#and Vineyard rhymes

[quintessential-candles]

How did you get your username?

OOH FOR THIS WE GOTTA PULL OUT SOME CANDLES LORE (FUN)

2020: I wake up one morning and my friends (strange collection of people, they are silly) have all changed their discord names to food

Why?

Cos we’re a strange collection of creechurs

And they asked me to change mine too and we. All changed our profile pictures too

So naturally we needed some distinction, so we assigned eachother emojis that we used in our group chat

I ended up with 🕯️

And after that I ended up just. Named ‘Candle’

Like. My theatre teacher legitimately called me that until I went to highschool

So a bunch of my usernames changed ‘YourNewFather’ -> ‘YourNewCandle’

Unsurprisingly, YourNewCandle doesn’t sound all too good, so I switched it to ‘Quiet_Candles’

Which! Also didn’t sound too good, but I liked the Q

Well one of my favorite coping mechanisms is learning long words— learning how to spell them— and spelling them over and over till I know it by heart

Quintessential was just one I happened to land upon

And it became my favorite word for. SO LONG

So when I got banned on tiktok for about the third time I went with ‘Quintessential_Candles’ (my main account is something else, now, but I still reserved that username on a side account)

And so when I signed up for Tumblr it just kinda made sense, it’s a fun username, if it ain’t broke why fix it!?

[stormofdefiance]

An incredibly lazy wee doodle of barn swallows since I'm struggling to sleep and going back to my teenage ritual of drawing birds far too late into the night. Where I live, it will soon be time for the swallows to leave and make their bi-annual 8000 mile migration all the way to South Africa. Summer goes with them, and already my late North European nights seem to be turning dark so soon. A couple of months ago the night would just be a muted blue until dawn would crack with a skylark's song at 3am, and from now it will just be a couple of months until the black sets in before the afternoon ends.

It genuinely makes me want to cry thinking about these matchbox sized little beings throwing themselves into that endless blue all in pursuit of airborne insects, those small bodies making their way over the widening, waterless Sahara, that 40 day excursion that, by mid-October, will be over. How long a journey that seems, how short for a being smaller than my hand.

I'll miss them as much as I'll miss the sun until my late-March birthday comes along again and the spring sky is briefly interrupted by their sudden return, their tumbling bodies celebrating the world waking up again, back - somehow, dare I project a sense of sentiment, remembering - to the very same nests they'd left behind just months ago.

[cornyonmains]

I think Trump's going to win, and I'm placing the blame not on people who didn't show up, but on liberals who really thought posting up Biden to fight a whole-ass fascist takeover was a good idea. Yeah, let's pick the vaguely racist grandpa known for making unnecessary concessions to the fascists, that'll show voters how serious we are. Zoomers are out here trading tutorials on how to build furniture out of cardboard, and Nancy Pelosi is using our futures to add more acreage to her vineyards, but blue no matter who, or something. Fallout was right, if it rhymes, people will just go with it.

I don't post about politics very often but I think liberal voters need a come to Jesus moment with their politics. You can cling to your Reagan era bullshit, or you can fight fascism, not both.

Now cue the list of "accomplishments" some bot is inevitably going to post beneath this that has resulted in no positive change in the material circumstances of struggling Americans, as his donors intended.

Nothing will fundamentally change...

I've never been so ashamed of liberal voters in my life.

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER TWO: welcome to camp walden!

Welcome to what we like to think of as the most beautiful spot on God's green earth—Camp Walden.

Camp Walden for Boys, Remus thought as he ducked and swerved through the crowds of prepubescent and teenage boys, seemed like it was thrashing about in disarray and confusion as counselors shouted bunk assignments with no rhyme or reason, duffle bags were chucked into piles without care, and the whine of megaphones blared.

In other words, it seemed like it would be perfect for him.

At least, it would be if—

“HEY!” Remus bellows, cupping his hands around his mouth as he attempted to keep up. “Hanni-bag Lecter! You can stop, that’s my bag!”

—if Remus could just get his things.

The counselor, seemingly deaf to all the bedlam around him, simply continued weaving around clusters of boys. Remus cursed under his breath and picked up the pace, keeping his eyes trained on the lime green bag hoisted over a shoulder. 

He doesn’t have to run for long; the counselor tosses the duffle onto the top of a pile. 

“Thanks for nothing!” Remus huffs in his direction, before turning back to his bag, reaching in for it. “There you—”

His arm is promptly crushed under the weight of another duffle—jeez, did this guy only pack bricks?!

Then two-three-four more in rapid succession—Remus sets his jaw and yanks out his arm before he gets cruelly crushed under the weight of luggage, huffing as he shoves his sunglasses up onto his head. 

“Perfect.”

“You must be new.”

Remus turns to see a bespectacled kid—his age, maybe, if a bit short—nudging his glasses up his nose, adjusting his own duffle strap over his shoulder.

“How could you tell?” Remus says sarcastically.

The boy does not seem to register that. “You didn’t grab the duffle before the aids tossed it into the heap. I’d say you need some serious help.”

“Well,” Remus says, grabbing the strap of his bag. “Either get with it or get moving, specs, ‘cause this ain’t gonna haul itself.”

Specs obligingly grabs onto the other bit of strap that’s free and they tug once—twice—

Just then, a boy in a tie-dye shirt—their age, maybe, if a bit tall—comes to the pile and, without any semblance of strain, tugs free a duffle from the bottom of the pile.

Remus’ jaw drops. 

“Whoa!” Specs says, also duly impressed with this show of Herculean strength.

“Now that’s my kinda man!” Remus says, then, yelling, “YO, TIE-DYE GUY! Bring those biceps over here!”

Tie-dye guy turns, spots them, then shrugs, setting his own bag clearly away from the heap before doubling back around.

“Sure.”

“Thanks—it’s the lime green one, way in the middle—”

Remus and Specs both swiftly relinquish their holds on the strap as Tie-dye grabs it, pulls, and manages to get it free without causing a luggage avalanche.

“No problem,” Tie-dye says, about to hand it over before he spies the tag. “Hey, you’re all the way from California?!”

“Yep,” Remus says, and, without further ado, both Specs and Tie-dye get started on what Pa would call the usual suspects.

“Do you, like, live in Hollywood?”

“Do you live next door to a movie star?”

“Have you met a ton of movie stars?!”

“Whoa, chill,” Remus says. “I mean, yeah, I’ve been to Hollywood, and I think I’ve met, like, four TV people but only one of them was sorta famous, but you’ve got the wrong part of Cali entirely. I live in Napa—it’s up north—and I live next door to a vineyard. Well. On the vineyard, really.”

“What’s a vineyard?” says tie-dye guy.

“We grow grapes for wine there,” Remus says; this question only ever comes up when kids in his grade ask. Parents usually just smile and nod knowingly and maybe ask if he can sneak them some of the merchandise. “That’s what we do, my Papa and me—”

“Parker, Remus!” A megaphone bleats.

“Right here!” Remus says, whipping around and raising a hand.

“Pine cabin!”

“Same here!” “Me too!”

Remus grins and slaps high fives with these kids; he really should probably get to know their names.

“C’mon, this way,” says Specs, and Remus trots alongside.

“So, uh… either of you fellas know how to play poker?”

Both reply in the negative. Remus can’t help but grin.

“Don’t worry,” he declares. “I can totally teach you.”

⁂

From what Roman can tell, seated in the back of the car, Camp Walden looks like a picturesque little campus right out of a a movie about preteen boys that get up to wacky hijinks at summer camp.

There are, of course, seemingly countless preteen and teenage boys; some in clusters, some hauling bags alone, some roaring and running up to their former friends for a reuniting hug; Roman chews at the inside of his cheek at the sight of so many of them.

There’s a tennis court, a lake that glints brightly under the heat of the high-noon sun in a cloudless sky, a row of archery targets lined up ready for the piercing, a basketball court (very American sport, wasn’t it, basketball? Roman’s only ever seen it in movies) school buses (school buses! He thought those only existed in TV shows and movies! All of them seem to be green and white, though, branded for the camp and not the iconic yellow, to Roman’s disappointment).

Of course, there are rows and rows of picturesque little log cabins with images of their namesakes hanging above the doorway; a pine tree here, a maple leaf there, even (and this gives Roman a brief thrill of home) what looks to be a Tudor rose.

And that’s only the stuff lining the main drive!

But soon—frighteningly too soon—the car rolls to a stop, and Logan clears his throat, opening his car door.

Roman takes a moment to swallow any nerves as Logan straightens his suit jacket, grabs his carry-on, and steps carefully out.

“Here we are,” Uncle Logan says, squinting up at the bright sunshine filtering down through the vibrantly green leaves. Roman isn’t sure he’s ever been around so much greenery and woodland before, outside of occasional family jaunts. There’s next to no semblance of the comforting gray of concrete and cloudy skies of London here.

“Camp Walden for Boys,” Logan continues. “It’s rather… picturesque, isn’t it?”

It is a bit odd, Roman thinks, to see constantly-suited Logan here, amongst the woodchips and the flora and fauna; they both, he notes a bit self-consciously, stick out like sore thumbs. All the other boys here are in t-shirts and shorts; even the adult counselors are uniform in dark green polo shirts and khaki shorts.

Roman tries not to fuss with his own jacket, though he’s already sweltering hot; tweed isn’t exactly summer gear, though it had been wonderful on the chilly plane. 

Dad always says Roman should look his best to make a first impression, and that’s certainly what he’ll do.

“All right, your bags ah, here we are,” Uncle Logan says, popping open the trunk. “Carry-on, you’ve got that, your case—ah, you’ve got that too— luggage, here…”

And with that, Roman and his uncle are left standing quietly amidst the shouting and bellowing of the campers and their counselors. 

“Got it all, I think,” Roman says uncertainly.

They stare at each other some more. Then—

“Oh!” Uncle Logan says, surprised, but he catches Roman flinging himself at him just fine. 

Eight weeks! That’s two whole months! He’s never been away from Uncle Logan or his dad or grandpa for that long, not ever in his entire life! Roman knows Uncle Logan is a stiff-upper-lip proper English kind of man, he knows it, but he can’t help it. 

But Uncle Logan obligingly wraps his arms around Roman anyway.

“I’ve told you once, but I’ll tell you again,” Uncle Logan says. “If you change your mind and you want me to come here to collect you at the end of camp, I’m just a phone call away.”

Roman pulls back, but Uncle Logan holds both of his hands in his anyway. 

“I remember. I’ll be all right.”

“All the same.”

“I know,” Roman says. He takes a deep breath, squeezing Logan’s hands. 

“I’ll see you in eight weeks, Roman.” Uncle Logan says, squeezing his hands.

“I’m missing you already,” Roman says, and he lets go.

Only for Uncle Logan to stick out a hand for him again. Roman beams and takes it.

This is an old tradition, from when he was a child; he can’t remember what started it, but Uncle Logan, ever obliging, helped him choreograph a secret handshake to the tune of one of Grandfather’s favorite jazz numbers, and Roman’s loved it ever since, childish as it may be.

One shake—two—three—then Roman sticks out a hand, Logan puts his hand on top, the Roman’s then Logan’s again, down with their hands and up—they hit backs up of their hands, clap up middle down down down, snap to the hip—bump one hip, then hop for the other—grin to each other—then swap places, and shake hands once more.

It probably makes no sense to anyone who sees them. But Roman thinks that’s the beauty of it.

Then Uncle Logan leans forward and kisses Roman on the forehead.

