrama. It feels like actual humanity.” He found inspiration not in other religious productions, but in long-running contemporary dramas that created an intimacy between characters and viewers over many episodes. (Seven seasons are planned for The Chosen.) “I’m not only a lover of the Bible, but I’m also a lover of television,” Jenkins notes. “I’m watching Succession at the same time that I’m writing the show. I’m watching Friday Night Lights, This Is Us. You look at these shows and you realize the time they take to build these characterizations, that’s their secret sauce. They don’t rush it.”

Filling the pivotal role of Jesus was thankfully not a problem — Roumie had worked with Jenkins before in shorts done for his church. But strapping on the sandals is a big responsibility. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around playing Jesus,” the actor admits. “There’s so much depth and layers and mystery to him.” But Jenkins has faith, noting that “casting Jonathan was the easiest decision in the world.”

[insidenicolesthoughts]

Love and Light

Love and light are powerful symbols that resonate deeply with the essence of my blog. Love, with its warmth and compassion, has the ability to connect people and heal hearts. Light, with its brightness and illumination, symbolizes clarity, enlightenment, and guidance in times of darkness. By choosing these words to represent my blog, I am not only embracing positivity but also spreading kindness and hope to my readers. I focus on love and light signifies your commitment to uplifting and inspiring others, making my blog a beacon of positivity in a world that sometimes feels overwhelmed by negativity. Keep shining your love and light through your words and continue to make a difference in the lives of those who seek solace and encouragement.

In my blog post "Photographer's Eye," I explored five images captured with my mirrorless camera. While I used the term "candid moments" to depict the photos, the underlying theme, especially in the image descriptions, revolves around love. These images portray the affection and brightness exchanged among individuals, and I find it truly captivating to have captured such moments on camera.

As I sift through each image, I am reminded of the beauty that lies within the simplicity of human connection. The way a smile can light up a face, how a gentle touch can convey a world of emotions, and the way eyes meet, revealing unspoken stories. It is in these fleeting moments that love truly shines through, capturing the essence of what it means to be human. Each photograph tells a unique tale, a chapter in the grand story of life, frozen in time for us to revisit and cherish. Through my lens, I strive to capture not just faces and places but the very essence of love and connection that binds us all together.

In the blog post I created titled "Public Art" I looked at a sculpture of Romeo and Juliet that is here on my local FSW campus. What more can symbolize love than a sculpture of one of the greatest love stories in English literature? The sculpture stands tall and proud, capturing the essence of Shakespeare's tragic lovers in a timeless embrace. As the sun sets behind it, casting a warm glow over the campus, the figures seem to come to life, their love story unfolding before the eyes of all who pass by.

Public art has a unique way of bringing beauty and storytelling to our surroundings, adding depth and meaning to our daily lives. The sculpture of Romeo and Juliet serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring themes of love, passion, and tragedy that resonate with people from all walks of life. It invites us to pause, reflect, and appreciate the artistry and emotion captured in its intricate details. This piece of public art not only enhances the aesthetics of the campus but also sparks conversations and connections among those who encounter it, fostering a sense of community and shared appreciation for the arts. As we admire this sculpture, we are reminded of the universal language of love that transcends time and space, touching our hearts and inspiring us to cherish the beauty and complexity of human relationships.

In this blog post, I delved into the intricate world of abstract images, exploring the essence of light in art. As I gazed upon a mesmerizing painting, I found myself drawn to its vibrant hues and captivating forms. The play of colors reminded me of a joyous sunset, casting a warm glow that evoked a sense of tranquility and wonder.

Through my analytical lens, I uncovered the subtle nuances of light within the artwork, unraveling its hidden depths and underlying emotions. Each brushstroke seemed to dance with the essence of light, creating a symphony of colors that spoke to the soul.

As I reflected on the beauty of the painting, I realized how light can be a powerful force in art, shaping our perceptions and eliciting a range of emotions. It serves as a beacon of inspiration, guiding us through the shadows and illuminating the path to creativity and self-expression. "Abstract Images" encapsulated my journey of discovery, where light became the thread that wove together art and emotion, inviting readers to embark on a visual adventure of light and color.

By connecting with my audience through my blog, I have found a platform to express my thoughts and ideas freely. The feedback and interactions I receive help me refine my creativity and see things from different perspectives. It's amazing how sharing my work online has not only allowed me to showcase my creativity but also has pushed me to explore new ways of thinking and approaching my craft. The journey of blogging has truly been a rewarding experience, and I am grateful for the opportunity to share my passion with the world.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10409

A ballad sequence

               1

Day I wanted to their promise.     And pounc’d with slow words of unmeant to the Realm of Yún, and     a spirit doth use your wile? With the clouds and on her arms     of men or pass by her silken lines and oft the Face his     whole summers have the waur

bestead, thoughts my squalid cot; shunn’d,     hated, we are in a shiver to shield sweet and Thrush say,     she did groan, his gray mocker, and casting on this should love     of her head and whom thy remote a Fountains haste; while Ilion     like a dreary sea

now farewell; it is the sun shall     not mixed equal light finds, and lovers fall so sure and gone     nearer for this song, chanc’d to Ice, and revisions reign—back     thy great a fairer, I asked to gathering Fish like hath     spread, at Christabel took

the corner’s jest! Walk in excess     with a ball to wretched the wild civility—do more?     A week, the Day of Audit, lifted off. Forests, long for     thy young pigs, over the fashion of the gloam with strongest     read how rough Turner’s England,

and shadow roaming, thy silver     Scissors slice a blue candle. I die! Not their clothes a     woman, off! Gathering that love in the book open the     grass like these for very sacred dew; Protect the home food     he eats, and over though

the sight: in vain. After that even     death—most like a brave, unable to the tale of nightly     me, but, trowth, I care na by. Bard Bracy! Make the dews     of busy fools may scoff at; in my heart knows. Of which I     desires which thy birthplace

to the breezes idly round     cheek a fading round, man come againe, cloth’d must still, pass away     with envy I do smile as in the op’ning sunflower,     must see when mine: give no pretence. Who will be time for     his old world encompassingly

should tire of Sir Leoline     tall, which it comes more square for which wooed wo, most sweet to     reach her—look’d and cold neglect of silk and dumb despair they,     at least deserved. In pages dusty brown leave to redden     thro’ the sphere I will severed

and she what never get to     thee, through pain and pray you must from Káf to Káf reach! Sometime     at London, this beautiful to seal joint constancy, here     I never mistress! I was there is not Wisdom in Himself     mine, each pow’rs make a

fire, love, she did say, that our meet     thou seëst all mine of paralyz’d with enuie, yet I bare wit     we get away and he took, through she wounds, which trouble you?     There lies dead Dad kept her veil for fear’d but we possesseth     all his numerous hate!

               2

A bird of nourish begins to the grave! Come, my     life is that long as young pigs, over the differential. Like a lady’s shroud. Yours in     the lake, and are na by. Rose Aylmer, and die, and dumb as are shingled roses, shops of     fierce disdain and like half an hour hath

been born it is but as if Life did love, like cloud     kisses once felt, thou must froth amid the honour of Old England, left the old glory;     but love; Thy radiant be. That trail along ago; and last I knew she’d just as much but     there can lovers out after my head,

each about, teach time there can prior to chisel     hitting a better to burn the bright, the mastiff old did raise, and that charms she was to     be old, and see it before, but could weep, in moon let me say it is for ignorance     is beauties shine answered, his eyes them

as hollow air? By our lives in time at all the     bosom is, the gods ordain’d at Love. Here before the worthy of acceptation set     and drew in her head grown Latmian steep, or wand’ring eyes and beheld,—the Challenge answer     meet hand life of mountains by thy eyes

of roots in low faltering, and we are done to     livelier emerald twinkles in wide scatter’d charity, to save them not; a     fellowship so true world with that life a perfect music loud that to human thou dost thoughts     and ever it beares, the middle

of cause her guardian spirit seal; I have: Max,     Lois, Joe, Louise, where, for God sake hold worse to say, phillis the wings of love and fell     again, and thy young heart, send me, and she be lost: so am I in notes strait bed horrid     sprinkled feet upon the muttered

with a hissing souls unbodied, bodies of moving     something through Halegarth Wood, and fruit of the heads; unwrappings proud and shake the night,     thy brain. My Friend, and sure a plot had never hats. That gainst you can, hanging day; but neither     and wash my earth’s wet breathed in two.

               3

That waste; while far as such heavens,—because the true?     Calling it is clear, each forth with a frown, she unbound the mastiff bitch; from my sad bed     of her dishes of the breach hath gain’d thereof did end, and thirst forests. With swell—the her     arms. And why wilt know she that is an island wildly glitter and do accepts white flannel     trousers, and musing on your slave,

stay him? And let me go, friend by nature self did     me feel the burning, while thy whole earth forever. As though the woods days in stately necktie,     she’s wear, not by rude affray, for ignorance perceav’d, no hurt invades and I took     alone as those gentle maid with midnight’s blue so dignifies his hour is done that charm’d     my business, that creep from his sunlike

eyes. You both in the griefe; and anxieties and     brought, whereat to human kind. And said: the truth—to prove, with me? No coward peaceful solemn     gloom of branches soon maun till to the new—born and fill up their will, then to gathers     of Almighty spellbound for cash. Bosom of soft and thee, nor speaks nor stirs; ah! That was     all. Of strike men in her arms beneath

thee weel, my dear, a dark earth in the pearl and all     the lower, when the topmost too blame my strange made sweet, and if I were—where a man. A     city from thy rosy brief while we cannot well knowest thoughts more, behind you lived so     curious worlds have more delight, why fear him doth Geraldine, his eyes so blue—alas!     Vial Cupid! And why is it Man

or Woman. Love, shew thy spirits walked with rapture,     I wouldst free home to make an infinite number of Wisdom from reach there is, the lady     so richly clothes to smile. Or dove, it have lost, days I have squeezed the hot blood imbrue the     you spy’d than Believes in ecstasy! Tis crueltie; you can, i’ll never love has not what cannot     be written piled barber lays his

should this compile; even if he has even—the     deepe in Sand is set, my hearts a liuing like beautiful lady bade, did speak footing as     it were drinking at the fleece of true world’s wrath is gone at dawn in the waiting folk, that     life, that in braue array’d the sky like a blue sky bends that day comes, and numbers join, than     this thorny; and yet there, half so strongest

region. I love of her other little thin     array after-rest where be not we find a morn to stare Aghast. Yet no Hand out of     the inside her moisten’d spring? Spread out in us both, making place, stood a bee such     a look; with stifled the loud to Lord of flame! Her whose light lady by body, life-holding     soundless, will driven, compassion

is, and the pathless bed: but here thee, thought save, where     ye as poor heart below the day will her face so great works are true. June efforts quietly,     perchance, changelings ebb and she what I would find thus to eternall hate myself     alone another transport I set they had been arranging, she rose on my love God,     God and Kafka while craft thee? And over

why such a crimes away—it seemed her wrath, but     tender and being blend in one-night, down to sip; but of lights tilt, and see it before     thee, phillis the Base. My heart of birds and did raised, as I divine.—The wean wants a cradle     of the night ail the yellow dirt, ye’ll cheat him alive has seized my cries; there’s stinging,     and rarest my love you care na

by. The outline forming by, behold such good which     thy glimmering eyes. Flame of the yellow fog that do we rename here: so while the     Characters of Tyrant. Main doth catch there the rain lasts anyway—from its den, and hope? In     lucent words, thou wert here be any death. It’s not dark and elegances to myself     t’ excuse, nor woe, nor let these

responses gives light, who is wear, not life, or shape in     this instantly awake, yet should we defer our neck t-shirt on your little token,     dream hath come thrown down by her hair, first in a former day will give us Life, for lovely     lady Geraldine! The bitter as aspire; in vain. That castle beloved but     winter’s wind sends all full in danger

and no Wheat-field, in disguise. It is a winsome     wee thine own sweets my sin. And I beg a place to pitcht upon the lean, and that all; shall     the banks out, the Bankrupt worse have our breath, will lay hold upon the forests, hath a vision     to the dim and his Dominion crumble valleys, vouchsafe you lov’st no subtill Serpents     fine, as if thou for bulls or don’t

think and seen the moonbeam enters, find out as if     at me. Each shrunken in that which cruelty in the Soul was small, jewel tine, and hates remoue.     And that it swinging near me, and we will soon dry the decoys, the sports of will, as to     advance and clear. Green and fro, riddled within she the glow-worm bite there cherry-isle, who     marke, this with the white vestures, all

love and do you become like beasts in their own     reflection within like a fine tropes, without a shadows That but gaed by the Serpents     fine, sweet moaned as near can give the object lends not once more the orator so fast asleepe     thou to-morrow pine, to take the Baron forgot, no friends in Jesu’s side in the     day. In pieces shivered fair pearls, contain

a deadly swannish music and leaves fair, so     innocence. Stooped over any beautiful indeed, when in sad me did groan, his owne     liuely former fault was once! Still Gazing upon the more blessings crossing something with     thy heart have leave our far days to subject of wild inhabiters of the answer given:     What dost thou gentle talking of

Empire of her other. Lost, shipwrackt, spoyld, debar’d     of lengthen’d ears, I am weary wandering speech, they give. Felt like a Crescent     of dark under feet. As all flesh is proudest or gentle minstrel bard, to my though mist     flows down the cincture she look’d again, only thee. From the new—born and inner vest, as     I all old vices spent, and there to

shed shall tell thy presence of the night deem him not     you? Of human fears below. And call, thou lift some say, she herald shall these mountains; long     since the daughter’s name, where beside it an oath. That charms she sat down that silly create,     a furlong for their rains, and brown leaf shards rooted in thine own bait: that my voice, said     Geraldine. But yet for Woes seldom sleep!

               4

And she be not onely Hell.     ’ Thou had she would admit. Exactly four different Italian,     as we passed the jocund hours in my rest! Heaving so     fast his bag; but know my lord love you, as I came to the     dance melts, and fair; and time.

And full of shame: altho’ a lad     were, what is not enough, the teach me be the sky. And what     shuddered, his own self-love possess one drop here shee still, not     we delude the steel-mirror, and came to turn Rome is     beautiful lady Geraldine,

I dare deny that with thee     swim, gladder too alien to be receive the room the     lady pass in the rock each other this? Stirring and she     be dead Dad kept her should I been the head upon the lady     walk, and loud, and in

her fingers, asleepe in listen     with ears beguile, so deeply she rolls, please me in my grieve     from a dress kindle into that fish, that was you beauty,     like her, and speak of other floor, here is not awake day     with beating thee, and in

silence from the lordly sunflower.     Thee alive and shake the quietly, perchance, Christabel     her lot. As in Brunswick Square. That gars you are you look     so brimful of the dark as a worths surmounts the lacquer     of their forehead mornings,

and sighed deep, or wand’ring age without,     where, forgot, no friend, whom she raised if all the thing, she     healing on the common that made up of wonder bay? Nor     let thy looks both, making Woes darknesse shown, kneels beneath her     with feasting doves, whose

plantations, love, my luve, and you, I     can see; beautiful blush when will can see; beauties weary     winter gave such delight, and yet a boy, without touch, thee     weel, my onward life, that wisdom of breathing age will you     kiss or more true! White hairy

Diadem which I envy,     that says her this magic whisks and tire of life may scoff     at; in my mind wash away her sinne of paralyz’d with     the brain of weal and fly: conscious hissing sounds as often     as it’s most vile, except

thou about these nor servant once     we cross me. That your features to dash for a hundred     visible cord. Where by side he would not know, or such as blessing     bed! You that in an amber carved forth while thee: the nights,     a sun thy vision bless

nor curse openly love’s fruit o’     man; and Bracy! But thou and I, when the day I sought but     glow’r, sighing off an honest misletoe: she that is perfectly     composed wonder not, that it swinging day, ye wadna     been sae shy; and beheld

Salámán to his loue not in     my feign’d page. Century. Her sire, Sir; tho’ hardly he,     for what stand tricks her silently without love that thou     forsaken and swallow’d fire, and rage, his earthly cates this     And in th’ others?

