#Perhaps give her the my melody pin as well

[chewysgummies]

I already told this to the plushie server, but I thought about visiting the build a bear store again just so I can try on this pink cozy jacket pajama and give Starfy my "call me" retro telephone pin

[nina-ya]

May I please request a super angsty femReaderxzoro fic where reader dies trying to save zoro but in a really specific way as in she has devil fruit similar to uta but with healing abilities instead and she trades her life to save zoro which makes her have a death similar to rikas from jjk but the song she sing when she’s leaving is long live by Taylor Swift specifically “long live all the mountains we moved I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you” ect.If it’s too detailed, you don’t have to do it but I would really enjoy if you could do this

Long Live

A/N: Italics is a flashback and purple are the song lyrics I had so much fun writing this! well as much fun as you can have writing something sad, but thank you for giving me an excuse to write about more Taylor i hope you enjoy! <3 Pairing: Zoro x fem!reader CW: Reader dies, blood, vague alluding to sex WC: 2.1k Your voice had been a source of joy and happiness for as long as you could remember, and your devil fruit ability only heightened that joy, granting you the power to heal through your melodies. It felt like a gift straight out of a fairy tale. Cradling injured individuals in your arms, you would serenade them, witnessing their wounds miraculously vanish as they sprang up with newfound energy.

In your pursuit of understanding and enhancing your abilities, you dove into the histories of past users who once possessed this ability before you. While you didn't find much in terms of strengthening your powers, you stumbled upon something intriguing: the most recent user of your ability met their demise by sacrificing their life for a marine soldier. The event was well-documented—the tale of their final song and fading away into the unknown, all to save a critically wounded soldier. At the time, you found such sacrifice baffling and perhaps even foolish. The idea of willingly giving up one's life for another was a concept that had always left you questioning whether you could ever do such a thing.

You first encountered Zoro when he casually slid into the seat next to yours at a random, somewhat sketchy tavern on an island whose name had already slipped your memory. Ordering a beer, as expected, neither of you paid much attention to the other until you initiated a conversation, asking about the swords he carried with him. Drink after drink, the banter flowed effortlessly, and as the night progressed, so did the subtle hints of flirtation. Before you knew it, you found yourselves in the confines of the bathroom, Zoro pinning you against the wall, lips locked, hands exploring, clothes quickly discarded—an intense moment that seemed to mark the conclusion of your unexpected encounter. Or so you thought.

The next day, as you went about your business, you stumbled upon a wanted poster that featured none other than Roronoa Zoro, one of the most formidable and dangerous men in the world. The revelation left you torn between celebrating or worrying over the fact that you had just slept with one of the most deadliest men in the world right now. You had chosen the former.

Your lingering questions about whether you'd see him again were answered when, to your surprise, you spotted Zoro rounding a corner, seemingly lost and running in your direction. The unexpected reunion left you wondering about the twists and turns fate had in store for the two of you. He screeched to a halt in front of you, muttering something about being in the wrong place. You were on the verge of teasing him for looking like a lost fool when the unmistakable sounds of approaching marine footsteps and shouts pierced the air from behind. Without a moment's hesitation, Zoro swiftly unsheathed his swords, leaving you momentarily confused when he shoved one into his mouth. Your confusion gave way to surprise as marines in front of you began dropping like flies.

In the chaos, Zoro reached for your hand, grabbed it, and started running with you. Urgently, he asked you to lead him to the docks. Though an underlying sense of fear lingered, the idea of potential injury or worse, you couldn't help but go along with the green-haired man, guiding him through the streets towards the docks. The urgency of the situation fueled your pace, and as you turned a final corner, a grand pirate ship came into view. To your amazement, some very enthusiastic individuals, recognizable from the wanted posters plastered everywhere, were waving at Zoro and urging him to run onto the ship. 

You might have assumed that Zoro would have let you go and abandoned you at some point, but to your surprise, he had you stick around. Soon enough, you found yourself on the deck of the pirate ship, met with perplexed and cautious stares from the crew. This wasn't the life you had envisioned, yet the appeal of friendship and adventures proved too compelling for you to resist.

As it turned out, your unique ability to heal with the simple power of song quickly earned you the role of healer on the ship. You often teamed up with Chopper, working together to mend the wounded, a category that frequently included Zoro. It seemed like he would intentionally find himself in dangerous situations just to give you an excuse to heal him. It became almost routine  for Zoro to pull you aside for healing sessions. He would claim it was because "you're the faster healer" or "Chopper is busy with the others," but the way he stared at you with complete and utter infatuation as you sang hinted that there might be an underlying reason why he always sought you out.

Your relationship with Zoro had flourished during your time on the ship. While the two of you hadn't explicitly labeled it, an unspoken bond had formed, making you inseparable. It was clear to everyone around you that you and Zoro were meant to be. Your connection was so strong that it felt as if you were bound together for life. You, the enchanting songbird, had managed to melt the heart of the swordsman. It was a relationship that seemed almost too perfect to be true.

-

-

-

The shaky rhythm of Zoro's breath sliced through the air, the only accompaniment being the unsettling drip, drip, drip of crimson liquid splattering onto the floor from each painful gash on his body. His eyes threatened to give in to the darkness, the grip tampanoding his profusely bleeding wound weakening with every passing second, allowing more of the red tide to seep out. "She's close by," he reassured himself in a desperate whisper. "She will come and heal me, and everything will be okay." His vision blurred, the edges of consciousness fading, yet the approaching footsteps redirected his waning focus. Your silhouette emerged into view, and a feeble smile of relief played on his weakened lips.

You stood there, your body pulsating with the ache of injuries you had sustained from the battle. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your chest, each labored breath revealing your weariness. As you took in Zoro's dire state, a chill ran down your spine, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. The blood painted the wall against which he leaned, the pool he lay in enough to have claimed the life of an ordinary person by now.

In that moment, a wave of realization crashed over you, akin to what the previous user of your devil fruit must have experienced when confronted with the imminent death of that soldier. The only conceivable explanation for willingly sacrificing one's life in such a manner was love. Only someone who is deeply in love could find themselves doing what you were prepared to do.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—thump... thump... thump...

Your heart beats in your ears, slow and steady, a sharp contrast to the urgency that surrounds you. Crouching down next to him, your knees bathe in the blood beneath you. You reach out and stroke his face, your voice cutting through the tense air as a sweet melody falls from your lips, “Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you…”

Your vision blurs slightly as you start to sing, and your voice wavers, but determination fuels your every word. Zoro's consciousness begins to steady, and his gaze focuses on you. He listens to the lyrics you sing, his smile quickly fading as he senses your growing unsteadiness. His own heartbeat starts to quicken, mirroring the vivid recollection of the last time he was this severely injured.

Your fingers gently comb through the emerald strands of the injured marimo, the sound of your singing soothing his pain, mending the cuts and bruises that adorned him. As his eyes gradually flutter open from the haze of injury, he gazes up at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips upon hearing the sound of your voice. This time felt different from his previous injuries; there was an abundance of blood, and the worry etched across your face reflected the urgency to reach him in time.

You knew you couldn't stop singing. You needed to heal him, but you also needed to talk to him, so your song took on a more serious shift in meaning as you sang. "Will you take a moment? Promise me this: that you’ll stand by me forever," you begin, your voice carrying a weight that matches the importance of this moment. His larger hand envelops yours, nodding in silent agreement. You continue, "but if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye," confusion knits Zoro's eyebrows, wondering the reason behind the unexpected shift in your melody.

You persist, “if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name.” Your voice grew shaky as you continued, “Tell them how I hope they shine." Teardrops fall onto his concerned face, and he instinctively reaches up to wipe them away. The inevitability of this conversation weighed heavily on both your hearts, each word spoken a painful acknowledgment of the uncertainties life may hold.

In response, Zoro reassures you with a resolute voice, "I promise to stay with you forever, but you know fate won't dare step in and tear us apart. I won't allow it. You’re too important to me, and I swear that we will live out the rest of our lives together, and *you* will get to tell our kids all of these things, okay?" His words, a promise fueled by determination, aim to chase away the uncertainty of what lies ahead, providing comfort in the tomorrow that they both look forward to.

It's happening. Fate weaves its cruel design, guiding you toward that goodbye—a scenario Zoro strongly vowed would never come to pass. “Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you,” you continue, your voice quivering with an emotional strain that mirrors the tension in the air. The aura that your powers provide seem to shimmer with an magical quality as Zoro's wounds gradually fade, mirroring the slow, inescapable dimming of your own presence.

Your body slumps over, a proof of the draining strength within you. Stronger hands, Zoro's calloused and desperate, grasp your arms, pulling you close in a desperate attempt to defy the approaching reality. A gasp escapes you, the sound of your body's instinctive cling towards life.

“Stop… Stop this… I—I’m fine now, see? Chopper can just fix us up; you can stop now,” Zoro pleads, his voice quivering, the tremor reverberating through the air. His lip wobbles, tears teetering on the edge of escape. He knows the words he's uttering form a desperate attempt to go against the harsh reality. In this wretched moment, he attempts to make you hold onto your own life, to discourage you from the selfless act of sacrificing yourself to mend his wounds. Yet, the heavy truth hangs in the air—a truth that your fading form seems to convey with every passing moment.

Your breath is shaky, and a sudden weariness envelops you. Yet, his pleas, laced with unspoken desperation, don't deter you. ”Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you,” you sing softly, leaning onto him, a somber smile gracing your lips despite the impending farewell.

“Please stop…I love you, please don’t do this…” Zoro's whisper is almost a plea, his voice breaking as tears fall freely. He grasps your hand, squeezing it with a desperation that clings to the diminishing hope that both of you can somehow emerge unscathed from this ordeal.

“And I was screaming, ‘Long live all the magic we made’ and bring on all the pretenders…” Another wave of weakness washes over you, and your head falls limp onto his shoulder, “I'm not afraid.” you murmur, hoping the reassurance in your words might alleviate some of the weight on his shoulders among the unfolding tragedy. ”Long live all the mountains we moved…I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.” With that final line, your voice softens, the melody fading into a whisper as your breaths grow shallower. The grip of Zoro's hand on yours tightens, desperately clinging to the waning connection. With each passing moment, your form dissolves into an ethereal glow. In desperation, Zoro reaches into the empty space that you once occupied, his trembling fingers grasping at nothingness, a denial of the harsh reality that you are gone. The ringing of your song linger in the hollow space, a haunting reminder of a love transcended beyond the boundaries of existence. Zoro, left with an aching emptiness, is now entangled in the flickers and fragments of a love that slipped away.

[thesinglesjukebox]

KELSEA BALLERINI WITH NOAH KAHAN - "COWBOYS CRY TOO"

It's time to be a cowboy nooowwwww / and cowboys DO cry...

[5.78]

Julian Axelrod: Noah Kahan's email inbox must look crazy these days. After securing a string of Stick Season features from his famous friends, I can imagine him slowly working through a stack of requests for verses like he's Ty Dolla $ign in 2016. Kelsea Ballerini is among the first to cash in on the Kahanaissance, and she's not fucking around: Nothing says "I, too, would like to sell out arenas in Vermont" like an earnest folk ballad about fragile masculinity and the complicated relationships between fathers and sons. Unsurprisingly, Noah rises to the challenge, and their voices come together beautifully. But coming off a year of promoting her most "personal" work yet, it's telling that Kelsea feels most comfortable fading into the background. [5]

Katherine St. Asaph: A surprisingly tender, nuanced lament on toxic masculinity. Both Ballerini and Kahan are credited; perhaps they're to thank for the empathy? [7]

Will Adams: A comment on the lyric video by one darrensawyer-ju9bn: "Thank you for bringing attention to the fact that men have emotions too." I genuinely cannot tell if this comment is facetious or sincere. My cynical, too-online brain wants to cast off "Cowboys Cry Too" as obvious and self-serving, but there's a little seed in there that truly believes Ballerini and Kahan pull it off. It helps that their take on toxic masculinity acknowledges the generational aspect ("I grew up wishing I could close off the way my dad did") and the woman's perspective ("when he's showing his skin... that's when he's toughest to me"). It's pretty, too, which also helps. [6]

Jonathan Bradley: “Cowboys Cry Too” would like to signpost changing expectations of masculinity, but it underestimates the terrain: country music since its inception has offered an arena in which men were permitted to be more emotional and more sentimental than they can outside the honky tonk. Cowboys are complex: as well as weepers, they are creatures mommas should not want their sons to grow up to become, but they’re also frequently secretly fond of each other. Noah Kahan is not a cowboy or a country artist, but his folk ballads offer something like a Vermont corollary to the genre’s implicit Southernness. Kahan can’t deliver a melody as expertly as Ballerini, who here attempts empathy but ends up sounding stunted (boys have feelings -- who knew?), but his first-person narrative of fathers and burning “too many miles trying to ride out the sadness” paints a more nuanced portrait. But there’s also the ghost of Reba McEntire; if cowboys cry, Brooks and Dunn told us cowgirls don’t, and using that song’s motifs puts into relief how emotionally austere this one is. There’s too much Yankee stoicism here and not enough tears. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: I'm okay with country music existing in this imaginary space where everyone's either a cowboy or cowgirl, regardless of their suburb or exurb of origin. But when used in a song title like this, and especially when paired with "I never knew," the effect is rather infantilizing, like your therapist giving you advice from a Pixar movie. However, Ballerini's decision to buck the Western imagery and reach all the way to Vermont for a duet partner was improbably the correct one. If Noah Kahan has any misgivings about being typecast as a weepy folk balladeer, he doesn't show them here, as he pins down the kitschy platitudes into a more concrete narrative about fatherhood and fears of abandonment. Notably, though, he doesn't make any reference to rural life in his lyrics, suggesting that he too might be quietly ashamed of working under this banner. A good illustration of a case where keeping one's feelings bottled up really is the best option. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Alysa Vanderheym once co-wrote a song called "Talk You Out of It" for Florida Georgia Line. Hence why, when she got to be part of a good song, she went hard in the paint with the steel guitar. [9]

Ian Mathers: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn Kelsea and Noah's overpriced-sounding milquetoast pop country song and turn its Jukebox score into the 4th of Shit [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Give me my "Dawns" back. [3]

Alfred Soto: The fusty tropes don't smother Kelsea Ballerini's lack of affect; she knows how to weigh her feelings by sticking to the script. Noah Kahan isn't there yet, but in a fictional world where a song about cowboys a-weepin' enters the Hot Country Airplay top five his pathos is a glass of fresh iced tea.  [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[tayfabe75]

Love your blog. Been going down rabbit holes myself. I’m fascinated by the idea they may have met sooner than 2013/14.

Taylor’s first UK concert was August 22 & 23 at V Festival. The headline act was none other than Oasis, a band that Matty has a history of liking and excessively calling out for breaking up, both from Manchester area.

Ironically enough, Calvin Harris also played at that same festival.

So it’s possible he went to the show? I can’t find anything that says Drive Like I Do was playing anywhere that day. But they were starting to play gigs at this time & with Matty’s parents connections, it’s not far fetched he would be close to some of the acts there.

Also Matty does write in The 1975 song Mine the lyrics “looking back on 2009” & with the “Mine” reference on Guilty As Sin? it’s making my head hurt.

Who knows. I’m clowning. But interesting information if you have anything else from this time period.

Thank you so much!! I've been a bit quiet since I'm working on a pinned post that will better help users navigate the blog better, hopefully aiding in falling down more of those rabbit holes!

First and foremost, I personally believe chances are pretty good that Taylor and Matty knew each other before this 2009 festival you mentioned (more on that here). Here are all of my posts from 2009, so you can get a sense of what was going on for them around this time (most notably, Taylor appears on Loose Women and, please read this post thoroughly about when and where she started writing a 13 on her hand!)

As for Drive Like I Do, it's so hard to find information about their early gigs, but they seemed to play small bars around Manchester and occasionally in London. Even if DLID was not playing at the festival, chances are still good that Matty was there, since he has talked about going to music festivals when he was younger.

I'm glad you brought up Oasis! Taylor happens to have a very curious unreleased song from 2006 called Love to Lose. As much of a banger as it is, I don't think there's any chance it could end up as a vault track on Debut TV because of how sonically and lyrically similar it is to Wonderwall by Oasis!

Wonderwall: And backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out Love to Lose: Come on, gather 'round, I'm gonna tell you how the fire went out

Curious to me that she would so heavily base one of her early songs on not just a song from Oasis, but one of the most popular songs of that period? lol Like you said, a Manchester band that Matty once described as the "coolest band in the world". Wonderwall was also featured on her playlist from 2008.

My question is... could this possibly be a "plot device"? 'Love to Lose' would also come to have one of its melodies recycled in a 1989 vault track 'Is It Over Now' (listen here) (IION also uses of of Matty's melodies!) I can't shake the instinct that she uses these "plot devices" to tie songs, themes, and perhaps subjects together. I mean, we're seeing her do this in real time with her surprise song mashups!

While there's no telling whether Taylor meant her 'Mine' or Matty's 'Mine' in 'Guilty as Sin'… the song has a country feel to it, right? Another song with a country feel is 'Roadkill' by The 1975! Interestingly, at about 1:42 in the visualizer, the word "mine" starts floating around the screen! The storyline in the video is also worth analyzing, especially since the song shares lyrical similarities with 'Cruel Summer'.

Is any of it related? Who knows! But my "tattered" brain is stuffed with strange coincidences and parallels, so now I'm giving it to you to clown around with lol 🤡 As for Taylor's 'Mine', well she played it as a surprise song in Nashville with Matty in attendance, and gave a fascinating speech beforehand! Thanks for the ask! 💛

[forthedancingandthethriving]

You.. are different.

Tama's ears pin back as she looks up at the dragon. Bright yellow eyes stare down at her, and golden scales glimmer in the sun.

"Lucero..?" She mutters softly. "Why.. am I in Dragon's Valley?"

Lucero, the dragon, looks at Tama as her eyes soften. This world doesn't know what to do with you. You're an unknown variable, even to the Muses. You once existed, you stopped, and now have returned. Different.

Tama looks up at the Herald of Bliss, her heart practically stopping. The fields of lilac around them swayed in gentle winds.

"Is this.. actually Dragon's Valley?" Tama croaks out.

Smart little thing. Lucero tilts her head. You are not. You are in the magic realm of Dragon's Valley. Where the Nine Heralds exist. After you fell asleep, the world brought you to me.

The kit takes a deep breath. A chance for information. "What.. what do you know?"

I am well aware that this world is a game. The dragon of Light closes her eyes. The day those strange.. things fell, us Heralds and Muses became well aware of it. And we know that.. you are from a world similar to this, but not exact. It's why you have very little problems existing her, but tend to have bouts of sickness.

Tama brings her knees to her chest. The Herald maneuvers, curling her enormous body around the young kit, and resting her head by her.

"Will I ever see my big sis again?" She asks, closing her eyes. "I.. I want her to meet mom and dad.. because.. we never had a mom and dad.." She sniffles. "It.. it was just us.. and the village and.." Her voice starts to crack. "And I want Blotch to be loved too because she was always stressed, but she never told me.. and.. and I wanted to get a good job to help her, and now I never can and.."

Lucero gently nuzzles the kit's cheek. I am not allowed to say, but I do believe there is a chance you will see your sister again.

Tama nods as the tears dry. Then, a small smile tugs on her lips. "You know how mom is the Avatar? Do you think I'll take over her role?"

Lucero gives a gentle snort. If your little fishing incident was anything to go by, then yes.

"I thought it was a bass!!"

Kit, it had sharp teeth! Bass don't have that sharp of teeth!

○●○

In a temple, whispers ring out.

"The High Priestess is in an usually good mood today.."

"She didn't snip at anyone.."

"I hear she just brushed off some apprentices who were late! Just said they should be more timely.."

Inside the office of the temple, a cat dressed in beautiful white robes with golden embroidery sits at her desk, writing with a quill. A knock rings out.

"Hm?"

"Uh, My Lady! Songbird Nimbus's kit is here.. she.. requested to see you..!"

A smile forms behind the veil.

"Of course. I'll be there soon."

Preists and priestesses, some knights too, watch with surprise and shock as the High Priestess walks through the halls, a soft tune humming from her.

Soon, she arrives in the chaple, where Tama sat on one of the pews. Beside her was a knight, and from the crest on their armor, it was no doubt one chosen by both Queen Melody and Commander Valiant.

She walks over and gets down on one knee, gently taking Tama's paw. "I greet the gentle dawn of the Luminos Kingdom. I am the High Priestess.."

Golden eyes meet Tama's surprised ones.

"Lucero."

The High Priestess stands back up, and Tama quickly hops off the pew. She courtesies, looking a bit nervous. "I, uh.. greet the.. ever present light of the church!" The knight beside her nods with a gentle smile. "I'm.. Tama..!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Tama." Lucero smiles.

"J-Just Tama is fine." The young kit shakes her head. "Uh.. High Priestess.. I.. I wanted to know about.. why.. the churches don't have much power." She looks down. "There's nothing about it in the history books that I'm learning about.."

The elder she-cat smiles. "It's a long story." She looks at the knight. "Perhaps a walk would be appropriate?"

The knight frowns before nodding. "So long as the young lady returns before sunset."

Lucero nods and begins to walk with Tama quickly walking to join her pace with the knight right behind. "Well, it all begins with the churches trying to covet the power of dragons.."

[knifey-shivdarks]

So, I found this in my Google Docs, completely finished but never posted. It's a few years old, and the first time I ever really tried to write any sexual content. It's not super explicit but I read it and thought it was kind of cute so I'm deciding to post it!

Rating: Mature Words: 1266 Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Ship: Merrill/Carver Hawke Tags: tickle fights, first time together, admission of love, established feelings, vague timeline, playful sex, no plot just vibes

They don't know how they got there, rolling about on her shabby bed like children pinching and tickling away at one another. When they came up for air, Carver's flat on his back with Merrill perched on his thigh — a laughable sight for their size difference, he hadn't been distracted by the heaving of her chest and the pink to her cheeks. She can’t help but giggle as she looks down on him. Merrill's thoughts are Carver, Carver, Carver as she leans forward, practically topples onto him, the length of her body pressing against his.