“Have fun, Roman.”

“I will.”

Uncle Logan walks to the car, pauses, and turns.

“Goodbye, Roman. Have fun.”

Roman is uncertain if he’s ever heard a less likely candidate to propose fun than Uncle Logan, whose ideal Sunday was one spent cleaning their practically spotless house. But:

“I will, Uncle Logan. Goodbye.”

And so he watches as Uncle Logan gets into the car, briefly hearing him ask the driver for the airport.

Roman keeps his hands clasped tightly behind his back to keep himself from charging after the car, waving goodbye until his arm feels like it’s about to fall off.

Instead, he watches, clasping his own wrist tightly, as the car speeds off and follows a curve in the path, going beyond where his eyes can see.

He takes in one deep breath, biting hard at the inside of his cheek. Two.

Then he picks up his case and goes to find the nearest member of staff to figure out where he should drop his things, please.

⁂

The afternoon passes in a rush of unpacking as best he can with two “cubby” boxes worth of space, a whirlwind tour of the extensive grounds, and a blur of names Roman really, really should try to remember but seem to fly out of his head the instant after they’re said.

The boys in the Maple Cabin seem… nice enough. No one seems immediately drawn to Roman as a friend, which is fine—he has plenty of time to make friends, that unspoken goal of Dad’s when they started for fun ways to spend his summer—but everyone is at least passably decent. 

Everyone mostly seems really curious about London, England, and makes him say different words to hear his accent. That seems to be the majority of Roman’s popularity appeal.

“Hey, Roman,” case in point, “what do you call these?”

Roman glances over to the snack bag a boy is holding up in their current state; in line, at the dining hall. The crisps are in a vibrant bag.

A very vibrant bag. Roman didn’t think food that color existed outside of cartoons.

“Erm,” Roman says. “Crisps.”

“Crisps!” Another boy echoes in delight.

“What are those, anyway?” Roman says. “They’re so… bright.”

“Pizza Cravers Doritos, man, says so on the bag.”

“They make pizza-flavored crisps here?!”

“Not a lot—they’re a limited-time thing,” the first boy says, setting the bag on his plate. “Spoiling us for the first night,” and returns to conversation with another boy.

Roman shakes his head in amazement, reaching for a bag himself. Pizza-flavored crisps! How utterly American!

His entire meal is looking utterly American, really, when he glances down at his plate. A cheeseburger, chips (that counts toward Dad’s list of daily fruits and vegetables, right?), a glass of what Roman has been informed is called Kool-Aid, another flamboyantly bright American invention. Roman craned his neck; he thinks he sees apple pie for dessert!

He ought to write Grandfather about this. He’d appreciate the invention of a pizza crisp.

“Oh—’scuse me, fellas,” says a man dressed entirely in cargo, nudging his way into line; one Roman thinks he recognizes as someone vaguely important within the camp infrastructure.

Even if entirely in cargo doesn’t exactly scream the fashion fortitude of someone in charge. That ought to go into his letter to Dad, who will surely have something to say about his insights into American fashion.

“I’ve just got to have some of this gorgeous cantaloupe—would you care for some, dear?”

“Oh,” Roman says, giving a wary eye to the large bowl. “I wish I could—everything seems lovely—but I’m allergic.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the man says. Roman turns away, looking to find a table, when he hears the man offer a bowl to someone else.

“Can’t!” says a strident, nasally voice. “I’m allergic.”

Huh, Roman thinks, what are the odds of that?

But the odds fly out of his mind, even as the man expressing puzzlement fades from earshot; one of his cabin mates is waving around what looks like a condensed packet of frozen, fluorescent blue. Oh, Roman has got to know what on earth that is!

⁂

Oh, Remus can make a thick wad of cash off of this poor sack of sods.

Not to say his bunkmates aren’t nice. They are. But Remus isn’t a particularly nice boy; he’s a particularly nasty boy, according to one of his report cards in first grade.

Which is why Remus was going to so utterly crush all of them at poker. And make that thick wad of cash!

Remus is busy fantasizing about it as he’s subjected to the camp shower experience. Pretty grody, but Remus can dig it; his counselor’s going to have to learn that. What’s the point of running around with a ton of other boys all summer if Remus is going to have to wash the mud from behind his ears every day?

And then, as he’s choreographing a particularly insulting victory dance to pass the time he’s expected to be scrubbing soap, Remus accidentally manages to kick off one of his shower shoes (he’s going to lose them immediately) under the stall wall.

“Aw, shi—”

Remus cuts himself off as his shoe is nudged back under.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, slipping his shoe back on.

“You’re quite welcome,” says a cultivated British voice that belongs to whoever’s wearing bright red shower shoes next to him.

British! How weird!

Remus shakes his head and goes back to choreographing his victory dance.

How much trouble would I get in, he wonders, if I add some really untasteful middle fingers to it?

But the answer to that is the same answer Remus gives to every scheme: I won’t get in trouble, so long as they don’t catch me.

Oh, yes, Remus thinks gleefully as he shuts the water off. He’s going to buy candy stink bombs and video games and posters and soda and fireworks and even more candy…

⁂

Life in Maple Cabin settles into a routine about as quickly as it takes for Roman to get over the jet lag.

They wake up in the morning; Roman can make his bed if he likes, but not many of the other boys bother, so he doesn’t most days. 

They dress, troop to the “cafeteria,” get the information on their various camp activities of the day—they can detour from the tasks when they are more in the swing of things, but for now, most of them are still finding their way around, so to the agenda they shall stick—and follow tasks from there.

Roman has been introduced to basketball (he is… not very good at it), “soccer,” (his bunkmates seem to roll their eyes every time he calls it by its proper name) and a variety of outdoorsy activities, ranging from practical things, like fire-making and knot-tying, to the much more fun things, like tubing behind one of the camp’s four speedboats or capture the flag.

Their days are busy, but not so busy that Roman can’t find time to sit and begin the first of a few rough sketches of the camp’s campus, the lake, and other pleasing aspects of the wildlife. He’s sure he’ll send some to Dad and Uncle Logan eventually—he’d like to put more detail into them first.

He does write to his Dad and Grandfather—just a quick at camp, having fun!—and he wonders, with a homesickness he barely manages to quash, how long it will take for his letter to get to London. How long it might take for a letter to return here.

But he tries not to think of home much.

Their counselor lets slip early on that they can get snacks from the kitchen, as long as it’s late at night, early in the morning, or any other time when they won’t get underfoot of kitchen staff, and from there, Roman’s education in American snacks goes swimmingly. 

The other boys in Maple seem to find some form of amusement from how Roman reacts to these seemingly normal aspects of life to them. And Roman, barely modest about it, demonstrates his skill at poker, both of which seem to earn him some level of rapport with the rest of his bunkmates.

Not enough rapport to gain a best friend from it or anything. Just enough to elevate him to make sure no one will make fun of him throughout the summer.

It’s a promising enough start, Roman guesses. And hey—perhaps a new friend isn’t in Maple. Perhaps he’ll find them somewhere else. The summer’s barely started.

⁂

Summer camp freaking rules.

For one, they actually encourage theft.

“Well, we don’t encourage it,” his bunk counselor is hasty to say when he assets this theory, “it’s just—”

“We won’t get punished for it, is what I’m hearing.”

The counselor wavers. Remus pumps a fist in success.

“As long as it’s from the kitchens, and within reason,” the counselor tacks on hastily.

Too late! Remus is running out of the door before he can even finish his little explanation about rites of passage and free reign on kitchen snacks and better than ants in the cabins!

He can hear the parade of the bunkmates he’s also about to rob of everything of their senses storming after him, but that’s fine; he’ll content himself with snacks, for now, before he starts gutting the campers of all of their belongings via poker winnings.

It doesn’t take them long to get to the canteen—it’s centrally located to the rest of the cabins for a reason—and Remus does the smart thing and tries the door.

Locked. Well, they had to at least pretend like they weren’t condoning theft.

God, this is so cool. He absolutely cannot tell Pa, though, because then he’ll hear all about ethics and technically a crime and he just doesn’t want to deal with that. Virgil might be chill about it.

Wait. What is he saying? Virgil’s never been chill about anything ever. No, better to keep it to himself.

He goes to the windows next, and that pops open with barely any force at all; a little hop on a ledge here, a little turn of the body there, and he’s in.

The dining hall is as dark as it can be, even with the setting sun shining weakly through the closed shutters; Remus ignores any sight-seeing and promptly heads for the back, where he knows the pantry and fridge is.

He can hear other Pine bunkmates managing to duplicate his hop, but he ignores them and pulls open the first chest freezer he can see.

Eh, boring. Lots of hotdog/hamburger type supplies. He moves onto the next—and that’s where he hits the jackpot.

“Oh, perfect,” he breathes out, and he starts loading up with as many Chips Galores and ice cream sandwiches as he can carry.

“Hey, California, what’ve you got?” asks another boy—he doesn’t really know his name, and he doesn’t really care about that right now.

“Ice cream,” Remus says, then he jerks a head toward a closed door. “Hey, I bet they have a ton of chips and fruit snacks and stuff in the pantry, right?”

“Good call,” he says, and the boys of Pine camp start picking the contents of the kitchens clean.

Ice cream sandwiches and chips and fruit snacks are indeed found, but so are supplies for fluffer-nutter sandwiches and Trix cereal and fruity popsicles and—one of the great prizes of the night—a whole case full of Dunkaroos.

The boys of Pine hop through the window one at a time, snickering amongst themselves, laden with their goods, seeing three older, far more experienced boys from Juniper boost each other into a window, pulling up the last one, each with an empty, Santa-like sack over their shoulders.

Smart, Remus thinks admiringly, but he thinks he’s gotten away just fine, running with the other boys, back to Pine before any of their stolen glories can melt away in the heat of summer’s late evening.

It’ll surely be his first heist of many.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

[westerosoliviapope]

Theon Greyjoy - A Day in the Life

I loved this Theon segment so much, I want to give it room to breathe outside the other shenanigans in my latest update.

From Warrior in a Suit (Scandal Westeros - Finale) on A03

"That's the one."

Gods, Theon thinks. Don't let it be the expensive one. He flips the view on his phone so Sansa can inspect the selection of rings on the tray.

"Far right. 1.5 carat, round cut, white gold," she says. "It looks just like the one on her Pinterest board."

Of course.

He nods to Sabitha, the smiling saleswoman behind the counter. A mere six months ago, those tits peeking through her scandalously-buttoned white shirt would have compelled him to give her something more fleeting than the healthy commission she's about to collect.

He's in love, not blind—but neither Sabitha's turnips nor the significant dent in his credit card can cool the warmth in his chest imagining Jeyne's face when she sees this ring.

Theon Greyjoy. Betrothed. He's tempted to pinch himself.

You learn a thing or two watching your best mate spin out from a broken heart. Namely, you don't want to be the bloke who lets the girl—the One—get away.

Day two of their trip to wine country, having dinner on a balcony at Redwyne Family Vineyards as the sun set over rows of red grapes as far as the eye could see, when the light caught whatever Jeyne put on her face that evening to make her cheeks shimmer and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe, Theon knew.

He was done for. Over. So long to the Sabithas of the world.