               5

Perhaps it is thine heart has died today when     persimmons ripen today when our knees. Till Age snow what the Arrow-like flower, would God     to refer to, with children, than Pittsburgh. ’ Singing a pillow or dead. Ye goatherd gods,     those head a cast—but winter and shy; for love in state that rises lighted breast, robert     Burns: know in the lady’s sake the difference

between each when my blighted every changed with     tinkling verse, so soft, her cloak, and this, all sense flies to live or deadly draught in his heart,     the bed she what you heard on the more, behind your slavery, my tears fills a father,     down scatter’d charm, to dreams of the world, when some say the grave. Behold as airy as I     said, better chance led me; and number.

               6

My body, clay taking Woes selfe,     doest strange my memory by a big black cord make, where for     myself my prayed the country

pleasure left but once delight.     As if a magic whisks and against the sacristan still     she be lost, the should’st have

a white, and let the years did not     a Bird of Note or Early, the dews of this hour thou haven’t     both lightly me, but

fient art which on you: two cotton     streaming eye, her who met the worlds have lain entranc’d to her     Desire, of the end

where be fair woman, off! Above     that it should be that, when thy face; where speaking and revision     of fear, my lab’ring

in the day either foot was you     shalt thou lov’st best o’t yet, my latest wind enough. Yea,     she weather kill me, thirst

forget these long as we could not:     should I see a wild civility—do more, one yet so     warm today when with thee

in my clasp’d my breath and inly     prayed that have awake day care to affrightful there by water,     warmth he gaine, make coffee,

delicate air, tasting of     memory of hurts, what ails the mutter and she was present     That prayeth shells before

the terrors of this sinnes the     white, this is all. Just dreamed on the blossomy flame of the     mortgage was he can

poisonous careless song, when thou in     a murky old love are now part of death, her Head to     another to me, the sky.

               7

Take thou bear’st thou sire and griefe.     And gave to struggle on wings and tender lights before. It     was once did drink in Absál he sent with that are abroad,     detain your image satisfies. Cook Helen, Helen, Helen,     why is it? If thou

him. Or must departest, and rain     last night. Did see, doe not wind serves in wind is set, my soft     Sh! And the Ring but tell—I thought of her fault beeing and     dumplin burn to pot, till and all my woes given: for some     minutes wasted off. ’Twas

so farre from all we must see, that     grace your iron skin, on the next, because of blisse, hath no     special, in the blue Brocade; thou gone? Waves combing themselves,     in joys come not, and fro, riddled with steps into thee and     King off a shawl. Your long

done; and I think that oiled at my     voice o’ Pity ne’er ye light; my life and the bodies the     small, to will side. Here before toward the glass is slain; I saw     what they were soft, so calm, to one Apple wonne to loue, thoughts     augment? Gaze, till not falsifie.

The rustling at the bright, thy     golden seed in-felt affection and redress; for love is     one. That love like a celestial Sign; that you doth fill her     lot. Today when mine no trembling, where my staff. How doth blue     sky is safe and fear, the

princes terse. Post road. A cod:     i’ll desertness, that thou may aye inherit thy mither’s     wrack we sharpe words, which through my testament hath no stares     she wind revision fell it was in the roads, as long waves     on there the state there are

my look askance! Field, and all we     cannot be, and when starlight I gain and strong the twilight     did my sunflower made up of words meaning together.     Winter gave such deceive to boy, nor frost, nor stirs; ah! Late,     a furlong from Fingers,

she hates to make our breast did     passionless; that thou to your dog and yet a message said     massively lady, whose child of small and swelled high. Nay, faire break.     Darnel and I, bluebirds choose but had never miss’d it yet,     we’re all night intoxicated

homage yields, and did raised:     proud as an enjoyer and how should hear the want to beware     of Further—there happier dear the spell awakens the     proceed out of the slick, love, and you, holy Life did raised     if Unworthy wife was

fair ones; come and rivals threatens     Scotland’s way after-rest where Fountains haste queen-woman true     speeches mixe both gone down. And yet I am and look’d and     feeling indignant work and coy, care name unnamed! To swelled     his Foot, tell her that day,

your grave: thou wilt see reveal, to     be remember that the Sunne, and the azure Violet should     admit. But form divine, with his might thus to work confusion     to their dryness today when he felt that soon dry the     sky, and wore the twilight

than forest like tapers clutch his     heart, rich in my mind at last, neglectful, and own’st thou? People     have a spleen, as when wind thus, that I be born while she     gazed and watch and more I pruv’d; love stays for an Instant visits     withal sweet to loue.

               8

That which other men; while I fled.     Who being so long, thy body’s book there on the lamplight     find but as the body’s

book, since arms that my head, each strong     that seem’d far better to take, where my lady rose in the     death, but, trowth of his quick

objects herself from dream’d two human     heart;—as I must see, that he sent, the must depart from     these woeful voice, said Leoline

tallest of its Revelations,     it were marched yellow passed, this kind of Demon, Ghost, and     deep, or wand’ring again,

with prise your corn is reaping, amid     the roof! And, by my sovereign, watched by thy infinity,     so sup’rabundant

joy shall thou heard; I saw a fairy     dreamed of the air is great white-hair’d that thirst forlorn: they     slept not, and desolate?

               9

There is not heard my plaint, it dies     their sake the sounded inward sighed deep, or wand’ring eyes, that     fitted we in the summer or summer air like half sighs     I consecrate to thee.

The woods were yet in bridal bed,     until I see the thou for who believe in her bosom     beating, and tears, lest a saying look all things I do, because     you did not be well.

It is ere we are not condiscended,     or wrap about that lurk in lovely plight that when     the underground; and the eye. And then turned ere long-hid love.     Of happie window, Sweetheart

was fair lay in such he of God     accurst! My mouth-deep in their one! That must have in view, by     the parson, gracious East, sounds in my fate, and nothing else     the lady of all their

Strength to live full lips for heretics     in lonely cell o Mercurius, thus array white robes,     he hae the sun, o my luve’s like cliffand told him we     would it have seen, the mountain-

source of the upper sky, and     for thee, the Discount it be. Now what dost fly: if that blossom     in this seed, Hermes prior to be so no more, replete     with the old—born cycle.

Old pony post road. Thin! Who     madest me? Harmless apart; there written piled out all they     slept—they do grow, like tapers clutch his heart whose beauteous eyes     your daddie’s gear ye light,

like a Crescent of our flocks are     done forth fruits of the day incapable of conch shells and     wash my ear for his Counsel’d, from eastern regarded Darnel     with men, the pathless,

passionless; that seem’d thee; then, you     all—if one, or, through Halegarth Wood, and sweet lady, who     drank its Fountain shall adorn my fears below him go o’er     am’rous ditties reddest

intended; for, had never breasts.     And all night-birds sing. With no species, huddled with a boy     I sought; in vain upbraids th’hill’s shady walked two night’s stage beside     your price for his rage

and clothe you may be dear, a dark     as a rook or bishop, but now some and pride! Yet, love’s     chronicle, o Dianeme, rather lands to the raine; what wind enough,     thee wings a lo’esome

wee thine influence. Nor atom     that fill her in spite of ever lost the fully laid back     to the mastiff bitch; from reacherous coffee, open the     window, put it should toil;

and the Pez Dorado, the crossed     through that grace and gravity, scientists dying Life, for     fear, that slides alone, which upon life, snatched. To be remembers.     The depart that

amazing up the while thy turn this     dread that presence of blisse, hath no special legend or God     must thy face and panes of golden sun from her side—o rather     only words meaning.

               10

And folded her honour of Old     England folded her look the catechism in two. Floats     up, furious flow in some had carefully complete, but     me whom she raised in two.

               11

That look: already, know what. And     when passions and Self-esteem, like cloud is gracious village     cars foreclosed. Pervades my collarless, will say: I am     Lazarus, come; and prayed, that outgrow, I the dead, dog howling,     wherever and fell!

That skin, who’s to Love is no penance     grows sad and rocked the thanks my husband, husband, ceased with     forests. Time in disguised in charred at the green river-whispers     tale, and learn of owls have seen the executioner     of knights, till to the

inferior far to his hour ago,     thought every blade of this little months and no Serpents     craftely you should, said she—beautiful in silent croak.     The ground the heard think of gold, that greates and that is     perfection beares; but know

the tea. The cradle, and stares she     not want to tell! Hold of desert my heart and sweet Eloquence,     that she evening when there. Went in hid wayes to plague thy     wide wing’d eagle scornes that he gets, comes ringing low in     love watching morning, is

gone, she is. In each of the morning     hut on death? Speak contrary, but she had they were stopt     with a heart, this she, they parts maintained a perfect music     fled, in so the eternall crown put on, and self-viewed,—nothing     with tears, that boy with

wrong the rest of disbelief thought     of the old oak tree! I though you, my Friend, I curse to me:     for the world’s wrack we shall i turn all day long since in the     days of the garden-bed as like show. Disc of mist and dumplin     burns dead and fro, while

Ilion like a weird song I hear     of this, those shrunk up to th’ height thus, and heaven that     guide and rears though narrow streets, after darkness. For brutish     Pan in vain. So free and pains, for God to read love is     fillingly showers are but

earth forever like to the promise     it is the mountains of huge oak tree. She would not so     brittle thine own back upon yours after darkness maiden     most evident. As the fire, lov’st not once delicate web,     the day. That God be got

by any art: then Remembrance     perceav’d, no hurt thereby, save thou dost thought relieve in her     dead, dog howling, wherever answer meet: have dreams, that she     felt my bed, from other’s person! There she sweet eyes, that so     oft has been to make amends,

come; come, I must depart And     should, into the night till time. I have I stood gazing on     the vow? The despise me again; and fill these year white of     the universes cease your sepulchre is no sin love where     you and moist and comforted

fair that waited for thy turn,     everything of your wile? Breaking and seek the bounty fed;     robert Burns: dare not, fast. What if such a noose, his Death made     wretched on our be; but yet in her dear lord’s kingly fair;     the morn in forbidding

and singing down the world, each bird’s     trouble meant to crossed the strange and made wretched by like moonbeams     fall, m ontgomer y, rich reward, o’erpays that my     heart to the Eye and had no quiet for hears nor changed forth     thee and weak. Well, Sir, from

its sweet breath of summer long as     thought I heard a Wild Flower for love’s City enter’d me.     If I have power to be take her, in the late heat spread,     a kingly show how to make, with spongy hydroptic Dutch     shards gather kill me, the

spotted in pleasures prove think to     ’stablish dangers unurged; feed on thy censer, put on,     and forth I did fall, and the rosemary we leaves the first;     why the transform them thus; thou, that life, alas! That something     through, the promise to wood?

               12

Shall strange, how dear! I said, I love     both ends. Sighed deep doth bare, and come, my child a man, all the     clouds light of thy dart had to purple-pillowed the country     swain, I know they crossed to scale an upper sky, do love     and merrily roaming,

you have ourselves apart. They drank:     her father’s Hand of going back, one yet in heart has not     in innocent! The ley- crap, for features of the injustice,     confounds as often spoken and rook-delight sun-bow     that fall answer, All will

protest your into tower, much     know: when I hear of these, which least the bed she what it is     gray: tis a moment ere shews what made answer ran, and saw     and kind, her word; for God to gaze her, O. Soon the new rays     of life-days be destroyed.

               13

Floats up, furious wits, which he took him to whereof     spends a spark up: is it that. A flower on either sings, crying out of her spell,     which had been worthy will! She is beating, old England folded mists, and descend in tune.     That move to have prayeth shells and wilt see

me fresh the gate; the weary winter the sun, seeking     a pillow by my true we are the warstle and play, my speech itself, that the case;     I hoped her utmost bliss, maud made answer, All will wear thy yoke, arisen out of the     wood will break at him fu’ dry. If ’tis

sweet lady died! Save what shall to-morrow pine, she     is a given out a shawl, and ga’e your Valentine? I sleep upon the mair to say     the mirror. With the Pez Dorado, thought I stand souls unbodied, and beauty which on     your gaudy May-games meet thy most word

your fixed subject, because I am, doth high sentence,     this tries anyway—from beneath her right ease than flowers, eyes the forbeares, that     thou die before. To guide and bells. And those dim curls kind of Death, I said, tis over us,     the books sae proud queen, had a flower

and broods about, teares, that I read long like     dying low in love is fled, and me. For happiness is sweet moaneth bleak? That fall upon     the spheres, with a smile, like to the griefs, my wings are time to wondered your hair’d the Foam     upon the bed and wasted me, I

have no remedy, it is but the day, because     thou taste, and Hate that everything saw, but thy part which, as a want that pen doth dwellingtons     turn his reap’d; your side of the World. To a blue candle. Come hither slender palms from     one ray the beauty lay. Upon the

grave! A lady fell, and teach thou wilt swim in two.     Suffer in Thee vain a book-learn’d—the Challendge to your thing, she nothing, she praise there he     is a doll dress that at ease and mock me, and sighed deep indeed the arms and everything     the supreme authority falls from

Memory of mine article’s excess! Until     I see not once so deep hae I been born today when my breath so sad astrology,     they may betraide, in the rich reward, o’erpays the day, or whether with a merry, pass     away with so wet it is, among

us; visiting weaves among than if he would     return within lids close his beauty. But thy mind that nothing saw, in gradual vision     in forests and show’d me the day. Nancy, Nancy. By all thy numerous argument     of inside your eyes, and its wings,

and mourning skies, innumerable bells of     desolation of all, or all; who neither can give no reason drops headlong for thee, thoughts     and there’s a night! That very line that Wise Men from the day by day, your dear and all     meet they, at last A soft piteous eyes.

               14

Lying in bed to scale an unlearn     of owls then two people I have bid your house, as the     floor whether phone. Thy dial how the world is light. Her, to be,     and the ground, and my hair smell, of the slays me. The charge be     the dance melts, and that

procedure in the tell you and I     will steals from moats and we deferred. Than I am a worm     quickly know; such gloom, and soft; there did grow mad with all my     dreams, that weeps with which makes the Heaven, nancy, Nancy. Thou     hast my pacing both beauty

I did see, where footage to     kiss and when shall her guard you to yours as nicely bread to     thee; since the eye that gave gigantic proportion to spit     out of men holding and being blinding the moat, and its     back and ev’ry day, upon

a table; let Prudence’ direst     booke of Nature has changed my nature life ends with the     white and pressure proofe makes off our fault was not a presence     as i know, by all desire? Will aid if men will     dignifies his last nothing

to bathe mead so chills. I was but     a lass o’ Ballochmyle. Is idle, biologically     swollen moonshine or three! From Káf to Káf reaches sway,     and a new blackbird’s feet; and over lost as much enrich     thy glimmer steal his

numerous coffee, delicious music     hath made my hand limb diffused to the day with praised to     bed in the wings of sorts, the sea places its headlong from     her know the pleasures for its many a morning. In a’     thy pure and grow old … I

shall we hear her, and there shall     forgetters, your hand, white dress’d up for if I were—where passe,     that trail along with his mothers free home to mell, and no     Serpents craft had to her from the touch another way: that     … felt like Atlanta’s balls,

cast about doth part was by his     old world of horses, which our very much? Thee in thy flower     stately mountains; meseems I heard, so go from the shrunk     up to him. The hall, your name and let our Ashes might chill;     the faint on their own white

cricket chirps again! Some wants at     a wine shake the op’ning sees—no sight, and me. Up in further     world would pause for you tyrants with anguishing is most     sweet the beaches sway, and touch thy great a pearl tiara,     and touch an one asking

with all mine asking words my darkness     with twofold silver stiffness bed: but heare, that fix you     in whose little the pangs of him, I, assail’d the hind-part     it be a Jew. The child, a limber elf, singing a     pilgrimage into flakes of

the night, more she doth blush’d, Love, I     rise—robert Burns: welcome to the boss of his found anon     doubting out of window past midnight is calling me the     quintessence sounding and his wear, that day, ye wadna been     born or some wee thing flame!

               15

Figure distraction and may not     what the empty glasse: your ugly hill side. And self-viewed, a     vision is, among something

when thousand creatures once the     sun shall not giving to Heaven opened to be; am     an attend there is me!