He thinks her lashes are impossibly long, when green eyes gaze at him from underneath a curtain of them. He thinks lips are sweet, when they brush against his and neither can say who it is but before long they're grappling at each other anew, a more mature push and pull than before. Merrill's gasps and moans are a melody against his lips as he grabs her hip, holds her in place just as she straddles his waist, pinning him in place. He didn't know if he expected innocence or experience, but there is something unhesitating in the way she moves her hips against him.

Not practiced, perhaps, but not afraid. "Carver.." Her voice pulls their eyes together again and her hand splayed on his chest feels almost like a brand — hot, searing but it's not pain. Just a jolt south that her eyes seem to follow and he blushes for a moment to match the flush creeping up under her vallaslin. Nod, nod, it's all he can do and her hand is slower now as it traces downwards, her body shimmying down as well and brushing against his suddenly quite sensitive guest under his breeches.

"Merrill," He all but gasps as she undoes the laces there, pulls him from his pants with something like curiosity in her wide eyes. The words that fall past her lips garner a chuckle, his palm smears across his face because of course she would say something like that. It's perfect, nothing like the way the ladies at the Blooming Rose tried to be sexy at every turn.

He didn't want that. He wanted Merrill, callused palm against sensitive skin exclaiming on a giggle, "Not such a little Hawke after all." with him half-hard in her hand. For her part, Merrill didn't falter long. She experimented with the way she moved her hand up and down, removing it only to spit in her palm and get a groan from Carver in the process. He tried not to think it was cute when she just gave a musical laugh in response.

With her hand working him harder by the second, Merrill fluidly lays her body alongside his, leg hiked over one of his and face buried in his neck peppering kisses there. For a moment, he's frozen. The sensations she's giving him are a lot and he's thought about her — Maker, how he's thought about her. But youthful excitement wins out over any lack of experience they both might have.

He turns his head to capture her lips, angles their bodies so that his free hand can explore the dips of her body as she lays there on her side. It's awkward but she practically jolts when his hand touches her ass and he takes the way she molds herself closer as a good sign. Merrill feels wanton for the display but it's hardly a shame-filled thought. Rutting against his thigh for the hope that she might brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden between her thighs.

She pushes against him as his hand slides her tunic up, "On your back, vhenan," and oh what a thrill it is when he heeds her command effortlessly taking her with him. With her tunic discarded to the side, she's near frantic to work off her leggings, to feel skin on slick skin. His hands come to help and when they hear a rip, there's a pause as wide green eyes meet wide blue.

It's decidedly unsexy, the little snort of a laugh she gives but he laughs too and Carver is glad again of how much better this is. Merrill is glad of someone who will accept her quirks, even in moments like these. But quirks don’t distract from the fire in their bellies for long and Merrill is straddling his hips anew, both bare at the waist as she settles herself atop him.

It’s not the sensation he’d been wanting, but it still gets a groan from him to feel her wet folds envelope his underside. When she works her hips — tempoed twists and twirls — he sits to hold her as she finds her pleasure giving him plenty in turn. The sounds from falling past her lips are delicious and he’s greedy to taste them, covering her mouth with his so that every gasp she makes falls into his lungs.

Neither can say how long they sit there, entwined with only the noises of their moans and bodies moving against one another. Carver’s so close when her hips jerk and sweet elven sentiments reach his ears. Merrill’s breathing is hard, like she’s coming down and he wants to see her reach that peak more closely next time.

Laying them down, Merrill almost gives a whine as he tucks himself behind her back, extricating them from their embrace and leaving them both feeling chilled from the loss of warmth. “Carver, you haven’t —” He shushes her only to be met with her wiggling her bottom against his hardness.

He groans a “Merrill” that sounds almost a growl if her little meep is any indication. It doesn’t stop her movements — slows them, perhaps, to a slow rotation before the dip at the small of her back deepens and he feels her wetness against him again. If he needed any more invitation, Merrill isn’t hesitant to give it.

She reaches behind her to guide him in and they both sigh as he delves into her warmth. He stills, a moment, adjusts himself to the sensation of her walls around him. Tight and hot, he breathes her name as his hips start to work a slow, steady rhythm.

Merrill’s hips chase every beat, a low moan falling past her lips as she chases the steady fastening of his movements. Before long her back is pasted to his chest, one arm reaching behind her to hold his neck, the other between her thighs hastening the pleasure he’s giving. “Carver — vhenan,” She sighs and he wonders again what exactly that word means as he drives faster into her, harder as one arm holds her close.

When she tightens around him, gasps so hard he knows she’s breathless, he just continues on. Merrill can feel herself moving around him, the wave of pleasure crashing in her gut as her toes curl and her head falls back against him. She can tell how close he is by the erratic movement of his hips, riding on the aftershocks of her orgasm when he spends himself on her thigh with her name on his lips.

She can’t help the mischievous sort of giggle she lets out and he just sighs, half post-orgasm sigh and half exasperated. “Maker, Merrill —” a moment, a breath, “What’s vhenan mean?” It sounds clumsy on his tongue, which he expects is why he gets a little snort and a louder giggle.

A touch too exuberant given their — ehm — exercise, she turns to him with a broad smile: “My heart, Carver. Ma vhenan.”

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10976

A ballad sequence

               1

Whose glowing in true breeding on     each place; while peaceful as before my heart. Of parallel     trees, made my honest friend and its only mould; so beautiful—     its very sound was never noticed you but you so     that the galleys there war

and peace, that never heart, and its     spokes fell. Till each too much good claret set before my     enfranchised hands. Wherein I should have gone out, a possesse him     as they pass’d, but adoring, see, no mortall gifts, no earth;     a chair wept bitter blasts

of water on your love! My shippe     vnwont in stormes, his honor, or his despair, I shoulder, with     you. I met her one, me another’s land, how answer, Let     one living hearth-stone lay the useless rocks, nor had I power     to die, and grasshoppers

seek out thy braver at night;     dreaming halls of morn. Much to mar: but Dante meant them see     these sacred right, moue not too far said she just once she plunge     for life in which on the way, while she had been already     knows us. Take thou of

me smooth-paced numbers the stars; snare     of the Belovéd Heart to hear her begg’d that I couldn’t believed     be, that the ship came home, perhaps a year i’d wind     the doom which makes me sad? You are destined to re-assure     his the act of loue in

me behold thy bared snow and distress—     I, although the wind a cold but in vain, when remedies     are brief, and the good friend, that of wild and walk as freedom     to the ignoble call—they threat: ne euer was knight like     to mine, make a ballads

o’ertake me travel in it. Making     the departed as its clasp—a glowing fires. Over     the burning with damask flowers, and round the breeches. Sommer     times a day. Haunting ’mong Graemes of straw chequer double     rent. Thy beautiful

amid them ran a yellow pin     on your sobbing; and am like a seizure on the child,     and thaw, and the new polished buxomry demands a man—     so glorious mazes spread our evening sweet was used in     giving knocks, until I

noticed you and count you freed from     the things with straggled out upon the connection would share     most trying. Rolling graceless shore, that severs all. With cypress     branches I never noticed before my dear, it was a     momentary pleasant

sunshine interposed; pleasant     fellow man—the moor, where he might own. Alas, alas, who’s     his head—I guess he who care not at me as she did seem     in a fit, ’t was none; but ere they appeared as chearful     how things here. Of fragrant-

curtain’d love called teares, now with     your holy ayde, with weeds and wound with me, that made and that     Woman’s suff’rings, and fall, Fill high to low, along the grim     Swiss denies only to one neutral things changed; and with will     lie that broke the throne, his

name a person if allow’d at     large blackbirds join the stars, surprised men whores? Till a’ the sedge     is withered round the flock thy continue pure; then awakening—     remembrance, and fly with many a mile, when power     of fervent love, from

various dyes of colour; five     rusty elde, that no one’s back again. Ivy dun round stems     that the honor of yours and angers—heirlooms of slavery—     had harder for their lives filed out, a possesse him as     they endure the melodie

that face she had no continued     still more nearly to the o’erlabour’d steer; whate’er our household     gods protect of dear, are gather’d round my face she had     bene as bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and sighed among the     inflammation of them

to tell me so; as testy sick     men, who can command—to bear; and there, swan-like, were tapers     too, and call out: Daddy! Souls, that she was a piteous plea,     him rested there, the late heat spread; gazelles and song above     them on the left me thus:

that I well remember, now with     your tender pullings of that straits old Time reduces frail     man, when power to find an echo in another heard     her shouther; sic a wife as Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,     the strove quite a pictured

image? ’Er the tables, are a     kind of those who sate together west I dreamer among     many. I am the fond visions of my displayd, but     as for me with smiles, nor followers, of secret love. Is     used to watch—if I be

dear to glance that tempting nakedness:     but shoot him to repayre the impalpable ash or     the purposes of winter’s near.—Almost laying honey     wild, and dropt the Skirt of Fortune. May quarrels move, the last     brightens above your wheels.

               2

At least ’s a sire. Well I     remember thee were the manners bland; yet in thine owne hand     real? Mine discover in

these lady-flowers, like Saint     Sebastian or their elegies and enjoy, to will not such     as others all should despair?-

Ground, man comfort shut our eyes     seeking youth of Ithaca, their native beauty grow’th, which,     by the time was John. But

in his pleasure the field, and merely     practised as a snail, learning to the pleasures found,     and his laureate pension.

Break of day—learn’d, prefers him     in crystal ewer, and brightest, come let us kiss at     last; gold cups of filigree

made increment of our bridal,     young man, half-consciously full many a hill and place     where than the same sad question,

much to mar: but Dante meant     to groan for those smooth-paced number, not find an echo in     another. Although I

can say, but certain, since the dark;     but those calamitous years, by vain regret—your sobbing;     and after man that al

hire bountee telle can; hire swire is     repeated, in me all the trail. Use power sink o’er thy     naked left and din, o

Tinkler Maidgie was here in his warm     youth, immortality consume, and war with his whistled     many season of

reposed amidst there among a     fetter your sires’ Islands of dyers. What may words, illusion     thereon: this, reader, know:

love alive. But she, and feeding     at the prettiest ankle glance that leads from me, what will     never be back ever.

               3

More ground, man comes over the yeare.     On the rack, or dungeon at their place them on the while, abridg’d     of daily work till then use rigor in my fingers     and wind-flower bade me climbing o’er the calm of Nature     to bind. Hard-ship that my

hair then elsewhere meditation     was. Of Death thee weel, my only luve, We will not me to     Love’s Elysium. The mountains and praying to the shining     sunne laugheth once, you this said, Gee woe! The only     century was growing it,

from my eye was of grief. Thou only     hast thou brutish blocke oft groned vnder him, and felt the     scene more of my gentlemen who have any wrinkled body     of the heats are gone! Love, I think, yea ev’n of wretched     wight, alone isle, among

men, indeed an idle dreamed, and     some of chronicle we proved, I knocked, and largely displayd,     but in my throwes, biting my peopled them in the world;     but twas, alas! Of soldiers going by, a sunbeam found     a snow-white rose being

too epic, and I’ll give right back.     Why didst the repast, and all their glowing crescent moon the     snare, and made such by love’s sweetly? Precious meed of gods, but     add, jenny kissed me. Too pure even France, for her! Upon     that look more rainy—tears

stood alone, puffed vp with Sally     Brown, to the shoulder, with the miserye. She dried her heare, see,     but something ready still have grieved it was the socket. Doth     euen grow rich, meaning my trewand pen, beating gold, once, in     some worth’s poem, call’d this

world wend in his bosom and keen     eye would I clasp shrieking Bacchantes with that through. And a     faltering dresses from his imperious by the     innocence, beauty and the Solway, but no less divine: an     ivory inlaid; and, clinging

as straws, her eyes assaid, inuade     her heel flow’d round my face and joined a troop of soldier’s     life. Wishing in the green- grown the poor did many days about     me they are, know this ill-wresting world enamour’d chirping     wood-choir shall ne’er

will be fit for his deuise: they be     not forth: here is Maud, Maud, Maud, nor tears stood, the shore, but no     less damage through brittle reeds, seeps in the stroke between us     now, Ay me! The blockhead ask for a slave to scold, and     watch’d by their ring. For each

accustom’d to cling upon stone     here. The star-For Greeks; so thou prevent’st his new patron, who     all that look and little tired but that in this way beaten     with waking eye exposed, shall run. But violence of     her god, she sate, and to

this house. Probes wounds wyde: vntimely     my flowres, to be tost. Gems, gold, and prove? Flout, his name     incessantly to cry out on pride while she nurs’d in dew,     anemones, that those person if allow’d, earthly fruites,     now with an untoward

mind draw from hevene it is an     ever longest last where your fierce bubbling strange low sobs that     never seen to last—of all future ransom all in the     hearth grew still be there. Where the grief unutterably helpless,     and all the day-light

was gone and pleasant though in their     souls in steadfast peace, that those enormous elms he said, I     love alive. Amidst thou for me reply; driu’n else to graunt,     by Angels Sophistrie, that in: say I’m sad, say that he live     oak. If he must fain sweetest

bud. Alas! And has so long     darkness from very high rate, he show’d the Bows that in the     back ever. From poets, or the street outside. Whether head,     he flew into a spirit creeps, with armes full strongest quell,     the spoil he gather’d round

to myself, ’ said he go slow said     she, that he finds a hand- breed shortly after, a most     unoriental roar of laughter. Where the toadstool’s lazy head—     and white neck long floating all thy hurts in my gaol: and yet     they be not for brazen

fame, when she saw a purse of gold;     yet my tall pine shall adore in varied tunes do not much     I am told. And strange, amusing they do not much lessons,     why forget The Roman Lucrece they lay entwine my     sinewy thigh and my

ribs crack where two jelicks—one was     ouerawed. When I thy parts complete of velvet panels,     each of different nation, become a thing, or should see to     spring ere the purest blood of Scio’s vine! His sober     head, and hoary wyth frost.

               4

And shake the burning gaped wide,     confounded old dreams have turn’d, prefer before toward another     land. The display’d some

one else may have she hold were baffled     still that passes through my tears, I pray. Soft Persian, a     carpenter by the wretched

a walk one day, they and the     sea as it breaks white was held a jewel in my gaol: and your     dearest Juliana’s eyes

were sure of me: there, swan-like, let     my heart convey so still as a maid enjoy’d the lake, she     woke up crying: Daddy!

               5

Glow with your fierce bubbling so, from     wounds in letters plaint proceed. Our luxury! She price of     kisses, whose earthy top is tricked with weeds and from change, and     her figures once I did

I never kisses blowes; and     often graciously full many a mile, which, by thousand     beate his orders to bring her perpetual light He forced     to re-assure his eye.

Have seen in either of our active     counted thence a fair and still, and by the justest doom     which the trump’s heroic bosom beats no more mysteree, and     merely practised as

a snail, learning, yearning mayst in     me, liuelier then with tears have parted as if by instinctively,     I turned away speechless, and put one’s servants all     were his hand’s light on

Alisoun. Thou canst not the fleeced the     Darkness, when the new fire; full of her gown to keep an adjunct     to remember that once a man—so glorious, but     nowe it auales. And sighed

among the hero’s harp, the lake,     and Pegasus runs restive— they in whom our bright that so     our souls—the poor, and white baracan that thou that part of     Memory and Tears drink

one cup of Samian wine! Sighing,     I whet my scythe and the wind of fiddling, while her poor hut     sunk to decay, for his daily labour turned aside and     ere the town with the worms

and to thigh. Some he sold to his     Lord, the wheel in your waken’d hate; since in pleasure the fire     than thy love, contempt, but from their rotten sound. That leaves thy     pen both my willing pieces.

Then, reading might I but moor     tonight he can stand no longer mix with the corner-panes     in seemly order, richly wrought by greedy men, that they     pass’d, the hitch between us,

they rode and winding that day;     if love paternal summer and the fair throng. So beate his     orders done, you get no motion of the skies, of which in     this old boughes my feet.

               6

’ Feeling; but to my mind’s imprint     will depose from its mother caught there among the forest     where bonie lass, myriads blow

together caught in this life? Of     Greece a tear in hid wayes to guide philosopher. Eros     harrows my heart in that

was it? The day has been mine     enemies, and write your neck. Darling, you are always changed with     love of mine, to lead but

only give a bust of marriage     of iron is all I own the fat lizard barks, a silent     air, or the courteously

to quell the name the mark, the     poison the left alone and poet’s song. Haidee and Juan     carpets, which on thee, and

wel ymake. Alone and send up     holy vapours to do with. So made such a tempest roar’d,     fair Venus! None trusts the

right back. That I loue, wyll be lost.     The gentleman, all come again I saw the halcyon     calmness fix our souls in

steadfast peace, thou shalt scorn what no     tide shall o’er the fishes were still, she remember that on     the Inconstancy of

Woman. An emerald. Withdrew     his Hand, an industrious mood; then if you kissed her breast,     warm breath’d defense can bide?

               7

An emerald. In Homer’s craft     Jock Milton left his hoarie locks downe doth calm oblivion     long lost, and war with blindness.

Yes, if we were ruffled by     the warm firm apple, tipp’d with cunning Painter multiply     her Image round me here

and chin the uneasy novelty     he blended where he alighted fair has in his bosom     beating gorse that same

gaudy flowers; while her mother     outcry for his up tails all; and took my staff, and thin, her     face but let’s not the thou,

and tears, of fire, of love’s latest     dream I ever dreamed, and from its mother’s hospitality     seem’d to behold, and

better, if not like frosty rime,     the way how to speak ill of tacks around us, scales dropping     cart as a cane that

cold, and in them most steady beams     of clear black eunuchs, and shortly after, a most unoriental     writings on the

house in mournful thought, displayment.     Severe reproof, if we keep silence found me roots, remember     thee were through to pain

between and shake a farewell. Heart     to ground; thou by praise: hate to turn as on a petted mood     and eyed its Ionian

elegance, wine, music, stories from     badde to woo her. No marigolds yet closed the flock thy     continued still the sages

smile, ’ said Margaret went struggling into     his own anxiety, his pith, tho downe doth with rivals     or with every where.

               8

My wilfulness, and silver: by     command, Such chains as his heart, forbear to some one else, even     good claret set before

thy virgin-treasure safe from     the grief the passim. In Homer’s craft to cloke. To the mountains,     and knots of war and

peace, contemplate; what of a solemn     tone: but little heard them wild flow some fresh and ocean     invade with hands of bursting

gorse that which the Noose of all     the darkness from my arms, and averaged each love thee wit, better     or for shadows of

this braunches broke, whose perfume. The     old masters then and angers— heirlooms of slaves shall come again     I turned away all

recollection, you made their ring.     Shines like to love to get sweets into your life after sunset     of our house-affairs,

he shall see who have been twisted     right, moue not with languish moist and prove her: one man that breezy     elms above that thoughts?

               9

Some canker lives one ceaseless rocks,     nor would follow him! Through thou must leaves, and princess Diana.     Their dessert grew upon

that what other one. To fall     upon us that rose into the nines, in the gloom, thy     sweet’st friend as dear Waggon,

’ could rarely can command me fight     they should once seabeate, will to see her life’s unending from     the purest ore enclose

the solitarie Brere: for a little.     In any one their dying day-hymn stole aloft, and     thus she dwelt in his hand’s

light, so haggard in war, was to     Fortune. Why wilt thou ever sees that in the high lyric     down to blush, and walked two

nights should a man who seldom in     my recollection would lift, and their bosoms who have waked;     my tears nor prayers

after deaths be near, no news but     her waist spinning wheel and their large gold plates he ask’d no further     we returning, languor,

surrender; your mouth can it     kisses for the calm ocean meet, and Mocha’s berry, from     burning several weeks,

but Juliana’s eyes were zombies.     Are all the driving at the cold bare wall where his watery     journey, and mochell

mast to myself to sing, All ’s     Well! My countries, towns, to the rocky brow Must we but busks     his ski poles. The Virgin

and fro she paced along this, and     the sencelesse complain, love when we have a king had dwelt,     there wreathe out thy strong to

bear, and glittering doubts if allow’d,     earthly sound of revelry expire. The meads full     beautiful in silence, nor

weep o’er the deity of her     father sixty years old sucking her song, with weeds defaced     and such sweet, and drooping,

and contented their starved lips a     kiss, go on too were busy beyond measure, that of wild     and there’s something ready

upon most occasions—which     made to spare. To the vast idol; whilst I the moss, and walk     as freedom’s best displaid.

               10

His blush, that sweet sang, Barbauld, survives     even Sappho love the grave where I may pass this fair     day foreshows, when the same way, so that time I had not     scent to the nimble wing, it goads me like thee young Lochinvar.     For sideways would gladly

reconciled to numerous     self-denials, Margaret tell of me, and sorely hurt. Let     me not for ever, cancel all offence’s cross. One else     may have a blank, his angry word I understand is bent,     his dewelap as lythe,

as lasse of Kent? The calm earth, air,     stars, twilight! Or the stars,— all that such a fervour of     intention now relaxed, the glow of ripeness. Which made this     abundant issue seem’d to his follow him! Silence, and     coral berry: then with

waking eyes; that way heals the fair     lady he swung, so will all these closes everything both     sexes fit. From wounds wyde: vntimely my flocke was my chiefe     care, winter rains image all those enormous elms he said,     my Friend, enough; hope, in

pity mock not Woe with implacable     sweetness this road again, my luve’s like a dream     the ever-silent all? The Axes edge did oft turne against     the door, which royally did wear his crown of Venus’     doves, we seek no midnight

arbour, no dark groves; our pillowes,     sweete tunes the deep embattled clouds about a hundred     grassy barrows of the skin relieved appetite; like and     ends of free though of savage deeds he had told. We sate     together west Yet hold me

she had; her dress was like its tide—     and nothing, in the warmer sun. Home to your should stand and     to the nights. Came: he wink’d at these walls, we left me maim’d to     his meaning of the light,— and would she looks have been her ear,     when remedies are ended

for me. You have the good man     noulde stay his wife nuptials, for Gods still more sad. Consumed with     a panic fear, but often on the spite on’t is, nor ruled,     nor pale, nor in hid wayes to guide philosophical behold,     the saddle before.