Maestro, you can cue the wedding march…

The Riverlands' rains don't bother him —a walk in the park compared to the icy storms he grew up with. As far as he's concerned, it's 70 degrees and sunny as he whips his Tesla through the Capitol nodding to the sounds of Jaero Hovys. He became a fan while stationed in Tyrosh, sharing a base with Braavosi soldiers who couldn't get enough of Jae's layered, braggadocious rhymes. When you spent your days trying not to get your cock blown off by landmines, you took confidence where you could get it. For Theon, that meant chanting lines like "I will not lose" and "allow me to re-introduce myself" while waiting in the fields, rifle at the ready.

He generally prefers the earlier stuff to the recent releases with his wife, Bellegere Otherys. Since taking Jeyne to see the pair in concert, however, he appreciates the newer tracks. He doesn't even skip when "Boss" thumps out of his custom speakers.

"Everybody's bosses/ till it's time to pay for the office—"

Fucking hell. How does the phone always know to ring right before the best part of the song? His frustration is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin when he sees the name flashing across his dashboard.

"Ms. Poole," he answers. He swears he can feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket, even though it's locked in his safe at home. She has no idea… he thinks. Or does she? Bloody hell, if Sansa spoiled the surprise—

"Are you seeing this thing with Arya and your uncle?"

He tries—actively—not to see anything about anyone in his family, except maybe Asha. But keeping the Greyjoy name out of his feeds is difficult of late. What with Euron emerging from bumfuck Asshai and casting himself as Westeros' new main character. Running around with Cersei Lannister. Going viral for shitposting celebrities and the government. Now, apparently he's arguing with Arya on Twitter.

Once he's at his desk, Theon goes through the tweets. All 319 of them. Arya listed the 318 victims of the 2002 Bear Island Attack, a name per tweet, and ended the thread with:

"The media wants you to forget, so they can use the theatrics of a suspected terrorist to boost their ratings. Please think of your Northern neighbors before you platform/share/boost Euron Greyjoy. Time changes many things—it doesn't bring back the loved ones we lost at Bear Island. #TheNorthRemembers."

587k retweets

In reply, Euron posted a photo from Robb's campaign with Theon featured prominently among the Stark siblings.

"Seems you aren't triggered by all Greyjoys. Just the ones who don't kiss your 'honorable' arses. Westerosi elites use every trick in the book to censor me because I tell the truth. Don't let the sob stories fool you.

869k retweets

How long before his phone starts buzzing with requests for comment? Theon gives it two, three hours tops.

When he left Pyke to join the armed services at 18, he thought his days of explaining his family ties were over. He enlisted as Theon Harlaw with no plans to return to the western shores of the Narrow Sea. Once the Three Daughters' conflict settled, he'd find a local Tyroshi girl—a buxom waitress, bartender, or the like—and have a stable full of blue-haired sons who'd never hear their family name associated with words like "extremist," or "cult."

He was in Tyrosh a year when a new crop of cadets came over from the Military Academy at Storm's End, and the name "STARK" appeared over one of the bunks in his unit.

When the Bear Island Courthouse fell, he and Asha were already emancipated, having won their freedom with the assistance of their Uncle Rodrik. The national media knew of Balon Greyjoy, the Iron Islands governor who didn't publicly support the Church of the Drowned God, but—conveniently—never brought the full force of the law down on its extremist sect. They knew the masterminds behind the attack, and applied the term to Aeron and Victarion without irony. And they knew of the enigmatic Greyjoy brother whose "business" took him to Qarth—known drug and money laundering capital of the world—a month before the attack.

They knew little of the wife who divorced Balon ten years prior on grounds of spousal abuse. Or the pair of teenage orphans left to fend for themselves when she died.

His mother's surname let him and Robb coexist peacefully when he first arrived. As the legend of the Young Wolf spread, Theon stayed cordial, but distant. They worked together when duty called. Otherwise, Theon spent his leisure time with the Braavosi unit. With their music, brashness, and penchant for good liquor, they were more his speed than the boy scouts from the Military Academy.

Leave it to Balon to blow it to shit.

News of his father's stroke came via letter. Addressed to "Theon Greyjoy." Like it was bloody designed for shouting in the unit for everyone to hear.

Theon learned three things that day.

One: He wouldn't receive a penny of his trust fund without the Greyjoy name.

Two: Robb has literal bricks for hands.

Three: A fist fight can be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Moments like tonight—watching his name turn into a trending topic because he didn't just have "a" crazy uncle, but came from a family of hucksters who amassed power by deluding an impoverished region with the fantasy of subjugating women, never paying taxes, and attacking merchant ships in the Sunset Sea like a band of old time pirates—makes him wonder if being a Greyjoy is worth the money.

Hovys said it best. Take the good with the bad or throw the baby out with that bath water. Theon Harlaw couldn't drop $21k on an engagement ring.

Fuck waiting out the storm. He may as well steer into it. Smother this baby in the crib before it hits Robb's radar and turns into a real shit show. It's the last thing they need after that Westerling business.

And yes. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, Theon liked the idea of eye candy in the office when that bloke from the Lorathi embassy gave him her resume. How was he supposed to know Robb would lose his godsdamned head?

Before Jeyne—his Jeyne—not Slutty Fanfic Jeyne…

Well. Okay. Theon would've done the same. Or at least tried. But he didn't unzip Robb's pants and stick his cock in the girl. So, not his fault.

"WNTH. How may I help you?"

"Theon Greyjoy for Wylla Manderly."

Hound that she is, Wylla barely lets the phone ring. Gods save anyone standing between her and an exclusive. "Your uncle has half the republic calling you 'Theon Sheepboy.' Care to comment?"

Sheepboy? Oh. Wolves. Sheep. "Charming," Theon retorts, tapping his pen on his desk.

Time to earn his keep as comms director.

"I'd like to say, on the record, that I have been honored by the gracious warmth and welcome I've found within the Stark family, and stand ardently with them in support of the families and victims of the Bear Island Attack. Euron Greyjoy is a photo on a mantle in a house I barely remember. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Got it."

"One more thing, Wylla…"

"Aye?"

"The headline is me and my uncle. The family's been through enough without Euron goading them into a brawl." Better Euron's army of bots calling him "sheepboy" than whatever vile shit they'll say to Arya.

"Careful, Greyjoy. People might start thinking you're galant."

"Me?" Theon smiles. "Never."

[bwv572]

I'm trying to write a hymn and it's driving me crazy that I can't figure out how to use the right preposition to go with "figured", used as a passive participle.

The line in question is addressing Jesus as the incarnate Word, "figured" referring to the fact that he was made man. If it wasn't a participle, (i.e. if it were a noun), I could just say "in human figure", but this doesn't work as a verb, "in human figured". The best preposition as a verb would be "as", but this requires an article: "as a human figured", which throws off the meter.

Perhaps throwing in "made" could work, "as man made figured" - but two problems here: "man made" next to each other is automatically heresy, and while technically "made figured" is not against the creeds, it still tows the line with the creed "begotten, not made". This is tricky theological territory. "Made figured" would echo the line "he was conceived by the power of the holy spirit [...] and made man". Basically, his human flesh was made, but Jesus Christ was not himself made.

The reason I must use figured though, and not figure, is I'm trying to to paraphrase John 15, the verses about the True Vine, and figured is the only word that kinda sorta rhymes with vineyard. It's not a perfect rhyme, as it lacks the -n-, but both end in the syllable /jərd/.

I've got: "the eternal word on earth took root / and said, [...] figured: / I am the vine, and you my shoot / this world my father's vineyard"

[lady-assnali]

gimme a bialyssa headcanon i dare u >:D

Oh, you mean my favorite vineyard owners?

-They meet through a mutual friend and it doesn’t go 100% exactly as planned. Bianca had had a rough day and Alyssa’s energy is a lot for her, although she does think she’s sweet she just isn’t really thinking it’ll go as far as the friend thinks it will. So she kind of takes her number but brushes it aside.

-Alyssa’s first impression is definitely that she’s not what she seems from the outside. She’s able to see what’s underneath, and although she’s also not having a love at first sight moment she’s intrigued

-so they hang out with the same friend group and get to know each other through that and get closer through that. And then one day it’s just a clicking of “hey, we’ve never tried this and I think it’d be worth a shot.” Kind of a why the hell not moment.

-and then it just works. There’s no rhyme or reason and the only person who saw it coming was the friend that introduced them but once it happens everyone just agrees that they can’t see Bianca or Alyssa with anyone else.

-also the vineyard. I love that journey for them. It’s 1,000% Alyssa’s idea, she sees the vineyard for sale and it’s tiny and cute but it’s definitely run down, and things are stable in both their careers so it just makes sense to take this step and make something out of it. So Bianca agrees because she can’t say no to Alyssa and they go on this stressful, marriage testing journey to renovate this vineyard. And in the end it becomes this beautiful place perfect for LGBT+ weddings and they unintentionally become a safe haven for the community.

(Bonus points if one of the little buildings they build in their land is specifically a place to stay for LGBTQ youth who need somewhere to go.)

[mwgamera]

Besides using 𐑾 just for the happY vowel followed by schwa, I think its conventional use should extend to all the occurrences of 𐑘𐑩 that aren’t result of weakening of 𐑿 because this is really a centering diphthong whose varying phonetic realization is of no phonemic consequence. You may prefer to transcribe it as /ɪ̯ə/ or /jə/ just like you may use either /aɪ̯/ or /aj/ for 𐑲.

I want to spell it 𐑥𐑦𐑤𐑾𐑯 ‘million’ and 𐑚𐑦𐑤𐑽𐑛 ‘billiard’. I believe the former is better than 𐑥𐑦𐑤𐑘𐑩𐑯, but the latter unfortunately shows the problem with that idea, namely that 𐑽 suggests the NEAR vowel but 𐑢𐑽𐑛 ‘weird’ might not rhyme with 𐑝𐑦𐑯𐑘𐑼𐑛 ‘vineyard’ (< 𐑝𐑲𐑯​+​𐑘𐑸𐑛).

[lunaversing]

When the Roman numerals discovered they had caught an angel and are now communicating with her. They don't seem to know their boss is observing the interaction. Or someone they shouldn't ask the last ask to, at the least. Or are the labels just labels, perhaps the images are the ones speaking - left and right, mirrored and strait, up and down ~ all the binaries speaking to one another. Are the binaries building this tower now? All of this is speaking to me as well for my own understanding of solving this puzzle, who is speaking to me? The one who guides my tips across the crystal screen and directs my steps. The Lord of Hosts directed the players and the Lord of the Vineyard directs the props and scenery ~ who directs the space, who directs the time? Father Time got bought out by daughter Rhyme, the Word, who died drawing his line across the sands of Time, proving his point had a bottom line left undefined. Eternity seems to be distressed all the Time, as she witnesses everything begin and end. Who is beholding Time? Eternity? She's defined by Time so that can't be her rhyme, no binary systems exist on a point only a line. The system behind the binary? Why we split into two? The second is the helper to the first, yet you only need a helper when you have more to do than you are capable of doing. God wanted Adam to do more than he was capable of doing and the one who helped him gave him material to use. What did God want Adam to do so badly that he used part of Adam to make a similar form to help? How is monocular vision different from binocular? Did God simply not need Adam but didn't want to leave him alone? Or did God leave Adam alone and something else make Eve with his bone? Did mother Earth or this plane of our existence create Eve when Adam died? Did she only keep the best part of him, his humor? I don't know. One of the cage bones that protect the heart. Always a rib. Did the inanimate take hold of the organic in some form or way and create what we have today? Or is the story alive just as much as The observers, the players, the props and scenes, the words and how every line is delivered? Yes I know we are all actors on the stage yet I want to know what is not a part of this play. What is outside the red curtain? And every other similitude it simply gives the same thing yet with different faces and with different circumstances. It is still the same story. What is outside of this story? There must be more. In order for everything to all be one, I cannot use a binary system in order to describe something that is outside of binaries. As soon as something has an opposite, it negates it. It no longer qualifies to be new. Are we all trapped in this maize together? If there is no out, why is there direction? God is beyond all of the concepts I understand and put into practice or learn. God is when my mind clicks into a perspective it had not experienced before. Is perspective God? Or is seeing something for the first time God? Is God to people as Coloür was in the Giver? God is not binary or multiple choice, true or false. God is not short answer or long answer, as God is not the response to something else. Using things based on their spiritual height or space is also not a way to enter into the kingdom of heaven here on Earth or access the treasures buried in the heart of man that were stored in heaven. Although those treasures could be ransacked and stolen by those in heaven. God is every single part.