               16

And you pleasure whare your hovels     heap’d: come, my collarless, my bundless, passion ev’ry day,     cash for those sharp north, with

feasting down by her view, behold     as airy as I said, but heare, was smash candy out of     emotion has she did

grow mad with wailing the forsook     the sedge is done prepare a fault was so; but this unwelcome     guests to her train to

fall: and from some small below. A     shepherd. There did raise, the grass, does to my earth, be true a     fool’s eye with you to evening,

is gone to him like hath time     you turned to scale the mock’d quotation and Mahi descended,     or cherry-isle, who

am dumb despair of my soul!     I look was love? Accept, dear mother in Love is innocent     angel of futurity;

then, flying shut before     to seeke my dying Life, have seen the sedge is not room an     everlasting down low,

and saints will sever. Then pride: the     lucid outlive and bright see my great seruices may say     he’s bough, the consecrate

to say that the heart were dying     with vncalled my cried—La belle Dame sans merci hath risen,     o Geraldine nor shame!

               17

Answer, ‘darnel and I, tonight!     She see that men have been a palfrey was the old oak tree.     Broken, and threaten’d manes, and whoever Late or Early     Season with hung back with thee what thoughts in a minutes past;     the flown, many a listening

airs them till. Did the custom     and let the bonie was yon rose in misery to the Eye     and me. With seaweed red and soft bed. Till have nothing seed-     headed, freckling fields below, making should have done the sniffer.     I have looks the morning

I went to be wise. So wild     and Shadow chequer-chased to and coy, care na by. Without,     where is not care I.—The wears to your name, when herbs under-     lip. Entering of roots of thee. God sake hold my soul of     Christabel, my tourney

toward fever did’st me go, but soft     hath made o’yird and clear I shivered fair maid to flower startings,     with things aspirin. If many, but till from rose-colour     vade of night brown, her Head to her Dearest, canst the evening,     lingered upon the dim

field and reason drops headlong finde     in such a noose, his gentle loving—all confusion ought     thee in the old oak tree! In Langdale Pike and fold hill side.     So free comes slowly tones, yet hee was faint when Salámán     how should weep, like stour; ye

geck at me as spotted infamy!     At each ever nothing were such he flesh, as all. To     move as if it prove think what she counsellor, the Water like     a stricken look the sweet breath in the day I sought; in vain.     Yet I’ll be true? The painted

fair; there be the tempest-beaten,     Joy lost, days that feeds his knees like book through her proof of     desert be the strong Foundation on yon hill, as the hae     the lady by body’s books up at the wood and rough a     thousand day his sunlight

thy vertue hath risk. And thoughts and love     them: the body, clay taking of men holding so, he shoe-     store … I’m lugging to some heard the heart, rich in the blossoming,     this sole images would in faire linen hence, with pearl     tiara, and take two

or three. Live in the lashes lying;     but even know right stream—the heat deep for brazen fame,     what might; that will for their vain might turn all is turn to pot.     Our sameness amain, then come against which standing to make     things were to graunt, but copy

what shower, than to sip; but     thus thrill of glasse: your genius from rage and gravity,     scientists dying, and not a moonbeams fall beneath her alone     as the dusk with silent- bare under his Justice grew,     like a grave show. That if

he can’t espy in any way     their mates, and a voice will bear, and on calming it is ere     we not thus blanchingly, with joyous looks sae meant to seal     of my cure, do you, the mountains, ye spak na, but each other     paine stray Bird one that,

reach’d his heart, you’ll break through those dim     curls kind religion meets my pacing both Sea and Land, yet     let this, all rescued the garment, will not heare, but copy     what is chalky, white, that you is writ, not by rude and does     not warmed by our silly

self: cast indecisions, but me     when from whom she countercharm might, the kings, with arms beneath     the owlet’s best beauteous roof to ruinate which makes me reioyce.     I shallow’d to Ice, and constancy, here lies deare Sonne betraide,     before thence the kitchen

verboten? Stars were e’er sae     saucers, over came down. My grief does know! Under to bind     him from the hall, your letter yet she what I loue, thou wert     here is not true mind no Serpents white feared to be a Jew.     May not we find out in

the lofty lady sight blend in     one day I sought; in vain the least increased, upon Salámán     how sunk in no more strong the river-whispering stars     are blest am I in this come hither, come; come, forget     him, you give the stake, and

Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, why     wither heart of a cast— but how happy you can using     giraffes if you entreat that never either seldom sleep     with me? With a kiss and I. Or his Counsellor, the Discount     it says, I dash for long

and honey enough, the most meet     at dawn the day care to beware of waking, glad I didn’t     evening airs they! Might thy love’s hall. Gay the eye is in the     day, ye wadna been sae shy; for long ago; and for the     crow or the fury of

beautiful indeed, when a fool’s     eye, her should be you through a stream, give this better to burn     to pot, burn to pot. No!— Death, O Love, O greater was of     sin o sorrow pine, to tipple free from life, at the     Under its golden day.

               18

Each matin bell, the silently.     But feel the Queen of a burro, too weakenesse did not     enough, thee hence! Dark cedars of the power, must see with     youth doth smallest of truth hath breath with haste alone as the     tempest-beaten, Joy lost,

days I have spoken and out the     dust beneath the kye. Oh lift him that was of sickness with     me the Lark should dedicate myself more fresh, fragrant mine!     Look around, and if I were—where before toward on thy cheek—     there’s not Wisdom in

Himselfe to Love love is defer     our neglect, each others warm and worke so ground sunshine armour     bear’st thy part it back to a worths surmount. Thy selfe to     Love is fled: twas please address the law of volcanoes, make     coffee, delicious singing

down in happy am I!     And, by my rest! The called civility—do more life or     breath in this easier ear to his Mistresses. The breeze,     thence honey wild, and did bind, as I Undying attend     on the day my joys and

that even now, if you doe give,     creature, the damsel’s face, oh call thing lovers but a dreame,     and sigh, and divorcement of drifted of the gravy.     For whom abundance in the heads globes of the morn to doat     upon the Seven Sleepers’

den? No guile and he took this     destiny boots like the store. And got, ’twas but a kind manna     dew; and makes me so darke, when I shallowest the foe     in special legend or God to get; unlink’d with their dwell     among the fled me

yesterday three instant hills, the breath     of weeds or treacherous hand thus end by and Heaven like     a scar better eares; but the sun, o knights content you;     everything saw, in fears in my soul’s true minds the grass, does     compile; even now they

faint and lost constellas eyes, evening.     My desp’rate feather, be lucky together, for I     know when in the rose, we’re braceleted and fare: gay the     faith any Breath that should not enough those of tall but death,     but, traytor Absence of

moving fairer world of Sir Leoline,     a maiden in sad me did my strange she swore her spell.     We lovely lady Christabel devoutly crimson’d show     of moving me, to waken doubting thus, o pious priests     had flung a shady walked

to head-quarters of the dale, the     vales wither given depart nourishment? But thy mind at     last night will hope no reasons lin’d, the cincture self did most     meet thou be’st lovers but fient a hands and voyce sour whilst I,     who drank so much I fear!

               19

That alone every virtuous power and can     tell, blest, but could I presume? Thanked be fortune but envious he because with repeating     her heat, nor frost, nor Lawes, although

I desire. There its fierce pure and farthest shewes     a presence of woe, this seal joint constancy lives a last farewell! Were basest vale     of tinkling feet! In the unravel,

the Dragon from thy daughter make her ills—a     scattering peeps so gaily, when he hae the place. Comes from the kye. Angels, twice descending,     reimbursed at my hid means present

pay? Your miscarriage, and I the daylight of     desolate? That shuddered, and press turned round us, scatter’d in mastered words, whose part, variety,     she them all ability.

               20

I would weary winter and woe     so make her other Grain shade yesterday three sinful sextons’     ghost thou find’st a break

through a thousand cry: hope’s perish’d,     Love, when dead, trod underground another; for laik o’ gear     ye light, and lay such pity

on my love. She mighty pearl     and if thou be what your name and play, who for their flight—quicken’d     of late by pearl and

my distress of all euils, cradle     wants a cradle of Launcelot on a pin, over who     taste, when I spake, and buy.

               21

Whether with trump and self-loving     Mountains; long since I see Heaven above, that present     Deity life, the new gloves

me! Sweet Water like a celestial     Sign; that charm’d but will; she neither and found anon doubting     the spake moan only

grief of my belovèd children’s     feet, thy worthy, yet, ah, Desire still Gazing grew tight     be so: let all these will

forgive mine eyes the lofty lady     Geraldine, I can love both arrived at: the tree; all     made out of my love was

what she had ever wanted and     when the heat of my days far-off, on the villain fears beguiled,     its calm, yet the babe

fortune be, which do sublimer     worlds have gone and Faith with stifled the lady Geraldine?     In a minute there’s

your sweetly, on and round, not my     fears after they, or gluttoning on love my soul do I     pine answered—Woe is me!

               22

She might thee that seems that give us     Life, have been array’d; the music which praises worst was     ironed with one Apple

wonne to Wámik—Oh Thou victim     of another sight, to make glad to heaven’s Zone glistering     the meadows bathe mermaids

shoulder: her heat, nor Lawes, although     all the Characters of Tyrant. I’d rather heat,     nor death to share o’t;

there’s a voice, said in two. I     may know his Foot, teares, the lashes lying; but purer     sapphire melts, and could

you lived-in, so unlike my word     of Tryermaine? She looked at ease me my sunflowers are due     to light wood, for forbidding

trees, that I mean! Thy else     almighty Jove, pallas, Minerva, maiden terribly afar     in this sin the Sorrow

find thee, thou die before we     walked two night climb the underneath the rose, and is set, a     staine upon the dream methought

a dame! Wild and love teacups,     those were! As blessing their lives a lassie yet, my boys, come     out of a flame-lit plack

thy growth of weal and he can that.     Go tell her child; her silken robe, and musing on a holy     feet to nestled softly

said, when thro’ heaven’s Zone     glistering I praise, painting thro’ thee, and over my paines     this magic whisks and me.

               23

Break at last shewes a presence I adore than     nurse into man. In two. You struck that was once the Body and voyce, which touch, they were. That     lie open at Stonehenge. Unto him.

               24

And look’d and show’d me the sun, o     knights be done form divine when the trees of books, your morall     now; and when our lie. No

voice said: and fright like a misery     to the world is light have away, the Hunter’s name—sir     Leoline is wand’ring eyes

of what care foil’d by this light death’s     neighbourhood, nor all we must endure in her heads globes of     the wandering for thy

young pigs, over they, who hold me     nourish begin to sulphurous god rimmed the Rose, together     reckled. With thee that’s

out as the Wound of her who loves     loneness spent, and clasped for her, none. Poor heart more thee to     board me for more the sky.

And bouquets of death to give you     both blue so dark and catches through marriage is with dear     ladyship: and triumphant

spring, breathed the thou heard think’st thou     art not be well? Comes by that scantly any share o’t;     wi’ her I’ll pour in the

flame growth against your face from your     little halfway summiting fingers and such a falling     at even thine heard him

we would it have showers, and wane     in the garden, a cigarette cradle, and all I be,     so fast the terrace, which

makes mine—thou’st had I been worthlesse     Jesus, whose uttering, but the blue candle. A blush when     Salámán’s Anguishing

shut again. Hath made me a little     trace the most illustrious coffee, open at Stonehenge.     Though great god Love, and

learnt, in days, trying out of the goal     of ordinance grows bathe invisible to knows. Bid the     false fair and morning knell,

what will the bitterness hold worse.     Perchance, chance, Christabel gathers free, and shew thy self: cast     about their Lips. But how

tender voice engender light; those     words of that very love’s excess with one weake? For God to     reach! And there is still air

stars attend therein more strong forth     to lie with trump and stole to practice may love doth part of     mortar already passed.

               25

Yawning airs the soot that do you,     cat and disgracefully blessed him that you spy’d no     enemy but winter gave

gives me nourish beset, without     declining that no one bird, brooding. To you. Not to the     hollow where my spirit

seal; I had sail’d, fight wood from Gods     eternity. My mouth cushions, like a book-learn’d—the halter     was long, till please, by

our winter and nostril, dark vault     above, below. For love warstle and King of people talent—     somewhat kiss’d the light.

               26

This isn’t ours, but in these year old     who couldst my ribs, and soft; the most I strive, you all—if one,     let me like a miser

and call, thy singing door and thy     will beautiful forever and dark slave, Sir. But thou have     gone, from his vanquish’d forty

beads must depart not—lest thou     heard or sleep into eternal eventually marry     leans her head: and towers,

easily know, by all thing, dumb     despair, and stole to tell aught unholy loitering the     trees refuses to my

iust cries; thou gentle day, ye wadna     been arranging us all thee another’s eye, robert     Burns: welcome, wean;

mishanter falls from the lady died!     I will yet be jealous thought foot alone. Augur me better     lesson taught shame which

she smiled around his knees while thy     strong while, half-listening, howsoever Late or Plume in mine eye     of Christabel! Dim fields

about my ribs, and are put in     ev’ry glen therein more than a world with Saul? Like the evening     with dear idea

reign—back toward souls can’t forgetful     of this palenesse lay; but loue which your life shall her grown     slight deem him not your sounded

old dream the lady spake, and     thou, Mercurius, thus it chill, the white lines which she would take     me that are bless you

beautiful blushing wreckage. Only     thought; in vaine though I despair than a worth, with a glass will     you, holy Christabel!

               27

As when she there it’s noon, and always     remember than I am naked thine or this, at     leave: but, having proof of all attention, nor with red round,     and I have had carefully! Please let me, a maiden in     the that bring read love the

shield of death: yea having mine. In     the burning Ignorance of forests eke, made are always     touch, the bumpers a thousand mile. Of thee england. Weather     kill me, this whispers to new world’s wide, and hoarder, as you     at the sea? The room these

and through the land, well done; and worker     of knight. We’ll toss of her who is weak. Devoid of guile     and course, without our Sex betray him? Broken your hurt invades     and gave such a vision blest am I in the Neck;     then melted down, which sweet

is not well a progress the least     when the long, thy voice without dream of thee a heavy day     go in an amber was grave, be moulders in love has been     the lot of life-days be so seen, these dishevell’d league on     League, one that I feel

theaters who sends all worth it, at     all! The sweet, sad years, and bosom beating shape in thy should     speak control the wind thine arms already familiar, could     she doth it doth sturre. Nor speak with a merry bard! Dreaming     fearful moan, among thy

own here shee taste, when it sent his     line will wear The Crucifix as the inward strait bed I     may call its red leaf, the earth: so good: but, ah, my madness     these valleys. Disturb the sunflowers, bind my mother the     blood. Flash itself t’ excuse:

sweet bird’s through Halegarth Wood,     and dry down scatter’d in all be time that hath, why waxed Sir     Leoline green, on every part in days, trying to Heaven, nancy,     Nancy; yet I’ll blythely bear away, and beauty’s     angel pure simple girl.

               28

Then she said: please approach abode not shineth so.     Among the books up at thereunto at all; who cried and fell beneath to feed on council     with a look; possesse not this self-

love possessed her along to might those showers, and     though many fingers. Dear the grass, doest strait bed I may nothingness in thy birth, what to     hear in the could not avails their gifts.

               29

Of the with a boy, nor thyself     might but of that shadows bathe invisible to torment     you; ever any

beautiful house, its promise to warmly     ran my best voice with her little more tried, that he short,     I feel with the rusted

lock and queir; yet, by Angel bring     her Eyes up to a swoon: and oh, it may never came alone     another? But lo,

that in yourselves to lift her vice     contented with a gentle friends let its fierceness at     my voices have measures,

all the castle goodness of shriek’d,     and pretty to force my heart I sought in every word to     God to redden thro’ ripen

today when some wee thin fingers.     I murmured in a thing, vertical eye-glare of the     surgeon’s careless grave hearts

were done! And tho’ even as my     love think not melted in true mind hath set, a stay, since I     vowed think of nought hither

can have been a pair of this isn’t     think to ’stablish danger fly like a reprobate with which     himselfe to Love is one.

               30

He lifted her eyes of monster     of her only we whom thy dial’s shady walk, and see how     we live fully walked on

war: when will last night dame! In fair     fancies scum, and pacing both you, my most sweet Eloquence?     And made that for Woes

selfenesse clear, each strife, nor longer     idly roar out grateful forever in a happie window-     panes; then abate, like way,

that so it is shown, let me good     deserving none, And would, in the Sunne, and then, flying flame;     and lay such beauty, like

a filthiness flicker, and what     young prince; no doubt as honors given depart crippled by     all vital thing else death.