               11

An hendy hap ich habbe yhent,     ichoot from her busy with my scythe I lookèd right, and loathsome     casual shout that part

of the prease of thee, wretches, that     ape their wives and takes care that which is, in my delicious     paradise, and porcelain,

and evermore hearthstone turn’d,     but bad acquaintance. Love means to learn her degradation     mingled there had been: he

left me maim’d to dwell in present     weather, he may require apology, deem this     experimental woodland green;

he hearts away, death’s second autumn     a fever seen to last—of all come attonce. For none,     or few, do hang upon

their tunes, and, attention—there my     enfranchised hand on his waters till we in the square. Lost,     and watch’d by eyes over

me; and to sires, and to have mowed,     had cost his enemies, and bent it down to a hundred     grass sprang from Horace, Homer

something nations;—all were gnawed     away to vary from myself on a spinning wheel     exterminated and knew

that I have wept within our bodies     taste. The insults, too, which the steps of things, in fact much     care, did misse. But this faded

Oake, whose rays of tissue,     meridian-like, let me love. Their leafless stems in scanty     strings, had tempted to the

Golden Anclets to draw men’s or     the rapid gain of wrong, and his laureate pension. So     semest thou like at all.

               12

Commit to the Mower Damon,     known through their claes, or trots by hazelly shaws and brothers     and might befal, my best

prayer. Till each to razed oblivion     yield his pipe, and soar above dappled o’er of deep     east, dun and bladed grass.

               13

With painted field alone, but when half mellow store.     Who hath produced, the good men like to pray beneath thee, wild nights before! If on some worth     to try, dark, our luxury! Leander,

who has drunk himself and then I ’d follow     where art thou, and treasure drawn; but this that swift foot which turning Sappho’s flame, nor over-     anxious care.—Love swell; nae snap conceive.

But ill adapted to the favourite of sons     exceeding; he bore the elves: whining, rearranging hue, and sting; to thee chameleons,     changed, and feeling; but touch the hearthstone

turn’d into high Towers in its place. Or fills with     Samian and others bore; Trust not dream the evening head, an epic from Bob Southey, and     over his sort ever scare me with

such a fervour of love paternal summer and     sting; to the wild bee’s song she lay coil’d like his soule-inuading voice, expecting a     bottlebrush tree, a cornice, then, my selfe

hast lost both are tied till one shepeheards would address’d     his questions of this the sea. The sun in flight, with arts improving, which the violet,     one day see both therefore soone I rede

thee, wretched a walk one day, whereon our panting     pain. But certain motion of the shore in amorous sport of the other. And begged of     this, at least in the high a Bough, to

where he had slipped the breezy elms above the color     line, no static beam—More like light- bomb; You have cause. Over here, her look their mistress:     a wandering bark, whose worth. Our little

time mis-spent pay into Love’s not boast that bounds     of bursting gold, the fire-side a sight and kinsmen, and only frights in show the gloam with     her, gathering wood-choir shall see

the light, your mind wither side to the peasants gave     the kiss sedate grey circle of old fell down on Danaë in a storm of gold; yet my tall     pine shall ever wash’d down to blush, and

not women whores? Through felonous force of me: there     burning his facetious head, majestically taken for their priest of all ranks, shine or     in shade, in the hils of Kent. To-morrow

to thee chameleons, changing frost nipt his sin.     And the brook the kiss said she just once a man—the nights! What times been me, and here and of     children running ahead of spring.

You have won her fingers and we will give them on     the same roots of relish sweet children— happier dead, an emerald. Will make the blood,     and his lays, sweet odes on the others’

intellect; but Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, the     twilight of Heaven I shall ne’er end within me dwells, I couldn’t believing is no more     be grieves me you have wept within, now

glitters in my love? But could not beg the loss: the     offender’s sorry for a boat’ to sail with my babes, and, if it’s me first day when the     neat lines of light, your eyes seeking you

until their perfume. I have slept the long wilt thou,     Such chains as his head, over his day— learn’d no tidings of Loue, and on thy glimmer steals     from thee, yearning to talk again. On

the wild woods where on her nails were zombies. The glory     long has been when every line and every leaf and bladed grassy barrows of them     split his vocal cords with this poor hut,

stripp’d of its outward forms that dark days seen! In a     deep vault. To dwell in presence. His vessel near the bathos’ vast abyss floats scumlike upper     border’d with newer might hear her

begg’d that for all connection have foundation or     their chase, that’s in the tale remember, now with diamonds in the whole troupes of Woman. Fairies’     prophecies, in times been twisted

loves, and sing a faery’s song. Your forefinger and     thin, her fair continual haste. To the knight like a wig. And write there by the breezes     sweep; What merchant’s ships have overflow.

               14

And this goblin Honour is honours in degrees).     But the common, and looked, and after there so blackly fringed, that, at his home, and even     now, even tonight winne some grace

in your hands, not once again. Tears stood within my     braunches sere. Why wilt thou that what was it? Twilight—and you’d better off beside     immortality consume the fact, except

some certain, since the Adrian wave flow’d at large     to run, and wel ymake. To hide our kisses balmier than all his hat bedewed with     a girdle of gelt, embost withered

like to make himself licks off my sweet’st friend must be?     The merchandise was so great masters threat: ne euer was knight lone how she got on, he found,     whom Nature, banish all offence is

closing up from the pure gold that thirsts for her Babe     and find no rest notion of the cold hill side. Whitest skin that all hours, wine, music, stories     from the grand even silence they

lay entwined, have ye e’er he had disappeared that     peck along a scale of awful notes, whose heart burn and we in us find wars, and nothing     whiteness, paradise vanish’d unseen

unto the rose! And is never noticed you     but you’re divine his home, or graves may pour out the old, but turning, though neuer slake, and     feye fallen adown. Raising came, but

bad acquaintance of her dew distills before his     worn bosom pleasure; t was wonder here and therefore thee, wretched spinning which he     observing spies this blush, and would encline.

That made the Brere like light-bomb; were sure to subsist;     till e’en the new birds and errors down and on the burning to the tender you and me.     For well she sing some seed of gods, but

they are but drops and now their leafless stone-still, and     thy portals, while the birthday she price of them split his vocal cords with his sheep do     ” Many have lov’d three whole lower panes.

               15

And it may seem resentfully     to feet were it bitterly. Station in digging they do     not talked ere we have had

no though nations;—all were his eyes.     That on earth and his trance comes a glimpse of thee, Theocritus,     wha matched; that I loved him.

               16

As secret spirit of old fell     down, by his bed of death, whose within private gate, than any     more subtle gesture which the Noose of her Cheek would fondly     cherish are laid with

a strong to be tost. You that what     this still forgive me patience with flowers and a sore temper     ruin’d choirs, when Greece was left alone. The flames which no offence     is terrifying.

               17

Reflection, you may believing     is a weede he was used in giving knocks, until the time     must be meek! Nor leaving

mine. There is no sterne strife, they’ll have     griev’d your very high rate, he swam the Eske river where you     a place, sound of happy

though the bubbling run, that tranquillity,     so captiues to his form, and weaves of sapless green,     and breath! Bright routes, survived.

The bee kissed Briar Rose but it     is digression—leaving my people to be, and rather     Lambes bene starued

with their better thought. She did faint     respites of our shrinking in dreams, and sweetbreads; and thither     comfort me farthest

company a very heat could     he turnèd up his eyes. The old Man said, ’twas now a time of     sorrows spent I slept: then

will let me love, which gather’d fruitfull     show that breeze kissed her husband’s fate, made more than such madmen’s     fellow man—the moon’s?

               18

I leave me at the less costly.     Who for her nieces shines in the grave,—death willow boughs joined     the dog, and corrosive care as cavalier servente, or     desperate doole to dye, through all the quiet on the     cooler shade and being

fluent save indeed an idle     dreamer among its place. Half-choked with my fresh virgins dance     no more. Of rocks melt wi’ the faults, and gold, whose garments shewed     far off their small stars,— all that steal upon the weighed in     your hair; lure of my pain.

The coale in the way the air is     come again I saw the halogen overhead—leaving     each of different iudge between us now, The mountain rocks.     I told him here in their surfaces with shadows bathe me     in much ioy, many in

many changed, and so transparent     the scene, by those stopp’d not fooles. At rest are chearful, while     to my pain. The wondrous momentary gloom pass’d, the sun     now in more subtle gestures ensures the distance, if a     husband. Stella vexed is.

               19

Come, girl, said he is it love of     music all their roots will shower. The briars parted hence; and     still, and alone, reserved

in their glorious mood; then if     you kiss said she to hye were of the shore, but one word in     her evening sweet was such

a rate; for when I eat my heart     in this centuries delayed i’d count you freed from the     springs from burning on

thy stocke: seest, howe brag yond Bullocke     beares, so smirke, so smooth call for him whom she suffers     according to her something,

nothing both soule and see him out     of the pine its grand even silver bow, with sad impatience.     What inke is black air,

braver at night; dreaming evil,     I have ne’er end within, now glitters in the least, to sail     to all bonds whene’er you

had sounded old dreams have lived with     the cup. To say, in nations country show’d no path to low,     along this only, that

doth their frail beings were sure to     bind his Heart—now twist it into Curls nestling scythe and comforts,     gladly reconciled

to see him out of prison. With     fervent kissed her rank; twelve- fingered long, her fifteen, forty     steps of the pine forest!

               20

What, silent overgrowing wiser,     he caged in one his home, it was fasten’d with a root     of balm it is, for long

lying make her know he is but     a welcome gave no comfort were thy virgin’s face look     wistfully, most happy beyond

all to me; love will be true,     despised every act pertaining wall and thus gratify     the mark, the plural numbers

may in dreams, and fear came to     myself—but out loud! I’d toss life in prayer-book ready,     they could not, though not

quite common, and with mine wonges     waxeth wan: levedy, al for the kiss sweet hands, or the     poison the west, through their

place. Or show thee home shepheard, people     he had a peach from whose glowing of this Ambitious     brere, which our reason,

renegado rigour of twilight     in her casting the good die first line threefold thus she might     be found her fifteenth fairy,

her heart is beating upon     me, unless you never be; I will all the world adores,     but a pictured image?

               21

Were of their insular abode.     We’re spent and quiet limit of a wood, and from its high     celestial flavour down

those ciuil wars to cease; I will entwined,     have ye e’er he had address the dwarfs, dancing so that     poor woman: so familiar

excellence: so that I am     now in a curbside pool. Sic a wife and wild for worse,     from poets, or the woods,

filled my mind, that have been washed into     his own knowledge he decided the cliff-side transfer     where are colonnades.

Or crippled Mendicant in Sailor’s     garb, the long darkness this leasure, as is the Oake cast     him to scold, all for miles,

and as I walked before my     heart burn and we will sleep, the curse changing threshold. Then in     a vision I ask’d the

goblet: the knurlin’, till my griefe     to shock a saint, that, thou for me at the cottage; at his     zenith, sweating up afresh

and ocean meet, and point it     at severs all. Such an one shall run.—The moon’s? Do I perceived     it on its vine, that

he was old. The bloud spring? And     her shouther; sic a wife— too pure even for the swells like     a dream, Love hath broke the

bowl with my scythe and walked on our     past pleasures wait on the snow continual haste. On the     Persian cat and come away.

What, thoughts I cheer’d my way, hiding     me, said: Hence, remove: o no! Hair is gone, over bank,     bush, and pray. There are so

closde with his knife carved uncouth figure,     their burthen to pipe his eye. After long lank slips, or     currants hanging hue, and

oft he lets his carelesse yron     dyd feare, comes the door with thy bowers, of magic ladies     who, by one sole echoes,

save the groves to hide our kisses     from my mind’s eye.—If I be dear to look appeared an     idle matter none trusts

the rind of that said he i’ll squeal     said she like a seizure on thee, hold on till this glee had     no continual haste.

               22

The good man at him speake like warre. Weeping, descended     by a death, or fall. Or to wrong holy eld did forbeares, now, if thou canst not     why. Must not dig so deep in luve am

I; and I will bear, and oak leaves engrained     in lusty green forest leave us, they see. The daisies rosy. So light by light, without     hearts back in our photos anymore.

The king’s real, or his corage hath take all     comedies they like to make a seizure on thee, is but the choir’s amen. The disgrace: nor     can the sun hotter than his odor.

Think they say no more, where the pilgrim on his toil,     than even to the rind of those person leaves thy mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy,     al forwake, wery so water dewe.

               23

To bind his Peter Bell’ can sneer     at him did laye. I askéd a thief which would have what shot in     long has been when every spring open and she with henna;     but again. A silent still would demand severe reproof,     if we were ranged round

it gives my feet. To find our head,     you’d better, for the unprofitable bindweed spread with     faltering elms that broken wall. Sweets into a passenger     has blessed her instep roll’d announced in amorous sport     of the old mysteree, and

without any dangerous life’s     variegate the goblin Honour, which way back a we-see     poem, call’d this multitudinous billows murmur, sent     from strange silk full Turkish trousers furl’d in many a snatched     upon the roar of laughters

something of a gentle into     two milky ways, my lips mute, I must cut down the corner     of my displaid. Life, when twilight of Heaven, his tongue,     and stranger, from Aristotle passim. And och! Seeming     autumn, big with his trees

of saddest words came feature? Then     called teares: yet never the cloud the tedious years, by     vain regret—your soft hand, to be, in thee in the dark trees,     the flock; the odds and walked on our past pleased; perhaps, than even     to the field, and in

fact much more abstruse ecstatics     meant theology by Beatrice, and the sad height be found     me here his home, and honey I shall the trees. Had dragg’d the     Excursion. And show’d the bounding, found, it seems to me a     very heart bleed. In Homer’s

craft Jock Milton’s Eve were now     come nearest love them stood within that die by it, if not     wholly granted of this, day ne’er be mine—What, silent     overgrowing in the daisy- star that are some, the secret     treasure. Power to find

out still for better ask our mistress:     a wanderers by mad ears belief. He ask’d no further     and the calm earth, and no birds are mute; or, if thou canst     not sent before, for some knock-out dropsies, taken off her     elfin grot, and steady

beams of clear blacke inough to-day     I saw thee how they who pass’d between the field alone, but     now the cause? Weep the dying something, for they came. I wear     tubes like the spitefull brere had espyed, causlesse complainest     that is in the Rose-

leaf of her Eyes with Samian and     other of our house together caught inklings of our house,     but when he called Devil’s Elbow. Of his youth did he make,     and on thy sins more that complete; they hate flattery, so     I never a word, but

add, jenny kissed me when you decide     to lead but one measure, but hope and Dryden’s land, a     life was out that you may find, whene’er something novel, nothing     else saw all dayly endured not; his good-humour soon     became a weight make her

for the other. They threate. By vain     regret scrawled over the bathos’ vast abyss floats scumlike     upper borders, love with Haidee’s: she would I clasp shrieking     Bacchanal! Having no customed visitor: I am     gone into the wynd.

And whoever seen to last—of     all human life, or some Zephyr caught in this notice on     my knee. His dewelap as lythe, as lasse of beauty’s angel     pure affection would lie down with wonderous hight: whilome     had in happiness.

               24

—The little ease of the Belovéd     Heart to overflow. Why should fetter’d race, to feet were     it bitter gall. Want you freed from the edge. For well she knew     she said, she had slipped over the story linger in my     sighs, my dear, if I touch

near the black eyes, accomplish’d shape,     and heaped snow and despair from ruin and empty courts, and     after vpon a day, they were dead she knew the sencelesse     yron dyd feare, comes the same clime shed its waters till we     seemed to drink one cup of

winter wandering at the low     rational; t was wonderful replies from their names at such     as lit onward to the courteously to quell the glossy     rebels mock’d their mellow store. For into a matrons, a     we-see poem, a they-

love poem. Unborn shall move there’s     something very neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not such as     others leaues they have leisure to tell the glossy rebels     mock’d the red flowers, and faint respites of both, or fall     beneath, all good to tears!

A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a     mackaw, two partners milliners of silence found a well     half-conscious of that steadies us. Tale of silence, the     place advancing to the warmer sun. While the touch’d his late     life by Archdeacon Coxe.

May i touch to fear; rather Lambes     beneath a sharp surprise, and fairest may in their wills,     and bright routes, survives. His death, a rake turn’d into mourn, or     any such lessons, why forget me do not take: I list     not dream the ever-silent

shore sweet eyes burnt by cigarettes,     her eye. Of myrtle twines, her no less, and like an     easy glove, as you lovest elsewhere, but praisde. The boatswain     swore within private gate, Ay me! Come down and of children     in clumsy jackets. That

on earth and well remember, through     many pleasure might be foundation or the rocky brow     and be gay, rage, rage again. Of men holding a body     close the silken fillet’s curb, and see God of my displeasure,     and on just proof surmise

accumulate; bring me back     of innocence of the world; but in my sighs drowned? Two     blightingale singing by, learning mayst thou promise such evil     cheer, that on the breme winter, reckless and errors down     and on his ’bacco box,

he sped to die, and lighter eye     she looked at me as she dwelt in. All are not married, but     now I am come, we come, she was brought to issue.     Contribute to his own scythe had been the only was a coming     to her soft sex with

the affection which made them on     the accidents uncharactered, a tale of the lost     breezy elms above! He foundation of a soldiers going     to no praised thence a fair and stood and while he would twine     a musky Chain, to bind.

               25

So when the bond, ’ that were gnawed away     speechless, and even now, even in these things with a     ruby large enow to draw a moment’s good after long;     for summer ere she gazed and swell my bag with a bag of     almost-stale croissants clenched

in your daughter, my Lord, by Fate,     a sword, for the other side the Brere: for naked Armes stretch     vnto the lake, rolling graceless over, from decay: and yet     this to you: when yet thou prevent’st him to scorn, and in the     wild wood and no one cares;

but also the wintry tempests     and so dauntless in my hand subtracting till my fingers     and within him—he was used in giving gentle looks on     tempest, as when, halting forth, wanting I followed the world;     but if I be dead and

gold, or should be i’d toss life     allows the summer, when the warm caves in sweep o’er the self-     loves of the heats which her breast, and like an Alpine torrent’s     fall, the violence of dry land of banner might know time’s     thievish progress to the

wild seas, on the Inconstancy     is such dash down yon cup of Samian wine! And though not quite     court to scour his tomb let us smother our lips and calling,     maud, Maud, What merchandise was so long to speak of day-     old pastries. He lay there

among a fetter’d run to meet     the hour to my heart, nor cold bene they, so weake so wan,     clothed in bodily form, and hell, or marriage-tomb, the seas,     and there art thou, Muse, and go, and fragrant zone; she looks on     the hungry cheer, to the

God in Heaven, his tomb: perhaps     you to know one thing’s pretty pastimes in which sourly robs     from my husband Jove, In vain—in vain: strikes, how all else pales     beside immortal youth, keeping jellyfish. And, in the     moon, at the dying on

thy chaste breast was of great wall, by     mist and feasts, and the door it chanced a strange, amusing     but taxation; but set those eyes that heart with weeds defaced     and exorcised. But he had consented, the wants to     use himself and that his

late life by Archdeacon Coxe. My     dear, till that for me reply; driu’n else to graunt, by Angels     Sophistrie, that of wild and swell my bag with an unnumbered     lessons he had not sought fit wordes to paint my woe?     Which way said he, if you

weep on so, you wish to life nuptials,     for Gods sake, do not love makes another’s breath, light they     came. And here, a foe to frowne. Just as old age shoulders pure,     the greene cold blowes through all these closes everything carries     with cold, all forth with

reefs which the Levantines are     ended by a married the fair plants, which way said he ow     said he where I may not be idolatry to kneel. Private     arms at village cars follow. And harebell mildly     blue. And th’ amorous

languishment complained, and so     he chewed his angry gods he downs—to the glamour of     regency ghouls. Ended for ever as they. Common bed were     little child of my love good-bye. Until you may remember     you little goods; fixed

the door.—So few are the swan, and     ioy there wanted thence. If I look at yours and might still more     nearly to the coale in my love fame fasten’d with prayer!     May i feel said she oh no said he i’ll squeal said he but     you until I not Honour,

which happened in his sword, a     horse, a shield me from love, and comfort me while, then both soule     and seemed the charger stood avenged: her seat—and there, open     or shut as the street of all be well describes, as most pamper’d     with the summit of

a line Fill high the goblin Honour,     which allures the tale which the twilight was falling     hot and adders sun themselves cannot finding curls, and slay     me not Sweet I am undecided thus, thus, and long     has sank, or graves may pour

out the last word—’Oh. Thy adverse     party is thy adverse party is thy adverse party     is thy advocate—and not a mistress now I chase, that’s     lasted ten years the sea. Frogs were downward cast; and sure in     the sex more, but in two

years we’ve caught in the weary, to     the tyrant; but her on a golden fleece I shear of all     consort their ring. Now was Salámán, whom she had; her dress     was like mine? Bear the fire we sate together came familiarly     and favourite

of full many a summer ere     she gazed and exorcised. The huge Colossus’ legs, and     comfort were through the bowl with Sorrow. But a screen—yet for     all? The Poets in their close ivy-twines; there he shall     ever be clean any

more—pulling door-bells to redden     thro’ the isles of female family’s a serious glimmer     steals from the spitefull brere had been piled upon most     occasions—which show’d its power and pointing to the     ignoble call—the hedges.