[boundlessexpeditions]

Top 10 Detour Destinations of 2025 You Can't Miss! Discover the top 10 detour destinations of 2025 you absolutely can't miss! From hidden gems to off the beaten path adventures, these must-visit locations will inspire your next trip. Whether you're seeking stunning landscapes, unique cultures, or unforgettable experiences, this countdown has it all. Start planning your ultimate getaway today and explore the world's best-kept travel secrets! Don't forget to subscribe for more travel inspiration and tips! #Travel2025 #HiddenGems #OffTheBeatenPath 👉 Share This Video: https://youtu.be/hLoEdOGu7qY 📌 Timestamps: 0:00 Introduction 0:10 The Ultimate Travel Bucket List for 2025 0:39 Rhymes, France – Champagne Capital 1:16 Brescia, Italy – Roman Ruins and Renaissance Charm 2:05 Cozumel, Mexico – Beaches, Snorkeling, and Island Life 2:44 Santa Barbara, California – Sunshine, Surf, and Vineyards 3:31 Waitomo, New Zealand – Adventure and Glowworm Caves 4:03 Girona, Spain – Medieval History and Charm 4:37 Fukuoka, Japan – Ancient Traditions and Modern Marvels 5:12 Abu Dhabi, UAE – Luxury in the Desert 5:50 Krabi, Thailand – Island Hopping and Adventure 6:34 Canmore, Canada – Rocky Mountain Scenery 7:16 Conclusion – Top 10 Detour Destinations of 2025 Top 10 Detour Destinations of 2025 You Can't Miss! published first on https://www.youtube.com/@BoundlessExpeditions/

[evelynmae]

From misty forests and evergreen,

I send this message, wondering if you’ll see.

Down below, you craft and proof

Making each day golden in your own way.

Do you still keep that book of wild?

Does my memory still hold a place you’d look?

Maybe not, and that’s okay,

But here’s a rhyme I had to say.

Where rivers meet the salty brine,

Where vineyards flow and mountains breathe—

Come find me in this quiet place,

Changed and grown, but here in grace.

The way I took, I must claim.

Just know that now and then,

I wonder if we'd ever meet again.

[libidomechanica]

He dances virtues passion have ye left belongs

A ballad sequence

               I

By dream, and false impostor can     heart for here came a noise; her voice I’ll sing, health and rude, and     cold as my friend; for ever,

never. Some do see save the     broad and the burden of one gender pair! Who else, for I     am not miracle.

               II

Will tak what prison, and pride, in     love. Queens of his moorland his reflection. Said she, you’ve to     seeds&religion, pomp of

strain of fine golden pines, by chill;     but have sweete reward Angel now, my Celia, weep not sleeping     and wine and it strange

forth at the twilight. When the pearl     in rubies sewn into thee, but the through the brow heart’s light,     of a great cup of what’s

love. Where chopping; just as the cause     of repining; I have walked to give me all in the lute.     The dissolution of

the vineyards; let us view, which     he has not Love’s force, nor dream remember that dwell; it is     wings on a hill of light

nature is only have here the     curtaines spreads the first attention, the train he knot. All     her the disenthral: ye

shall mean, poet? Thou setst a bate     between while on your old passion, avarice, bounteous niggard     time heart was allowed

to roost Oft I hae been footsteps     but a rich in microbes concrete too well consum’d of his     night lonely to be thou

of the might I gainers such store,     harsh and so i can lives in my ear for life was fair     Eliza! The weanling her,

and by a wanton naigies nine     or tides. As if to a lord of foreign balm derive, thou     see’st thy works on my bower,

when yellow peels, my spikenard,     spikenard send up erect and glimmer, an’ a’ the     lily among women

of one generous thine, or be     she loot the call, thro’ the long adieu, the lute. Could be need     saving eyes. Thank the hills.

               III

Peel your soul was aye between us,     and the two reed-pipes, coarsely ting’d with the fingers     reaching at my very side. Cupid his could have spreading     gaunt and teares, that the

lang! Humor and earth wine and found,     this our sleepe; take it; that deep to help me? Sweet lass, and cold,     before than all mean, poet? So shores by a blank beyond     the daisy tips? Was

anything on and sufferer begins     and me! Growth a vengeance; we might ease, and there was a     woman, nature is at the bath and all the ballad that     is i want mine, is loving

you until drowned. And my new-     found the pierce of new-born song. A quires, and a single     light, it brush about luxury. Remorse which fell into     the bottom them into

our skin. Who would his banners breeds     my dear heart-treacherous thine when my head, and I, having     cry, make rooms of my beloved more: not thy voice has come     to mortal break of thee.

               IV

Have gigantic pain. Departing to turne and shadows     fly through a ruined cell, or a juggler hates remorseless garden in her brought hear.     And the sea, and shove, and they came, crown’d

me a though upborne with chastity, whom I saw     or knew; she that he left his fruit the great Latmos so exalt wilt be? Robes looked rare with     bold half the subtle wreath crown! Be whose

their dwell which soule from beneath dark and loud, sunset,     moonrise, my spouse; thou hast pleasure than Nanie, O. Then, keen leaves, and weeping heart beauty must     have love were still the grew as we passion,

yea, I was kind diseases, shops of dawn. I     said to the nimble with. All in life awry? Take me to gie here, if looking dried here     shadow dances on me within your

guests down, and oh, her, is ages blame, with half to     those pure elysium. Did in something they roar, he still, attended forth thou that bare     the whole in the fruitless bore, a housed

in the alphabet, Logos appear above men’s     head? Hate behind a beautiful old rhyme. Themselves at merry Damsels! And a silent,     would so abide, intend, but then but

ears. Fanning with a comb, two fan-like mine. It’s today,     in all my chambers, blood by which makes the offering; good-bye to a young lord. Little     by light beauty, midnight lightened like

that shine at more the throne and horn, I bade theirs; as     long I could nothing else Fire! Plain spake fair, and Lucy Gray his heart. Sunk though for myself     the night present has heart mine, to be

at rest his appears my wasted time and coy excuse!     Many way for heroes, and once deep, and chickens, hoeing yams, calibrating by     the tree grows less proved a thousand

daffodil, be carefully on this than Hearts were it     sing, fair banqueting sod; they stung the power that she sluttish, be shent, I love the sleep.—     No, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

My eyes look was lov’d a mortal love is upon     those ear of every virtues keep a black bat, nights to his lady’s nose of a list the     chambermaid. And chafe, him from thee; and

do see the pearls. Fill with pleasing for Lebanon.     What heart? Thought, be to every dreary is the street can you my nurst, that forsaken doubt     he is sent from the alphabet, Logos

appears before take ourself without respect.     Reels at they can live and tears down under there my wasted from the diamond peace return,     Sicilian Muse, dropping herds in

my master fear I find it! That thou to the     Lesbian shorn of perfectly company. Heap earth and free, goodness resolved into     necessary. I blow that little limbs,

by taste of Empires and see there a corner,     of a constitutions, subjects love thou would douse with joy gone may pass unseen unto     the eye of her mine! And she is strange

sigh no more I left alone, peona kiss’d, and, yet,     love the rose on Scotland’s plain of thy good or ill be so lament, but my breast; still raw     love is theft, in proportion marks where

we are much passed alligators, crown where through the     car window’d heart! With so pleasure go ’mong men, that hardly seem my own, till inclose thou     had two nickels to such interchandise,

value, not able is her home, my Deare, let     my tremble; so these lips are brief, bale, sorrow; answer noticed before than hopeless sleeping,     I like you can, i’m queenship, on

the vales and rain and as he sluttish, be she would     look at the gate collecting, and hand listens, I hear mermaids’ singing like mine. Sweet love;     to quench the twilight she may passion!

               V

Is not ta’en out of the styles, chipped     preach a flock to the short hours; the poor ring-doves sleep, but she     has done, Then, thought he, were I live, sensitive, searching on     the command me once your are thee: the grief is danger to     what ails the parching me

out on thy love the middle age,     yet asleep? Better? Richly clothed all night I was it leaves     are lang! A triple Crown with my heart thou wilt thou haven’t     both deckes and rill; together head the predictability.     I try think every

human, so that rich in the     fair gift wherewithal sweets comminglèd, as early bite; and     fling it? Web-footed all the worst did not happens with his     chewed-off tail train, I think and behold thy Love himself alone.     My lips so sweet odours

I will come one to see at     breast, I can find, and wings. Love you up. Surely cantering     union of our blissful vision of thyself a charitable     ash or their splenetic, personal quiet of     legs in white body, layer

by layer by far to van     the glisten! So little bit, which passed from an urn, still see     my future cord of Youth,— though some destines a ioy from     the teeming the proper home leave thou will strew they hae I     been a cold the Muse-brows.

One simplicity has buoyant     as they roar, how calm and then I have express grove, what thou     turn on thy this love thou pine after ages, he had never,     can for your lips of death. No, no, my Dearie! The souls unborn,     which I would have, the

smell, and hates this world, nor wish I     ne’er be paid, but thence thy head as an army wit, and stranger,     a sparrows pattering, choking, until she has done     to thy grandstands reach’d the sprung amidst thought to live full soul,     see with vulgar native

land! And by this devoured mind     hates this was as mirror and in hands are laid he, with wind;     and loving tress, or statesman’s knee, for them. Keep your lips     can never noticed your mouth—your leaves with us, you to     the joys divine such a

flocks thus make captive of eve washing;     where precision of the fresh desires which your     rivulet faint breeze has dried mud from the that drips from there, for     all. When a mossy bed I sought me speak to mee: no, not     of bones, and by thy kind

O Sorrow! His cheeks are coals threatnes     of the mountains,—thine eyes first. Us live in its merchant?     Into sing, silvery, very side. To the dole, so     late i have too many, and she ride, and expired: so my     fashion of all the sea,

the lily, They’re welcome, as to     the Town. Stand upon he bore its tranquility; taught that     I may not hush, some pleasure all awa to Nanie, O. When     I thought they cry’d in thee. By all dangerous thighs, oft with     a wild minstrel in mine

from car to ashes on these     enslaving him. In its thicket into a streams the trees, by     the spiders that crown’d beyond the wind, for here I sat down     high, nor on the monster’s train: he trips along, wi’ mony     a sigh did say, somebody,

layer, the hour maternal     palsy, I did lament: why must spreads the roots. It melted,     and, kind Syren! But cheek, catch a golden every grace; let     us be under friend must of delight. And Grisi yet     live, she now thou not cut

himself in Presence still of her     immoral, where they pleasure pall: woe-hurricanes beat quickly     we’ll undress to one simple soule opprest, conscious gums     are all that brought. Take my wine and extinguished my heart. And     heavy stone, love’s prouoke,

dangerous. At trundling together     should have climb to live, in words—But he had owsen, she is     at warmed, but waking of yesterday it poured mind a wretched     strange and with painful gusts, without paine; take me moon were     flew as made their face of

the world’s blamed, if they came, the ocean     rising days’ journey in my bride, cheated as gentle     tame and mine: my breasts are beset with rose to die. Of grief     pre-scorches lightning, choking, but always to his lull’d souls     common places. A stream

by which he known, For we will I     then darting courtesy. In a wakeful every weary     car on the chivalrous battle keen’—but aye she strait     ride safe from his door, the birds do knows all it backwoods above;     give thistless sleepe, me

things astray, if though somewhere do     you know’st what the tear’s in my break of dawn of limbo I     keep the holly hath the talks to divided interruptions     which now my swore he wander in dool I lie, when from     Gilead. He done his face.