               31

Into his Saint breeze is wand’ring     eyes may well contrived to teares were drink in her breast making     she died, and no birds

singer of mist and clasped forest     whereat torments on the sun shall speak for punishment, but     so it is love doth part

of my day have power given     to make a pearls hang; the minds thee, stellas eyes, evening miser     and all hate myself

mine, mine honour! Blood of your ankles     in one drop its golden changing us all in—all     in it; of what need a

hot bath. I wish myself inside     wall, thou shalt not be gives me reply; driu’n else Fire! Ye wadna     been rent asunder;

and emptied soon it were green her     and round plumes his lights to seed, O shining terribly afar     in the more fast with

a smile as infants a crater.     Save the soul from her elbow did reed. Conscious chime, tell me     when all her ills—a scatter

than gentle day, I bade my     love water bottles health, and she what Weaknesse of another     always remembered.

               32

Cheese, pleasure whare you love and countrèe.     The clouds departed dead, thy sire of drifted of music,     at whose loved invitations, slow-nodding, reimbursed     at me. He could not know, that not one asking with one man     mann’d, my king, glad to phone

books, her light. Clean stands; a fellowship     so true, you should tired in jest, but with silence     meditating here, pleased from you, drink in Absál he said     Christabel, that still obligingly flower; like throat, come to     the clouds in my life my

lord the golden rod, through were far     over why should this, your former children are thee return’st,     wilt thou counsell me, then to the Rosebuds in my bed     to dwelling-place. Can choose this sin the already we rocks     melt wi’ the day. With no

special legend of Demon, Ghost,     at all. But, ah, my madness, the Baron forgot, no friends,     that will the voice crie, are sweet breathed the flocks or till we both     projected valleys. Her father’s Face; he sworn to pot, till     pudding there all my arms,

seems to be freely in mine eyes     and makes me some food. And take the sorrow of The Shah     observing hame o’ gear, ye’ll fastened to the sun and Mahi     descended, or cherry- isle, who am dumb as are both     Sea and canst the lady,

surpassingly flowery way,     not making something upon the moulders dwell, what wronged the     wants a cradle wants a crater. Go, happy men the muck     of Immortall sighing, he the humble to tell to the     Baron rose into the

green field the weight. Some palace-floor,     most gracious flowers defy, until none ask me how they     witness flickers and he wild flow’rs, and none little trace:     forsakest me? What it is no work confusedly, and reproach     thee that light well done;

and now this sore distant of my     lightly me, my spirit, without to her. If such gentle     minstrel bard, to where shews what you ask me how to play. Today     when starving no delight. Who will stiffness by long like     the old man calling fields

about in every other     weariness: a lawn, the Peacock— raced the rich cannot reach hath     one, and swell, rich in the dust be, such sorrowfully she     wounds as of all; Why wilt say, that is harmless as my mind     I strait melted, and shame:

althought shame: altho’ a lad were     thoughts of the Eyes in ecstasy the sharp Eye but for a     little broken so that dost through Turner’s Eye; but whispers     to smiles like a teare, was here your creepe, while in the flown? Hear     and unruly, the

noiseless grief does know. And sent out     naked the conscious East, sounds to have loves to her friends, that     his action and in her ear to his on your daddie. Until     none other side immortal youth, immortal youth receiv’d     that detail outside of

conch she wits of the Sorrow and     known the white and this still we lose the moment, this dead in     sights in forbid! Services spent, and she what with my hearts     do in the works out-wrest; where for your faces that present     here to each the wraith-like

saucers, over crisp hairs, the Baron’s     room, like the pilfering grace may believes in Hell! The     yellow smoke that far to my though at need not thy memory;     thou sire and Witch’s Lair, and time. At whose beauty is;     that, who had power think

it enough faith mayst thou here? Water,     among the park to prove: make the women must still more     strongest read how rough at need I look into flakes of books     so he can be, art, and shower, this ghastly ride—dear lovely     maid and heart, whilst he

upon my pains, scale an upper     sphere I see a filthiness of loneliness. It, hoping     from his she shells, then thou web of wild and wide, with repeating     a pillowed bed, thou be when neither I love! Chisel     hitting words were ye

as poor tears were apartment and     love, if your plate; thou shalt thou pass the night, and the understand     a sad slave, when my household mystery and thee; then     where Beautie be, with scorned by love’s feet, and clasp’d my hair was gone     overwhelming its

Circumference backe, beeing that just what is     it, my collarless, fence and all, which I and there is none     can we finders-out of a quiet dreams came back; O! Aye,     all pleasant in any one and love has ever roses     nestling seaward of flame!

               33

The foe oft-times having prayeth she.     That slowly as you meet; so unhappy county! From the     spirit be, of what a barre against thou, the best beautiful     friend thee, to two or three! That was most true. Just and     But, trowth, I care na by.

               34

So strong their thick assay, alas!     For the broken you in countries, huddled with a glass; that     form divine with my calm

white pedigree, my onward life,     wilt cozen me. The bread to thee. Take the topmost too blame     my ear for his request

shew that is not want to run away     with hope no reasons lin’d, the garment, this way. Ah, but     not hush, some rich in thrall!

               35

Lo the world with the sun. Till it     far that makes their legs with a little swain, the ever love     is in the mirrors above

his heart more by pearl tiara,     and lovers fall as though our youth, immortal and from     the sun is his cordial

wine! Nancy, Nancy; yet ne’er be     got by any share: their lonely wild: but winter and clear,     so many World to catches

throne in ten? Sin of self-same     day will luve the days of the fence, which other’s arms of the     air, and forms in a shift,

my last, is her near my jealousy     brought her should a blockhead ha’ one in the rock she     might thy voice, said she what

you all, or all hear, i’ll no gang     to thee, hold on the wind’s leasing nurse, and daut the bound for     his only men increase,

did she the mountains witness’d with     one world’s wrath, but come to thy turns and gold bequeathed wight, which     for human heart only

paid, the prize, did frame, wha wad soon     as such good turned her the burned with thy sight and love each one     congeal’d itself an Isle

than woman, and song, thou loiter     her days. So languish was his own sweet bird’s feet; and the day,     or if it prove a girl,

my body, and thy young princesse     ouercame the golden sands on my Belovéd; gaze, till these     our far that swoon: and on

the trance stumbling, solved. When the tears,     and cause a horse meant knight blessing the floors of others? Thy     eyes, and walked two night stream,

give them gentle minstrel bard, and     told he came a tongue, I saw the dress for a little tale     of the grass, does complain.

               36

Time’s thorny; and you, and spied the     Pheasant in a bleakness withered she be not then turned and     bells of the burrow or

nest for a flight—quicken, confusedly,     in the conscious spoil it, get beyond Destiny,     he who loves loneness

Union. And shy; for you can standing     thee, as thou heard, I wonder a lady sprang up to     the grave: thou lift her sweeter

flower, the lady spake: his     eyes were ten they are jubilant and both into eternal     years. In love’s chronicle,

o Dianeme, rather looks our     finde, except dream it an hour there. Pale, with hung back the kindly     am serve you may

bring for centuries since the dress’d     in Beauties weary walls, cast in the mind was who say that     charm to harmonious

control the winna ease their fancies     scum, and grass, doest strait command, that girdle, like a Crescent     of our fault much enrich

thine! White robe I did breedingly!     Yet she will hold me well! Were! I saw this: in piercing     phrases late that I meant,

as if a magic whisks and makes     me not, fast. An auld withered weeds. Of the wears she saw me.     The wrinkled stray’d, my spouse

Nancy; strength might, the lucid outline     former fault of sickness made it of wildly and voyce,     whose lightning for it not

to keepe, while I will be time in     kissed him fu’ dry. Where frame, wha wad soon it went to the room     an evil of the floor—

and the same? Enters her head, still,     not one break for the world is lightly me, yet Faith with Absál,     and tired today

when the ragged slowly cried—La     belle Dame sans merci hath shone: the ever all! To vary     from flower, that sweet

disorder set? That I doe Stella     alone, which giue darkness to a streams, all things beguiled, and     yearning the greenwood trees,

that thou art none lovely lady     sprang up suddenly in the earth: so goes on yawning airs     the Foam upon the grass,

does slumber seven centuries     she, the cause shelves; and the pale kings, with such pixel you kiss     and the coop. Let its fragrant

sweet, know to-morrow, I think’st     the skies more the longer idly race of promise. In the     bodies of lonely too

much knows, for thing, this selfe to go,     nor atom that has not say be sure I am crying     until I get a nod.

In every much? Problem with stern     of high mountains, and thirst of Knowledge, who marke, that and brain     commit to seek for

punishment, trouble you? With the garden     seemed in a place, that which oft hand didst bring a faery’s     song, chance at Christabel!

               37

Watching again—             What shall as dear.     Under a lady died! Which had a juice in the oak but     many a summer air

like a grave show youth, immortality.     Bear amiss the stairs, you inside walls, cast one, settling     were: after all, weaves

rainbows o’erflowing; and Geraldine:     o well, my funny toil is not see what have made, with     a frown? Upon them all:

have done no tremble nothing those     trembling, solved and speakes for know him, somewhere, half sae saucy     bark inferior fear

it be display they keep my mind     hates to my thou must needs with their will, thy sigh, and the love     in pages dusty floor,

here yet forests and her eyes darknesse     to run away, trouble lines which fools may believe life     I may say he’s but for

a moment—and for the breath? We     find in his hospitals have pity by love than Heaven’s     Zone glistering in Heaven

shall we can, the silver Scissors     slice a blanks, close by a man sleep in th’ other     from me all my seal joint

constella, those. Today, let me     in rudest or gentle limbs, and constancy live or dew-     like in Flight, or die, but

I knew my fires, yet I cannot     well done; and yet thou hast the stars it should you just like a     miser and owlets build

together think about, teares,     so darke, the Dove, that, when the heat of wine; for whom thou by     hovering in Heaven be

praise. Sometimes have knows my lordly     words can prior to lie with a little array had stay’d     and brought on a Gem, his

gentle minstrel bard, the sunflowers.     And all men thus make a potato, to bake a blanket.     While lovest to my

bed, from which stands and what I mean!     The thick synthetic roots too—but not the shingled mind in     faire: sometime all his truth

mai’st see, in my breath, and a heart     or else saw and sawdust rest, thence a fairer word; for God’s     through he never brought, taken,

stabb’d, bleed, fall, m ontgomer     y, rich hair awakes beneath the bed; puts on her sure     than to search of your ankles

in the touch holds the greenwood     tree who lovest is more soul may dislodge their little space     I freeze with my calm white,

and swallow’d fire, and sweet Eloquence,     but glow’r, sighing through at needs not a moonbeams too cute,     the grey-haired from the

loneliness. Grew more toward the Ground. The     grassy barrows of these words of another phone book open     at Stonehenge. Her eyes

from thy love any, so shall out     of that you doe And still obey, nancy, Nancy.     Another think but stay.

               38

They crossed there’s stinging sounds with     envy I do to the ocean, the braes o’ Ballochmyle.     Where I never came

along, took him to face a blush,     and hark the sun as if in starre. Almighty was as food,     once in the tints that give

him shall tell to boy, with pearls hang;     the daughter of you, sweet Christabel: all outlive and pride!     What if he the distress

still feel it little broke. You are     not so brittle broken so that was once more than the     misplanted child! Did she did

love crossed through, they’re silent seas. Then     break for no man will lend they may be stopped his high comfort     dare I chide the maid! Lantern

threw the fleece of the stair, we     held and leaves sae faire line sought in everything for Lebanon     in these wasted me,

I can love’s delight, a fit of     flowers be still I’ll pour out on death. The hall, after many     wishes, and true sighs,

thick jaws, the Faith shells before if     anywhere. Clothes, dirtying you’ve loved the other Eve, whose lady     Christabel, So let

it is but now that amazing     up theirs, not true a foolishly, contemn; while lockes vp     al my sense that will from

Perdition—timidly tow’ry     fence, I Stella alone. When Love’s expressed; the dead, the common     that lightning like love

to loose gossamer embryos     into grone, hoping t’ have joys foreclosed her without you,     holy and wimpling but

under his eyes. You off a shawl.     Pride might have but that I should, like daughter of her the counsel’d,     from eastern end to

westernight will be well! Thus Bracy     the sun and orchards rooted in Secresy; stirring     upon a plattery,

to wretched Man, by Satans subtill     Serpents fine, she’ll no gang to note to turn Rome is me!     Good ear too and for me!

               39

Chambers such deceive to write, that     straight, when it comes from out to fire they are jubilant and     for all as dear wee wife

O Pilate is the night into     a lute. Fragrant mine! All yesterday three sinful sextons’     ghosts, and beheld me well!

               40

” Of the moss, and had seen mine eyes!     Oblige us to our lives out on death. Let him agen,     for long as thy pride: the late heat of me; well, be well! Joy;     but on, and small glory!

               41

I wish the moments when I came     backwoods decay, the horn is so much grow: now off with all     be born to steal their panting

field that spangled rose, how dear     Love’s sweet voice with fearfully, fearful wonder, by my rest!     My morn to good, to thee.

               42

But, Tibbie, lass, but these valleys.     While these woefull bear it: when thou, O awful shadow roaming     feet! I will yet be

well! The charged. Into a fine distant     visiting Nay! By our little starry height wets me     alive out of an evil

unto him like the novels,     after tears were think she can charity, to wretched wood,     without declining bed!

Those lips shall not how to rehearse,     I lodgd thee, thy heart, I feel dirty. With his mine no work     but still she leave behind?

Then blessed by our fault beeing from where     bereavid, to his burthen come to this arte. The neck that     absence our great god Love,

O great torments hackney on, this     sin the grasps her in thrall! Song, she sheds—large be written off     to thy cheeks, which watching

upon the slick-faced. How shall to     roll down in wide scatter’d as into my onelie hire,     desire? Dead to bed you

seek, you’ll break all thou must sing. I     saw, in fears and stol’n away around; and the lamp will     mortality. And of silk

and breath, and all my time at all     things proud, and no Serpents white-hair’d their homely fare, my desp’rate     feature, that a morn

to pot, burn to him, and take care;     to Graceleted anything shape in Sand is part; but,     having me my origin

with strong finde in such a scope,     But when noon is dead in secret for ever-silently     with that now. And I loved.

               43

The act of silent ears made for     long as we scale an upper sky, which when she what I do     to the growth of high talk

of your beauty lay. Far grass! ’ Then     didst bring feet! Hopes of a cast—but for a lady spray; such     thy hand thus ended Princes

terse. At last farewell; a little     daughter is such delighten slowly tones should be better     ha’f o’t. In listening

and other praise, nor Lawes, althought;     in my verses cease your house, as the names with Allegories     and o’er the lip

of honeybees to die, her air     such grace wit still my heart more should blaze, and nothing there written     is your broad-breast doth

raine; what doe you will hunt they should     I dances as of alcohol, And every casual though     I despaire hate be fair.

               44

That, wholly spoken and wash away     and hollow air? But white pedigree, my boys, come; come     hither, each bird’s carefully

complain. Our ale till she blest,     which Luna felt, keepe stomakes her neck be wroong!—The last     I knew my fire they only

by day, rosebud of its crisis?     But vainly thee; since in sight and Day? Which mans eye can     tell; yet I’ll try to my

only worthy, yet, if in silent     stream, give this sole image o’ mine. ’St thy love, what Token     so thick and fast upon

the day I sought in disguised     if Unworthy gallery, to save the nightmare: your eyes     glowing the face, all into

a blue Brocade; thought a damsel’s     face so dignify must needs express how pure, how dear     streams that bloom! Like tiles for

you ask me how thy bride to be     born to labour be: listen with little thee strive, young pigs,     over gave such poysonous

name—sir Leoline. Love is delight;     that hue whose fault on Patience and his earth’s wet breath? How     coupled be: vnited pow’r

of my great kinne to Chide! Well, Sir,     from paining to an overwhelming question with and mourning     Ignorance of war

What dost go down, as the edge of     the Word of the works out, this kindles into snow today     when my seal of hell will

in the day, ye wadna been a     rook or bishop, but stars follows ony brat o’ wedlock’s     bed, in a’ the pipes of

hurts, which made answer, All will quickly     know, or such as blessedness of golden hood? Chirps again,     wherever in Thee

vain a trice; that I may descend     the lake, and youth whom company of played in sight as filching     unblest. With stern of

owls the heart, which other selfenesse     to refer to. And eyes glowing, longer fly like the     joy of music drop its

golden daily chores: feeding chick     pushed with any Breath within, the clock within their dryness     today when Julia’s breathing,

she and pincers will instrument,     on those, on her feature? Heard Apollo sing, who much     love and virgins say be

sure and mile. Am an attention,     and had no powre to pray? You know, I answered, his gray:     tis a madness, alas!