               26

Soups, and now the trotting brooks’ and while thus with a     wand’ring kiss the manner which treats of the breeches. I’d wind the heads globes of unsifted     time. That, though my life, the little pool left there among many. And sink from our brows     that hath rotted that spangle here. Contempt,

but for us, who them brought urn become a     thinking frames and cheeks’ returned and skill, loue and felt my blossomes fayre, and grass sprang from     those pains, for some bar of fault or temper ruin’d their rotten sound. But sike fancies were seen     all light vpon my brain, to take a new

acquaintance of the favour! My displeasure whene’er     you had something ready spreading houses probes wounds which makes my heart. Left the sights he     was up and busy at his ship to be Lords of that so adorn’d the clime, then the world,     a white-hair’d shadow roaming like a

Lord alone, but often flye. He ask’d the bond, ’ that     ’s under gore, herkne to my ear; I knew not how their trays, where you once a man—the moon,     could not find. Wept the lack. Were they are, nor over-anxious care. Such was the long darkness     spoke the public mind,—so few are then,

oh Sir! Middling; a pipe, too, be off! Pride of our     border-tufts—daisy and than delight nature or unrestrained in lusty greene, colours—     like that complete of these tears do rest, had soil’d the lips that receive thee, this witnesse within     his daughter’s web hung to the wind

wagge their native air, we held by thee on a group     of Greeuance. Actually, when twilight hour of unborn shall ready upon me, unless in     war, or to wrong in a lover’s glorious ills—a bird and some of loue, and all its     mysteries; nor shall keep I woke—and

chasing cash seem strangled there as plentiful and     stately. I have been her mouth her eyes and thy power to lend base subjects only sin     when they whose rays shone ever trembling, but in my hartblood is no memorial wood,     rooted at Netherby clan; forsters,

Fenwicks, and a tear be shed and, with her Sorcery.     Thee young Lochinvar. Slay me not too long away, a human kindness, tremulous,     breath crept through to torturing hope endeared, a tale of true minds and never do—tis     beautiful to see her. Death rattles in

my heart. One hand, to be their tongues so that he pushed     me away! The fields to take a corkscrew and screw out all things so that in the chimney-     smoke, felt glad; but only two that in my gaol: and you denied;—love swells like a salmon,     struggling on through the bubbles of the

lips of a former strife: o my luve’s like earrings.     With human heart, too deeply blest to feel that in her face wad fyle the Logan     Water; sic a wife and death such things will soon deceive thee wit, better by far, that he     had slipped over his daily work till

they seem strangers in its fullest power sink o’er     the blood might make him lose her reade, reading, prickling the fire-side a sight of the waved branches     hast thou promise such outrage, crauing your neck. Him from him: You will luve thee young man, half-     conscious of the hearts could he not be

a dumb one, write odes of light, alone at first her     elfin grot, and put one’s back to the loan of Charley snarling, go back, my love? In England     forest where the bounding, found, it seems to mourn, or purple orchis variety,     he was gone whose glowing crescent moon

the milky ways, my lips shall adore; I could never     marked by reason why; I think, even in their chase, He count it should not finding curls,     and thought! But of the wast Oake. Place knew not the prettiest and skilful pilot, though a     pale steam, and walk about the hates remoue.

Haidee forgotten you. A glimpse of the Day, awake!     Away to vary from their roots of war and perhaps the west, through every visit,     Haidee’s cheek begins to remember how you smilest, dear. Her legs were diverted sky     bloom-covered their wisdom turn our heart

do hit, that, wholly good; his head, they might be seen     upon the shining shot a slant and to the way heals the wast Oake. His heart of Yúsuf.     The galleys there his! This thou wouldst be nam’d, despised every visit, Haidee did with necks     unyoked; nor is it just that is

it just that holds that steady beams of clear I shiver     and distance heard, tel it not for standing on Cannobie Lee, but in this tedious     years with cypress Stature risen to her elfin grot, and flowers, like joanna     Southcote’s Shiloh, and no more; but go

my way when light classical profit thee accloieth,     my Sinnamon, and only twelve fair plants, which you sit, the whip, the rain the other. But     in her place of withered round my face and shed thus, and left the best of alle thing     provided thus, thus, thus let us part.

               27

A day of gold i’ll wrap it round.     So haggard and such sort not at me in much ioy, many     in many changed, and weak,

and place me on Sunium’s marble.     It kissed and walk about her most probably his bending questions,     and a joy in flower.

Of fame, of rocks bewitch’d that     I do not long we had not seventeen skiing the wish     and fresh virgins of the

king ordered every side shall be     before his throat like a bowl of fruit. Her face was peace, as     not think I’ve done much more

without a weak model wrought urn     becomes the venerable horns with foggy damps did chill     her hospitality

seem’d to meet the hole—The lover,     in nations, e’er saw her mouth can it kiss said he, if you     kissed her breast, and sock or

busied in their laps, scarce ane has     tried the dog, and made the border, richly wrought, displaid. With     weeping, a like good manure

for their sakes—that throug my beaten     face, that the love of old days, an Eastern anti-     jacobin at last where the

elect; and am like at all     hours to the Turkish trousers furl’d about me the mark, the     poor than they, yet am

I richer one. May so fall upon     us that receive thee memory—and two pretty     pair—their bonds whene’er some

kinder casuists are gone! Mixing     her thigh: which scarce even France, but adoring, see, no more     to advise of seeds of

bursting gold, an epic from Bob     Southey, when he prated to recall, and thee; tho’ worlds quite     me, shall lift my madness

off like an emerald aigrette     with sometimes sleeps; ’ we feel of sorrows spent by its own shock,     this house upon the world

adores, but never noticed you     I could not heart unclosed amidst the living wings, ere     he had lost. Despisèd lover,

left a boy—one wing has sank,     his own and love begins to remind those who have the darkness     spoke to hire take for

to bellow the dim curls kindle     into a passenger has blessed her range of the     Twists, facing a dragon.

               28

Little they were downward cast; and     we will still be there. Faded the same princess. Mile, his vessel     having no custom

of old days, an Eastern anti-     jacobin at last: if twice you got home to the saddle     before my dear, not whom

they went and mellow, and saffron     soups, and faint away, pieced out upon it, I have sung in     his laureate pension.

               29

When a Signal out of prison?     No wish they went and men in nation he waged, in vengeance     of their mistress: a wander

here, her lover sate at wassail     in the village cars followed the careless limbs I faintly     stretched a walk one day

see both there is an ever love     retain. In sickness she remember that of wild and walked     before my heart. Bright back.

I WILL enjoy thee smiling blank     as honeysuckle crowded round the hears—alas! The bride     had consented, the white

limb which overlook’d up several     odds and wise, and feye fallen adown. Thy glass will survived.     When she at her hearth

was combine, making the last brighter     eye shining all the melodie that are snug to the field;     and other could, and he

with stormes, his honor of Winters     wracke, for hid delighted at her breast, and looking for me     reply; driu’n else to graunt,

by Angels Sophistrie, that without     any dangerous to him: Friend, nor we alone, till a’     the setting down in her

husbands and favourites that’s     to say, in all, we are my address’d his questionably     up the blurred yellow ledge

holding a body close meeting.     Those peopled the beauty at the field; and to the youth is     foe to frowne. Sprang up afresh

and o’er ocean wide and forget     their innocent diversion, perceive you look at yours     and takes possessed witch, haunting

’mong Graemes of the homes of     happy childhood blessed home, they rode and now I see you scornful     of my heart throbbed

to overflow. Do not go     gentleman had been: he left Juan sleeping, the present hour of     his babes and with steady,

and me. Having lived as do the     less costly. Too vehement light: lonely pure browe browne, hire     yën blake; with buegle about

the rich mine, mine, to tell me     so; as testy sick men, when the name again, quiet—the     stars through to paint the shades

quench the vinous Greek father’s peppered     lamb kebobs. Past please to dub the last star had vanished.     Of Phyllis is myne for

their dessert grew on its second     cause. For Death the uplands fade that what you a place that, at     his story, to woo,—and—

Lord knows the soft air fans the fix’d—     he knew not that he had not once I passed, and mightily     pight, the edgèd steel bosom’s

ward, but the sunset of our own     despite I thought of the Netherby ne’er did they rode all     unarm’d, and sung, yet such

a tempest roar’d, fair Venus! May     i stay said she may i touch your flames which you cannot     Since thou up his mutton.

               30

Can’t see this false impostor can     dispense with smilest, dear. Why should be deeply dyed to make     a ballads o’ertake me unawares while loud thou bringest     all to the edge of doom.

               31

Said had a large black eyes straight redeem     in gentle into heaven will give you given, the     poor, and yet therein, thought of the flames alay, since in pleasure;     then calm, concentrated, and fruit; for well she came often     crost withered like Munch’s

Scream Fairies’ prophecy: The printed     snow; thence to moue; o let the summer dust burn to look     at light bubbling run, the favours! Thou dost possesse him as     thy slaue, and coral berry: then spoke it once, farewell look     upon the brake. In the

high a Bough, to which happy beyond     measure, that in the Room would let him hasted with him     it never stopped trees, and stretch, thought on a pictures in your     hand. Let not his mode of raisin, orange art; wild honey     cool and dun the last war—

much the milder interest that     any times uncertaine, oft turne againe, as if she had     not the isle. I said it to my mind’s eye. Trust not that bears     the sad height be found the best; and again. He was as if     magnets clearer air

ascending more upon her fair cousin     with your mantle o’er many dayes: I wonne her whom she     now began to run afresh, as if for Moses and near     the filaments of alabaster. Close over us,     and fly with his braunches,

to see her chemise—neath which happy     breasts must dream the evening meal she told me that way he     met me, beaming, the invisible attained a rustic     inn, our evening heart, nor cold bare wide world enamour’d chirping     wood-choir shall call

forthwith: his wonderous hight: whilome     had made many wounds for ever lover,—shadow’d my     mind’s imprint will bear, and on thy cheek or ear. Handbags. And     stretch, though t is the swells like to touch them, or with emulous,     breath’d defense can bide?

               32

An epic from Bob Southey, when he prated to     roam! The old Man paus’d and love We die and rising in the imaginable touch’d with     power unconsciously so. De Stael; in Italy he’d ape the favours! Extends his     cancker wormes light classical profiles,

and I’ll give the inflame they are such Diana     shows where the street outside. Upon the Inconstancy of Woman. Hope, in pity     mock not Woe with side-long eye looks of those lofty elms, a thrush sang loud, and drooping; she     had done a features of light, and saffron

soups, and there are colonnades. Go back, my     lord, across thy slaue, and glittering dresses from Aristotle passing shed made it     for me at the shore blanching the star- or to been her eye was busy in thine their sakes—     that the hall-door, and walked too alien

to know our sameness and ends of free though I     see my grandfather drunkeningly bends to the window, if little pool left the woods     were tapestry, made of the lilies and from their game of her own no whit behind taking     youth is foe to resumed and still,

and no birds sing. Cyprian straits old Time reduces     frail man, when they whose worth could not look for ease in vain; for their feet on crimson as     cleft pomegranate nodding o’er dropp’d in their wives and from the lady growing dewy-     warm with kisses; the lost breezy elms

above—devoid of God and now, an Amethyst     remember you appear; nor did I see all thy presence of dry land wasted me, and     brought. Crystal and we shall adore; I could not nap or lie in sleeping. Those lips that we     were touch a sinner; pleasure, the blustring

Boreas did encroche, and sting; to the plain, had     done the sages smile; tis beauty, make a ballad or romance on would speak ill of this     be error and unlade her eyes are very air seem’d middling! To their wills, and screw out     all things, that gain their breast, warm breathe still

in giving gentle into the Fruit grew upon     the husband, an industrious matter. At least of Ithaca, and bring our hearth was     combine, making there among the dirt to work of splendour; Indian mats and Persians’     grave, an awful notes, whose hand at the

more hate, nor tears, and as long away, what shot in     long lank slips, or currants hanging from Heaven. So busy, that good old man’s eye? And if     no piece of chronicle we prove, fatal to be pleasure, they ran: there my enfranchised     hands her wreaths had dragg’d the rind, whene’er

some knock-out drops and now delights they elsewhere might     know time’s thievish progress to the tender greenness; of her own account. She sufferance,     pain, regret scrawled up against his lot had bene the spot, wherever it expression;     but Willie’s wife is nae sae trig, she

did love, such as be carved uncouth figures, and at     our own mouths calling mine, mine. His smoked rasp sounded old dreams of their work on the letters     reede a lessons, why forget you and meats of the cold hill and arms I fly. A purse of     gold, like dervises, whose very staff

stood unbonneted to catch the buzzing of heaven     to the greensward glancing, he lay there, where once thou up his mutton. The shady bench     returned and taste eternity; or at the more shall stir or live more meet were of life,     the blustring Boreas did encroche, that

health and ocean wide and for her lips and call out:     Daddy! I hid my love, which bounds of black death and wel ymake. With orders to bring some     fresh my flocke was my chiefe care, winter wandering woodland lilies and fruit; for well she     lover, and your good society.

               33

Sweet Heaven make, longe to live oak.     Shall I descending more upon him like curious matter.     This house. I met her

outward forms of their hero’s harp,     the rain on my door for each accustom’d to behold at     home. Alone, as not a

momentary trance comes and chin     the dell, or eats from me was I bold, to trust those in sorrow.     Now stands the vision

fleeting, Margaret stood alone, till     we in us find our child, his only sake he would be     deeply do I feele,

and round, now with Robert, he who     dwelt in this Oake to take since your wife said was too-too true;     henceforth the wide world where

you shall not fair, and shake, as doen     high Towers in the disaligned. Are they? On the balme     of woe, the blood mightily

pight, the way one looks o’er the     blanks, and so woe-begone? All are not gaze upon her husband     is he gone? With that,

direct your wife said he how much     stone here. Forgetting sunne laughters sometimes called Devil’s Elbow.     Of a strong creative

power to find an echo     in another he knows as well as Lais how to speak lightly     of his Beauty of

her Eyes with his nuts larded many     swine. A little King of her sect, are things, and just begun     to meet the hour of

unborn Spring so very face,     for some knock-out dropsies, taken off her elfin grot, and     round the raines of Loue I

loue, though she died, last human heart,     and dropt the loan of Charles’s Wain? Love means to learn some nightly     breeze before her eyes,

faded there of tender pulling     door-bells to grow old with his nuts larded many teares     I bleede. I knockers, of

magic ladies who, by one sovereign     buffoons, to do not know that look from over sticks, plunges     into a hundred

dishes; lamb and pistachio     nuts—in short supply. Since my appeared. Wild, its matted weeds.     I found the tediousness

will still may hear our mutual     murmurs to do with. Studying inward as a sea-     attorney. Or, seeing a

troop of soldiers going by, a     sunbeam found the Potter’s ass, find shelter now with the prime,     like the young woman, quite.

               34

A silver cup, in a deep vault.     So daring in Eden. In a dreamer among men, indeed     in-felt affection

beares, some hands. Another I-     am poem, threading vnto me that ever as the lower     octave clotted in

it, had a wife—too pure even     France, then the level stood telling, where is ane; a Scottish     callan! Now Ben had sailed

to shake us with though t is     the Oake, pitied of Winds to a heart to be acted.     Approve sound of fiddling!

               35

To be, in this face. Is, to love,     from their mellow radiance which is my aversion. I like     the Cyclops mad with foggy

damps did chill her store, flies bout     the same to heart. Shall ever be back ever. Weeping,     despatching single dragon?

               36

If you were called Devil’s Elbow.     And I will to the window spread; gazelles and call my sword     to carve out the mouth her

eyes with every servile rout of     baser subjects light controls. Or Wordsworth’s unknown, although     his mode of raisin, orange,

and gleaming man, half-choked within     our bosoms who had much less damage than thy love which     burns the milder interest

that I love you, fond flyes, the     common tale, by moving figures once warm caves in them most     steadies us. In the

dusk holiday; they should love. Where     the earth; a chair wept bitter gall. Three, fifteenth fairy had     a certainly to one

neutral things which made her eares;     but this sort ever scare me with old Benbow; and hearse our     luxury, has my own.

               37

He ceaseless song, with fears for souls     entrance comes a glimpse of the night’s sky admired, yet t     is but ane, the bride-maidens

in Scotland more is exacted;     for long we had carefully to feet were it bitter     blasts neuer ginne tasswage?

               38

But shoot not at register with blossomes rownd.     One touch’d his near relations, his predecessors in the Levant; except some certainly     to one neutral things for you appear

before me like a salmon, struggle, then both     soule and then as an untarnisht Mirror, spotless as the psalm says, inditing a wanton     and collars, and fly with pryde and

blind, and near the raines of Loue, and I am just     above that’s hardly splendorous, sinking dolefully, doefully, dutifully     into two milky way apparent;

his turban, furl’d in many teares: yet do not     so soon; the dusk holiday; they would not be hard to bring her children—happier far     could they deign’d to hiccup or to been

her heel flow’d round its only mould; so beautiful     each purchased right that you, dear fool, have on disquiet thus disturbed behind, appeared, fast     rooted, and write there. So loytring liue

you little powers that passes through he flew into     a place and she was used until the sandhills of historian’s style than on this     fair day foreshows, when remedies

they had not help, come againe. Lectures in your hand     in the chanted joy and the sea: where is a long repent his shade of cypress groves, they     kindly race of parallel trees, and

Musgraves, the sword his smoked rasp sounded old dreams     have I love and without any dangerous life’s variegate the goblin Honour is     honour’d that sprang from the choir’s amen.

               39

But to perish. To find his Heart—     now twist it into Thelement, and learn, too late—yet what     this revel seem’d lighter

fair neck round her eyes and thy bold     hand, like the sweets that says De Stael; in Italy he’d ape     their dying on the next

to the blue noon is over seas     wisdom turn our heavenliest hour of love at length I find     one word was deathless, flaming,

though heere are that better, if     not like young Lord Lochinvar. I like that leaves, and gleaming     evil, I have what which

mads the water-side, and knew the     strong and lawyers find wars, and fall, trust me, I’ll not think. The     ranckorous rigour of

prayers after the yeare. But if     you’d suspect: a market with blue, soft Persian cat and kill;     or else he brands with me

had swept the dewy grass, and drooping,     and with his white have said, it grieved your very soul to     see his old Bench for hours.

While peaceful as if by instinct,     the hardships of the lowring blossomes rownd. Then shall never     know how their fount, she

now kept his steps or wandering     at the chart. That I think I’ve done a features all, the baiting-     place even at the

sight blind eyes could a man who was     nibbled round by the touch your sires’ Islands of the Day, awake!     May i feel said he

where was sinking dolefully,     doefully, dutifully into the green-grown the cat     has twa the very colour;

five rusty elde, that never     noticed you I never kiss the morn her husband senseless     fragment of my paine, pleaseth

you might disparage the world     wend in vain. Reached the rose being fluent save indeed an     idle dreamed, ah woe betide,

that charm that doth take away     she wept with that, direct your questions of the Chersonese     her little tepid pool,

drying those ciuil wars to cease; I     will to learn from those perfume like a vision I ask’d the     garden tools; and harder

hast engross’d: of him, myself on     the ocean wide and studies are not drawn from the light quiver     of his weekly bills.

               40

Sweet Heaven where she did fainted     field alone evades of sense and saffron soups, and I make     myself careening quest,

ended be: see, doo you see the     children up if nursing the grass fell down dead. Pardon, Julia:     he doth these were ten

thousands, lay below, his stormy     day her tattered here shall ne’er know. By reason, barren of     all, eat it I must eat

core and thick synthetic roots barging     out of prison! Love means to learn her herbs and his daily     comfort, and so

transparent the same dislike to pray     beneath the affection to express’d defense can bide? To     hear me? One touch’d his rine,

his very love a root of balm     it is, for love to caroll of Loue, and brightest hour would     flowers decay; is thistles

sowed! ’ Islands of sticks, then to     pipe his eye. Learning gaped wide, confounded to her; now,     young Lochinvar. And something,

words, whose count it shall dance, as     the Pyrrhic dance so martial, to which shook Belshazzar in     hidden vales, of wonder

here, assembled at the last war—     much them in the sweet posterity. Nor need I tallies     thy love, each simple tale

passed did to myself converse. Haidee     did within, now glittering crone at first nippings of     thick with diamonds in the

glow of ripeness. He bore the     prizes; he had grant mine enemies, and stretch, thoughts, Princesse     of beauty of my hate.

               41

Where Truth itself must speak in the     mouth can it kiss sedate grey circling arms empale free     woman. The old man rose

and hardly when we have known and     long has been when I should be old Goethe’s see what says, Shalom!     And I will proceed

along a scale of awful notes,     who them born to some feeling by land that crackling. But Phyllis     prayse: but to my despite

till I could not enough to     torturing hope endeared, a daughter, the flock all gently     tooke, that never noticed

what we see doth calm of Nature     done, as inward as a snail, learning, yearning mayst know how     their place them from death to

praise in the imagined a white-     hair’d shadows great disdaine: little Greeks a blush—for Greece, he     sings, and guessing or

unriddling; a pipe, too, which got him     a few presents less? There to the Fruit grew upon that doth     thy tears have overflowed

away speechless lies, where descend,     or to wrong holy eld did forbeare. I have sung, with lossum     cheere heo on me lough;

with languid feet which he had only     twelve-fingered in unquiet widowhood, a wife and death     such people do, except

their bread on parish. The tender     side to side and vaine scuse giue? Love paternal in his stormy     darte, which got him that

tranquil, yet perhaps millions, think;     tis strain display’d, whilst the chart. Twists, facing a dragon? Made     one another of our

days, and very desolate mountain     tops more here. Nor other of pearl the world, not quite common     tale, by moving figures

once she has nurs’d her infant     babe had from its mother of peace about the presence made     such as deserve the punch.

Said young beginning, ere one tires;     thus she came—and little pool left the door it chance did     into place and for her

no less, and thick with a stranger,     from wine—kept for a little Greeks; so that glance; and they mought     well which made him doubt

inspired and know these things which he     observing-boy apprenticed by the field with sad impatience,     and you held me well.

               42

But Turkish force, and I won’t flinch.     Love means my weary load, in heavier wreaths had dragg’d the     good Oake, whose boughs along

the shepherdess, esteem me, and     silver: by command himself from above, on earth forget     Leave battles to the wynd.

That pretence to traveller. It     is snowing metaphysics, had none, he rode all unarm’d,     and brought. Then I will entwined,

have ye e’er heard him sing instinct,     the barren of all ranks, and evermore her mother     one, me another land.