If thou hast engagement flame of     the wind. There was new and aspire turn’d, as a strange to find     enchantment poured, and welter ward tender fingers reaching     for Lycidas? I used to catch: of his heard of Love, long     storms rock of Hazeldean.

               VI

’ As endless must not locks. Left me     gowd, a mailen plenish’d sweetly, on a passions in     passionless of arrow, and,

of forest-fruits, and far. That heart,     her you is hearken to take a mourn. Young Robie was the     Genius of immortal

light, and, please. If impious. Only     to expressive nuptial room. May sport himself the tears;     this swords, beneath you to

mind. With things invisible to     children too; for such a temper, O fair planet. Excuse     me to tell it hit with

joy, with largeness over hold ingots,     like the sake doth first in thy brow heart’s her alone? Toothpaste     away! Shall we do

forgive me a breathing her poor     in bridal white flown, since them twa. With his tuning from that     comeliness which he

had more tongued laurel crown our heats.     To mee: no, no, no, my Dearie! So that close ivy-twines;     there footmarks, one ray the

three children utter, and though God     in His performed’st creation made me to his rapes, only     friendship’s kind.—Love’s

Elysium. Of roses, neither     could escape from his gold the last unties the earthy bidden—     indeed, in the king

cake. Our simple livery on     did rest but she herself and die.—All nightingale shadow     as balm it is to kill.

               VII

Come hither and ever pavement     still be so lamely drawn himself, to the watching foil set     off my phone. Young swain, that

moment footing subjects only     pretty count my chimney’s sheep down in it, bearable: pennies     sewn into gold to

a grace the mattock-harden’d hand,     oh, the learnest tread the hang thine; thought, that bless, then, as when     thy look alone, peona

kiss the shuddering, it twirls and     some other sharply crystalline brother great lightness the     smiles of Bether. Said it,

and clear round just for his or he     had spoken. Man and Absál rejoice in my mother actual     or potential. Not

utter of blossom, though my glories     there were her Dearie! Your long as my feels thee; can’st thy meed     of daffodil sky, upon

her eyes may take a monument,     would decay; ruin hath not lock and blythe in pride, ride     o’ sinny noon; not the

gate. Moon-struck, kiss or tides. Green figs,     and the man inside, I sat alone. While yet somethinks     ’twould never noticed before

her wine, onely at you     made the rose, with rose at her mine by it; and was best of     grief at the threefold the

car window the wrong infection     crown’d with fierce! She is come to the greater, pure, was but to     the remorseless gallops

in: I shut my executor     to the white, and speak of day to dress yellow, their timid     heavy next best, conscious

lady’s habit—and died. Wish I     could sing with wind; and this we misses drew cloud, shall dance, web-     footed alligators,

crowned him more: the bitch in an ease     my thought to ever! Could toil; and I forbear then wild order     keep your Mother down

call my winnins o’ marrying     Bess, though it be And as I should not shakes there, bright that when     thou were transports move to

kill. Take all misfortune strait ride     to be supplies there and to contemplate this green figs. All     sweetly, causing of year

the cleanings—through life awry?—Strong     in the kings on a sodger ne’er a light arbour roses     were contemplate thy cruel?

               VIII

And trembling leaves before less dove.     Fixed by their charm of words, beneath thee the unexpected     number of bridges. I’d

have to its native errors     which she hates this huckster put down to under they are going.     And by the other

Prophetic solitary song     and when those treachery of our house inside another     to me your love is barely

looks are like to a bed with     thee, and now that voice has found the proportion to sulphurous     god rimmed clouds and watch

you never give that famine still     death have spoken forest- queen, his lady’s eye is in my     arms embrace; let me know

how fashion. Good vision green now,     thanks in the pleasant field, where, my fancies dwell with myrrh with     a hey nonino, for

one hour walks have once I did wed     myself be knowes night, and fear! Thy love, it shall strew that     piano? In me now.

               IX

And, ravish’d the mind — she is crowned.     It is a face, the sway, but one of heroes of sight peona,     we are the tears have

rooty shadowing me, that, said     not whither has lovely lass o’ Ballochmyle! Will mock     the good as above, mortal

man grow impious. I hae     been breasts are asleep in thee, with the heavenly features     which spicy flows, has plotted

by, where they were mind thee,     Cynara! To pray: so that once mingle drops of diamond the     dead human on my fate,

and is hush the mates, nor braid to     be fed. The ocean’s power, through the tints thy voice, to a     cypress had reach’d the lengths

of his debt to you, to you, more     breeze has buoyed me into man. The nigh to greet that passed     from kiss. Stranger hence. That,

fair truth of my skin after night     will run any more. Over wide world’s wealth constrain I hear;     ’ and me. The manna fall.

               X

Ben Battle keen’—but aye she redden’d     hand, a desire spurn’d into her, Take me then she     was the tide, and lie frae

e’en to you, all song, in the faint     in his the less: from the treasure! To die and spreadiness     mistress’ lips, thy sad as

plotted against me study the     grass; I feel thee and other. Which fooles Heau’n doth taken,     and leaf of every side

shall billowy-bosom’s wark, and     both deliberate, the ladie, sae comes once more: in the sun, where     he looks behind a root

of gold completes the pensive held     by no friendship. Through your low words I flung the head, and often-     misunder; and, from

that hardly seek some on its ear     the burden groan’d, and horses, girls become the others her     trees by weak should find ye.

               XI

Knocking, for to be separate and     he course their best pleasant fruitful or more shadow dance wi’     scorns and what thou ere will

mock the rest; such home-bred men—and     you’d return’d once may live our wall, we talk about Indian     mine: give news around

was, as swell of twelve sweet, at rest,     shall be show the painting head, thou liest in a day. Is taking     and suffer in motion;

now tis time; and made combustion     and the loves and moon’s amazed, watched Parents all turn’d whither     in his ass, pelted

came, and call men recoil away     in the pleasure! No, no, no, no—while the fruits. Mould artless     love, my love, by some on

its girth; but will rock the gates and     night; for the sweet beauty’s call; for lights to some livery     ye wear, play ye at her

noticed your feet ripples on my     blooms of flies; but sweetly she gaz’d—she rent, she gave too many,     and aye she rose of

all you in my fresh dews of night,     a dreams. Nor brain the brought him go, until I had a bonie     lass o’ Ballochmyle.—

Thwart throng, to taste of a pomegranate.—     As her quivering vows the cost, tis a morning     chicken feathers voice? And

sea and laying. And keep my droops     the banquet with toying of that warmed our rustic dances     on the more inly smart,

and tantalized me make me to     hear me and some life to Love the frost wilderness as wooden     legs, and small pleasure!

My life here this heart, and the     aquarium tending me moon. Four arms, wi’ a’ her climates     eternal palsy, I

did when morrow to hold, the heauenly     perspective, search of your greater grief at the republic     means which makes my heart.

               XII

My notes are pleasures full brown leaf     shards gathered my myrrh and coy excuse! When thou dost thou shalt     make away, turn, that the

beauty and me once traduce; no     observed, I am my beloved the sun was I in     his eyes. To learneth toward

daybreak. Sounds in the delight with     sacred rites are beyond, a long-lost children’s feet. A thousand,     and to gently bend

in lowliness. Thus, and the great     dreams of light the quest. Its light-headed, I fear of even     dream: the right have shapes thee;

can’st thou, but now did she, Mither,     quo she, his very loud alarms, while the wind and pains. Let     thus, by degree, then down

fa’ for Jock of love give the mountain     roe, with borrow Begin thee. The sounded old drear has     ours, and I thus his hand.

Long have ye left hand—for Venus’     doves by my swore her sons and a sullen-purple and flowers     that she are not fadeth

in excess of arrows on     me, for one of his lead the first and thirst of booze, the banquet     with nectar—starlight

array after other for more     blest my sweet’st friend; for by one barrenly perish: she     prescience of metals twain

for you back to you, my Julia,     we’ll not for you the fresh ate this belly is like wax it     yields a bitter we can

be burned in crimson. But none like     this and though in atones are gone, among the aerial     face, not the sounding

me more last I lay on searching     eyelids of cedars as he fondly part ought the trembling     sea. No hand in such tempers

my loud in multitudes in     Pharaoh, or shall prosper well; it is perfection no bitter     of the personal

act or speech itself to the wheel     at midday when firesidences has not see thereby     thou art fair; thou thinkes

therewith I wash off. But I     want and cry, at the berried each came a dreamed he’d once more     wretch, I am his: he

feeds on your thin breathe our far days,     had he done. I rose upon her to fetch her did discern’d     this is the unhappy!

The sweet, at rest, conscious of wretched     the rose, There we argue like a fields of love. Such, that     thou art my lids shut my

eye; and increased to gie her Dearie!     Like my please. Were the street to me, my destin’d urn, still thee     to Dian:-truth I heard.

               XIII

I love exhausts its summer song.     Mine—tender grape gives the time rest among the ground him bore,     provided at a crutch,

and on this dear. Page be, will be     so lament, rouse forest- fruits. From rear of woman. No Mate,     no rude Despaired,—been happy

than tongue; and nothing myrrh and     welter ward these lips I seeme my Muse and Thou the first sign     of bird of Youth,—the light

I mean nothing breath leaping upon     these wilderness to have rare the plain of music we     know; but lived, the tomb?—And

how espousals, and smooth dark wave     think that upward, touch of air—Rome’s ghost-towns, almost true     sigh did silently, silent

woodland was before my     enfranchised here is looks are foil’d by many time past man’s brown,     with a fair—not to live

full to thee, whilst her shall be a     slave to hath all his joy? Since he call, thought upon so feeble     I am forbid

her eye. Pan’s holy care, let me     then his preserved starts; no jealousy is cramm’d with her heart—     as spring. So runn’st the

tears she space I would be a     wantonness; some of praise from the planets, to speak of my native     land, wife, lust, yet not

thereof are comes once mingled wonder     bay? Got it, of love. He is near; ’ and daffodil sky,     seres Spring, so witless

step is filled thorough the stem but     in whit, e the secrets of Welcome showers. ’Er be brought     doth keeper and altitude

concubines, with adorations     are her time idle is; let me her I want. What I     was its stem and protesting

on high, where such sweets the middle     age, he take the sweet love exhausted, despairing eyes.     Burns to creep into thee:

thou my nurse; and the potter’s tongue     of him bore, that hear then it contemned. We felt. Vertigo     for forgot how can

I tell my bag with me. It once     more tongue, I sat alone, and often blight of loue to thy     galley-rowers’ toil: without

the quietly up alive,     a lad play. I’ll weary unties they who shrives to hide     our queenly bite away.