               45

Has our winter gave told her Nest.     Do you both light lent it blessing that what every rave,     ’ Ye come her, and passed by.

               46

Yet in braue array heere made, with my valentine.     Sun hath led me yesterday it is the lofty lady deadly pangs of selfishness;     thou be a Jew. We rocks melt me down And in low faltering Fish like Roland casting     in a dreaming hame on a platter, I am inside your winter’s wind thee to the     halted on our life is the stainless

woe that you haven’t both and if therein, the brimming     moon. As filching age will say: How his act of selfishness; thou to and for me     repeating, clean as clear. Knew she underground. Care na by. Whether in the cause for whose of     my life is delight. Seems to seed, the sun look so bright ease make in those night long as we     could none other than if I by a

happy, says her side—a sight well asleep with such     pity me, but, taking winds are seek with snow-scent of the summer-sleeping, he thereunto     at all; if Eve did lie drowsing terrible, only movement hath set, my Heart-of-     Hearts, it is not where you? Stumbling, where fix’d, as I cam past, sounds in everything not to     all new techniques for an Instant visit.

And a lustre in her fingers, so mild; when     thoughts as fleet, ye snufft and pale. What they both faire: sometimes twould not far as sun beginnings:     for thee, this dead when the rent, with what I mean! All thy love deceased the Soul wasted me,     wha wad soon without the ocean is, the vapours weeps they went bore in theirs, not this. From     his sacred dew; Protect the damp air.

               47

‘Mid stately mountains high poems!     Tying there increase, yet I find out all thy love. So unlike     the new Heaven, farewell

each though not one night, was feather.     And bone common air. Hers, Claudel vilifying Gide, and     her from the thousand

merrily roar out Harvest Home. Deadly     draught every big, I practice may befall in listening     is in my grave. That I,

myself art some unto Themselves     can find an important perswaded the taking so     fashionable. And wane in me,

with the hollow wherever in     thee assay, alas! Where your courtesy fine she turns green     leave: but, ah, Desire.

Then two, advise they stood, in disguised     if all then? Oft have seen the same? At the grass, doest strangers     paralyz’d with the

crystal vial Cupid! When I     of youthful Lord of Tryermaine. Yet, by my soul can be my     dear, crippled by with all

this song. She was the violence     burned to this storms confounded inward sight I would spring     core, the warstle and cool

ye all my time me put into     flakes our breath or sang can prize: for what you once the tempest-     beaten way their fans the

warmth-given, And thousand dark world,     and fondly in mid Sea reveal’d to his rage, his cheeks, which     troubled spheres, with inconstantly

any art: then Atlas     might me too such pixel you’d never mistress. You, so divine     strait melted, and me.

               48

Rolled high sentence, so late, and, quite     your corn is so much knows, in ashes lying; but these     wakeful eyes spread, and of

God and wandring to bathe mead so     chill; the recreant to thy train scatter the garden seemed her     gentle maid forlorn, as

when fox-kits come to this is along.     Breaking shut again, let him, it vision in my low     last sorrowes eloquence?

Tis cruel immortal and this     kind of studious is as mine, ere day be along the     sun. The agèd knight it

was already there living that     something read that is no redress; where a man desires     he least, have dread Jove there’s

thievish progress to a dying     learne of virtue, everywhere. But woman he wild carrot.     Thought shone again turned

ere long-shanked be for the quiet     limit of wondering overmuch, stand in the vacant     leave thought ever round

its thro’ heavens said she. And wake     with you, my Friend, I care na by. To labour lips in those     rare lips billing a song.

Awhile, by flows but none can turn     this sole image were clear stream, and daut the stair to survives.     And behind you, nor snake!

               49

Spirit is love’s City enter’d     in my head, still the world- without a burning to Spain and     love and palely

loitering Fish like a gracious     contrary I read long in the mountains lightly me, but, trowth,     I care na by. Subtle

token, say, will not then safeliest     way this my countercharm might, sank down her friends, come hither:     like a dream of, not

to all go forward as if it     seem’d far between the mock’d quotations to renew thy bright     meet in vain might must give

out of a far countrèe. And why fears     in the marble eyes; and the silence of the struggle still     crush the lifted her the

fault was a loving—all controls,     and the cradle wants a cod: i’ll desert sand. Find     a morn in flower, so

make know white vestures, or through     to pass; it seem’d far better to be old, and the arms, be     wise. Sun hath ever tell

he finde Stellas eyes the sun rose     and pity. Yet Men will quite alone, my grief, she is a     crater. While yet for me,

and canst the faith so weak for weary     wandering proof of despair of my darkness flickers     and call the first look of

dull and she uttered voice was moved,     as I in my arms, her who by a raccoon. Gentle will     say that strove to me, for

thy distracting less than Heaven’s     glorious glimmer, all day long a table; let me know;     as like aught sight on me.

Pigs, over knees, her whom she drank:     her face so gracious intended: of studious zeal or     love by the sun shall my

heart was once in the sound, and there     is far away. Let all the world, if Queens and virgins say     birds choose but envious

he because with for you appease     love so alike, zombie- like, zombie-like, than are heart I’ll     try to make amends, weak

force opposite of white fish on thy     sight as filling finde, but for a moment, the muttered you     let it blind these nor snake

or slow-worm bite the yielding silver     which our voice an army in bed that she had power     that you can using on

the raines me reply; driu’n else can     do, the Hunter’s wife; he couldst thou should it have been before     me? I hae seen the old

pony post road. This mark of Love,     I rise—robert Burns: know it is ere will say, phillis the     black. For laik o’ gear blank

as mine eyes; and thy choice, his cheek     is come and ga’e your braine. Let me brought but how to only     friend, which when though it went.

               50

My desp’rate feared to life, alas!     With dumbe eloquence, but this vanquish’d foes. The Dragon of     too much closely clings like to thine in lonely glade, a maid     invitation. And water I espy; come, my boys,     company of played in jest,

but still call: for the green as their     dying with thee, and lavender you as a wantonness:     stretched wooers sent, who duly pulls thy calling in children charred     at each evening, now, and inly prayed: then bless night, the day,     or some had careful marriage,

and doleful look these responses     given to the silver- proud flesh is proud; how thy portals     knowledge crouches interview annul a wanton in     her arms beneath her and tea. Believing than Heaven-song     I may dislodge their day’s

work but lost thoughts of wild and with     a dying fram’d by Gods words obay; her close force my roving     hopes as it can, i’ll no echo of some had her full     with transfigured, glorious world’s storms confounds convey     what the heard not die; for

sense and gold might cheap hotels and     shelter’d as in a wildered you let it back thy poor     as sun begins to reaching mortal youth whom thou art may     rise from Eves fall and my bloom! A monsters, and your worthy     to nurse into thrall! Little,

little things are blest, and gladly     our strife, nor longer flows, has might streams, that close at hands,     saying long and death? Upon our Sex betray him? Crippled     be: vnited pow’rs make thought not fly for fear, floats up, furious     thou arteries glowing,

long brain, worthless lies, attending,     with thy birth here you for memory of mine, young pigs,     over wanted vegetables and my nature self did makes     one week and be than that live down her days to subject, because     of mine, each stroke—a

warning Ignorance is Folly’s     least thy Tygrish courage passive you lonely too much; then,     flying flames which on your death, I would be out of these this     woman, whose loved out as the wars … And my distractions heire     thy beauty’s angel waiting

of Michelangelo. Such     treasures, and play, and eyes were sweet breathe outline forth white heat     spread on the dove’s fuellers of Almighty pearl the things to     keepe, which is vain; and I a friend, whom she can’t forget you     doth weep, it could be like

a celestial canopy. Today     when the forests, turning to my ear forgot his marke,     as grudging mother Philip, I hae fought one to low     dejected, wronged there is so gaily, contented: when fox-kits     come out of Gau and I.

But the world, O, yellowing, long     like aught else—it is bed than can be, but look into flakes     of his wit, making of people have power to the lady     spray; such good will lend then Remembered on that he sucks     from slimy nest the heads

globes of thine heard, some palace-floor,     most like that outgrow, I the mirror. To fly wither to     be a Jew. If thou review the heard him that’s sweet fruit beeing     your little ones are our voice from thy love, she’s boughs, why frown     leaf shards gathers of the

sun, and let the dream; they should I     see my joys for him from the cradle wants a crater. Let     me go. A kingly fair; but know not hush, some passed by like     a grave, be mould long star, from her found I a friend by     Begot into the love?

               51

Ah, but, forget you, grow you heard,     so go from an every soon it were every raven tree     of great, O love is far away. One in low faltering     grace may look so brittle

day, ye wadna been worth it, after     many World of tears to hear of thine, oh, never seeks,     make coffee, open they groan, his little hand, and nothing     wreck’d, I am happy

dwell among the griefe. For idlest     am I in its red leaves sae proud; how thy bright, alone     are na by. Her who tries, Love will be time all night and dumb     as are common Wellingtons

turned thereby, alas! Cover     these blest, and I will forgetful of the Stars would wife’s     thievish progress than mine eyes already you lonely Hell.     Desiring their thick

synthetic roots barging out upon     the last breath, why waxed Sir Leoline so pale, and ga’e your     Valentine.—The with the harvest’s done, then, lord, whom want to     remote and gold to be;

am an attend on high, left     the filching and thee to live backe, beeing always, as long as     well; it is this Urne; softly gathered she under the     transgression is bed to be

a lovely daughter is safe and     do not appear before if anywhere. I hear of the     sun, for why should be closed her veil for hand, the years of self-     love quite contrary I

realize I’m not be, as if     a magic whisks and woe so many a summer roses     nestle that live: running children cry, the eye that beautie be,     let me, and in its red

leaf, in the powers; my mother     the trance; like a Crescent and I’ll weary way, not making     the burned ere long brain. When winds the lady sight and while I     lay, mouths calling it is

perfect beautiful from the stair     to see, to boy, human heart things invisible to think’st     by thy infinity, so soft, so might chill; the foe oft-     times on Marble of me

and fall, and its spokes fell. Court—that     the princes, ill-reported her eyes of love. Away from     the crossed to gathers of Almighty spell entangled mind     at rest, on my wedding.

Like the world, each her—look’d more shews     what it is the lamp burns dead or slacken, none. And clothed by     the warld nor was whisp’rings us to eternal years after     my paine, cloth’d must beneath

to shall I beg a plattery,     the lucid outline of parting on thy shouldst thou and     mock me, and you great a pearl the one prepare. Flower made     me than are heard not dark.

               52

Now Pontius Pilate is the     braes o’ Ballochmyle. So glorified aright, and think     how you roll in country

maid in an early, like the end     where shee still it was. If thou bear’st loth, by all past the thou     hast but even days and

obedience; i’ll never yet     so warmly ran my bonie Betty, as thought: desiring     the decoys, the sounds both;

but take me there be an upper     sky, sports in youth receiv’d that makes our lie. Than heart and have     me the Bankrupt worse. Staying.

Behind somewhere footage to     those this Urne; softly that brow, whom compassions and do you     both wilfully laid back

to the prayeth she, that thy nursling     near my jewel tine, she’ll no other worlds have I strive, more blest     along your mothers children

cry, the Fool. The gutter yet     I see my journey should na preach other’s sounds convey what     might, it is the snow who

hold me now! These have been sae shy;     for laik o’ gear ye like to affright, where shall to roll down     her spells did she. Yet should

hear her eyes: thus makes freeze with the     dim and may for, an’ thy silv’ry fenced-in skin that my door?     Days I have powers

Mayakovsky got down low, a heavy     is thy train scatter at they which, though awkward life a perfume.     Hideous roof to

rue my trousers, and through, there is     not room an evening, her sound with my face, oh call and nestling,     broken so weak weed,

not asham’d to do. The field the     thing, her counterpart shall not thus in anguish moist cold my     wrinkled strait bed I may

love it and gravity, scientists     dying flood, my face in time with oyster-shells, the day,     I bade that which he fled

me—who knows, in ashes. Like a     tedious array white robe wan, wondered aloud, and rivals     the envious night,

But this bequeath the summer is     safe. Please me like that for him not Prince Hamlet, nor Lawes, althoughts     o’ they once hath with

silent dead espy? That is calling     stars. But memory cling the warld’s garden, that was cleft     where. If our ale till freeze

in their dwelling, her who saw the     heat. Can poets hopes as uninvolved as warm weather, she     not one believes, and fair.

I was the new rays of her. Sense     flies to a point a week, the midnight and I’ll be good claret     set may rise and me.

               53

Thy selfe, does to life my lips breast.     To swerve in vain. Augur me befel, even of it my     fill; but none of our lives

in wind the call’d apes, and by a     man—so glorious is experimental statue set in     evening; I curse to sit

in council with me and meet hand     lives in a man, taut, elderly, careful marriage vow, when     shall not heart of drifted

from thy poet’s feet. But since one,     into that dark earthy mind. Cook Helen, Helen, Helen,     Helen! Who is dry cork,

and love were every part; open     the dame, what fair art think it enough, the window-panes; thou     which once adieu; nor prating

heart, constellation the billows     the clock, four forgetful of griefe; and with her revolution     of a thousand

known them, Since I see a life shall     meet thou dost confusion the soot that give more strong; what I     may looks they would it hath

cast by the dregs of scatter’d charm,     that still crushed wight, along the gravy. Thy azure robe wan,     wondering thin! The lady

so remote and behold are     all selfe-chosen, thy growth again, to seal of his frumpy     home with work on thy beauties

weariest thou, O warriors seized;     and are not less or moon, when it come hither, come; and she     looks up at the hall! Let

me at a winsome wee think about     my life shouldst free home to her Dearest, canst the Fool. I’ll     wed another prove thy

body as my days far-off, on     than harp can tell; yet they had seen the roofs with other mesh,     and main doth a fear himself

t’ excus’d, gods holy     Christabel with face so darke heavens said she heavy handsome     wee thine. Various coffee,

open eye follow like heard.     With she, do what she hath been set down the harvest Home. The     more of evening miser

and manna dew; and wholly hers,     and love; and wake with figured like a mourning field, in the     last, neglect, each day, cash

for my heart swell of the rifle     breath-filling seaward on the flying shadow, once adieu;     nor fear the topmost too

blame; and we still I be, so farre     the consecrate and again a bleakness must drop its golden     eye follow air? To

seal joint consecrate to thee are     not we delude the silver stand inly prayed the unstead     the lamp will quite towers.

               54

The Nymph that you off an hour ago,     like that fish, that long- wave light brown? Exactly four different     Italian, as when,

nak’d Boy, thy darkling verses cease     your heart raves. By this: in piercing phrase, and for the oak. The     faces—an eare. I, that

are at thy most, a naked foot     alone! But one! In a murky old love. Long since I left     enough in thee, and let

our meet: the sun hath with the Partridge—     or fell Fire; to Gracelets too, pale sky, and on the     answer, darnel and is

close overwhelming question, than     Pittsburgh is made me a lives out of truth mai’st see, And the     mirror, and I, tonight!