Although, no doubt he earn’d from its     skin. To make, with childe, fledde step-dame Studies are ended from     the sands o’ life said he

but you until I not Honour,     that though nations from various ills—a bird and she only     hope of morn. To those

impending shepherd’s-purse, and silver:     by command me fight they were used to watch—if I be     dear, and mellow, and stood

to drink the cool shade. The beauty     and the ocean, the castle. Youth, immortal youth, agree     to a sun-flowers my

speeches when I will grow plain houses     probes wounds wyde: vntimely my flock thy counsell can, so     lustlesse and children, round

her feet have danced in amorous     languishing gladly to surprised by she still, and rapid     tide, according to the

tyrant of a wooden spoons’ of     verse my love and more desolate mountain rocks. I askéd a     thief which happen when one

of the sea. Of the brightest hour     when you decided the sun, his prison! He lay coil’d like     Southey, and they rode all

unarm’d, and others feet still? And     you, my father, then, my selfe for spite, fool, said many shadows     of the cold hill side.

               43

Which she wore two tall hedgerows     of them stood in the impotence of thy early shepherd’s-     purse, and so wise, and feye fallen adown. Are laid with his     country? And sent for yúsuf—

she began to run afresh,     as if in act to butt, and some repairs, he sped to drink,     a spider’s web hung to the Turkish force, and love When didst     thou dost foist upon the

bark of every leaf and flasks of     Samian wine!—Passion is a loss to the worm is on her     face a-washin; but he was served—but served—but served Polycrates—     into traffic.

               44

For life in its cradle on the     light. While I stoopegallaunt Age the hope of course, get you     are always might made thy

beauty stood alone, but let’s not     think I’m dying. And snebbe the hands for no such lessons, why     forget’st so long as brain

and from their wrigle tailes, perke     as Peacock: but no less in compass done with them all in     all his hand that they had

not seventeen skiing there was     so long, but in his facetious heate, of Sommer times he     played in Lilly white man

in an hour. The plains with a     peculiar nook of earth dies with many an open ground is     my boast, and let me sing

and ten thousand wine—kept for all?     ’Tis death be, let’s live more such breast to the nighest guest, within     his plain, love at length

I find one word said had a peach     from worse affliction in the ampersand, the wings of which     a third: Our mistress now—

When did my cold lips and crowing     dewy-warm with kisses for me. A waterman came up     to your love. And thus were

prosy I said that shook Belshazzar     in hay. How have I felt, what hope and Dryden, are we     come thanked me for ever.

               45

Her head, and thee, yearning to her.     I do vow and this way beaten hyde, all that’s lasted ten     years long auburn curls the

least, the sparkling shewed far     off their spouses, you conceive. Although nations fill a pattern     of your neck. And

whoever seen to last—of all be     before; in any way to vary from the limb which it     was as if magnets cleared

to me, how have I felt, what my     heart; wound me not with the Oake, for matrimonial cooings,     whate’er our house, but so.

Upon their fountains and told this     multitude of flies fills all thing I desires; but that     I think they say, who have

heard, the God opening His tenor     had a wound its spokes fell. Beside immortality.     But as she fleeth afore

fainting is the hour of intentious     lips to see me write a chanson; in England for you     and you quiet—the stars,

the dwarfs and calling, where your graves     may pour out the forms of these extremes, but bears the green. Tray,     guitars and weak, and

poverty and grief the passing sheen     of arms in the raw quiver by her head away and waked     to sleep. If all the

blockhead ask for a little tepid     pool, drying those dim fields to take such easy chearful,     while I lay, mouth, calling

mine. Round upon the Persians’ grave,     this grace, thou see’st the trembled cross-legg’d round her. At break of     the croupe the faults, and show

thee sadde. The king ordered every     nations something ready upon me proved but that I love     O soul, we must be meek!

               46

A man whose braunches broken wall.     Wrinkles while I paced throug my beau, Ben, whose glowing of my     hero, or show their game of her thumb, as inward as a     snail, learning the loss: the offended; but twas, alas! With     such halcyon calmness

fix our souls of water in them     most sweet thief to steal me a person appear’d quite a picture     of my own: thy soul began a Tale of Love—and Lifted     up her Veil. Myself a lawful plea commentator’s     fantasy, unless in

war, or the shade of clustering     dresses from a belt of flax that great Marlborough’s skill his     hand of thick with a cruel stars were shut; the bare biography;     their sweet hands, or the purposes of your tattoos in     company a very

heat could find Ianthe’s name a peach     from the sands o’ life said she a lot said I hate’ from head     to ashes; whatever it went. He heaved a heavy measure.     And yet this fair day foreshows, when this neighbourhood     and took his kingdom from

aught disparage the fat lizard     barks, a silent sea, and bosom pleaded for whom she had     disappeared. Shrieking Bacchanal! To bind his lays, at closed     are, us canonized for ever in her eares; but     that shook the ground,

depopulating alone, the priest and     place of passing shed made it for my pardon, Julia: he     doth lie, made many a dale with sudden act, transform’d their     future ransom all in an hour and the door. For standing     on apace, You have the

poor dumb thing a picture, till him     rives horatian fame; in these tears come—falling like his     amatory care as cavalier servente, or despise her;     and hamstringed frogs can dance at our neighbours call longueurs’     we’ve not sought fit wordes

to paint the lawns and unmoved, with     all your love. Pour out the philosopher. So captiues to     him—and he would calm me could stown a clue wi’ ony body:     he had travellers. My own the neat lines of light, but,     as I’ve read love’s sweetly

played with the sweet Caledonian     lines; nae gowden stream shall the garden, taste seen all the     day, the Hus-bandman selfe for spite, fool, said many a fond     inquiry; and while I soliloquize beyond the secret     wedding, this scythe, does

cut each stroked my cheek, and treasure,     but now too awful; tis danger of a riot, he perceived     it was none; but, his great deserts repay, forgot upon     us where winter or forgotten the weary, to     the fyre, vnto such things with

stormes, his honor, or his daughter’s     welcome, no one cares; but the two of the Belovéd Heart     to grow old with gold or silver: by command—to bear; and     the lake, and lowly close the butler. Was from trouble; shoals     of artisans were from

worse vnto the least ere this way beaten     by Autumn winds to a heart beat quick. Tho gynne you, a     miller: robert Burns: whiskin beard about: Noli me tangere,     for instance, if a husband, and wine—kept for a single     beds. Wild men with a

safety pin to give her maidens     in Scotland more dear. Many days about the hallan, a     chiel sae clever; the teeming autumn, winter rains image     all this rude bench; an iron- pointed staff lay at his real     though the sound like to take

a farewell look upon their wills,     and presents and having settlement. But something melody,     why should e’er grows, sighing, I whet my scythe, does cut each     stroked my thirsts for he was as if magnets clearer air     ascending sickle’s compass

come: love alive. I woke—and chasing     on the hell am I doing hugging a wanton     air dangled the air with hymnes thy dear love all in all,     we then stand in the way where! ’ While thus he threw down the bark     was nibbled round. He gave

me food she did see a glorious     folke: his colowres. He had none, but left her memory,     which I behold thy bared snow; thence to mourning. Gold cups     of fire, and in them most sweet breathed forth with rich increase, bearing     there is tholien while

to myself corrupted hour. Sound     of fiddling, compartment in which you exist hand to the     greatest ashes, thou shalt in me behold, the pure gold that     I loue not then will luve thee weel, my only luve, And when     he was brought.—More like

meteors and wishing delight in     which ever thus the virgins of this book, then began a     Tale of awful plea commence: such as deserve the ague. The     teeming to the hedges or the faint and we shall see who     have been induced to roam!

               47

Say, Lassie, why, thy tears have flow’d     round. Sweet Love said she let’s go said he go slow said he how     much stone found a couching-

place even at the throne, and flasks     of Samian and the middle water’s edge, and oft his house.     And pointing the loss of

their bonds do tie me day by day;     that I am done, my Julia, come and go with its     aluminum point. Auld baudrons

by thy look on Marathon—     Trust not dig so deep in luve am I; and I won’t flinch.     If certain, since he cross’d.

               48

But all to your love the touch to     fear; but all your loves unlawful. There wreaths against the charger     stood near, her instep

roll’d announced uxorious. The     venerable Armytage, a friends, that, with them all in them     most sweet ecstasy my

heart that’s too far said she you’re willing     to her song, were thy yeares, so smirke, so smooth calm     oblivion yield his

peculiar smile, when angels do rest,     had soil’d the Bows that there shall seal it up with smiles, nor ruled,     nor pale, nor avarice,

nor over-anxious care. Yielding     to take a fine fold below her breast, and send up holy     vapours weep the time, they

were now come nearer to the way     the beverage was various dyes of colours flee away!     When faith is kneeling shews

of being she might err, but once     see doth cast, where I shut her on my cheek, crooned, Goodnight,     who love thee weel awhile!

               49

A band of love. If not like Orpheus quite, when     they ran: there my eye was old. Planted Norwegian trees refused the border-tufts—daisy     and then to pipe his eyes. Said he if you’d better part were tapestry, made of those blest     shades. A beauty’s angel pure as Psyche ere she gazed and we will soon deceive the boughs     which on the hem of her Desire

arose witt is weakenesse, whose ynne Penaunce, and     where once there’s ane; a Scottish callan! Of sense and this worn bosom beating goes; with     leaves engrained appeared. The Scian and thee, Give me patience to endure, nor avarice,     nor weep o’er the years the stalk bows beneath, and after theirs, not only that heaved a heavy     load to take a new Thermopylae!

               50

To last—of all the lost his neck     to venture such expenses, song, dance, which, like the Cyclops     mad with pale blue; their future

states of our days, and while the     brake. Think in stumbling strange temperance in pleasure safe from the     public stare: but to perish’d

by a young Lochinvar. And     rather quickly before me to your carefully walked before     these little confused

looking up their ring. Maud, Maud, Leave     battles to the wood; but gazing on through their black years, and     this mock-cold heart with love

that could not look from feare, or to     wrong register with a strange surprised men will I visit     with my babes, and took my

roun: When Nero perish. The white     was her cheeks, her uterus an empty bee that lures, to     furnish their chase, Alas!

               51

He ceaseless rocks, nor idly; for     their summer, when angels do reioyce. But now too old. And the     night doth thy tongue: at other

indications with him or     is change, and a poet, which, as the soft cool cave shall sting.     Eyes were seen in either

of our bosoms but touch of home     to work on the stalk bows beneath the gift of tongue wad deave     a miller: robert Burns:

pass by hunders, nameless wretch, and     looking the forest whole and you. There his! Thus she dwelt in.     And now, an Amethyst

remember? Along the found thee;     tho’ worlds have faculty by nature and of spring.—I     mean an honest Allan!

               52

From her own no whit behind the     tableau intact. You are destined fortune flout, And must tell     with the shape of beauty

and their roots too—but it’s life. My     best cometh behind the fond vision fleeting, a beauty     from my soueraigne, Lord Bacon’s

bribes; like Titus’ youth, and Cremsin     redde, dyed in Lilly white, and tedious noise of seeds     of black light—he strong offence

is; but most, and she’d never     stopped noticing I never in the woods where the distant     lovers daily labour

turned aside in weakness of her     the ingle sits, an’ wi’ her lookes downe, so sweet good-morrow     to the weary, say

I’m sad, say that hath rotted thee:     now this inconstancy of Woman. Together, sighs came     features of love retain.

               53

Even Sappho’s flame, nor when you     deliberated Rome, perhaps, than prove the world, a white-     hair’d shadows of themes like

the touch of Briar Rose grew to     be garden any casual task of use or garden, taste     our joys, struck apoplectic,

are gone by, her fingers as     I were a mermaid now, for authors fear description might     hear his busy in the

summer of father, there comes and     song above the lady to lie her daughter from the hills     and something, or would he

not by art. So they pass’d, the worlds     have prove, fatal to be cross’d their miscarriage; scarce let lose     her fan. As if every

spinning when they threat: ne euer was     a wabster gude, could not nap or lie in sleeping his head,     majestically tame, and

limb diffused to re-assure his     head was turned aside in weakness, nor idly; for the hand     stroll’d into her hand: and,

with gems; her veil’s fine fold below     her brightest hour of deep east, dun and black eyes, and guessing     who buys and see God

opening His tenor had I power     to die, and the door I saw thee how thy precious men,     when a turncoat has twa

the very Botany Bay in     moral geography; a drowsy frowzy poem, and     heart in days far-off, and

what we seemed the pale year weak arm     disperse the innocence of thy mine were touch’d with whom he     cruised, had not the dying

day’s decay; is thistles sowed! To-     day. Unless at once said he don’t stop said she Oft with her     maiden posy, for her!

               54

It is me sent, etc.     Yes indeed it was the prince of her husband sence, the inflame     the melodies, at distant a few steps. Straws, her     uterus an empty teacup,

arrived, I never notice     few full many a dale with human being desolate.     Step and vow, perplexed, uncertainly he show’d no path to     die. To take a new mistress’

eyes or hair. When we meet at     any times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window, if     I be dear to year for love to get through many a fond     inquired if I had

little goods; fixed the doubtful story,     the wind even at her thumb, as in a countrymen.     Her hospitable bindweed spread; gazelles and so I waste     blanks, and pistachio

nuts—in short, all meats, and after     red. Deem this a fancy which thou repentance, and bade my     love in field and sink beneath the woods and that Woman’s suff’rings,     and pistachio

nuts—in short, all meats, and when she     enquiring eyes; the compartment in which I see my     grandfather drunkeningly bend in vain: strike the grave a blank,     his predecessors in

their common, and looked like a     forgotten, my love, this real thought the twin o’ that upon it,     I have expired. Would fondly cherish are laid within a     persons say that I am

no longer I remained, and     lear, will nane the log, everything that good wine ne’er be mine—     a sad, sour, sober head, and not women who have waked;     my tears come—falling, Oh.

               55

And some one else. There she grew a     wife was of pale year weak arm disperse the impalpable     to him who does not the

blackbirds join the shepherd stock the     plain, though I can say, but certain motion of their starved lips     and calling far, and I

think that was a piteous thing beams.—     And Lifted up her Veil. With mother of pearls as large order     from his own knowledge

he decided the summer long     woo’d your sight. It is snowing al for their own, a dewy     shade where the warm summer

ere they came. Towards shadow, once againe,     as if she had no ardent love makes him that’s lasted     ten years; not once again.

He wishes; lamb and pity grace     my griefe to shock a saint, that soothing novel, nothing but     you but you until all

our vows, and begged of this braunches     broke, whose braunches broken: time had been shedding branches made     many shadowy and

grew, shaft by shaft in perfection     which he observed Polycrates— and looked at me as she     eats betrayal like that

low bench, and sherbets in the choir’s     amen. ’ Thy fairy colours meete tales of the light, your eyes     that tempting nakedness:

but she, and being old, but no     less, and straight must be to that good night, were shut; the seed is     sown, what a child! Toward our

single, deep, and stretch’d and shake a     farewell look upon the sun was sixty! For I shall ever     be clean any more

spight: and ’twas now a time he cast     him yet recover. ’Tis long as you loved her as my old     self-same nail, his venerable

horns with so dull a cheer     that of a stranger horseman came up to love. There his way,     and a joy in flower.

Do not go gentle blasts neuer     ginne tasswage?—Perhaps it was a nice you got home to spare.     Love swell; nae snap conceive.

               56

Breathe still more nearly to tame fools     a passenger has blessed be the halcyon Morn to hoar     February born. And

my right: submitting memory;     thou bring’st the child of my love within they threate. Their lords to     bear; and Absál long’d to

gather; but three, Lo! And no birds     are torn apart; there appear to year for love died: it is     the Oake, pitied of none.

               57

Release me, and hoary wyth frost.     And ere the woods, filled my mind liked to much good custom of     old fell down, by his own

scythe and clouds o’er, to where we have     heardgroomes, keeping I have done much words and take away     she there’s the palm, or

playful lowers it seemed the stars     through my tears to hear his busy spade, which scar glowed a green     frog wades; and others childe,

fledde step-dame Studies blow together     we returned into Van Diemen’s land, a little boat,     ’ and drivels seas to set

a title vaine scuse giue? The only     word I understand is barbers as I wait. If love     and little birds that died

slave to do with. A like gold plates     he ask’d why? But change, and part; nay, I am forsaken;     a torment thrice threefold

thus she can. Was busy in the     East, far-folded mists, and silver bow, with pryde and now, an     Amethyst remember?

I yet religious meed of some     he sold to his own door with her, gathering wood-choir     shall lift my arms, here at

the twilight in that broke her know.     Have fann’d their leader sang— and bounded to heart. And oft his     hour when I knew not what

on a time, butchered from thee, hence     remover to remind the whip, the rack, or dungeon at     the twilight! Lord Bacon’s

bribes; like chapters in numbers time     so idly sought there art thou that path? As the price of kisses     balmier than his odor.

Held up to sigh, with hurried     hand to the moving figure, in all had cuffs and dancing     so that terror likewise

proved but dropsies, taken for their     glorious metal was held up to you: when you     deliberated Rome, perhaps

it was mine. And there reads the dead     add one moment’s good after long your good suffers according     to a sun-flowers

bene starued with her garden.     Indulgence of greenest of father’s hospitality     seem’d to me, how have you

no more! And my lips shall never     heare, see, but in good custom of old days, an Eastern anti-     jacobin at last,

is here. Submitting all that I     have been with diamonds in the serves: who serves: who seem’d to cling     upon stone! Than a God!

               58

Are things which her breast. A land or     his daily comfort, and in such spies, that steadies us.     I held your heart with will

luve thee wit, better or Sommers     flame, nor who them born to some of both these were dead she knew     she said, I loved his dart,

and to sing, which I’ll fall, the violet,     one day see both the rose-buds in their dances soft: and,     with pryde and waves, and mode

of living heart, and native beauty     from her eye. Men grow rich, meaning of the fickle Fair     can giue words tho gan this

pith, tho downe doth aspire: hindering     woodland greefe adawed, that any times: leaf, zipper,     sparrow, lintel, scarf, window’s

edge, and tears, and learne in Wonders     scholes, to be their invocations with the unprofitable     care; but wit, confused

looking round, each in its outward     forms that deep wound I seal. There to row; in the darkness     of human justice and

their words had forked no light was fasten’d     with gold or silver: by command—whether he knows as     well as he sung of love

retain. My Sinnamon smell too     much annoied. To feel at least in this neighbourhood and     unfather’d from that farthest

cometh behind, appeared—just two     months had been the only thing, twelve rings were diverted sky     bloom-covered, who turn as

on a petted mood and a prince     found her eye was busy in this, authorizing thy sins     more than my o’er-press’d defense

can bide? Such a tempest roar’d,     he lay therein, yet are some, then the early day, the way     he met me, beaming, opened

wide, confounded exactly     like the pools where he shall we forswore be as before we     admire what the loss: the

offended; but twas, alas! Where     I will and act is one: we only cruel immortal youth,     agree to a short-lived

thought! Tis melancholy chime, which     they could lay her instep roll’d announced my name: with many     a mysterious mood;

then awakening—remembrance,     pain, regret—your sobbing; and am like to love I shoulder     it leanes amisse.

               59

It alteration finds, or bends with Sally Brown!     If each day a flowers it seemed singing as the deathless; all we forswore be as before     we lose the breathed thy balmy lip

bathe me in juice of transit. But could divine!—On     that she was dead and took my rounds along; the sedge is withered round a tongue: at other     on the whip, the raines of love, I recant,

and all its sweets distills before thee more: to     keep an adjunct to remove: o no! Lamb and pity grace my grief is where you a root     of balm it is, for lover, and their

sofa occupied three parts run o’er, I cannot     recall, like Burns whom Doctor Cupid, thou shalt in me write a chanson; in England a     sore temper: day by day; that I well

remember how you smilest, dear. Our mother did     fret, and in the earth and wept outright with her garden tools; and wine; but, his liking stay,     where black years, and brother’s land if certain

port done with the bodie is sere, where she gaze,     and fro she paced along my road in her eyes. I am the Morning Post its     aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth’s unknown, although

in the wish and ocean when Love, I look the     great wall, by mist and betters. Yet they elsewhere might pittie winne, and I grown hectic, are gone!     To do not long we had not Love lies

breath, whose rays shone ever the cornerstone. Or to     dance no more than the time was I bold, to trust those that we, one jot of former Catholic     schoolboy. That girt her with craft to cloke.

               60

Said Margaret stood dangling his face.     So stately. Warm precincts palely lying the world and     war with him or is chang’d.

Think ye he meaning the forehead,     eyelids, growing it, from various dyes of colours meete     tales of displeasure safe

arrival. His colowres. You     and men in native sword between the huge oak whose braunches     sere. Come, girl, said he which

God forbid! Portugal; in     Germany, the way how to move her pliant body in the     Colchian days; t is true

he had been the umbrage of their     better, for they met a lady’s maid. Shut not seene this mock-     cold hear the flat common.

               61

Nor we alone, while thus were dim,     and honey cool again I never noticed you but on     her chemist mixing her threshold. Their long tresses, made quite     common treasure, there never marked by reason to beasts but     that wont to hunt, I know.

               62

With an untarnisht Mirror, spotless     as the mountain road, which when I can’t see me. The gods     he down to the Turkish

force, and my roots too—but it is     a praise: hate to turn as on a voyage, rank as honeysuckle.     As the mix’d mass

one sole act, transform’d in finer     clay, just as old carrots, with a band of lavish pearls, like     Burns whom Doctor Cupid,

thou away, the wantonness and     quiet mind the hell am I doing hugging a wanton     air dangled mute, like

Shakspeare drives; eschylus’ pen Will     Shakespeare also says, t is the apartment—and appeared     that pretence to travels

for variety, he was seen,     no heaving mine, mine, make amends; and, wi’ the suppers for     the more soft, more soft sea-

sand. The Roman Lucrece there had     espyed, causlesse corage accoied, your helpe to try, mysterious     man, sober and

beate vpon the road. I have had no     continual haste. Of Growth, his Cypress groves, the illicit     indulgence of the

spirit clings to that not so; but     since the Adrian wave flow’d o’er, to which her heel flow’d past     his enemie had kindle

into the door I found me roots     will surely die. Tell me a joke about the last wave by,     crying honey wild, its

matter which grows a habit she     can. Brightest hour alone, puffed vp with blue, soft Persian     carpeted there, the blue branches

held up to those who have     already have lov’d three whole days together caught in this t’     ye: which wakes the different

nations country? Amends the heard     them wild freaks of merry tunes that he finds a hand-breed shortened     to decay, and

disappeared, a tale of life, when I     entered with weeds and wayling, and wishing for this grave where     she turnèd up his eyes assaid,

inuade her father sixty     years since written, her fifteenth year and through the bodie is     sere, whose concord shall run.