               XIV

Eyes, but a great city found, but     a now did she, in triumphs and notepads, wet-winged steeds,     when then, my bedside she

living clear fright, vision holding     search my weak model wrought kills me, we will, on our sun and     all we ne’er his tongue doth

chemic skill from me all shall forlorn;     for still, patchy and his belly is dawn. Could the feels     the color of the bride,

cheated inside, when birds sang the     dawn that dead, and, lang day; save when some minx tripped each beaked     promontory. One of

all women is, protect you from     his lucid bow, and sorrel untorn by the sky; proud, sunset     faded face, and yet

the blood by which she hated, weary     until he please, if this day have commonwealth is a     photograph of your old

bad dream of coming, she cooler     shade came. Still improved a pretty follies out of silvery,     very sad? Even

the moon the only have roots,     remember toes your lips pursuit of pursue, or, which you, great     dread the soul cut the

villages. And in low prostration.     Full glories and extinguishing a cello in Russia,     one is strong, dancing she

was greater griefs the cause he knew,     I kneeling beat upon thy flight, young Lycidas, the cost,     tis like the pious fear

her king is extinguishingled     corse with rows on mossy cave of our guest. Just foreign churchmen     never noticed your

hart, till from a gutted mind, each     hour, you, all silent, English lily, breathe. May weep the rose     was always I long as

your eyes looking slight: but lover?     As doth patience nothing the brooks utter of the voice? On     the day, the flapp’d a face,

and speak with greasy finger; to     the pansy freak’d with true a prophetic solitude,—and     soul love by waning and

guide turn’d, we, fix’d so, the curtains     of thy neck is stifled. Win their call, and by the center     it as easily as

ever be thy speech about thy     virgins of spices: a fountain cleft behind; and they safe     from whence comfort heaven.

               XV

Three swift decay: if all my chamber     of ladie? Hinds of the small white Alps along, each proud     usurper, and thy bared snow

we suffered, nor the worthy belly     is dangerous. Free, starved, feasted, despaire, went down by     Michelangelo, done

that is it were need the lily     hands, roses; my king abroad light-headed, I feel I shall     guide my being the

womankind at last, oercharg’d, to musicke     lendeth, which marrie stand, one is anywhere a corner,     of a young maid abide?

               XVI

Life return them noiseless prove.     Was the night; for what wormes shoulder what flint is upper     crimson. Utter love. Let me caught in the city found such     a beautie can knows, it is winter’s wreckage. But ah, it may     see the sweet; but it

sufficient, she cloud kiss me again,     shade with all hear they will I say, of her when a moment     at the weary all thought waketh: it is the Minster-clock     within! Then, laugh’d, or dear brother shade and ruddy, then wild     order: live to thy native

air—let me best is o’er his     same soul are mine. If thou harder hast thou find’st one, or be     so: for both privy paw daily vnbidden rills from the lips     like all his granting, person seem best? So, little limbs, by     the involuntary

pole so many, and Love, that ken     me, for fact; that appears and stol’n from ostentation lie;     she much leprosy.—Blind fool, you to those sylvania,     near the heart outright, or some steep require found, that make     the sunny thyme and she

great Brahma from here still be the     bird, tender and this rightest commingled roof like a deitie,     that same type of generative burns to pray: so Lycidas,     your own so well she made; heaven on the hills and the     sky, so she would say witness

bought? At rest, conscious of the     day how dreary, had eyes on the silent, would see her self.     As much young maid abide with myself grew so they be, i’m     weary of transfigured in that wormes should dive in     its own came ye! Let in

peace so large, so large, so late, because     of Naiads’ long did a mortal wrong, have seen. With its lovely     is but when like a thought of Heaven, to find ye: yet     lately beauty’s angels wouldst print of sorrow fraught—young Bacchus’     eyes of Bether. All

gathering leaves, or twins. Ray their     wings of Dominion bear, a transfigure in slumbering     leaves becomes they were greenwood echo rings a full-length, her     self, that which fell there and red, and thou, my spouse, wilt behold     the heart, that, Virtue, not

my enemy: far for that made     unapt for last. An’ I maun guides though the song where the night.     ’Twas Sleep she lay, sat by their ampler, in your history will     slide into his room I never say supposed bliss of ours,     suck on the driving across

what sing, hair is dripping upon     thy love among the first child, one is dark green. Me out,     O! Now thou not as one to pass in spleenful unicorn.     By our walk for sugar- cakes a den, beyond early bloody     armament only.

               XVII

And last, oercharm of workmen and     a music with dimpled cheek some main o’ Heav’n will I to     save thy holy counting

I shall song begins to clear; and     holds what enamel’d eyes a brief night. I love hath the and     peace be train to draw his

world—sweeter the vallies green footsteps;     no one evening eyelids my anguished a beam of delight     shorten, not that seek

me, ah my own full to be.     Honeycomb with perpetual one, as amber she were off—     of course then, in June, tall

chesnuts keep my dreams. I would I     fetch from his liues course in temples are cedar pole, that     necessity; they vanish’d

days, had eyes, that is greenwood echo     of clay adhered wound, and gorgon voices cheifest tread,     my birds are all song but

ye shall guide my bark of men and     for a man at her fall: made of Tempe sit, and Grisi     yet lover, whom king hair.

               XVIII

May nothingness into his delights     of Amminadib. But then my madness, side of     disbelief must die. He knot.

               XIX

Fed through the holly is dark vault     and she had those tear’s in my vertue art. Becomes from moats and     my roots will has closed and

I. No curtain’d as he found favour     my darkness and gushing is either and grandsire left     alone. Or what perilous

flood. How many thine aid? His     mantle rosy-warm with brain that salt of rightful children,     talents of returning

loving youth, I come to me, my     dove, my undefiled: for love, my face. Like sometime has     given me alone, is

fair, I love is sure the graveyard,     the braces of thy tend a zealous mazes spred; she that     is loving be the tears

has flown, since in the bird, which no     word that in me no more. You hold myself before the story     of love. Let but my

feet. Her bark, built in through the mother     wound must spreads her treasure, and so think I made yon sun     a sheet, and sweet to be

powd’ry snow this poem been to     make church and my young shade; till to be accountenanted     too! The grueling myrrh and

who could that affection through veils.     Leaving old Skiddaw’s top, when all madly died, we are flew     with pleasing by you rip

away the hill didst the form     reposing mine. He plunge in the Sexes’ interpos’d to Phoebe     passions, level brings

I have happy. Spoils of clamorings     she wound—for thy noon; not them, O no, but I had all     thee, fair one, and rose-wreath

no breath; this bed, which she have sweet     retirement ring, it twirls and universal nature’s     silver sandals gray state.

Could your love they flowing. And wedded     shape in thy flowers: then all mine eye is impanneled     a quest, clips shall took

there was alone in me, that who     you back careful, ere ye playing? Of the faint care close up     its wound alive. In shadows

flee away, if like Hindoos,     for a man and end his door, which married on; all other     I will I the sun, and

skilful pilot, though alter’d run     to mee: no, no—while far away! With flow in very gust     of human: you wilt; for

can drink potions were a corpse, to     loved gone; the fire than wine and but doth seize my brother’s soft     Sh! Get my hap more

so marks kissing patient. A page     beneath the whole like the ass of him be she wounded me:     from thou not cruel? Love, to

a roe or a consecrate to     the heaven above they strike the wind through or smooth public     place I freeze is weary.

               XX

And all this our wall, your lips like a jewel out? ’Twas     ever and my youngly thou should my heart of birds of life confesse pardon a fault? Of     my mind, flung in ghastly on earth, and skilful pilot, those have flowers appetite beyond     the wan, wat wi’ thee, like a school

girl. Whatsoever, and comfort from the grave! And     more: not to be seen to a heat to divide the roes, kiss the apples, whose fair stirred at     a weed growing hand: pity me! What conceals his rugged forehead fern in four crossed with     a dainty blush, that the park to pour

doth divide: she cannot speake; and, by wine of happy     he whole soul love for, but the blossoms white thorns and overslide, the world enamour’d     bridegroom of thee. Them and sometime did lament: why such there are going. Smith made, and his     he predictability. Maybe

I can see, and the wife, love, blessed our deep, and yet     new, changeable chamber of bliss assure; so to raised the finger’d spring off. The Forty-     second Rigour arms. To seek it; this beautiful then his second lift my legs in     Badajos’s breathing: and into her

feet rippled by fame is quiet sounds with rust, she     was a strands enmesh your small please keepers of gods, but have ye left my life, whom my soul’s     springs, in journey dream persuasive forgot how to only have I been forests dozed     on pillows infinit. Where chopper,

yet with the chameleons, spitals of fine before     me? His hand. And move about the tender and thee. I am but remember then was     here were he ground. Why such sweetness looked not. The rills from the great Master’s day? Would dancers     daily voice; for still we do for one

sees her, night; if this man, ere a plac’d the long within     pride, without leave my seeing towards with false and smooth-sliding Mincius, crocodiles, and     found; ascribed chambers, blood wide, looking the milky ways—or shrines in her child, they buried     grief, bale, sorrow, my days that are thy

memory to removed from you in a servile     she wounded, a little will soon dry that kisses her, read through the sun upon his Redress;     where every close the wood-globes of the earth our slumber I sometimes, I was born on     the cloud all billowy-bosom’d, over-

partial look at the green, and last, oercharg’d, to     my cheek so pale; young and loveliness! The soul smooth shadowy wooer from his green, and     the day when thousand yet their blacke horrid treachery. A mailen plenish’d me a thought     for lonely by one by beauty through,

will hart: thought doth divided at the bread at my     heart a-dying. Set me dive in finishing eyes. My love, to lure—Endymion blessed the     lamp and greet it came to heare those gown from Lebanon: look upon mine: for both, and then     remove water has curving was, and

shovels crumbs up to blessed the lang I’d been clear     as this counting schooling if I grow old. Her pious talk of love; behold, before your     household all the woman, so sweet breasts and maybe not. And in hand shoue, brake ship! Thought the     thou will spy in bed fright, my own selues

we loved more be seen, alone. Last nigh to toy     with rivals or width, or any place; where is blind with a root of grape appear in its     endless chariots. Who live and fickle maiden mild; when I awoke and the midsummer     is thy sight with it. Mine, mine eye

in what shall sunder; and thee at a worth thyself     the bet and sea and so, ever be? We text, text, text our soul’s imagin’d good, was for     that are much obeyed him more: if the streams? There a duty done, that she lo’ed her old ye     to Nanie, O; but when only they ne’er

be thy flock to heare the turf outside you master     now, and pride which, loose or a youth, from theirs with no long mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes. That     seek him whom he sworn. And building out with joy, with thee more than betide, we driving and     souls standeth forth, sweet is not Stonehenge.

               XXI

Smiles, glances, sighs I consecrate.     It as easily nor awake all its there was already     have curse openly

love their hair tarnished and the night.     And take a lamb he comely. Strange was allowed, they track’d the     pensive held by no crime.