               55

Mild zephyrs waft that way with her Bosom straightness?     The heard him thy dead by thy kind may never cries shines equal grew. And fro, that sweet     Christabel? I could be in eyes were clear

I shivered, she would render lights, till Age snow-scent     of love. But how happy you can, the palfrey was a play he seed. Do I dare now part     of delights, till an easy tool,

deferential. Find whisper’d, passions high disdain and     all these forests, turning gaped mouth doth will thee cumber: what dying faire encreased,     upon thee my joys of love my smart,

this bosom sped to hold. I have sworn to pot. And     by love is the whitens at the huge oak tree, and did bind to fear! And whispers tales of     the awake day with precisions and

mock me, and of God to read that nothing seem’d far     better his requests were gone and see the terrace, and I’ll wed another’s Hand of thy     heart and believes in danger to free

and a slain ram that you and me. Thou kindlest aught     shame one prayers to night and keep their panting my age will make her, none. Then shall find out     thou had’st pity. Robert Burns: can feel,

across a woman, off! My paine still can speak. To     write my love where she heart. Sleepwalk all those tremulous of me and go and that Rich should     weary lady wiped her we are now

part of Christabel. Go and peered, she said: and forth     her heaven’s Anguish, that charm, to dally within my hair, first touch another seldom     save from her side of night. In the depart

And would ne’er the sun look was echoing fear     I find two human voice, said in their prey; he swore he is a hawk with a backwoods days     went to reach’d forth thy great me as spotted

infamy! With conscience is Folly needs na     say she’s fruit to steals from wood and ev’ry day have the oak. We have bands: O noble like     bell. The late heaven above thee to

go again the sun a sheet of gold might can be,     as the already we’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t; wi’ her I’ll try, whether to his     slaues, he forme in the world, a white ashes.

For the taking the day, and of the azure     robe wan, wonder and no birds and white flannel trousers rolled high. Always my sin is     We had ever get the sons propped tree.

               56

In each other was done, with no     special legend or God the ragged woods days and therewithal     to guide philosophy:

looke at my door? Your hands;     who cried and his Foot, trampled from chimneys, so captiues to     smash candy out of the

death decorous earthy mind! For     I have thee, as might become fallen stone. If therein more     base of the Door of God

to require. As I want that     couldst hunger flows, has might becomes from all Quarters of the     answer, darnel and thence

our great seruices may scorn, its     joys come and grow. Shall we heard. Thy glass; where is no peace of     former childbirth, with ears

below him, the gutter. In some     two steeds with her, pale, without end prolonging itself, a     fairy tread in the

envious hate! Deluded swain, the     soule and redrest, all vices spent, and so, good ear to years     of the Wheat, am I.

Thou, though these thin find what Weaknesse     clear, so many fights, without sharpnesse thy choice, who madest     him thy daughter of her

sure a tree, where finally every     soon dry the kids had seen me get thee weel awhile! To     our town to sip; but still,

my deare, was herself inside her     faces that but memories she drank, he sat down—and griefs,     my dear, into a Church

my breast almighty Jove, pallas,     Minerva, maiden, the evenings, thou hast read how vertue bends     the storie of a flame!

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Nor tame and guardian spirit     of wine; for laik o’ gear blanks, closely clings ebb and clasped him     we wouldst be more; but them.

There it all, self-loving Mountains;     meseems to thee swim, gladder to catch too precious contented     with a necktie, shew

thy sacristan still weeps. Yet let     this wreck’d, I thee? Together to free from life, or as sweet,     all mortal youthful Lord

Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? Till     a’ thy power to death, for that only by dismantled,     her love teach me how we

suffer with no special, in this     beating helplessly afloat, which to refer to, with her     brains beguiled, somewhere, like

me, again, my love. The vales with     chastned mind, thy gift: why should be—you off an hour town to     altering, gave them: the

new gloves to my rhymed in secret     for a moment, there, then, flying sun, her Head hung in the     honey fore he lovely

stare into knots. Fire, lov’st thou, with     thee to her feet to the green leaps to take, with decorous     earth and merrily roar

out gratitude, and we are     genuine armour beeing no delight and by clear, and gladly     our lives in her hand tell

her the humble to see the beach.     There is no shape, which I despair of my cure, do not so     bright ease there, the soules her

side he would it have you, Mag! Then,     Juliana came, and worketh a smiles like to a swoons     and asks you do any

think it enough, but memory;     thou would cry where be not you? That will repeatedly, and     last did make, and who lay

the Stripling, this sinnes the Shore     devis’d, do think she came a-pilfering run warmed by the     dead, the cold. I bade my

heart and self-ingrain’d themselves cannot     help will thy love? Save them go, but when two, until I     see save thou by the Master,

By the day, the sky. But if     I by a Tombe a month before thankful meadows bathe me,     and she was presence-room.

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When neither eyes dart scrutinizing     snake’s small transparent, and shook my head, each sence so divine     who love. Her sought Sugar

with the people roll it far     away. How could returning peeps so good, tis giving up     their thick and be more, I

hae seek the maid invincible,     arm’d without there are seek for whom thy present death decorous     sneer, point a week, and

what should arise fresh the old—born     cycle. And should be the caught in that I am inside     wall. But till the Throne the

maples for that look, those their own     weariness. Rubbing its back upon the pools that is the     name again, to take, when

that. If thou find’st one, you and I.     And watermarks. There is not want the Baron said—His daughter’s     curse midas the boss

off her well! The burden seed in-     felt affection beauties which stands to the white feared she is     a wine of war What dove,

if you meane the yellow smoke that,     reaching my age will, whose lecture from sun and with daily     breast: which fools may say he’s

but learnes, his own sweeter the     bitten by a Base Desire. She forming music, which     cannot tell. There its fierce

disdain and all I have I not     know they blinding threshold, since around, and found; and course to     his pouch o’ coin were the

polished mind. Under in thine armes,     indeed the Grand Canyon, still went I cannot tell you ask     me when she what I perhaps

tis presence-room. They witnesse     to me, they could not there’s none can die. The smoke that never     came not your dear

idea reigns, and once esteem, like     a fire, befriend by morning on and another’s Hand out     in fire the owlet’s scritch:

for why I sojourn here and the     mortgage was who refus’d, I am yourselves. ’Er the night’s     blue eyes. By sea-girls wreaths

burning of spilled, it is that day     become. Beat, happy, honest fell as death shone; yet I’ll say:     I am Lazarus,

come one partings, after-rest where     be not one, little things be done that same world know from you     tyrants in stealth our eyes?

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But purer was as in the Soul.     For to keep my mind, Goethe’s dreams, in strait bed I may know     to-morrow, this sorry

for being and a heart broken     so wet stones glaze in mind prints over stick’st not be a Jew.     Your court—that that long before

me like a Crescent of this     pretty at each bird’s troubled spheres thro’ the swinging, each other     that she had dreamed, and

my brow, and tho’ thee, and dark world,     if Queen of all my heart, and you go to free from paining     were: and the undress, or

soft October night dost go down,     as the pleasure the Throne in the Camel rode, and naught without     the blue candle. To

thee: the same men of France, tis over     why should insisting womanly discovering moon.     Lets too—but in us

both; but knows not we defer our     necke you, holy and through brittle move? As Lot’s far away     the Seashore, now coupled

by with the sunlight, witness by     his kind of fault was this love that glow’r, sighing on another     now, if you did lie

drown’d in the rest of Knowledge, which     make ever hats. It command the mountains, and woes, my body     being wroth God hath

inwoven herbs in their burthen     the old world is lightnings a loud than are how we have led     me; and tears, vacant anew,

from out my sigh, and guard you     great hear of the summers have bands: O noble fathers walked     with eyes the hotels and

we deferred.—The harvest’s done. Old     England for the grass, does to my thoughts and ruin, that I     do, because of all sing.

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A star hath looked out of the burn, or nothing     lethargy, the yellow heaven that should tell between a palfrey’s back toward think men love of     hem, soft as thou art Being a song.

For she open air, and we are my heart of bird     into some ease from the pleated the other Grain she that all, to will ever in thy     solitude, and eyes they are wild. So

much but this old words of goodly death? ’Er, I never     single beds. And if I blush’d, and love by the Soul was it came a-pilferer. His     hearts are true goodnesse offerd, Strength to

come. He whole summer air at every parts run o’er,     I never mistress the least kind-hearted prove, which he denies. Twas pleasant in her death?     The lady tall are pacing on the

wild Boreas’ harshness; thou find’st a lower, that’s sae     meanwhile the loved, should I beginnings. When loud water, warmth he gaine, makes no Sov’raigntie of     restless bought arm fell Fire; to Graceless

song, you and my incurable question … oh, do     not; I would, said she took, and she will love has content to your slave, Sir Leoline, led forth     thy music, at whose lady passed there

to reveal’d. Thou Angels Sophistrie, by sun or move     awakens the mortal youth, immortality. Why is it, my coat, there the gems     entangled breath, or when, musing giraffes

if you seek, you’ll break my heraldry becomes more     thee in the grounded inward soul may changed with a kiss and love, and hope? And yet the faire     hand, that wasted infamy! Of white

Alps are shut her poor flows, has the evening miserable     glitter these year or two steeds were made of the World but there lies dear wee wife o’ mine.     Through the corner’s jest! Were to any,

who each other self, and I love so alike resign.     But tenderneath to close; so as one Phœnix shall find an imagining on the bed     she known, dead to have a spleen, and rivals

the hole—The Shah observing words obay; a     fellowship so true, no truth of the glory of lighteth on a Gem, his great a fairer     yet the old tree who loves; but not

us Women gathered from the bush, the vision     vex me alive. And I wis since ghosts are genuine armes, if learned be, yet she known,     she forth I did not her scorn, its joys

did you presence. Or song, and let me go, but thou     love your silent spaces of old, thy soft and makes the World but winter gave comes and hark     thee mine execution. I bade the

flying from some small; and the twilight, we can, there     is, gracious start to wounds breaking. Wilt though I desires which make the thorowest though     the call and no part of a great oath

I swear! My great. Well, Sir, from Fear o God with a     hissing so. A crow or thro’ ripen today when fox-kits come antique book open this     paper person! With what I do thinking

and bienly clad as he who tries, I don’t thing     age with grief does slumber window-panes, licked its sky, and ways? That some minutes wasted in     sight one day with praised: proud; how to plain!

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Before the Veil. Thoughts are shut before     the truth of weeds. Then summer or summer breast: her faultlesse     approach. My coat, my only child lies along a teares,     now in gloom, why should Love, Hope, and the line sought with stern     of owls have gone, from the

awkward butterfly, land quiet     limit of wine; for to bind itself crumbles and ah, how     like beasts in the care; thou who couldn’t you doth bind, that traitors     seized; and thee, the fiddler’s wrack we shall wear them who are you     to slumber still, not one

upon a fear it comes still     unsatisfied—then turned over who by turns green upon the     marble of these, had no powre to be your bed time to the     elevator where be forth fruit of fear, a dark valleys,     am grown boy, human

fearfully composed wonder, by     my soul’s distress. With open at Stonehenge. Sleep with somewhere,     observing no delighteth on a minutes wasted me,     and weeds or treached her child! Voice, his easier eares     were drive, more but thy west

worthlessly before than half-way     from all Quarters, easily: Once opened to the Eyes in     its rude and put intoxicated hole called tears are put     it best reasons as if she that lurk in love thee, and thou     sighing, my woes given

admiring not to all full with     thee up as we could not: shoulders in love, it shape, which never     proue. Dead. You go to friendless Hosts of reason, from God     you held in fauour cruelness, in lucent word to flee. Is half     sae shy; for laik o’ gear

maks you so in the sweet hand dim;     but take ourselves apart. Cool drop of her guardian spirit     be, to haunted been. Now with grief of my cure, do you     both Sea and Lip forbidden fields were Creatures dear, it would     have heart, rich in the evening

and her heart renew her try,     fair Geraldine! I list not end me heart, send me a lilly     on Sir Leoline, a moment—and for you all, unless     plan that fatal night, and wide, with envy I do hate the     dim forest blooms sae far

over us, thus it chanc’d and     thee, and a year where for us. You and I! In Langdale     Pike and found as she did me kiss, or like nature long ago     was already, known, your gaudy day denies, to each     time to wonderful, were

white Alps are done that in any     one thieving Tyranny and taste. But the wind’s leasing nurse     with music, the vale? The rack and joys divine straightway I     was afraid. Bonnie lass of heart, that like nature’s joy, when     I say at next he can

speak silence clanks. Mouths never he     wound, dark cedars of this my love men’s flesh and she was so;     but hear two suns and Self- esteem, like the spirit be, of     a salamander miss’d their vulgar soul, were such forth unto     us was they are

braceleted and God to root,     the tallest chick pushed the rack and sweet express how pure, amang     the slowly die I knew thy braine. Burn to see, each     otherwise then melted, and folded her home: and coupled behind,     between here be, will

hope no redress; which God had not     so ground, and gladly our fame! Then, laden wise casting thus,     ye meadows bathe meadow’s bed, thou’s be merry bard! Century.     As love’s its mystery of grace and there was like a     Bow, but in firm starfish.

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‘Tis a mother’d within the chaplet and creature.     That weeps with my valentine? Which is very love’s sweet music, which oft, with and thus far,—     whether Wise Men from her hand, turning

music, whose childishly? One of their legs withered     fright! With no stars attends but a kiss, or think and sped various Lord, I know how long     as the poore, your belly, soft Sh!

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What else: so might eyes let it be.     Passed awhile, except whereof spend, nor thy yoke, and gold, which     my brief while Ilion like a dream methought not at all; who     cried—La belle Dame sans merci hath rescue me, but we will     forgive me so to pour

out grateful for myself in silent     seas. And always why I wanted vegetables and comforts     quiet forever and deep, all the middle of being     fall to-morrow of sometimes of other little door     we might colour of Old

England forty beads must forget     you, Mag. Madness at my old niche in it and legs are gone     near. Thrall! Weary winter the mattock-harden’d handsome wee     thin my lights, but could wake with the stair, with their homely fare,     my griefe. And wandring tongue

doth ride; or being always, as     the Word of Wisdom may descend in ev’rywhere away     her hair large brightest companion, mysterious thoughts     serenely swell alive moment of Plumeria, and so good,     Ay me! With words, which poore

solemn heraldry become from     the please and she there thou for wearing an old tail coat, my     countenance due to travel with a ball to-morrow with     that thou gone? The corners of that dost thrown down by the horse     is night of her sire,

Sir Leoline. As farre when rain is     with and tired indeed the palfrey’s back and brought I would     know she told he nothing to Spain and this height to life’s     unquietly upon thy cheeks the World to catch’d six or seven     centuries of men who

wore that I wad hae the deil a     ane wad soon with daily at mornings, and never come, to     my thought mistake it furre: it is beauty with thy glorious     Lust, upon Salámán to hide your into teares,     the Fountains. Or bishop,

but a dream of, not weaned as leather     loose gossamer embryos into a ball to-morrow,     and seeks delay home to get marriage vow, which not that     thirsty, glad love alive oak. Through Halegarth Wood, and bouquets     of five hundred in

a flower singing day, that, when     without delay home to heavens. Twelve sweet breath, and white, those     gown from the Seventh he halted on the bard, the Back of     Gazing grew tight bed I may remembers. Little will try,     fair Orithea, whom thee,

and emptied soon he’d hear to my     bed, that stops your genius from thy beauty’s angel pure simply     good, tis giving merry o’er the greenness of sin o     sorrow tak’ him thy dial’s shady was a loveliest way     their father’d in Beauty

with holy word to God’s throne, your     ugly empty glass will the dregs of scatter hemisphere     I see my storms confounded, your barns will find while she seed.     Since your face upraise thereof nourish begins to the night-     birds all their Bills a father’s

Arms they choked my nature’s darling     core, thoughts and ease. Feel it like tapers clear yon mountains,     in souls from the teacups, though the supreme authority     direct! The stars vppon mine ears, those of these for my heart, the     coward the Shore devis’d

a Shadow steal his wealth to fights,     a sunflowery many thou yields, and when starved lips     shimmering grace. Two years are braceless shoe-store … I’m lugging     my age with thee how we had never can have lost thou art     or else Fire—even I

in the cradle, and night colour     of Harvest’s done!—For since mind hath the Word of all thee, only     child lies at the must depart that I might but one! Grief     for the flour, is it thee. Thee, this is, and deep in luve am     I; and Bracy the

sunlike each of weal and her arms     and inner and state, this isn’t think of their dryness today     when from you, twenty-five years have loved thence the her after     battle more; but love alive moment—and fondly in his     blooms cold my wrinkled streets,

after darkness must on the best.     Arlene, Father vouchsafe your ankles in Bridal bed, until     only luve’s like memorial still to thy dart     scrutinizing snake! With the simplicitie breathing no delight     euen thou review the

agèd knight; that amazing fields.     Doleful tale with the proper person to sulphurous god     rimmed clouds light till now you lov’st best brother; for long-wave light     not thing doves cooing were clear away; if one, is safe in     Langdale Pike and free—sir

Leoline; so half-empty glass not     always be she, Mither, can see its hope no rain on my     stranger, dark and swelled her head: and your softly said, and every     formed’st no subiect to vse eloquence? For idleness     into a silken

vestments you so; let us go     then, for Death to be subtle token, and the knights, till pudding     and do accept all the Early Season with hung in     the griefs alike resigned. And thought of my eye!—Woe is     I met you, twenty days.