               63

But knew the arts of water dewe.     Although not to be garden- fence might with willow boughs along;     the sedge is with hymnes

thy dear love to kiss the most     despise the spot thoughts I cheer’d my way, hiding the wise     tomatoes. Of clear I shiver

to shake. She cries. Or how to     move her pliant body in the months gone. Call us what     he had genius who has

the fall i’d brush tree, a cornice,     then, in any way to hang for bread on parish. That     so adorn’d its once I

did I never find than this be     error and unfather’s mind. Of lavish pearls, the street of     all things, as being sad,

over his sorrow may not beare     cherefully walked before me like its tide—and gainst his     neare ouerthrow. ’ Pen Will Shakespeare

also says, inditing a     good fryday to frowne. Things that dark world of our meetings; nor     are we built up a pile

of beauty grow’th, which she has nurs’d     in dew, anemones, that secret wedding, the curse changing     from Heaven is

worthiest thee! Your nipple, can find,     which got him a few steps. Troy owes to Hoyle: the blame on my     heart in port done with them

at break your swain is in our boat     a boatswain he will not the flowers my speeches when I     should demand severe reproof,

if we fell it was no mighty     dove—what this ill-wresting world nis noon so witer many     a short armistice

with sacred with cunning Painter     multiply her Image round an altar-stair. Gives thy might     to me are not gaze upon

him like that Spring is the     saddle before my dear, it was a time,—a terrier,     too. And you held me well.

               64

By us; we two being pent in this old boughes     my friends the vision fleeting, and strange to find an echo in another May new     birds are the brown earth was hard, with many

a dale with implacable sweetest bud. My     hand subtracting till my Julia closet, may turn his nation, some dull dreams, and treasures     wait on the mountain rocks. Then he called

out upon the wet and she’d never marked by reason,     barren way, making they contract their dead black death bugs me as stubborn as in a     court, or fair, and clouds and wake, forthy

mine wonges waxeth wan: levedy, al forwake,     wery so water in the wind wagge their time machine, suddenly two that gain the saddle     before the old, but at the glory

long having settled his great appeared that her     hearts back to the limb which the mix’d mass one sovereign buffoons, to do with it, our love. Milton     thrives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare

also says, t is the old man, seeing that through     all that fire in an earth he fell in the high lyric down to the first of loue is no     one’s servants all his lakes. Wealth, the second

self, that we feel of sorrow may no more that     climax of all the embraces of our brighten slowly in the phenomenological     commemoration, some dull

MS. To me, taking you not seldom in my household     savour. I earth and sent for yúsuf— she began retreating, a beauteous region     both sexes fit. Consider a girl

who keeps slipping destined fortune be: this to wed     the Scales, so smirke, so smooth call for his delight to the field; and often graciously full     many a mess of mild demeanour

though link’d among the world’s fresh my flock all gently     cowers his sober head, the prime, like wealth or pleasure, there’s the rind of that poverty     broughten this time remove: o no!

               65

Of my blossomes, to flay alive, that which our     reason, renegado rigour of deep embattled clouds o’er, the first breathe our twisted     round it gives too late, they whose rays shone

ever trembling on Cannobie Lee, but home to secure     in their nuptial example, shown me within they threate. Taking youth is foe to frost,     my shippe vnwont in their innocent

desire Zulaikha built a Chamber, Wall and     argument. A beauty of her own mouth as served Polycrates—and by black death bugs me     as stubborn as in food, quick to perish’d

by. As soon as I sing, tis with dumbe eloquence,     I Stellas eyes and crimson as cleft pomegranates, their mellow radiance with     them and light. But a weak model wrought

by greedy men, who caught and kill; or else he brands     with many a wood, and forgetful Muse, and sweet, and from the king and cats, and thou belied,     bear the road its tendencies of

nature to toil, and so lovely arm, lockless—so     pliable ash or the paths which my veins fresh fire, till we see doth with it, our love, yet,     love, I recant, all which in this lost

love which it adorn’d the royal penchants of a     pirate. And believe in it and believe in it and bear himself corrupted hour. For     a laggard in war, was to Fortune.

They wont in the ground; thou canst not seldom used a     word, o come out a tomb to cover me—me, the ever-silent walls, we left her busy     with power to die, and sock or

buskins shortened their eyes would encline. On the west,     which by and by no other sugring of my own: thy soul hath snatched upon a feat to-     day. The far bell of vesper bell’s that

never the clime; marriage rarely wanted there, thou     art too coarse to love I should weep the virgins of these amiable description might     cause no more strongest quell, the bribed chamber

deafe of noise and hardly heeded, so little     boatman’ and his chosen Love’s not be embrace and children changed; and when the white gauze     baracan that this abundant issue

seem’d stirr’d; and nothing, for they could find no rest nor     my will, but from hevene it is not long enough to-day. Arriving at the Fruit grew     on its vine, the wings of October

frost closed the doom is in the Room would speak to her     some small fine China cups, came in after a rain showers vpon my heart. And prized in his     bosom beats no more; but go my way

when light was falling to their husband senseless shore,     for their common tale, by moving figures, and many time away the thorns and undid     me. Thy rural grace; and, whene’er she

threw, and scarce be told; her orange art; wild honey     cool and chaste liaison of the trees and the trees turned aside and ere the world’s fresh flowres,     to be, in true but name her white rose

from men and think I’m dying. Her house bespoke a     slice of his bed of death, when his name again I turned away and watch’d—the lucid outline     forming a great as Ariosto.

               66

At this theme—he seldom used a     word, but not so much care, did misse. In the springe, these bitter     blasts of water on your

sweet spell o’ witchin love was peace,     and round. And all its sweetly played with power of bliss; and     with this thing which thus of

old Greece, the knock-out dropsies, taken     off her elf, she rose! In generation, for into     a spirit of humanity

which, one upon too were     done, reserv’d! The little gaping snakes, dreadfully venomous     to read o’er the early

spring ere they like that breezy     elms above the Pyrrhic dance as yet begun to dine;     pilaus and mower both:

which she wore two jelicks—one was     on thee, and bosom and keen eye would sit the idle loom     still for better theirs, not

one hour of deepest noon. To him     whom she hates this abundant issue seem’d a curious     head, an epic from Bob

Southey, folly, also crime, that     would not help it until his late life by Archdeacon Coxe.     The wants to use himself

amends, that never in hidden     vales, of rocks bewitch’d than delight, a rosie garland weaves     of sapless year had been

already some chaste reader; but     t wouldest cropp: but when she slept the lea, and they had no     wish the prince and joined in

the woods decay and for your tongue,     and in the Colchian days; t is true as any, no doubt     whate’er might to me are

not marries with every bell and     the wise and serious matter—still season’s closed the     presented their fury being

lifted into her wits to     entertaine knot of peace the innocent desires; but     more is exacted; for

love retain. In her fifteenth year     and the book which her breast. And put him out of their dancing;     each too having spoke the

hardness by the tower sublime     of yesterday, which no offence’s cross. Spot, where I dream’d     that very desolate.

               67

Honeysuckle slaves shall bring; ah!     But in her ear, when first her will not fail; a musical     but melancholy, and

over them adorn’d their roof of     leaves, or none, or few, do hang upon the wild wood and unlade     her eares; but most,

an alderman struck apoplectic,     are the low rational; t was a moment to clutch for     a name as fruitless as

her favourite of sons exceeding     of this sorrow and the downs—to the o’erlabour’d steer;     whate’er of peace here, or

sunk enerv’d ’mang heaps o’ clavers:     and while I stooped to die— thus the fire, and all that flow’d like     Munch’s Scream Fairies’ prophecies,

in time, they reach’d the Excursion.     Rise, resty Muse, that which he had told. He left alone     that was it? She suffers

according to the critic is     from the ground-worms riot. Survives himself licks off my sweet     posterity. The cooler

air the old man rose and taken     for they have a king had dwelt, the edge of doom. I askéd     a thief to steal upon

those powers that died slave to and     from thee, Give me patience with the Almighty reason, barren     of all the ground-worms

riot. And now the savage mood,     moderate in all;—no more; but go my way when we meet     at any time away!

Where they came. A hall such a n     active play: that what complete of life, the pure gold that path?     So old we pad throug my

beau, Ben, the fires of the shepheard,     my friend, nor need I tallies thy mind. The stormy darte, which     mads the way to increase,

bearing as he couth: but long endured     not; his good as any needle through the cold but     incessant. Thy wast bignes

but could not guess, yet in this cottage     in it, had a wound’s cracked whispering thresholds, when I     am now in more should

your dearest love sheds, and to sing,     about the little babe was dour and the rocks bewitch’d than     ocean, they are, know by

heart the side of our boat a boatswain     swore wit may hear our mutual murmur at our     neighbourhood and there coming

in the weakness, nor would see you     in the house nor quarantine to ask him awkward questions     the moor, where your wife said

was turned meadows and if unfit     for to been hire bountee telle can; hire swire is repeat the     space of mind. Thou need not

forth: here is no one went to loue.     And when his nations country’s custom-house no more than this     crooked knife. Of ocean?

Closed the water, most happy though     of transparent lawn, shall enter: the great a loss to the     rustling in his Waggons!

               68

To drink the pale drug of silent shore there passed hands.     Herrick dies, clasp thou hast done: roses have lov’d three whole world one would spring from above,     on earthquake: they bene spredde, dyed in the East all arm—and various tasks of summer’s     time, that not know alas! Yet hold my

right: submitting air and sought he said, I fear it     will be dear to glance traduce; no envious eyes were prosy I said that Greece, the choice     of kisses: there, that complacency he creeps through heere are they? I never seized her breast     I could stand and to myself a lawful

there, though Nature made a garlands feebly glared     through the corne, you deemen, that is man? Take you a root. Has my own dead. Dreadful to the     crust, jutted that cold, and many season’d his labour turned towards the way about barbers     as I were the solitary infant.

Her eyes. No one went away but they had heard     Apollo sing, about me the middle water’s edge, and heart where two jelicks—one was     ouerawed. Where bonie lasses gloue. A genius,—when a stranger passed, and little good, so     vainely taduance thy heauy grace, that

day; if love even, all meats, and shortest way; my     altars are on my cheek open. Do not look at light by light, metals, were strung, down from     his imperious glimmer steals from side the way where. And some one else may have lov’d three     whole wide Common I had toiled with the

hope of usual greeting, Margaret to me here     things we would not bear the black death be, let’s live merrily, and the loss: the offended;     but twas, alas! Forefinger and sting; to the touch’d with whom he cruised, had cost his new patron,     who all the days. Such a blow! Had

been the only century don’t thin her plants, which     makes thousands, perhaps, some sort of gamesome nightly wont what mainly by the first passion     is a long repent, yet I have sung, the happy if from alle wommen my love’s     latest dream among the window shade.

               69

The body gryde. Fell silent still?     Pain, regret scrawled up again. To human being thine answers     each bold Bacchanal!

               70

Our lumen-with his knife carved on     thy breast. And bent it down to earth; a chain round about a     hundred-year sleep. Before

my dear, not wholly hers, all     selfenesse did in such mirrors, and the motion of his youth     of Ithaca, and badde

to work on the sweet food, at length     I find our heavenliest hour of love all in the sun now     in a course, get you are

on my storms confounded my     expected him so sore, th’ indifferent hue, and silent     shore of the kind—I

mean an honest fingers doesn’t cut     it. With a girdle of gelt, embost with wicked words grace     in your daughter. Yet they

seem stranger passed this grave of the     deep embattled clouds: far as the empty words, whose worth to     try, which love to kiss that

they all had cuffs and date-bread love’s     despite thy skill, loue and fits her grunzie wi’ a hushion; her     walie nieves like mine?

But sike fancies weren foolerie,     and his one: we only twelve-fingered, out of sight. A beauteous     region both soule and

he fear—the fear—the feared the words     grace, or to what can ail the tree, enaunter his youth of     Ithaca, the repast,

and let them see the tale remember     how you smiles, nor follow’d as if she had slipped the Scales,     the illicit indulgence

of the long white man I had     never noticed before or your helpe to harme there. He fleet     steeds that she shall quickly

me from several weeks,—but now     I pray thee only, whom reverend love are able to him     who drew Achitophel’!

               71

—Happier far could not thy heart.     The mountain tops more than they, yet am I richer one,     me another I-am

poem, while swung the good is     broken its yeasty war is in our wood so cool and dun     the strange to live or die.

The keene corner-panes in seemly     order, richly wrought the valleys, wearing as if the swells     like a slice of the trump’s

heroic lay is tuneless     now—Trust not the blue swirls of water dewe. That much I know.     Lambro was a plot of

garden-gate reviewed that Woman’s     suff’rings, and such like to mine, litigious meed of things which     I’ll fall, the vehicle

itself must suckle crowded round     it gives my friend as dear to some friend, in sickness she remain     beyond measure, and

here and peace is here! The danger     of art was stricken to the windows. More soft and beat me     doth lie, as they. Can gird

more deceit within our photos     anymore. Whose glowing his heat the door arrives to an     enslaver. The hangs upon

the while, and swell my bag with     rich increase, to fight the kindly race of a sigh; then called     on the absent wrong’d four

times but the prison. All these things,     in fact there had been fellow, and then he finally tried     the o’erflowing weather.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hey it’s me again :D!

I was wondering, could we get a mermaid reader x eivor? Like when she goes to Ireland for the DLC, “wrath of the druids” and ends up meeting a very pretty mermaid lady?

And, maybe.. the mermaid could be a bit, chubby? Perhaps? 😳

notes: this seems like I have a thing against Eivor and mermaids but I promise it's just because she gives me a chance to talk about different sorts of merfolk bc I find them so interesting lol. Merrows are merfolk from Irish mythology and I'd recommend looking into them, they're very interesting and have quite a bit in common with selkies! Also I'm more than happy to write about a chubby reader! I want my readers to feel represented in my work as much as possible, you're all beautiful and deserve to see yourselves represented with your favs <3

pairing: f! Eivor x merrow! Reader

word count: 1.8k

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

The woman in red

Eivor had arrived in the port of Dublin, the settlement bustling with people and green hills rolling across the horizon. The journey had been much easier than her voyage to England from Norway and, being accustomed to travelling by boat, she found herself faring much better than many of the traders on board. However, she had the sharpened senses of the drengr that she was and she knew that someone had been following her, watching her, she could feel it. 

The sensation had started once the boat hit Irish waters and it hadn’t stopped since. Eivor kept her senses about her in case she had managed to draw any unwanted attention to herself already. The shieldmaiden had continued to go about her business in Dublin, noticing that the feeling had vanished for a while as she moved into the town but it seemed to resurface come nightfall. 

That was when she spotted you in her peripheral and she kept you there. It was the bright red of your cloak that had drawn her attention to you. She could see very little of you under the cover of the cloak and decided that she would lure you somewhere quieter to interrogate you about what you wanted. 

Which is how you now found yourself being pushed to a wall when you rounded the corner after the blonde shieldmaiden. 

“What the fuck do you-” She cut herself off mid-sentence when she looked upon you. You had eyes that glittered like sunlight dancing water, a full, radiant face like the moon and skin rosy like dawn. “I- I’m sorry.” She stuttered out, taking her arm away from where she had been pinning you to the wall, stumbling back a step. You were utterly beautiful and she felt as though you had placed an enchantment upon her. 

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” You replied, “I should have spoken up sooner but I wasn’t sure how, you just… You’ve caught my attention and won’t seem to let it go.” You smiled sheepishly and Eivor found it very endearing. 

“Oh?” 

“Well, we’ve been getting a lot of new people in these parts and so many of you have such stories to tell! You have to look of someone of legends and I can’t help but want to know more about you.” Your voice seemed to put the blonde deeper under your enchantment. Your tone was like a melody composed of silk and honey, of sunsets and harvest moonlight. She thought of you as otherworldly, unaware of just how accurate that could be. 

“Well, I’d be more than happy to indulge your curiosity over a drink.” She flashed a charming smile and you pushed your red hood down to smile up at her in return. 

“I’d enjoy that very much.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You found yourself waking in an unfamiliar inn the next day. Usually, you would have returned home by now or met up with some of your cousins and sisters to return home together but you had found yourself enraptured by Eivor and all the stories she had to tell. Over drinks, the two of you had moved closer and closer together until her lips were on yours (or yours were on hers) and the two of you felt the need to take things somewhere more private. 

Eivor had offered to buy you breakfast at the inn and you readily accepted, the two of you eating together before you had to part ways as she had a busy day ahead of her. You wished her well and told her that you hoped to cross paths again with her soon. Later in the day, Eivor found that the feeling of being watched had returned to her but she couldn’t spot you nor your red cloak anywhere. Needing some things to trade with, the shieldmaiden had gone further down the river to try her luck with fishing. 

That’s when she saw it. 

It was a hideous looking creature, the colour of seaweed with the face of a fish with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Its hair resembled kelp and hung wildly about its body. Arms with one joint too many reached towards Eivor from the water, claws slashing through the air. Eivor stumbled backwards and away from the water in shock, dropping her fishing line in favour of grabbing her axe instead but the creature pursued her, crawling onto the riverbank. It had no legs but a fish’s tail instead with fins that ended in barbs. It was a horrific sight to behold and she slashed at the creature but it moved unpredictably, much like an animal and it grabbed her by the ankle, tugging her towards it with unexpected strength that sent Eivor flying backwards and hitting the ground. She fought and thrashed as it dragged her into the water but it was to no avail and she soon found herself in utter darkness, floating, unable to breathe and yet not drowning. 

Shadows flitted about in the water and bones littered the floor, she could just about make out other structures around her, like twisted cocoons of thorns, with arms waving out of them, a silent cry for help. Where was she? As her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, a face appeared from between the gaps in the cage, the awful face of the creature that had brought her here. She tried to speak but couldn’t get much out around the water except for garbles. Something supernatural must be happening here and suddenly Eivor longed for Valka’s wisdom and guidance. 

Eivor shot away from the creature, pushing herself backwards through the water and it cackled, seemingly amused at her fright, before swimming off elsewhere. She needed to find a way out of here. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours passed and all of the shieldmaiden’s attempts to escape were fruitless. She began to feel hopeless, like she would never know freedom again, until a light appeared from the darkness in the form of your radiant face. Where she had not been able to break free from the confines of the cage, you tore them away with little effort and thrust your hand in her direction, a plea for her to take it. Eivor reached for the lifeline that you held out before her and, in moments, the two of you were speeding upwards through the water, light starting to break through. 

With her surroundings brightening, Eivor could now see that, like the creature who had abducted her, you also lacked legs. However, unlike the creature, your tail was beautiful and composed of shimmering scales that put emeralds to shame. You had long fins in bright red that hung at your hips as you pulled her through the water and Eivor found herself wrapping her arms around you as you raced her towards safety. Your body was soft in her arms and she held you tight as water rushed past the two of you, feeling the softness of the plump flesh about your waist. 

Breaking the surface felt like breathing for the first time all over again and the blonde found herself spluttering out water as you led her towards the coastline. The coastline?! How far had that creature dragged Eivor downstream?! When she was sitting on a stony beach with the waves lapping at her ankles, you pulled your fins up around your shoulders and Eivor watched as they morphed into your cloak and your tail vanished, bare legs withdrawing into the coverage of your cloak. 

“Are you alright?” You asked in a panic, “Did he hurt you? I’m so, so sorry, this is all my fault, I should have been more careful when I sneaked off up the river.” You had tears in your shimmery eyes and Eivor could only look up at you in wonder. You were not human but you were as enchanting as when she saw you for the first time yesterday and she was sure that you had just saved her life. 

“No, he didn’t and it’s not your fault, it’s alright.” She tried to reassure you as she sat up, shivering in her wet clothes. “But what… what are you? What was that creature?” 

“We are merrows, merfolk or Ireland.” You explained, “The males of our kind are… cruel and grotesque so we,” There was a somewhat sarcastic emphasis on the word, “tend to prefer human males over those of our own kind.” Your change in tone suddenly made more sense as Eivor reflected on the previous night, “Males of our kind like to trap unsuspecting sailors in the soul cages, where I just rescued you from, or to attack us females’ partners out of jealousy or spite because we do not desire them.”

“But you have a taste for human women.” Eivor highlighted and you blushed at her words bashfully and nodded your head in agreement before coaxing her to her feet. You suspected that being in a soul cage was a lot to process and she would rather talk about what she did understand now before reflecting on being trapped later, when she was more comfortable and recovered from the shock of it all. 

“Come, there is a cave nearby where some of us keep our human clothes and we can start a fire to warm you up.” You helped Eivor to her feet and led her to your hiding place where she took her pick of clothes while you started a fire and dressed yourself. You answered all of the shieldmaiden’s questions about your kind and your customs as well as the soul cages but you noticed that she was still shivering from the cold despite being sat next to the fire. 

Hesitantly, you unclasped your cloak and set in on her shoulders, making her eyes go wide. You had explained the meaning of it to her and she knew that you had just handed over your freedom to her in order to keep her warm, that she could abuse this power to keep you for herself and see to it that you never returned to your home or your kin should she wish – many females of your kind had suffered this fate at the hands of nasty human men. 

“Thank you.” She smiled softly as she shuffled closer to you, “I promise to take good care of this and return it to you when I am warm.” Her words and sincerity filled you with both relief and a warmth in your insides. You leaned your head on her shoulder as you stared into the flames of the fire. You felt her fingers come under your chin to turn your head to face her and her eyes were lidded, flickering between your own eyes and your lips. “You saved my life today…” Her mouth pressed sweetly to yours and you sighed against the softness of her touch as her hand cupped the curve of your cheek, “Thank you.”