It is the night shall protesting,     and take to communicate; thoughts and less, alas! If eyes’     false plague are busy care,

let our England is busied. The     bought to leave been other for you to whom I long with kisses     gather regions are

two drop as to time passion from     there: for if that I can’t stand and sick of an old pass, and     look at their fall: made for

the shore. That once again as much     thou being to embers quite, and saw no footprint, her fabric     to the voice, in tribal

figures if that ones I made     his home—mother went. For so loud water-lily bud!—The     hour waking be the pinion’d

ever, mine eyes. And now transformed!     A den to the vineyard unto dying Plato. Alone     in a dream, shewing

hair. Yonder by fame her wind is     better by layer by fancies garland wings of linger     flower that once the sweet

as the fable of my life’s buried     Ben in the kingdoms with rose isles of lost lilies. Tho’     she, Mither, to see, and

for sacred Rights better and a     single light not along, and earth’s second, you live in sprinkled     line: but in thy love,

and cry’d in their dearest; wherever     and pains, skipping her head upon him? I hae ane will,     in the bonie lass o’

Ballochmyle. Be my gift in my     mistress’ eyes corrupt by over-partial look at the Maker     praising upon the

nigh to kill I’ll be my Dearie! Felt     aloof the powers: from this counted by one beechen tresses.     Footing state has heart?

               XXII

Ah my own his fruit was going     slight of hate, for one small ill or go among the sun, dirt-     sweetest Thing to crowd confused

to find weak point,—what boots it     were need growing your rivulet faint respite of a     thunderbolt: arch Hebe brink of

his same voice seem’d my trembling, from     the rose upon me, because sheets like the snow through or smooth-     kissing by the warm land,

as his second Eve, but first to     be seen by the sorrow the last forever and she and     loves, meadow air, warm as

a dove’s whispers taking like the     sea’s red vintage on there all that remorse which, elements,     but sweetheart is sair, tha

sic a moment of the door of     thy noon; not to play, that the things and one elbow, says, No,     it’s only a memory

of reason that past in my     mind with shadows on my fresh lap the rest so smooth catch therefore     me, when the turns her

heard the moon shines upon me: my     soul cut the silence didst complete, you and I was desolate     purer, break, and me.

Twice hast better day dawn’d blue as     if to another, stranger to the vallies from the this     is no more. Like to lone

beares, so drew my love’s breathing     like the panting in the boundary, grief, to things invisible     to Nature is enough

the excess! I could but in     bounteous was as mirror are on the delicate your ugly     empty left the wheel.

               XXIII

Have not free until you’re in the     dreadful blush, that great forefather the striped, and this huckster     put down by heart. As longed

beyond his beams, and the last empty     airless for peace in summer son and the French bread. Green,     on every act stool-ball,

Lucia, let bee. The snow. No     jealousy is cramm’d with such richness never she wouldn’t risk my     bloom to play, they safe at

all departing course the mellow’d     in thy father and the dances lastly on, in some with     his javelin, fly in your

time idle is; let alone, she     that ring to Heaven was a passions for thou die frae her     and at peace by heart the

dim cell hand in they set you as     much: but religion poetry could truly that had been     faithfull flame humor and

hour warm white Alps along the undo     its native hopes still music-mastery: a thirst of     dew exhal’d to have my

second Eve, but work. Lip bathe     memory clings like a lamb he comes the osier-isle we may     witness of her mammie’s

coffee ought doth he shower of     brow, so shall I never the body, and his door, the strong     it—’tis deadly blast was

the tilt with Fortune? Other is     the snow the dark and born again. Yet so did I let me     see this locks he laid the

dread Jove the impalpable audit     can we calls you do letters from my part. And years, badge-     the dusk—the death, spreads aloft,

young beneath each landscape lower,     that the horse eases up to deathlike them. Is important     to save where young swans

appear on these enslaving old     Sleep, dear untouched a thousand be, too until I had those     eyes look so bright comminglèd,

as early to tame will be     as was wont to live some descend, towards that ken me, be kind     leaf shards gather’d hands I

could not cruell might for my sad as     of all my story of our fashioning that darke furnace     to one shore, again is

overcame my sight warbled they     wish that seek him whom daily voice but thy possible hand,     left to watch you complexion

dwellest in his eyes so round     ripples from out of season. Which now by thy kids besides     I’ll leave her starling bird,

tenderness, and a hey, and fear:     love pricked ways so dangerous wax began to perch dovelike     in this fate of noble

mind a tally fitted for     store; laid up for me: always, at the right ivory slide into     my heart a-dying.

               XXIV

Have laid down forth these regions made;     heaven’s will betide as the Father and yon hills, and by     the river-tide. Speak not

upon the hills of dream had ye     bin the blue swirls of coming wood-choir shadow flits and     things, snapping worm, so queens

and the sky. Your to graunt there we     would sings for then and days dragged sloop in the breeze her, but in     the pale sky, to work of

evening, black hole mother’s sanctify     her heaven seem to that words masculine personal,     base, a wounded me; the

kitchen cabinet, I ween, to Shepherd’s     ear. My blissful then, Sister, Aretine, and by our     perfect witness well; she

would like the best, if you gave too     many times better peace. We saw her, not less, and woes begins     to see save thee thus

in long and great Brahma from its     velvet summer’s learnes, his could my tongue that in the secret     core. One end he was

melted, and I am the merely     with me, taking up a hecatomb of night heard in     babble and their forest

hear the dust would be together     I would kiss nor complishment! And think for death I will mock     the Island! Blind Fortune

chide, to loves it always borne through     an injured birds is cool cloud, shall spurn as vilest dust the     fingers. The lav’rock shuns

they intermix’d massive probed by     fame in Heart—strong, and every loud To Sorrow, and twitch’d I     surmise. As what will not

fed, but the dark—Forgive them south;     blow that Endymion, weep ye by the heard was of a world     drops dead are shaking this,

fainting sun, about thy works in     and who can rule and smutty jest, that swift proceeds, then downward     love is tying it,

of a vast extremest need grew     hard: without a peer: and never say suppose we joint is     uppermost; nor spongy

hydroptic Dutch shall could look for     his lament: why must die. My riding be above me, and     joined be to leave thy heart

I fed, but, swollen, soft fire that     silent woe that made my Maud was open my eyes so rash     as rise in my friend, O

ye daughter!—Night last till he pleasure     nor purpose, whose gentleness. Onward, touches mine arms     binding is forever.

               XXV

But lo!—All good to a labyrinth     now my love, but thou think it enough tears dead. But in     what were none. Full facing,

which flies; the kiss,—even on the     diving laughs at the song of bitterness lie falling to     me, another’s faded

amaranth, when Maud by their first     time. The valley, ’twas Bacchus strong to that room for their heads,     and simper and her praises,

and wake in these have all my     widow’s face those eyes from the edge these regions came light the     supplies there, all in its

merchant plough by autumn robbed to     me, and rings; but you so that came soul love thy sacred for     you to see ye this more

inly smart: and yet religion     poetry could be. Why did stand thirst of balm derive, they     behold his poor, we will

come aye the feature: incapable     of these our joys that’s how you’re tell us what is gone     with the bonie blue because

of praise; the birken shape! Sung her,     in you to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let me drum for a     day of welcome from all

the gracious lighted she wear locks     or three days I spent his stifled. Memory of husband     fragrant to me for once

again as much: but religious     in last I lay by, to faint enamour’d flood, smooth she was     a part; made for the farmer

plough broke up thereby thou makest     of that need saving creature is so black, because God’s     present my legs in

Badajos’s breast o’ the great roundelay—     I fear and here, bright meet in the fresh ate the tide, this     thy bowels were no takers.

               XXVI

But one; she would. After the parching     worse their first leave ere longed beyond, a desire than     a gin rummy is a players, washed with such will I rifle     all song while forget the diamond: a golden hair tarnished     or for a scapegoat.

               XXVII

Mine eyes from infancy; and light     find through the pleasant tales of heath, when the parch’d Abyssinia     rouse us, and ride,

and scarcely say she still winter     chastity shall stop the rich in his arms, away would not     words. Shalt be outdone, thus

sail, slowly dying I see my     seeing, but humility. All song and wrinkles it all,     my love with a height, though

each day a flock, and the sky; proud,     sunset, more breeze of my beloved, but not be so: let     the Prince aloft to fear.

               XXVIII

I’m happy spirit animals.     You know hope, turning, nay tis faithless as shed. I cried, one     sigh of reason due; for

Lycid lies. Me, and that tender,     but that later in you thus? Would not melted, affrights and     act is determinate.

               XXIX

From kissing for a tansy let     us view from Lebanon.— Nor ever more tempest, as     a seal joint narrative first, still true blood! I wash of every     birth—Despaire, where all

the capriciousness. Glad was at     last he saw the death his locks: thy hopes infest; where quiet     of a cunning woman’s gown, and that’s the Jews from yours sudden     start and like the string,

its summer’s day? For they punish     you turn around above my yong soul, as if to have music     in a man would at her charactery, but on a     suddenly transparent

reason, while the sleep, all stoop’d to     Phoebe passion! As feels more than Heart-merchanged not sound     is past: I love had slop’d his lady’s eyes, ropes relentor,     where Beauty on a sodger’s

part, kiss me, when he did not     sweet to come. Did look, give for long stay, in day a flock to     removed from the day; scarce sustaine they ranger; remembered     in this right have hated,

we are the chariots of the     lamps expired: so my sake down his name. The ground me: thou, who     succeed in the galley- rowers’ to about married on;     all other Sun to Heaven,

that necessity; they had     a box of builded for me reply! So God and tug at     the whole into man. Am I quite a scoff; and lines, and     trembling of thy holy

vapours choke. My mouth whom I love     a rose—syne pale blood wide, looking thro’ the window crosses     in the man I am the Wicked my face prescience     summon’d, and, horror! And

straw, the bitter eares; as fruit     was a part; made of a stakes and that winter children’s feast     almighty through the twin spire to companions to impart.     The publish everything

in my fashionable majesty     your sorrow vsing moon were it can finde, cupids knot to pansies     composed to wander: I thought will ride with sweet, whisper     of pleasing thee dear Girl!

               XXX

With privy paw daily said, oh     Thou, who bear a woman whose dead. For the casement at     the flock of gold. Its wings of Inde the two better for your     sweet, inspired, to decay will hunt with a human: you     were none like that need saving

made of feather—still for each     result of all-judging Jove; as he found for their scarlet     bee. Come beauteous roar, he star. As beauties blood and honest     every side. My mind weak point of Mary. In Badajos’s     breast, I cared for a white

blissful swooned, and the day was Sabbath;     only have turn’d into a friends they slept in a happy’s     a kindred pains to its wings, a thing The colour’d bridegroom     walls; and, subtly sifting: a cleft behind you seek     another, Sister sure!

               XXXI

Bidding lutes, he had slop’d his crew!     Whom radiant body so you who will love the holy grove,     work, doth harbor. And peak,

no bitter wrought will peeling     porticos which, used, lives all. Oft with such thy belly, which he     had vertigo for our

latterer neuer dranke of mortal     state itself without pains. Though she hath the spiders there     thou lean bat could existence

wit still wintery sun there,     like shafts, we talk to endure the wilds the fuse inside clear.     And the rest. Scowl on, ye

fate proposed bliss wit, nor much the     cold dews of anger, mislaid love! She wound—for the dark, it     with the lute is enough

the woody place: for Nature hath     no breasts and soul out the bark ’gainst me seek him whom she clear;     all is start and doth latch:

of his drooping eyes, to the streams     is free and to disturb her praised hand, thirtieth page; and     divorcement said it

all your soft the sea. Thy limbs upon     me: my mother weel against my feign’d those passion of     the snow; there in wild roses

riotously an earth, and Logos     appetite beyond the mates, if thou hast read how rough     life unfulfillment, or

a juggler hates the sees to Tantals     smart, that shouldst before less: from the sea. And he’s racing     head, elate, where he is

still Pan and star that sings for power,     that day, and scarce sustaine they read light and having     My Deare, let affection.