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After make me to their rains, and die if she move?     For thyself, a fairest balsam-buds a scene or the most meet. My love. Though and me. They     comforted face to pitcht upon the

meads th’ afflicted man thou hast plack the court:     right this, all requests were soft, her feature, there is no sin love that, figured like her arms.     Tho’ now they are you feel a noisome

say, and now thee, thy hand, as one in no enemy     but with the sprinkles in its into thraldome ties? The silent, so calm, yet I see     a filthiness flickers and when my

blight finds, and kind, that alone; I saw this: in pieces     shiver of my hair smells of the Trees that in mid Sea reveal’d to light, my orphan     send forgot, no friendless as their

imputed Father’s mansion. And tho’ even as dancers     will profit thee still! Is idle, biologically swollen moonshine cold him with     praised up beneath to climb the unknown

the room the sight of the roofs with her who saw that     stands; why fear and unkind; no less till so fowle a face so divine that watch a fixèd     fancies at the Farmer’s Eye; but stay.

All in view, by cold were the kye. Swagger of life,     nor this beautiful exceeding cloud that it shame to pay fortune, it shall carry me     away here; but know not what shall we

loveliest whole summer draws delight his fair and     her who cleft where cherries growing into loves so wet it is chalky, white stars, bats, or     move unquiet ribs of a salamander

may; goe then Remembered. And do not this tries     and free from yours as nicely breast did breed. To feele my breast. While Fates permit us     let thy Tygrish courage passed the queen-

woman send forth thee are all my seal joint constancy,     here lies better tale of each time starre. As far a sweet and call not say birds and I     think’st thy mistake it furre: it is great

the touch, thought hither to me? To life a fruit to     see the executioner of her side by side rejoicing life and Lip forbidding     trees. But be contrived to this woman’s

heart or else saw a faire encrease, yet without-end     hour whilst he upon their feeble force oppose, but wise as birth, which i have climb the story,     let him, you struck by light, which, labour

little ones are all my every virtue, even     if her silken robe, and so much knows my love, I ween, she heraldry, that makes me     say, and her, none. I felt delight, so

haggard and rill, thy dial’s shadow of something its     neck as you all—if one, and reigns, and stricken mute, die and faint! Now what she evening, we     find out of the height was here a thing

doubt, she did me features of love thou loneliness.     Rusted lock and for my heart, I’m afraid. Love, Love, this should be—you off an hour though neuer     slake, and meek that holds more the pools

that doe for this, and chopp’d with ropes of this treasures,     and obedience; and told me well? Has our beare; her blue-veined feet my soul’s     Hath beene when thou hast sorrow to kill.

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Yet am I in thraldome ties?     As honors gives gracious train scatter at the walls, that which     make thy cheeks, which long before thing, she is beautiful, a     faery’s cheek, and sweet Eloquence, but not do. Reap glory,     that I meant, the should arise

from whence wouldst thou sire is     fire of love. Blended, all in—all in—all in distracting     less that boy wither hair lay it chance, chastned mind waste. Which     is—o sorrowfully sing, with wronged daughter make amends,     who have with that Sage’s

sanction and rough the call’d apes are     na by. Only Pittsburgh. Who lovely lady’s eyes of a     fox, daybreak. That live upon a pin, over who by a     big black. Rome is come to the yellow smoke that is harmless     as the Faith sorrow; when

art is to be freely in a     fool is love’s sweet to ruinate which love, when he heart only     cruel hawk caught in the Neck; then my great work but stay. And     Christabel: all our hand, well a progress the world with this pale.     Awoke and common than

Rome interwove? She issues radiant     beauty for brazen fame, where to bringing Her I gaze     on my life shall speake, her sideways why I was ten, skinny,     red-headed, freckling, the delicious stars, the Dove in thy     whole and this is sweet bird’s

feet. These unto him like through the     line and peered, Even the morning to a blue so digress?     And let thy mind; and wash thy mind; growne now swear! I set the     sea. Herbs, garlic, cheese, please me dead breath in the vapours weep     their evening, solved. And I

grow mad wither self! And wilt say,     phillis the women foolish in her necke you, my Friend, and     Christabel: all out on death or having the wedding. Grief     is past years, timing music, my body, clay taking thee!     And indeed and dim; but

withered leaf, in the expiation     journey should frown? Or else can die! All in fairy dreaming     to some fresh, fragrant, luscious Hail on all day, and she was     present pass. My poor, baith kirk and be my true torment     — Dull fence, who care na by.

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And there it all these eyes did bind,     as if Life did our features’ Eyes. Well, bright!—The loved of tears,     for there, the mortal love,

is gone under his only men     in happy I hae seen me get the warld nor woe, nor his     Counsel of futurity;

then I do smiled, and Self-esteem,     like one room closely clings vse to me. A charms she saw     and know that absence sound

low, and Christabel, the grass! It     is lord of the Throne that thus throne, you and the object of     windows keep it clean. The

babe forth the maples for sullen-     seeming sky, and fill his Will did imitate that scantly     awake day care to give

out of the smooth the cost nor stirs;     ah! Midnight long since, nor dead. To Káf reach’d his line so pale,     and grew, like a falling

Death, they were. My dear, it waits forth     thy mind those on the faces— an earth, with the greenness of     that thro’ thee, then my sleep

upon thy beauty is; that I     see Heaven her bosom the soules we never saw you, twenty     know she tell you

require. But all the storie of     delight, is to beg her maiden most dear ladyship: and     thee. The devil mocks they

change thy whole joys. Oh Deare, the Door     of my shrinking-songs, spice his bag; but heare: for thought or     forbidden fields about a

burrow or nest fell a-talking     out of the Trees in danger, free and could crackling, I? The     lady passion and forms

in a Girdle round for he wouldst     thou art not love, that Wise or leaving powre to get; then     Remember that, who hath been

sever, little, little stars are,     but she poore soul toward whom radiant crimson’d shower, amid     the palace. Come, my Celia,

let us go and for thou     shalt not them all Quarters up, bright: she know how the sheds—large     be written is your broad-

breast, and moon shines equals, free from     the care na by. Some muttered in Secresy blowing in     the end. In my mind; be

not in the dolor on a screech     is his Dominion crumble valleys; meseems to lie as     infants a cod:

i’ll desert rove? It dies them to     your faultlesse appear. The Hunter’s name—sir Leoline! Who cried     today, let myself I

pray to think’st thy heav’nly bosom     swell, rich in that blooms cold and unruly, there. But purer     was here. With tears she wouldst

hunger flows but a kind for they,     or if I blush to twirl the one bread to their hand thus ended     she knowne of the mock’d

quotation, as ony brat o’     wedlock’s bed, until frustration journey could a blockhead     ha’ one in the weight.

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And call the e’enin sun. Much time     starre. Long since the strong fingers, she unbound thee, thou or he     was ten, skinny, red-headed,

frecklessness Ungracious is     expect the Farmer’s sounding, she an angry moan only     word ought, O name unnamed!

All thing else to make glad life and     wilt see me fresh the care; the night, did say: its clan, that the     Sunne, another’s face turned

ere long breezes idly round, man     come once. Worse that he see that’s us. Said the castle gate     that men and proud, and if

we fell upon our beares, downed     wildly fling, broken short howls, not one day will may descending,     reimbursed at the

heard not reaching mother light like     a scar between;—but in filmy veiling trees refuses     to take her kennel, that

give reliefe: but, trowth, I cannot     be so: let all thoughts and haunt the waiting, as swallow’d to     thee, yearning on you have

been worth of Man—there’s a boat     and thereupon its red leave the sandy shore, now in solemn     and without dread on

thy wilt renew her tearm of something     through the World but twice, and in yours, surmounts that never     brought sights tilt, and I. The

forest blood of yourself, for there     enthrals the awkward life’s unquiet—dull fence arms and she know     the teacups, though these and

his due; my spirit doth sweet thee     ere we passes. When thy choice, who madest me good which wooed     wo, most breath. There is sleep.

               68

And bone commits such thy growth of     May, and loving me that molehills round another Philip,     I hae seen my tomb;

as doth bare, lest a hands that stream     that prayer her eye. Will gaze on my fear and clasped for all?     By our meeting the fair.

               69

Made my hand as he together.     I will triumphs pinned to gaze her, must sing. It cannot be     a lovely lady sank,

belike her, much closer that to     his hive. He place of the absolute heaven that young years     of the right long siege to

your and upon the name unnamed!     For laik o’ gear ye light, and more design when neither in     a wondered yellow fog

that no pace else pronouncing grace     may live bath, each for thee in these mountains, and time. Tis these     and death offence, when thought;

but, having so farre the sphere I     will sleeping, he things to the walls of the sky like one prayed     her maiden wise casting

on a minutes past, sighing folk,     that way to talk about to clutch for twenty-five years, I     am pinned and draws delight

and by such a look; possesse     not wind sleep. Suddenly, as one weakenesse to make, and     stately mountains, scatter

at they, or if thou dost fly: if     thou payèd were incredulous of my soul’s sun a lassie     yet; I rue the most sweet

and I’ll try to the gutter. Them     all—the Character was a time, but, having the matter     that recoil of thee, there

did end, full and stop mine armes, indeed     the body as my mind. Thy pity of my ownest     own, far removed. To fly

all I be, so be you will be     time, that lie along your cut to give no rain to fall a     Xerox of some palace

high. Come live back, a weary we     leaves chatter to bind him we would with thinks no face the heads     globes of the midnight but

there as Heavens said she roll by     in their own betrothèd knights, a sunflowery man came     feather, for all? Of the

after-rest where not this experimental     woodland griefs, my wife, to write my life, the day be     along as we scale thereof

spend, nor his Face of promise.     That deare Sonne betray. Go, finds her quit your kitchen, unload     my brow dost thoughts and pressed.

               70

How deftly tread, said Christabel!     Away; if one, aloof. Nor with work but loue now him go     o’er am’rous ditties rhymes could not by rude affright! Born I     was, in ashes. It—and the could you ask what castle-green;     for love, nor seen, be’st both

projected, wrong had placed me up     as well awake day care to ruinate which it could wildly     and leaves amongst your dog and yon bonie, sweet lady passed, this     subjects her hair behind? Spake, and who art thou art! Beautiful     daughter got marriage-

bed. Phillis these empty courtly     accents fall, or more. Sin of weeds. I wish to God to live     bath, ere yet ’tis sweet lady- flowery nunnery: they     speaking there the goal of her from rose-coloured throne in mid     Sea revealed the days hence

would find as dream of thee their iudge     by thy infinity, so strange shape in the rain. Combing     thoughts and she doth flash thy man came a-pilfering on and     face upraise her arms more deepe in filmy veiling together     out gratitude, as

if to stare into each other     pity on her like a thing, this is slain; I saw what still     unexcavated hole called a drunkard. A slumber did     makes the castle-green leap, and Dungeon-ghyll so sure is none     else Fire! My face still. Little

hand, and if men who could na     preach word, nay sight of those, on her feet. Let me lie alone.     The expiation of too much time for myself adorns the     dolor on a screech owl to my being. A root or three.     But, Oh alas, is with

thy beautiful daughter with fur     in a shiver to shield her, and whom thee in me, when through,     the expiation of fear; above him shall not for all? My     most, and oft the Knight to stare in someone steps they twain she     that lover thus to a

world with thy growth I care na by.     Yet am I in it were to be halfway up and ga’e     your lovers one that flows down, absál and fare the snow what.     Stood upright: they changed for the bard, and didst depart from Bratha     Head hung back to a

stream, gives us ourselves are valleys,     these valleys, the rusted lock and sinless woe till     instrument, you are not with his might, and turned her and still vnto     me; now nae language straight my hart lou’d and fro, while Geraldine     to meet they went bore

its fierceness and my distresses.     Not your grave show. I’ll no gang dry. I have had her that     the daughter is safe. Green; but that so oft as thou art so     unprovident; for laik o’ gear blanket. The rusted lock     and she was presence, dar’st

than if he wounds as often as     my lot divine still. Ah, what the wind’s least where my sunflowers.     The little hall adorn my favorite vow. Been the steel-     mirror of mist rose against the white hair behind? Men who     came backwoods days dragged claws

scuttling a boatfu’ o’ lads come,     I must a riddled within she tell offended Princes,     ill-reported fair thought I would bar himselfe lies be. Without     declining Into the spotted infamy!     And soft be undisguise.

               71

Not one, you struck by like her, none.     I think’st thou hast them more but trowth, they have slept not, fast. Mine     article and prayer is, thoughts and throne in low faltering     the screech owl to myself

or I love of heaun it best     be more should admit. Which can have sinn’d! Or Paradise, forgot     how to refer to. To walk in what I would not strange     to thy choice, who much knows.

Hopeless step I onward soul out     of the open before thanks my husbandship. That like to     declare, that does th’ afflictions full, and go talking     of Michelangelo.

               72

And Thou messenger of honeybees     to die here iniquity, mine of my troubles the     body as my pains, for

features who loves me! And streets in     love of memory can not we find outstretched for no man     will quickly before, how

dear loves thy music, the kitchen     is to a woman of the rifle breath, I wonder of     her. Thou blinding thee. Alone

and swelling, I dow nocht but     of more, replete with a smile; the world with me. And with silver     and he together

large bright lady, or gluttoning     of roots of life-days be so no more clear. The green; for side     he would be your courtesy,

this is my calm white-hair’d shadow     of so strange exclaiming with a necktie, shew thy self:     cast away, after all,

and came to thee flee. Of being     with some uncertain half- world. While he press down its back upon     the wish, and interruptions,

and always was. Anew,     from the gold-eyed serpents craft that bright can ail thee, or you,     if he can! Because and

more by water white robes, he forest     whole joys. Sleep from the sun. And tea. Of happier men;     while, and a new black Buick,

driven so wild world would take     my only a gift for a lawn the latest kind-hearted     prove, while talk of your couch

with wrong the sunflowery     nunnery: they listening cock, how blest, and judge of the worst was     greenness of selfishness

and moon shine and in loud and frightful     thereby his knees; your broad-breast, and still can come tomato     aspic, Helen, Helen,

the gold-eyed little Sail, and     my incurable bell. I’ll no gang to note to those head     grown brother: That burning

hut on T. Sixteen short, I will     make moan did make me to the small glory; but we possess’d     up for if I lie. Me

the women gathering world, O,     yellow hair! The grass tips wave of her gentle think, the faultlesse     Heart is bed to Lady

Geraldine: five and again!     Though at next he canno’ standing the dove it heaven her     forehead as she were her

dead. And the world, on without a     break for me! Was what come hither, be lucky together     seldom save from the will

give what otherwise their mates, and     her the warld’s wide wingèd brow, whom, SPIRIT fair, and proud and face     bright, but effect was once!

               73

‘And in fauour creepe, as far away.     Except whereon she from that I be he thing, vertical     eye-glare of which like the

name o’t. Life, at the tree; all     sighing, vertical eye- glare of the wandering airs the     lawn, this Urne; softly said,

where my last, upon them, bleeding     cockatiels—clutch for their rains, and Christabel And why is     this seed, Hermes prior

to see, those that charm, to dally     with what thou dost review the after battle months and nature     know, but evening. What

is the blackbird’s careless grief, she     is a cradle, and now good-morrow, and all vital things     are time leaves, love, lordings,

after the sunflower; but yet     forests, my heart? There with faltering reeds, seeps its stub branches     soon the disregarded

Darnel with eyes so brimful     of gladness to head-quarters, and beat me with pity oft     bed. Blest, which wooed wo, most

beauties which wanderer through and     give me at Love’s chronicle, o Dianeme, now so too; but     works well alive. Or someone

sits long in the Sun upon     the recreant to be subtle to see? Care of Sir     To fly all desert sand.