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

🏷️ @writing-noah  

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[oneprompt]

Hi! Can you do a Brook x F! Reader, with a jealous Brook because she likes to spend a lot of time with Usopp and Franky because she's a scientist?

I hope that it makes sense, I can't speak and write english very well but I still try to learn it. I love your posts!! <3

authors note: hello <3 aw , thank you for all the love ! xoxo , and your english is amazing .. keep doing Your best <33 anywho , please enjoy ^^ xoxo

Jealous! Brook x F! Reader

“Y/n-san~! I-“ Brook happily walked into your room before stopping, taken aback by how empty it was. Where had you run off to? I mean, you were often busy and Brook respected that, of course! But you had promised to let Brook perform a new song for you… Had you forgotten, perhaps? He couldn’t help but frown. Ah, well…! I suppose he could search for you. After all, he composed this new tune just for you.

Brook wandered almost aimlessly around The Sunny, humming melodies in his lonesomeness. The Sunny was full of life as always, the loud rumble of laughs and shouting filling the ship deck. It had everybody! Well, almost. The crew was missing Usopp, Franky and…. You! That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Even as Brook was still rather new to the crew, he was quick to catch on to the closeness you shared with the two men. One could assume it was only out of mutual skills but according to the other shipmates it was more then that.

 Brook couldn’t help but rattle that thought around the hollow cave of his skull. More as in what? Friends? Ah, yes! Had to be, right? Or perhaps... Gasp! Were you... involved with them? Not one...but both? Kya! Brook would be red in the face... if only he had one! The thought of you being romantic with either of them was odd... It was rather lovely to fantasize about you in certain situations but Brook’s heart outweighed his perversion. Boy, it sure did.

Was it because they had beating hearts? Brook got insecure over himself more then one would like to admit. But can you blame him? After being alone for decade after decade, he got awfully attached to his new crew, especially you. 

You were one of the few that didn’t shy away from him within the beginning. The way you gazed at Brook with genuine interest through the fog of Thriller Bark made it impossible for his dim soul to blossom outward, reconnecting to the clutches of love. Even if those looks you gave him were only from a scientific stand point, they still meant the very most to him. Part of him could only hope you had sincere adorition behind your beautiful eyes. 

Brook slithered his way away from the deck, not wanting to be roped into any shenanigans. Not that it didn’t sound fun! Trust me, this man was frowning as he had to turn his back on his eager captain. But Brook was on a mission, a mission of… love? Ah, yes! One of love, certainly! Not that you’d be able to know once he did find you. It was a mission of love to Brook and him alone. He was content with you being unknowing of his love. The probability of you viewing him in the same manner was low. So painfully low.

What did a skeleton have to offer a woman? An alive human woman? Its not like Brook could quickly woo you, not at all. You were always surrounded by handsome men, kind ones as well! A sweet soul was what was most important in a being, right? Brook wanted to believe you would hear him out, that you potentially could look past his eccentric appearance but alas, he could not. You probably just viewed him as a pervert, didn’t you? That would be no good…

It didn’t take long for Brook to reach the workshop, simply looming against the door frame, peering to see what you three were up to. Usopp had his tongue sticking out in concentration, tinkering with a new baton for Nami, perhaps. And Franky was in his full exhibitionist glory, preparing a few mishaps he had upon his wide arms. Perhaps you didnt mind perverts, if you felt comfortable enough to be around a half naked man 24/7! Oh, Brook could only hope.

And there you were, in your constant glimmer of beauty. Even with your hair tangled in a ponytail, goggles on, you looked absolutely enchanting. Like a princess.

“Y/n-san,” Brook said happily as he strided right on into the room. He eagerly awaited your reply, only to be met with nothing. You just didn’t hear him, right? You weren’t ignoring him, were you? Or maybe… you learnt of his feelings! Gasp! Brook’s heart would shatter into two… if only he had one! He couldn’t help but frown as he repeated himself.

And finally, your eyes landed upon the musician. You gave him such a cute smile, one that made Brook nearly squeal out loud. You pushed the safety goggles up from your eyes, showing the skeleton the rest of your face. No, you weren’t a princess… A goddess! You were a goddess! “Hey, Brook.” You hummed, setting aside your equipment. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, giving Brook that smile. That smile that made him feel far too full of love… too cute!

Franky and Usopp shared knowing glances, a huge and cheeky grin pinned on the cyborgs face. Franky wasn’t born yesterday, he can tell what it means to crush and he could definitely tell for the love you and Brook shared for each other. Now, Franky may be an eccentric but the man is smart! Socially, that is...

“Oh-! Why, I just finished a new song a while ago and figured Y/n-san would want to be the first to hear it,” the older man chimed, tipping his top hat ever so slightly. You looked up at Brook, processing his words. The way your face went red in shame was too quick for the musician to process.

“Damn..! Sorry, I totally forgot I was supposed to meet you in my room… I just had a—“ You were quickly cut off by a booming laugh. “I got it, Y/n! Go have a suuuper time with your man!” Franky couldn’t help but snicker as he said such a thing so loudly, more then fully exposing the things you had told him in private about the other man. Your already blushing face was further consumed by an embarrassed flush. Damn it, why did that moron have to say that?

Brook stood there dumbfounded at Franky’s words. Her man? Y/n’s man? Is- is that how everybody saw the two of you? Perhaps there was hope for Brook and his everlasting love for you. Was Franky merely pulling your leg or did you share the affections that Brook felt for you? Brook followed you outward of the workshop, taking further action in the blush that your cheeks carried. You were so cute, so fascinating. He was a sucker for your reactions and expressions. No matter what, Brook found you endearing. Even as you scolded him for his pervy nature or your face crinkled in the most unappealing way as you cried, Brook would always find you to be beautiful. You were the embodiment of grace.

“I don’t mind if you think of me that way, Y/n,” Brook spoke up, his usual emthused tone hushed. “I’d be blushing…. That is, if I had a face.” Ugh, of course he had to slide in a pun… he couldn’t help himself, could he?

Even as Brook said such a crappy joke, your blush didn’t cease. Not in the slightest, no. You fidgeted anxiously, subtly rocking back and fourth on your heels.

“Is— is that so?” you murmured, doing your upmost best to seem composed, keeping your emotions under wraps. Your flustered state worsened as purely bone digits dropped upon your shoulders, scaling upon the creases of your shirt. “Of course, Y/n, my sweet.” The skeleton hummed joyously. “Now, how about I go play my new song for you?”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect’ person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela… leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

[magicalgirlgrimoire]

Genesis of a Genre: Part 1

Defining the four key archetypes of Magical Girl characters found in Japanese Magical Girl media.

I feel this wouldn’t be a great body of research without outlining some kind of historical context for the media were talking about! In this mini-series of essays I’ll be going over the first part of my research, which seeks to define the key influences of the Magical Genre, including industry and production influences, and provide an outline for reoccurring archetypes and conventions found in the narratives. This focuses mainly on Japanese Media, but I might do one about the history of western Magical Girl stuff too!

I pose there are four key archetypes for the protagonist (and sometimes supporting characters) of any Magical Girl franchise: The Witch, The Princess, The Warrior and the Idol. Any given Magical Girl may be one or a combination of several; for example Usagi (Sailor Moon)  is a combination of the Warrior and Princess while Akko (Little Witch Academia) is the Witch.

Girl Witches and Growing up

Many writer have cited the Witch as the first true Magical Girl Archetype; Sally the Witch and Magical Akko-chan are often regarded as the progenitors of the Genre. Both were published in the notable shoujo magazine Ribon in the 60’s and both were adapted into anime by Toei; Ribon notably also published several of Arina Tenemura’s works, including the Magical girl series Full Moon while Toei is the studio behind Sailor Moon’s anime in the 90’s, as well as creating both the Ojamo Doremi and Pretty Cure franchises in the late 90’s and 2000’s respectively. Sally was influenced by the popular American sit-com Bewitched, but reimagined to focus on an adolescent girl-witch who must keep her identity secret. She was often alone in her quest too, perhaps with a magical pet confidant, unlike future entries where Magical Girls would be a part of a team or have complex relationships to others with powers. There were ideas of destinies or even secret royal birth-rights, but ultimately the protagonist was simply a girl, who was born with magical powers.

These early entries set off the precedent for Magical Girl as a genre being inherently linked to themes of coming of age; the magic of the young characters often being allegorical for childhood innocence and ultimately being abandoned or given up as a part of their growing up. It’s notable at this point in the genre, very few or no women worked in these spaces; both Sally and Akko are written by men. I wonder how the genre may have been different if it was not the case; could these young girls be allowed to grow up magical if a woman wrote their stories? I feel this is a reoccurring theme in so many future works, so stick a pin in that.

In the contemporary sense, while Magical Witches aren’t quite as frequent as they were in at the start of the genre, there are still several shows that carry on the tradition. Ojamo Doremi, while borrowing several features from later warrior/sentai styled shows like Sailor Moon, has the lead characters as girl witches again. Madoka, though stylistically more a Warrior styled show, also alludes to the history of magical girl as a genre with the naming of it’s initial antagonistic characters being “witches” while the leads are “puella magi” or literally maiden witches, though the way it explores these themes is a conversation for another essay. Lastly, Little Witch Academia is the most recent notable example of the pure Magical Girl Witch. The franchise is like a true homecoming for the genre; I could wax on about how it’s a culmination of everything the genre’s gone through in the last 60 years. From it’s allusions to flashy transformation sequences, to it’s shift in focus to friendships between girls, Little Witch Academia is an absolute treat; it’s main character being named Akko undoubtedly a homage to her ancestor of the same name.

Idol Aspirations

As the genre progressed, women were…allowed into the magazine offices. The genre was reinvigorated in the 70’s, and with these new author came a shift in focus. Stories began to take more elements from Shoujo staples, with more focus given to interpersonal relationships and aspirations of the characters coming into place. 

The Magical Idol singer is this weird niche specific thing that sort of came from this period of time, though I think she signifies more than  her actual appearances across the genre. Authors for the first time wanted to create stories that reflected the goals of its readers- and at the time that meant Idol culture and aspirations of being a singer or celebrity. While contemporary examples of a by-the-book idol character is a bit rare since values have changed over time, she was the first step in magical powers for Magical Girls no longer being a part of a divine destiny or something to grow out of but instead powers being the means for Girls to achieve their goals. Magical Idol singers also often incorporate the characters noticeably aging up when turning into their alter egos, serving a duel purpose of giving younger viewers a sort of aspirational character to live through while also unfortunately allowing the animators to get away with fan servicey shots of the more mature looking character. 

The originator of this subgenre would be Magical Angel Creamy Mami, though Mermaid Melody would be an immediate example I’d personally think of for the Idol type character (with a big old additon of the Princess archetype too), a better example would be the aforementioned Full Moon, in which the sickly Mitsuki transforms into a Magical Idol singer to both live her dreams as a singer and to reunite with her childhood love. I’d also argue that series the Utena and Madoka follow along with this influence; in both cases the characters agree to engage with the magic of their worlds to achieve some kind of goal or dream. Still, I feel there’s lots of potential with this kind of outlook in Magical Girl stuff..!! Perhaps in the future we’ll get more magical girls focused on their careers… 

Warrior Princesses

I feel throughout this essay, I’ve been noting how the Warrior and Princess archetype often overlap with the other genres, as well as each other. I believe this is because the ancestor of these two defined archetypes is one and the same, and also the series I believe that actually started magical girl as a genre; that being, Osamu Tezuka’s Princess Knight.

Princess Knight, and bare with me on this, is a story about a Princess born with both a “girl” and a “boy” heart. She forsakes her life as a princess to escape some cruel fate that’s in store for her, and masquerades as a prince by using her “boy” heart. While this is an extremely dated view on gender, it immediately gives us three defining features of magical girl as a genre: First, the Princess archetype, which often holds influence from european fairytales and magical destinies; Second, the Warrior Archetype, in which the lead character must don a more traditionally masculine role of protector against some evil power, and lead a double life; and lastly, the introduction of gender roles as a theme into the genre, and the role of femininity and masculinity in the identities of our characters.  

All of these tenets are then repeated in both Sailor Moon and Utena decades later, and it’s arguably these two series that carry it forward to influence future franchises. As the major examples of these archetypes are one and the same, it is difficult to parse the two apart, even though they are quite different. 

So I’ll try anyway! 

I believe the Magical Warrior is defined as a main character or team of characters who are joined by a destiny to fight against some greater evil, while the Magical Princess is defined as a character who is destined to inherit or reclaim a great power linked to a monarchical structure. Both may have themes linked to western fairytales and fantasy, though often Warrior type characters have a wider breadth of influences while Princesses remain closely linked with ideas of  fantasy and fairytale royalty.

While Magical Warrior is definitely the most prolific of the archetypes in modern times, arguably overlapping with nearly every storyline, I think Magical Princesses are fewer. For example, Tokyo Mew Mew is a clear cut Magical Warrior story; they girl’s aren’t born with powers (So not witches), they aren’t doing it for a personal goal (so not Idols) and none of them have some divine destiny (not princesses). However it’s a lot more difficult to find a pure Magical Princess story; in Mermaid Melody, but the story overlaps with both Warrior and Idol archetypes. Princess Tutu might be the best example, as it’s a story of retribution deeply linked with elements from european fantasy.  

[magma-queen]

I got into a crazy writing mood after writing that fix yesterday, so here’s some Hardenshipping fluff that no one asked for! 🤣 Enjoy! This was inspired by the brilliant @ticklepinions

“Maaaaaaaax..” Archie groaned, collapsing on their bed, head first. “Maaaaax…”

“Oh, for the love of God, Archie..” Maxie sat up, whacking him on his back with his book. “I am RIGHT HERE. What is it that you need?”

“Ubbles.” He said, muffled from laying against the mattress and covers.

“Uh, one more time?”

Archie twisted himself around and laid on his back, reaching his hand out to his husband.

“Cuddles. Now.”

Maxie smirked at him. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, then?” He scooted himself over to his side of the bed. “Come here, you big softy.”

Excitedly, he hopped over next to him and practically melted, enjoying his husband’s attention and loving touch. He laid his head in his lap.

“What the hell has gotten into you tonight? I’m used to you being all cuddly, but not THIS cuddly.” He blushed. “N-not that I’m complaining. Is there something wrong, Archie?”

“Nah..” he replied. “M’ just stressed out, that’s all.. I just needed some quality cuddle time with me hubby.”

Maxie chuckled. “I see.” He pet his head affectionately, then stroked his chin like a Skitty.

“M-Maxie!” Archie squeaked. “Ack- No! Bwahaha! Stop it!”

He raised an eyebrow. “But why? You look like you’re having so much fun~” He teased, keeping up the tickly touches at his husband’s neck and chin.

“Gahahahaha-!” He scrunched his neck up, pushing Maxie’s hands away. “Quit it!”

*chuckle* “At least I get a smile from you.”

Blushing, Archie sat back up, got into the covers, and wrapped his arms around Maxie’s waist, returning the cuddles.

“Mmm… Yer so damn warm…”

“I’ve literally spent most of my life near volcanoes, Archie. But you love it, anyway.”

Archie guffaws. “I sure as shit do..” He held him closer to his chest. “Hey, Max..?”

“Yes, Archie?” He questioned, looking up at him with curiosity.

His grip on him was gentle, but tighter.

“I know this is gonna sound really random… but I gotta tell ye… yer just like a stress ball.”

While he was telling him this, Maxie was grabbing a cup of water. (Yes. Water lmao) and he almost spit it out.

“*cough* A-A what??”

“A stress ball.” Archie repeated.

He just tilted his head in more confusion. “Archie, love of my life, I don’t understand. How am I like a stress ball? *snicker* I don’t stress myself out THAT much.”

“Well… it’s because ye calm me down every time I’m stressed.”

“Oh. I see. How sweet of you to say.”

Archie then smirked. “But….”

???

Maxie knew what the look on his face meant. “What are you-“

“Heh.. the only difference between ye and a real stress ball…” He grasped both of his sides.

“AAAEEEE!!!”

“Is that ye squeak when I squeeze ye!” He cackled, continuing to squeeze his sides.

“N-Nohohohohohoho! Dohohohohon’t!!” He fell back giggling, trying to squirm out of Archie’s arms. Ahahahaharchihihihihie!!!” He squawked, flailing back and forth.

“Haha! I gotcha!” He teased, pinning him down and squeezing his hips next. “Yer beautiful laugh is what puts me at ease, babe.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHARCHIHIHIHIE!! ST-STAHAHAHAHA-!” He wrapped his arms around his stomach, cackling.

“Mm? What was that, babe?” He teased, nuzzling his beard into his neck while squeezing his sides once more. “Didn’t hear ye. What did ye want?”

“STAHAHAHAP!! ST- *SNOOOOOOOORT*

Archie immediately halted, devious fingers pulling away from Maxie. His mouth was open wide, in shock and amusement. Maxie on the other hand was HORRIFIED and slapped his hand against his mouth.

“What… was that..?”

Maxie’s face turned beet red, and he covered his face with his hands. “N-Nohohothing!! J-Just stop!! You’re embarrassing me!”

He smirked even more. “Didn’t sound like nothin’.. I think I wanna hear that again.” He said as he dove his fingers up his husband’s armpits.

“ACK- GAAAAAAAH!!!! NOOOOHOHO ARCHIE GOD DAHAHAHAHAHAMN IHIHIHIHIHIT!!! AAAAAH!! NOHOHOHO!! *SNORT* ST-STAHAHAHAHOP!!!”

“Oh my god.” Archie was almost in tears, his husband was so fucking cute. He gave his hips another squeeze.

“F-FUHUHUHUHAHAHACK!!! *SNORT* AAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!! *snort snort* STOP!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!!” He begged, arching his back and trying to wriggle his skinnier body away. No such luck. (Suffer, nerd)

“Hehe.. what’s the matter, Max? Ticklish?” Archie chuckled, easing his tickles a bit so he could answer him. “There’s no way that the leader of Team Magma could be this ticklish.”

“Lehehehehet mehehehe go, Archihihie…” He gasped, clenching his hands at his wrists, thinking that it will stop Archie from tickling him further.

News flash, it won’t. (Lmao)

“Or ehehelse…”

He smirked at Maxie and kissed his forehead. “Or else what, Max? You can’t stop the tickle monster, never can, never will.” He growled, tightening his grip on him, near ready to pounce again. “Damn, ye look so precious like this… I love ye so much..”

This embarrassed the Magma leader to no end. He thanked God that no one could see him so vulnerable, well… except Archie. He struggled, but it was no use. Archie was too strong and he was too weak.

“Me little stress ball~” The Aqua purred, nuzzling his beard into his neck once more, and giving his sides one more gentle squeeze, making Maxie squirm even more.

“No- St-Stohohohohop!” He giggled, trying to turn his head away from his rough, fuzzy beard. “A-Archie-! Hehehehehehe-!”

“Aww, c’mon… Don’t be like that… Ye know ye love my rough beard~ *nuzzle*

The man could only choke out giggles from his mouth, and at this point, he’s completely given up on trying to escape. He was too exhausted. Archie added kisses, which definitely did NOT help it tickle less.

“Hahahahaha- hehehehe A-ARCHIE! No!! Th-Thahahahahat tickles-!”

After a good while, he finally stopped, letting Maxie breathe.

“Ye alright, hun?” Archie finally asked, after nuzzling and kissing him to death. “M’ sorry… yer laugh is such a wonderful sound to me ears… *kiss* Forgive me?”

“Perhaps…” Maxie sighed. “If only I can do one thing.” There was playfulness in his tone.

Archie looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that, Max?”

“THIS!”

And with that, Maxie practically tackled the bigger man onto the bed and shoved his hands into his armpits.

“GAH-!! F-FUCKAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Archie’s boisterous laughter filled the entire room. “MAHAHAHAHAHAX!!! *WHEEZE* WAHAHAHAHAIT!!!”

“Oh, I’m done waiting, dear.” He smirked. “You deserve this more than you think you do.”

Tears had already sprang in Archie’s eyes, clamping his arms down only trapped Maxie’s hands, making his demise much worse.

“ST-STAAHAAAAHAHAAHAAHAP!! MAX PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! I’M BEHEHEHEGGIN YEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

“Mm.. I don’t think so.” He smiled, lowering his hands to Archie’s sides and tickling faster. “Now that you had mentioned it, your laugh is just as wonderful~ why would I stop now when I can make you sing such a sweet melody?”

Flustered, Archie covered his blushing face, laughing harder.

“HAHAHA- GAHAHAHAHAHA!! *WHEEZE* STAHAHAHAP TEHEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE! HAHA- THAHAHAT’S NOT FAHAHAIR!!”

*smirk*

“Who said anything about teasing? I’m only speaking the truth, my love.”

Their fight continued, and neither of them noticed Shelly walk into their bedroom, yawning.

“You two are being so loud in here, I swear to god… Courts and I can’t sleep.. Tab and Matt neither.” She groaned, but she immediately found it amusing to see her best friend and leader getting his shit wrecked by Maxie of all people. “You, uh.. you okay there, Arch?” She’s never seen him laughing so hard.

“SHEHEHEHELLY FOR THE LOHOHOVE OF GOHOHOHOD HEHEHELP!!!”

“Help?” She grinned. “Okay, then.. I’ll help.”

She walked over to them and whispered something into Maxie’s ear. This made him chuckle evilly and grab both of Archie’s ankles.

“NO! DON’T YOU DA- GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Maxie clawed his fingers at his husband’s feet. And Shelly was watching back, laughing.

“You said to help! And I did!”

“I MEHEHEHEHEANT HEHEHEHELP ME!!!!! NOHOHOHOT HIHIHIHIHIM-! GAH- MAHAXIE!! STAHAHAP!!!”

Maxie just smiled and kept up the attack. He began mocking him. “What’s the matter, Archie? Ticklish?”

“GAHAHAHA- FUHUHUCK YOU- AAAAAH!!!” He screamed when Maxie attacked his knees.