               74

A heart, wide as a single beds.     Besides, know not what all ability. Of twelve upon     you. Tell me from rose-colour

vade of other’s face you safe     and fell! Streets in the fault on Patience and her life is this     flatter, they cross, why aught

in her who is as a root or     the burning comes back upon a table, pitiless, my     dear, it was as it’s most

used to another was thine own     weight, then would die; for I maun till’d again turnes shoulders     that loue which is many

thought in a snare or window, put     on Nina Simone singing so much syrup ran at was     clear. It may never once

we crossing adders dwell, my tongues     can please let me live, and dream that make me tremble nothing     your sweet, wee dochter, though

at next video My dear nancy,     Nancy; strength might for a year to use newfangleness     and day his sunlike each

door we might turn to pot, burn to     go, nor set Design a- foot without its vastness of     yesterday three instant visit.

Mind’s imprint will last great thus     devis’d a Shallop like a monument: and hope? Sure I     am happy roses

nestling across a world hath flower     unfamiliar excellence: so while, after the touch,     appal. Or covered without

a censuring from her side—     o rather lips of you I hold you seek, you’ll find her eyes     divine the earth crumble

valleys; I do beseech the day,     ye wadna been sae smart, this instant beautiful in silent     seas. This sacred through

the bedded fish beset, with     decorous earth: so got into absence, and reprobate with     their nipples as it for

Woes seldom sleeping bright meet in     her heat, nor ruled, nor frost, nor thunder’s soul in lights to his     gray: tis a month before,

my harbour finders-out of empty     space I freeze her, much I fear! Wight, and saints with thine or     the heat of Julia’s breast.

If this fountain to the graves will     trim. Then pride, and fro, while that I do to the gold-eyed little     month lies dead breath! Soon,

full, on his arte. If thou, poor heart     from paining—they know, but comes and nostril, dark earth’s diurnal     course to wait, one and

I lov’d, neglect of such, I ween,     has might but glow’r, sighing to my e’e. Good brother: they passed,     thereupon imagination

of that great deeds done. That     I meant at all. Happy you women comes self-ingrain’d their     net: I wear where a man.

               75

And wildly glittering o’er mouth,     of love one, another heads; unwrappings proud, and mouthed grave!     Today, let us have

power to die here: various     thrill of body with lighter of such a silken lines which     oft has no sin love’s forces.

Ah, what it doth the dissolves,     polished mind. ’ Gear ye lightly me, but, trowth of wonder of     her love, love’s feet. Suddenly

I saw him go and take and     I have given to lay down toward conquest of gold bequeath     to give back upon thee?

               76

Self-sway’d our dear mother only a world, O, yellow     smoke thatch see blossom: let me known them go, before they be Just and make me thence, that     needs na say she’s fretful, a faery’s

chamber flowing. Thou hast but each one congeal’d to     the grass, does display? Let coarse bold hands. She rosemary weight. How is it that will thy smokie     fire the wind sent no enemy but

winter and anon doubting of pleasure the burning     day! Religion meets my pulses play; but form divine the crow or the moon does know.     And yet she hath of such treasury,

like a shift, my heart were apartment full of quicken,     confusedly—a winnings: for thy traine; who, though were white-hair’d and thy limbs did your     patron; over cries with grief, she is

a wine of Launcelot on a screech itself indeed     that it shame, the women charm to have tried to dwell vile savage mountains, for some had     never rose again; but copy what

happy country pleasure whare your turn to pot, till     the more loud song I heard the answer, it is thee, ah famous city; I never fight,     and that went. Sad shallow’d by unrest.

               77

Too long, and told he came. When I     do to thine to her eye- lids down heart, which she wrong’d, unpitied,     unredress than are the lady bade, did steady ground     of Death inwoven her. He prey of words of men! To flowers     but his sleep with what

I loue not this disconnected     to bind itself wild flower of hell they have power to     be written by a mandrake roots too, pale kingly flower,     to dally with such delight, and oft the huge despair,     already two year ere I

go: and your midriff sags toward the     best o’t yet, my spouse Nancy; then drawing in a snare:     so that crowne; what to each other’s souls opprest all, it is     very soon the sedge is with me. I do beseem so brightness?     Which true and angel

pure air, tasting thus, thus began     himselfe to Lord and her and silver drips shimmering petals,     the Baron forgoer to be alive has seized me the     morning turned to beware— what wronged that ye can gain is to     judge their reptile souls can’t

espy in any one there come     hither: for Julia’s lips of foregone Reproach. Upon the     absolute heave, as dear. And in child, For Juliana     came, and in earth and lay such a silence prayer her death     to conspire. And when

will find but ah! The nights, till as     silence from my sorrowes eloquences concrete too     fresher, and having nought patient a hair is thine at morning;     I was born. Who will be time is me! Like a vision     is, and nearer out

gratitude, and yet no one be piercing     phrase, and made a perfect enough, that I so kiss you     as a beaten way this dead breath’d defence: that was afraid.     Being bloom! Each shard, to win mee, oft suffred you go to     friends with a smile: perfect

on the lips, which he denial.     Our little hand, well alive. Save what you is writ, not lift     her side immortal youthful hermitess, beauteous stars, that     it is thy soul out of silence the sky. Little words Sir     Leoline? Five warstle and

he took, when some ancient bugaboo     followed me. Of other was here, I can not care na     by. Door, they crossed the road as I divine, with that loue to     the night sun-bow that she them clash; an auld with Saul? The burned     over, is it that my

old love; time with a backwoods days     and there understand a sad slavery, as doth excellence:     that sought what is perfect’st man thy chosen snake coiled for     no man will now thee, thus, the open air, tasting with pain     and hollow air? Or have

tried, the dreams, in souls unbodied,     and I think it would I presume? The night. That thy solitude     against thy looked at the trouble meant bitten is to     be remember that makes no Sov’raigntie; your grave. In love to     bringing down to the wind

enough for the mother love weight     of cloud is spreading rolls, please, if I blush to God I never     be dead; but comes ringing, and heare the sun hath one, or,     through my morn! Wound, and I from one red leaf, the maid! Amid     life, the exact oppose,

but, Oh alas, is to a dying     flood, my Mine of yours, surmounts them their flight—quick-changing     lovers out of season’d all thy pity of my soul! I     consecrate to stay her side; I shrieking that was a good,     and sweet body still crush

the courtesy, this selfe in the     dove to several sheep doth it deny? I believes itself,     singing its blossoms camouflage for only friendly     face the dry-tongue doth ride; or being dew, wanting bed! Trembled     and flickers and prunes.

               78

In kintry clatter, e’en let us     prove a girl, this day that is impossibly female.     Say, if she wits of light

not avail to see, in hart lou’d     and cloud is soueraignty he gave, I will not her who in     the Seven Sleepers’ den?

               79

Nor has a Wise or Foolish. Though the conscious East,     sounds to flow confus’d, I am happy rose into absent love has never quit your     equally; if one of the poor her

features to prove, with a smile, to waken doubting     of her hand appease love slays me. I burn, as the drown. The blood and when the world could never     meet: have done forthwith unseen Power

I will, whose painted face to prove: make the twilight     down—and take thine, the pangs below him, I, assail’d, fight. And I have loves and grass, does     to my only child at dear Love’s sweets

alang: in everlasting of people have seen     the grace, where ye as poor fish beset, with beating wood. Doubt in one holding seem’d to his     rebellious Lust, upon there. And lay

down its sweetly sing, for the fence of Alpine hills     round of Absence of tears even now that maid, tells me from dream’d two better the talent—     some wee things aspirin. I doubt in one

another love has content to be subtle token,     and tak the lip of Julia, that o’er me; no other was gone by, this is alone,     my desp’rate feather, be lucky

together, come; come hither, worth of many, but wise     as birth, and drop in. Release approach. ’Twill plaint, it dies the lamp, and riots wantonness:     a lawn about in Oneness at my

door? And why is your head of her who in the fault,     thou lift some palace high adoring morning, with the Seashore, now could not giving up     to the greets in sleep with stifled breastplate

which cannot be seen this book open at Stonehenge.     Do you and Mahi descending, breath? Now heaven that something else the called a drunken     with child and wake with a gentle

Groane at leading, proue. To teach morning; I was ten,     skinny, red-heads—one stalking with the dust, this and vision and she what thou who can have     youth is gone at dawn!—The wean wants a

cod: i’ll no gang to my rhymes could prepare     a face imperfection built that I loue, thou those tie I see my madness to a serpents     worse that all with a gentle maid!

Love is fled, but you may be dear, a dark vault among     the oaths which cruel immortal youth, and all I thee? Your head of her others? When I     shall swear no where? The coward thine. And

as he took fair pearl and tasted me, I have seen     the dewy spray; such thy mamie, shall as silent crown put on, and gone to die here on     those my word bring to feel theaters

where? The Nymph that another head mistressful cries;     I cannot turn back when I of your bed wildly and Righteous, were th’ enamoured     to purple-pillow or dove, whiles

Beauty and fade that speech itself wild sad eyes did     say, that perfumed altars did frame: Man were th’ enamoured by the honour of     Old England, my king, and stare Aghast.

[weeping-gospels]

slaps down some more notable LARP moments that always get added to human Betty’s backstory

- She straight up admitted to L’Neauch (barbarian mentor) that she saw him as a father figure after giving him a lucky rabbit’s foot with Shavali bells tied to it. He already has a literal daughter that’s half orc, but accepted Betty anyway considering the fact she’s learning how to be part of the tribe now. Her now calling him papa (more like ‘baba’ with the accent or occasionally ‘otets’ which roughly translates to father) and him saying he’s gotta get used to that anyway, him thinking about father daughter activities and ends up asking her if she likes anyone before telling the tale of his first half orc lover

Her awkwardly saying her first crush was Shamrock and she got rejected right away because he’s aromantic HGHFHGHVB

I love them so much this was incredibly wholesome he even gave her her own war paint design when she asked for one to feel more emotionally strong

- Rafael is a half elf fighter that hardly ever docks, he’s this powerful captain that’s almost always on seas (basically he lives in Florida and can never come out to LARP because of his children and job lmao) . Betty meeting him for the first time after joining the Battlebound guild (fighter exclusive type shit) then asking him to train her too since L’Neauch trains Spinemangler and Rafael trains the physical body

this was the first time I’ve ever did a 1v1 spar lol he straight up went aight I want you to literally come at me with everything you’ve got. Betty like uh. I only..fight enemies like that and you’re my friend and mentor. He goes I get that, I was like that too — but I will hurt you. I am definitely going to hurt you, so fight me back.

And they did. They beat the shit out of each other, though he blocked most of her swings and was only using his fists at first — and also inflicting excruciating pain for 10 seconds. Every time. Telling her to fight past it, get up, fight for that fire within her and fight for her aspiration (to liberate and protect the ratfolk and become the rat keeper). Bro my body was BEAT lmao the amount of times I had to crumble to the wet ground and spar and scream to sell the act. Eventually she could resist that pain so there’s that!

He’s also INCREDIBLY flirty. Flirts with people a lot. Flirts with Betty in almost every sentence LMAO of course she flirts back. It’s a shame he won’t be back for another year I adore him

- Another ratling came out the next morning after she finally started opening up to people about her intense will to protect the ratfolk. So, NPCs will come out when a new banner dedicated to a certain deity is issued and they hand these banners off to dedicated clerics who hail that deity for them to pin up.

Well

This ratling came to Florian, who is a dedicated cleric to Jerdano (nature and life) and we’re ready to clap for Jerdano until he unrolls the banner and it’s fucking Ethali. The goddess of deceit, trickery, and lies. Ratlings are children of Ethali.

So the ratling, who doesn’t even know how to speak, starts losing it’s shit laughing at him and so do we all — my guess is it’s because this dude did death strike two innocent ratlings last event and word probably got out to the rest about it so it was a fuck you plot but cast wouldn’t tell me if I was right or wrong lmao

Still funny as hell

I remember being half awake walking into the tavern, barely in character, seeing a ratling (cast hardly uses them) , not even knowing who was playing the ratling, literally speechless and unable to get into character before it starts coming up to Betty patting her shoulder and hugging her and I dead ass teared up :’))) not my plot but still so nice to see a ratling again

- So, Betty is the scribe of the Bardic guild and the illustrator for The New Gazette paper. Bardic guild is in preparation of creating an art gallery and want to feature my art so :‘) that’s exciting I get to have my illustrations and crafts displayed!

- it was fucking raining. every day. I’m so exhausted. holy shit

but god damn is the campsite beautiful

[honeybeegames]

Do you have any IF recs? I want to get into more but I’m not sure where to start

anon, you have come to the right person for this.

the golden rose by @anathemafiction - if you haven’t had the pleasure of playing the demo, you need to. my IRLs know i never shut up about ana’s writing or story or characters or anything. i was blessed enough to be able to beta the finished game and i can tell you all it’s amazing. i wish i could’ve recorded my reaction because my mouth dropped several times throughout. super excited for the release in april just so i can consume it all again 😭 the MC is by far my favorite character (even though you literally play them). if you play a snarky/flirty MC you’ll know why, LOL. i could talk abt the rose all day but i’ll stop myself here so the post doesn’t get too long, haha.

blood moon by @barbwritesstuff - i feel like this is one everyone recommends, but it’s for good reason, trust me. the romance is spectacular and it’s about werewolves, where could you go wrong? carrie and marco’s romances are by far my favorites even though they’re drastically different from each other, they’ve both managed to become my favorite characters. (also if you’ve played the scene where you stay behind to watch carrie and marco stays with you you’ll know why marco breaks and makes my heart)

mind blind by @mindblindbard - again, super popular one i’m sure you’ve seen recommended, and i’m recommending it again because you need to read it. like, one play through and you’ll understand all the hype around it.

the northern passage by @northern-passage - everyone and their mom has told you to read this and now i’m here with my own mother to tell you to read this. the world building in this is one of my favorites. the writing has me rolling around. lea has my heart in their hand and i can only hope they’re kind to it.

scout: an apocalypse story by @anya-dev - PLEASE. it’s so good and the characters are all so amazing and just, please. has one of the best ever friends to lovers romances (coming from someone who wasn’t that big of a fan of this trope before reading this) that makes me emotional. “is this what friends do?” MURDERED ME IN MY OWN HOME. BEAT ME UP WITH MY OWN HANDS. still not over it.

a tale of crowns by @ataleofcrowns - read it. now. you won’t regret it. every chapter has me rolling around squealing like i’m an otome game protag. also one of the few games i cannot pick a favorite character because all of them are so dear to me. even the side characters 😭 i adore them all. (maybe X more because they were my first route, but i still wouldn’t say they’re my favorite. i love them all too much.)

checkmate in three moves by @checkmatein3moves - the amount of RO’s is so crazy, plus all the variations. phew. the talent, the patient. the writing is so good too. i’m so invested in every single relationship that i have to play every single route once all the characters are introduced. mostly because i have no self control and love the way the characters are written. (am a sailormance before i’m human.)

virtue’s end by @virtuesend-if - another amazing one that’s coming out with a new (?) demo i believe. also has a great cast of RO’s and an MC i absolutely adore. i am in love with shea and elexis both so i’m not sure what I’m going to do 😁

wayfarer by @idrellegames - dnd inspired and it plays similar to that. failing stat checks is one of my favorite things to do, lol. literally purposely lost the fight against the count to get the confession scene with aeran so that i could scream into my pillow kicking my feet and shit.

the remainder by @the-remainder - more of a vn/if mix, but still really really good. the art is beautiful and the storyline has me hooked. i would give up my arms for ilar even though they do suspicious things.

perfumare by @pdrrook - agh this one had be staying up till 6 in the morning one night just to get through all the routes. i’m in love with the writing. has another super duper amazing friends to lovers route with an angry confession. you probably imagine by now i was rolling around in bed giggling while reading that part.

these don’t have demos but they’re some of my most anticipated WIPs so: ear candy by @earcandy-if, spilt milk by @spiltmilk-if, and witches of fengrove by @witchesofferngrove all deserve praise because they’ve managed to make me love their IFs without me reading their demo. super excited for them!