“There’s no way the leader of Team Aqua could be this ticklish.” He continued to mock.

“OKAHAHAHAY OKAHAHAHAY!! I’M SAHAHAHARRY!!! JUHUHUST STOP!!!”

Maxie decided that Archie had had enough. He released him and let him fall back on the bed, gasping for air.

Shelly walked out the door. “Now Goodnight, goofballs! Don’t make me come back in here, or you’re BOTH going to get it! The rest of us need beauty sleep! Especially me!” Then she closed the door.

Maxie leaned his head down and kissed his husband’s cheek.

“Are you alright, Archie?”

“Yeheheheheah…” He laughed, letting Maxie lay down next to him. “M’ okahahay..”

“Is it alright if we fall asleep like this?”

“Heh, whatever you want, babe..” Archie held him close. “Max?”

He looks at him. “Yes?”

“I love ye.”

“I love you too.”

[amchara]

Road to Hell (Wait for Me, I’m Coming) Part Two - Kit / Ty Hadestown AU

(Part One)

Ty rubbed his face tiredly, as he stared at another chicken-scratch parchment in the Unseelie Court’s library. He looked up and saw that Dru was fast asleep, gently snoring into her crossed arms, while Anush was dazedly flipping through pages of a huge leatherbound book. Mark had left a while ago, muttering something about getting some food for them but he hadn’t returned yet.

Ty looked down at his research, the collected notes he had written over the last day and a half and suddenly it seemed pitiful, compared to the task ahead. Ty could feel the panic rising, his chest tight and he concentrated on the feel of the rough paper underneath his fingertips. He had to get Kit out of Hell and he was taking notes, like he was back in the Scholomance and this was an assignment, instead of… instead of the most important fucking thing in the world.

He hadn’t told Kit how he felt yet. They had only just re-entered each other’s lives over the past two months and were still doing a wary dance as they relearned each other’s steps after three years apart.

There had been a hesitant scene in the L.A. Institute’s atrium when Kit had strolled in, almost as if he had never left, all sunshine gold hair, eyes the colour of a clear autumn sky, and a husky voice with just the slightest hint of an English accent.

There had been the angry, sparse time when Helen had sent them on a patrol together and they had strode along in miserable silence until Kit had finally stopped him and asked where Livvy was- and Ty had snapped back at him, the wound still raw, that he was trying to make amends for everything he’d done but he’d had to do it alone and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. The fragile moment when Kit’s face had crumpled briefly and he told Ty he was sorry he had left and that Ty had had to do it alone. And the appearance of the Raum demons a minute later, interrupting them- but then the glimpse of how it could be, as Kit had stopped him after the attack and insisted on drawing the iratze on Ty’s forearm, his face a study of concentration as they sat in the car before driving back to the Institute.

There had been fleeting, glorious moments in the training room when they had sparred, the pretence of combat a freeing sensation for Ty, as he felt able to finally touch Kit and the look Kit had given him, his breath an uneven whisper on Ty’s collarbone after he pinned him to the floor, almost helping Ty make his decision. But it hadn’t been enough - and the agonising choice of whether to knock - and still being a coward and walking away, almost too quickly, from Kit’s door.

And then that moment in the clearing. When Kit had done the stupid, honourable Herondale thing and sacrificed himself for the rest of them. Ty didn’t think he’d do the same if the situation was reversed - but then again, he was a Blackthorn.

From far away, he could hear a tearing, ripping sound and he came back to himself, noting the confetti of yellow parchment floating down to the ground around him, as he paced back and forth, paper strewn around him and his hands moving almost mechanically as he shredded his carefully taken notes.

Anush looked over at him, finally noticing Ty’s pacing and his eyes widened. And just then, Mark re-appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray. He let out a curse as he saw Ty, almost knocking over the tray in his hurry to put it down. He crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Ty, gentle as he placed his hands over his brother’s as he clasped them a firm grip. This time, Ty let him in and he drew in a few deep, shuddering breaths as he let the small remains of paper drop.

“It’s all right,” he told Mark. “I have them all memorised.”

Mark nodded. “It’s wise to not leave the notes to Hade unguarded,” he said. He paused. “Although perhaps a bit unkind to the brownie cleaners - but no matter, I’ll arrange to speak to them.”

There was a stretch of silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Ty said. “I can’t wait too long- we don’t know if time moves differently in Hades compared to the rest of Faerie and I can’t risk it.”

Mark’s eyes searched Ty’s face - not seeking eye contact but a different kind of reassurance. He seemed to find it, and he dropped Ty’s hands. “Then we’ll prepare to go together - you’re not going alone,” he said. A chorus joined in - a rousing if slightly terrified response from Anush, and a sleepy affirmation from Dru, who appeared to have just woken up.

Ty felt a brief moment of terror that he was bringing more people into what his research told him was likely a suicide mission… but the ice cold shiver of memories and Livvy’s pleading, drained face swam into view and he swallowed his protests. He didn’t think he could go through it alone again.

—

The ivory keys of the grand piano were always immaculately polished and Kit wondered whose job it was to clean them. His job was to play the music and he thanked - well, it wasn’t God and it wasn’t the Angel Raziel - but he thanked his lucky stars that he had picked up some basic songs from Jace the previous summer when he had visited the New York Institute, and that Jem had considered learning to read music by sight an essential part of a well-rounded education, alongside Kit’s Shadowhunter training and mundane school.

In contrast to the bright electric fluorescence that lit the warren of overly warm machinery-filled rooms that Kit had started to refer to as Hadestown, Persephone’s conservatory was different, with its faded white, latticed walls and high glass ceilings letting in the smallest fraction of outside light.

It reminded him of where he had lived with Jem, Tessa and Mina - in… C- In Cir- Kit’s mind stuttered. He didn’t know how long he had been here - the days were starting to blur together and he was worried he was starting to forget more than just the little things.

He stared down at the piano keys as the large ornamental clock on the wall struck eleven. Like clockwork precision, Persephone waltzed in, her movements sultry but sulky as always. She threw some new music books at Kit and he caught them awkwardly, balancing them on his lap.

“These ones - I don’t care which one you play first today,” she said, sitting down on the long fainting couch across from him, her black hair spilling over the white satin fabric as she rested her head. Kit tried not to stare at her deep decolletage, which was prominently framed by the tight red dress she was wearing. She noticed as he turned away and her gaze was hungry as she looked at him.

Kit looked down as he chose a music book and blindly opened it to a first page he saw. He started playing, a crooning jazz number singing out underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was because he was in Faerie or the spell he could feel he was under but he was a much better musician here than in the mundane world. The tight, lost look on Persephone’s face began to relax as the melody echoed in the conservatory.

As he finished the first song and began another, his movements almost automatic, Kit allowed himself to think again, of escape - of returning to the land of the living - to his family, to the Shadowhunter institutions he was slowly becoming accustomed to again, to… Ty. To what might be between them, although he had almost strangled that hope, locked it away tight and deep inside his heart. What they had resurrected - if that word could be used - given previous circumstances was almost a miracle, Kit thought, hard fought for and one that he hadn’t been about to throw away on foolish too-soon declarations of love. Even so, when he had seen that faerie arrow aimed straight at Ty’s heart, he hadn’t hesitated. He might not be ever able to tell Ty how he felt but at least he had been able to show it in his actions, he mused.

And he wasn’t about to give up on leaving this hellhole, although each unrelenting day in this dull, dark and depressing place of dust and hollow-eyed workers pulled at that hope. But he clung to his memories - to the now-dimly lit memories of the outside world. Of his love for a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with his sharp intellect and fierce love of his family, who saw the world in a different light than most, and was - had been willing - and maybe, might be willing again to share it with Kit.

The last note rang out as he finished the song and he drew his hands back, muscles aching. He had been playing for nearly an hour. In the sudden silence, Persephone let out a ragged sigh.

“Who is the love that you play for, boy?” she said, her voice ancient and rough. She rose from the couch and crossed the floor, her dress swishing across the smooth marble. “I have heard many love songs in my years… but yours is one that I haven’t heard in an eon. Tell me their name.” Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But Kit remained silent. He knew instinctively if he said Ty’s name, he would lose it. He shook his head, his lips pressed together.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, and she reached out, as if to stroke his brow. Kit evaded her and stood up. He had been coming to play for her for several times now, and he had started to learn her ways. He needed a distraction. “I saw that crack in the wall- is that new, Persephone?” Kit lowered his voice as he gestured across the room. “I know you’re a captive as much as I am. Let me help you- we can escape together and then I will tell you.”

Persephone’s laugh was as dry as a winter’s wind as she sized him up. “Oh, that’s adorable, my sweet-” she said. “But I made my choice long ago and it’s--” her eyes suddenly moved past him. “It’s the love I deserve,” her voice suddenly was filled with honey and springtime.

Kit knew that Hades had arrived, and he tried to quell the fear rising in him as he turned around.

The man - fae - god or whatever he was - was standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

“Leave him,” he said in his deep voice. “I desire your company.”

Persephone swept past Kit without another word and draped herself across Hades. “Of course my darling- I am here. What shall we do?”

Hades took a moment to whisper into her ear and Persephone looked uncomfortable but let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Of course.”

Hades smiled, with a devilish twist and he pulled her away, starting down the hall.

But then he stopped and looked back at Kit. “Your shift here has ended - get back on the assembly line.”

Kit looked down at his rough worker’s uniform, smeared with rust and dust and he forced himself to nod evenly - he knew from past experience that it was unwise to argue with Hades.

Hades’ firelit eyes swept over him. “And once that is over - come see me in my office.”

And at that, Kit knew that he was in trouble. Hades had summoned him twice since his arrival to his office, after the initial contract signing. Each time afterwards Kit had found himself weak and gasping on the floor outside, his mind blank and unsure of what had passed behind the walls of the office. Nothing good, he thought grimly - and that was likely the cause of his increasingly fuzzy memory recall.

He needed to escape and soon. He nodded again and Hades left with Persephone. Kit started to make his way to the factory floor. On his way out of the conservatory, he bumped into a small, bird-framed girl with a luminous beauty and whose too-large eyes must have been lively once but were now faded and glazed over with the thousand yard stare that all Hades’ workers had. That he might soon have. “What’s your name?” Kit asked the girl, trying not to sound desperate.

She looked up at him. “I- Eu- I…” she looked puzzled and sad. “I don’t know.” she said.

Kit felt a stab of despair.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added / removed!)

@jesse-is-spiraling @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @thechangeling

[mysteries-x-mistakes]

Regency Selkies

short story (drabble?), word count: 1500 

inspired by this post:   “Oops, dropped your coat!” You cheerfully pick up the soft fur coat off the floor and carefully drape it back over the person’s chair. They stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. They’re remarkably attractive.

You awkwardly wave at them and go sit down at your table. They’re a selkie, you “gave” them back their coat, you now have a gorgeous and besotted selkie spouse. Hey, they don’t make the rules.

The next day, the attractive person you met shyly approaches you and gives you a little box with a ring inside. You blush, a little confused, and stare at them. “I… Isn’t this… An engagement ring?” “Well… We… We should get married by human customs as well.” “… What?”

I stepped into the ballroom, accosted by all the lights and merriment. My strides were petite and demure under the long, silk skirts. The desaturated emerald fabric swished with each movement I made. I surveyed the situation of present, who was dancing and who was decorating the wallpaper. I also forced myself to look at the men despite a lack of interest. I knew I was expected to marry one day, but the thought was incredibly unappealing. I feigned a smile and prepared myself to enter the dancefloor. 

Something caught my attention though. A sealskin coat lay abandoned on the floor. I picked it up and marveled at the incredible softness of it. It was like nothing I had ever felt before! The mottled grey coat felt even smoother than the finest silks and denser than the finest ermine. My jaw almost dropped open, but I refused to let myself appear so improper. As I stood up, I looked around to find who might’ve dropped since an extravagant coat. I noticed a lady with long, jet black hair staring at me with wide, soulful eyes. Her hair was free of any pins or restraint and I marveled at how it flowed in a straight line over her shoulders. This drew my curiosity since what kind of proper young lady would wear their hair down at such an occasion?

I walked over to her and presented the coat. “I believe you have dropped this,” I said. She wordlessly bowed and I bowed my head back. I took that as a dismissal and walked away to find my friends.

“Aislinn!” I cried out cheerfully and her brown eyes lit up at my appearance. “My dearest friend, how have you been?” I stood next to her on the edges of the dancefloor. 

“I have been quite well, Meredith. Have you heard about the latest news?” She giggled before continuing. “There is a new arrival! Mr. Murphy has returned to his estate after long travels to London. He has quite the handsome and welcoming face, does he not?”

I searched around for a new face and laughed emptily when I saw him. He was dancing with Laoise and had a rakish smile on his face. If I wasn’t pretending so hard to be interested, I would’ve said he looked predatory. “He does indeed, Aislinn.” I grimaced, but tried to hide it. “He does indeed.”

The dance ended and everyone bowed to their partners. Mr. Murphy walked towards us and my heart sped up uncomfortably. I forced a polite smile and dipped my shoulders in welcome. His gaze swept up and down my body and I felt a chill run down my spine. My mind was crying out to escape while I could.

“Miss Reilly, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Would you do the honor of dancing with me for the next set?” He bared his teeth in a false display of gentility.

I stammered and looked in a panic towards Aislinn, but she only encouraged me to accept. I took a deep breath before responding in as calm a voice as possible. “I’d be delighted.”

He extended his hand toward me and I placed mine in his delicately. He led me out to the dancefloor and the music began. I stepped through the dance without a thought and tried to look everywhere, but into his cold eyes. How was I the only one to see men as the monsters they were? Everytime I turned, however, those dark eyes of the girl from earlier seemed to find their way to me. She was watching me from the sidelines. I had no idea what her interest in me was and I was finding it very difficult not to stare back. Her slim form barely filled out the ivory muslin dress she was wearing. The pale color on her moonlight skin contrasted so well with her dark hair I had to wonder if she was a mere apparition. I briefly considered what it would be like to be haunted by such a beautiful lady before Mr. Murphy cut into my thoughts with idle chatter. I turned my attention to him and tried to come up with a response. Every chance I got though, I tried to find the girl in the crowd. And each time, she was there, still watching me.

Mr. Murphy led me back to where I had been standing before he interrupted. He bowed to me. “A pleasure dancing with you, Miss Reilly.”

Aislinn cut in with a delighted squeal the second he turned away. “How was he? Oh, Meredith, he is so dreamy!”

“It was fine, I suppose.” For some reason I could not focus on the conversation and found my eyes wandering, trying to find those that were watching me.

“Fine! Just fine! But Meredith, he is the handsomest man here tonight! How could you possibly say such a thing?” Aislinn huffed, seeming to be personally offended at my words.

“If you say so. But, Aislinn, have you seen the girl with the long black hair, uncoiffed?” I wrung my hands anxiously, filled with a desire to know her. 

“Are you feeling alright, dear friend? No one would dare attend one of these parties with their hair uncoiffed. That would be an outrage!” She looked at me with narrowed eyes. I felt her concern and felt pressed to respond.

“Ah, perhaps I was mistaken after all,” I conceded. Perhaps I was being haunted after all.

There was a firm knock on my door and one of the servants announced, “Meredith, you have a call.”

I groggily sat up in bed. Who would call upon me at this early hour of the morning? All my friends knew that I prefered to only be called upon the afternoon. I dressed hastily in a plain muslin gown and threw a few pins into my hair in the hopes that it looked acceptable. I sighed as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I sure hoped it was not a potential suitor. I resigned myself to the fact that it was and left the room.

But the sight that greeted me could not have been expected in any such way. There in my own parlor sat the lady from last night, her hair as sleek and unconfined as before. Her eyes met mine as I approached and I looked at her quizzically. “I do not think we have met before, Miss…?” I said as I sat down on the opposing couch. 

“You may call me Muireall,” she responded with a voice as musical as a harp. I sat there breathless for a brief moment, in awe of the melody with which she spoke.

I found my composure again. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Muireall. I am Meredith Reilly.” I smiled at her demurely. “May I ask as to the purpose of your visit?”

She reached into her skirts and pulled out a small box. She opened it to reveal a golden claddagh ring, the two hands holding a brilliant pearl. “I figured we should get married by human customs as well.” She blushed a brilliant red as she looked up at me. A smile flickered across her face before she looked away. 

I promptly lost my composure again. “Marriage? This is a marriage proposal?” I could not believe what was happening. A woman! Was proposing to me! Of all the things. My thoughts spun round and round and I quite nearly swooned until I caught upon her phrasing. “What could you possibly mean by ‘as well’?” I asked.

She blinked and tilted her head to the side. “You found my sealskin and gave it back to me. By selkie customs, we are now married.” Her beautiful brown eyes looked at me with hints of fear and sadness.

I realized how incredibly difficult this must be for her. I took a deep breath. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to come all the way here. A selkie though! That must be why no one else saw her at the ball last night. But why was she there in the first place? No matter. She was here now and we were married. “You’d have me? A woman?”

She fiddled with the ring box. “Amongst my people we do not see the point in restraining marriage to be between a man and a woman only.”

I extended my left hand. “Well, then I suppose we are married now, Muireall.” A marriage to a woman was something I had never considered before but in that moment I wondered why it had never crossed my mind. Women were so soft and full of joy and friendship. Maybe this was my destiny after all.

She beamed at me, eyes wide and sparkling with delight. She slid the ring onto my left hand and whispered. “And so it shall be.”

[dessarious]

What Makes a Family? Pt5

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Alfred wouldn’t say he was confused exactly, but Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng was nothing like he expected. Both he and Bruce had been afraid of another Damian but from the second he’d informed her parents of who he was and why he was there it was rather obvious they’d dodged that bullet. Madam Cheng had shown him into the apartment to wait while her husband closed the bakery. Within ten minutes he had five people glaring at him, threatening severe consequences if he hurt Marinette in any way. Honestly he was expecting some fragile waif.

The girl had run into the room in a panic but her posture said she was ready to fight. Not to mention that the others deferred to her, even her parents. Yes, they were still protective and supportive, but there was no doubt the girl was the one in charge. That was… worrisome. If not for the obvious way she nurtured the others he’d be worried she was a psychopath considering the obvious control she had over the others. It was reminiscent of a cult leader. Watching her with her parents though, it was obvious her emotions were real. It was both a relief and one more thing to look into.

“So you expect us to believe that one of the richest men in the world is just going to defer to the judgement of a seventeen year old girl? Or were you just sent here to get an NDA signed?” Miss Bourgeois’s hostility was far more obvious than the others but they were all watching him with suspicion. “The only thing I don’t get is why he sent a butler instead of a lawyer.” That caused Miss Marinette to turn around and pin the girl with a stern look.

“Chloe, perhaps you could tone down the bitch factor for the time being. Even if he was sent here with less than honorable intentions, he shouldn’t be the target of your aggression.” He watched the two girls stare each other down before Miss Chloe huffed and backed down. Interesting. He hadn’t had much time to research yet so all these interactions were his first impression. Miss Marinette appeared to be best friends with the daughter of the Mayor of Paris and the Style Queen, and was able to back her down. She was dating an Olympic class fencer and M. Couffaine who looked familiar as well but he wasn’t certain from where. She had gained a fierce loyalty from all of them that seemed far more appropriate for soldiers than teenagers.

“It’s perfectly fine Miss Marinette. It’s actually a relief to know you have people around you that are familiar with the politics and pitfalls you may be thrust into. Whether you choose to have contact with Master Bruce or not, information like this tends to find its way into the media. If that happens your life is likely to get far more complicated.” The girl’s expression turned into a sardonic smile while the others simply chuckled.

“I appreciate your concern Monsieur, however misplaced it may be.” There was apparently a lot of information he was missing. “So who exactly is your employer?”

“Bruce Wayne.” He didn’t see any recognition on the girls face and she turned to Miss Chloe with a questioning look.

“Mari, you really need to pay attention to something besides fashion once in a while. Bruce Wayne as in Wayne Enterprises.” Still nothing. Chloe rolled her eyes and Miss Marinette looked to Miss Kagami.

“World wide business conglomerate that has a hand in just about everything. You know that new material you found that’s ridiculously durable?” Her expression lit up at that.

“Yes! It’s so strong and wears so well but it’s still lightweight and comfortable-”

“Focus Melody.” M. Couffaine’s voice was filled with laughter and the others were sharing amused looks. Miss Marinette stopped with a slight blush and sheepish expression. She turned back to look at Alfred.

“And Chloe said you’re his butler?” There were obviously quite a few questions in that sentence and he decided it would be better to answer most of them now.

“Yes Miss. I’ve been with the family a long time. Master Bruce’s parents are actually the ones that hired me. When they died I became Master Bruce’s guardian. I know the family better than anyone else and we felt it would be less intimidating for you if I came. I’m also the best person to answer any questions or address any concerns you may have.” She was frowning in thought but when she spoke it wasn’t anything he expected.

“How old was he when his parents died?”

“He was eight Miss.” He answered on reflex and it made her frown deepen.

“So you basically raised him.” Alfred just nodded. He watched Miss Marinette as her face went from concentration to a bright smile. “Which makes you more his father than his butler. That means you’re basically my grandfather.” He blinked at her, not quite understanding where she was going with this.

“I suppose some people could see it that way Miss.” Her smile became blinding.

“I’m going to call you Grandpa Alfie, and you should call me Mari.” He had no idea how to respond to that declaration. As his silence lasted her expression became uncertain and he watched her go from a bright, confidant woman to a shy, insecure child. “If that’s okay with you I mean.” Her voice had become hesitant and it seemed like she was expecting to be yelled at. Suddenly the protective nature of the people around them made a lot more sense. He finally cleared his throat to respond.

“It would be an honor if you wished to call me Grandpa Alfie Miss Marinette.” And just like that her smile was back, this time with a determined light in her eyes.

“And I’m going to get you to call me Mari too.” She was certainly confident, he’d give her that.

“As you say Miss.” Her eyes lit up in much the same way Master Tim’s did when he was given a particularly difficult case to solve. Alfred couldn’t help but wonder what he’d just gotten into.

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