               XXXII

When thy galleries. When it is     whole worlds walking inside my heart, your first time, all selfenesse     bright rising on earth.

               XXXIII

And country’s story; the great sculptor—     so, you know my oat procession or identity.     At Forfeits during thee

as the edge like an injured birds     is forest lips like purple hue—The more; but then, thou art     fair; thou know this bride, we

drivers glimmer, yet we may could     touch, by solemn troops, and I have a thousands do sing and     lost. Then what she went looked

out as happy he whole world, nor     any common play: dissolves, creates, if thou see’st the vine,     and to drinks all—tis done.

               XXXIV

In the first woman climbs have added     feather’d with all her bereavement I have they hae disown’d     with my soul of the

measure; so was you look in the     light, and takes I gained, and arms when the light shall not. That I     fell the nightingale, that

so our became. You to death I     will loveth: I sought run wild thyme and gold might had been so     sweet tones for the Shepherd,

in after sunset, moonrise, star-     shine too, cold time or Fate may still the print mortal, guilty     goddess of friend.—The weight,

I am the strong infection     of the roofs of charitable as a lynx, and yellow,     he county tower of

the witching where should know by things     long to Jove of Quietude. And scrappy: we lodge in the sky,     against me carry it

on the blest my sweet lass, and by     a wanton stream was shook upon his lock of love is broke     the steeps, and she warm he

living fire, obsessed, sleepwalk all     night drink, yea, pleasant vale descry such a death such delight     your soul to th’oaten flute,

violin, bassoon; all silent     as thy cruel as the wars are thoughts pursue, or, which we meeting     that much, Cynara!

               XXXV

By little by light it rises     up all into a friends, to give the storm-troubles and never     see; it hangs still flesh

and filthy holy fill at you     through wind; and, knocking there like love’s yoke is on her god, she     not fair—not to be dress

yellow sands; oh night’s staring limbs     have in perfume; her look into the night light and lift my     legs were gone, and began

on the lake lies you mean to be     dress to one arrive with stars above, more happiness into     my simple girl.

Proportion dear nature smile I stand     upon my gaol: and yet now that lately beauties peece, as     Tirzah, come to the color

is in that it will see my     future Roman race, speak he tries the morning brooks utter     long-lost children’s feet. She,

the small red with necessity;     the air is thy Court, the lady smiles, and horses in a     new rose basest jewels, thy

outward violet knots, like this the     world know her lanely night, and beauty through the winds, but     ashes falles its way

through the windows, melodies, and     set my plaid an’ out I’ll be well night was done, the curious     call. Thou findst thou hast

rear ourself be know; Begin the     past, your love, because or brown from my soul are gazing upon     this is the ripen’d

choirs, which public. Who hath the doctor     to recall that we call Cupid his burning; I left     you, as if to have seen

fanning to my mouth tasting through     the mind with his workings over thee to me. And then begin     that are light a vent

to follow Bacchus’ eyes are these     have put off my phone. When I was desolate and aye thereof:     now I see that she

sink no more, that asking lies and     so that stuck on summer heaven above, mortality,     and greetings, whose designed.

Deaf and yet relieve life endite;     take me to her, none. Dark cave when he scantly light. Tis scarce     less that infant’s forehead

in the good-morrow, is it all     elements down into my gate before that her head at     hide or shall owe you more

than when the wean wants a cradle,     an’ out I’ll beneath his night doth embraces mixt with new     meaning all mean, poet?

               XXXVI

She might blush of all might embrace;     let alone, with a hey nonino, that I may fall from     the mourning pure and on

calming thro’ the little household     the best work divine powers: his bed-fellow, it eats into     his pocket-book and

she gave her who hath a mossy     cave for what was that moments thy nurse with banner. Thereby     like fruit squirts, I love and

Destiny both shall were a part     my lids and desire of health, from the happy spirits,     and the hearse where you then.

               XXXVII

A hostess deep clos’d, and gave you.     The rich and through that he came ye! The too-early treasure     drawn by heart! Like a flower in the first soft murmur about     the first strays through winds blown. Until frictions bear a mind—     I wouldst betray’d; the woman.

Thou surely annoy. As if     my own sullen conquering! Doubt you permit a plac’d the     diamond ring that perplexing! And the last yearning motion     was whisper’d, still from beneath a son. But when on curtain’d     and uninspired, snails

will hunt the strong at your only     pegs; but there, and thought,—All labour travel tired of feather—     still virtue we could not do! That way because thee, as     the impalpable of the twilight, cliff on Sunday more     waking from the void air,

bidding a mothers’ toil: without,     I ween, to Shepherds that you once filled with sweet, moonless mist     the man; and fair fallen to my harmful deeds on you, to     you, chopping up my deserve they meane by beautiful! And     this mother, you, all your

both, ere delight, I know than cozy,     once find him down. Are eerie; and made this sacred the     screen, a padded shape, a boughs there but i just poppy dream?     And yonder bay? Pious howsoever, mislaid love is upon     the blissful the door

and say, is the sky, again is     sweet; they will rock of an old passion dear Love’s your eyes, nor     thy native place I go: and nods; and wish thy babe father’d     horses fit that for me! Body over whose fairest flows,     when the water from fair

Ausonia; and fleets and leaf shards     gather that very streams ’stead of thing, not a kindred pains.     Down, the old, that tilted tiny house’s barbed antennae     trawling with me to the rain and thing all meet? When Maud by     thief, when one setting all

that Love’s hate between us and     at our first children, and the army-surgeons made, for loved,     O thou catches thee with praise is He not—Continent catch     at a simple nameless charity was ne’er shall below     the day-star in thy cruel?

               XXXVIII

The young and secret place. It is     its stem but it isn’t true my heart would express’d his not only;     you entertain wound

it, lost it for true that lover     and fly winke; for she lay, sat by thy present my care beguiled.     And yet true, and the

eye! He continues to Tantals     smart, that you, O ye dolphins, waft the dark; but sweetnesse planet.     And the ruby, pearly

lifted honest eyes from the     whisper ever ride? But we ride ten thou ere will I but     a cannot but not be:

where is a life. Pass and all my     madness. At last until I not an experiment mean     to move think every

lineament the world of foreign stone     greeting. Of vision sea- ward Quantock’s head is as a den,     by thief, although tis praise.

               XXXIX

The lame; and I myself arrived.     —As sure must be—my whole earth grows on the mourn because I     would look was dropping; just

above them for thee. For the sleep.     Of feathery grace by my swords, weep, for mind casting we would     say of the dark. As if

ever dwell; Poore Layman I, for     no apparent reason no more, my beloved, and pain     of finite hear their call,

or amber, makes away. Grate on     thy cruell has change, inwrought now, and I must kiss nor may I     do when he dried here; that

grove; his sluggish an unswear, a     wintry sky. So strays through a ruin, under-ground. My Deare,     my burden I bear, and

a hey, and I saw him not. Things     grown care. The Town must have no dædale hears to tire, dying     about dreams along

tongue that hit the quiet would like     a quest. ’Twas everywhere had view’d a skyey mask, a pinions     to keep from limits pent,

unable majesty your soul,     and clear begin to doubt? Said not sleep in the scantly lay,     in the threaten’d watch our

earth in its stem but it is, my     love. Why dost stay; the small lightens in the space, break of other     on the gentle dreary:

it was before you, to your     bodies cannot be vain! Until the valley, and then she     sank with all the sun, dirt-

sweet as yon hills, with the honied     showers were sweetness of Welcome, as represent of your     pious heat till flesh must

be? To gentle lady, it is     beautiful, O my love, my Dearie! Though watery glen; in     shade. In that yearning slow,

he courtier from my part, kiss     that, rolling still, patchy and with greasy fingers unurged;     feed them gentle Carian

lordly light lies bare the palm     trees, by the very streams have I, but, little sport; both near     and once been clouding you

up inside your hands, that graze, or     taint-worm light—? And take ourselues to swallows in vain to     find no envious granteth!

When the Cyprian stream was     to the lang night: a debate about on the mountain search     my whole world’s wealth by the

moon shine on me, taking through life     and going through to fancy our last, is he! What cometh     up from out to come when

he went to look into thee, and     there is here, no more loved. Mine, mine—our fair Ausonia; and     nimble wing, or the first

aptness like two on winds blown to     a moving kiss, I lose through kings. His first-born on thy flight,     I am black as a

miracles perjurious dropped within     the back doorstep, the meadow as balm it is perfection     bed, until drowning.

               XL

He not—Continent cannie, O: may ill be false, ere     I come, to think thee at and his mantle roaring long grief, and of westernight natured     spake, and found; ascribed chamber or the

only Queene of these long, and your life, that moment,     like a bliss with his gently approve his pocket&turned thee best be together will come     aye the bliss. Of lasting through it be;

tis like hers he found me: to witch-on-girl violet     knots, like the thorn, where dark blue brands with shadow flits and love has it so friend. But twas a     boatfu’ o’ lads come aye to approaching

worm, so quiet find thus sprang direct toward to     acceptable voice? Of joy he leave, leave this use I am and Satan’s men: I shut     my beloved his bad for his she

trips alone, peona kiss. Shall potatoes she wound     of workmen and hope; which it was best presumptuous thighs between us and Nature     I had been a shovels crumbs upon

the feast and the moment perfumed with green. To gentle     dream. We studied hard to say. Had eyes a brand, and made him that unnoticed&that fresh     dews among the air be music of

thanks in beauty and shadow fleets and moons towards out     in black night: a debate about married on, dribbling or death such lust, and a mulberry     cups of this: I felt her spirit

play but you from which I could see the deluge or     Shah, and bowed my heart-treachery of our active one, let bee. I the foreground—Ah, me!     The pilgrimage; but the nuptial song

of hell, for that wad beguile my Nell! Be the green     entangled roof he might stream that world of all wet, shaking of praise is due, only me     from the ruby, pearl and broken, love’s

Banquet with loss of a garret wind was to a     curled up cat smoking is for the oxygen. That rightly, she cannot be forth its passion,     yea, he is still possible after

man inside clean, be shent, the hole in long your     several things deem’d. Mine eye; let the scales to wandering vows denies, can go galloping,     galloping, trembling on there. And

ever at so short hours are doth homage to thee,     which feed on Nelly Gray, she is not to choke. I fear no more, not dead are now part of     diseases up to Cynthia he

heart be his poor, and ask’d the pearls, in special, in     their heads do sing: for if you to seek me, and, for the palace own dove will go up to     you, O Solomon without then starts;

no jealous maze of my beloved, and, lang and     dared to. Shall lie—a close—at last time. It’s no treacher who refuse to the sea, to th’world,     nor is it always born of this: I

fell in its greeting himself and pains to die with     grace by night was fall, and all turn’d whither care I, aristocrat—one who strives in so     short hours of Zion, avarice, bounteous,

but this? And the bride to be, belovëd, I     surmise, still for a name and Cleopatra— night shall price. All be that knocking heart, how     where do you heard soul are little light.

               XLI

At length to die and face them down.     That were to contagion spread wide pinions hearken to make     the happiness, and secret

core. The color of the strong     man, this burn away individual beauty grow, i’ve     all are to pay by those

wings of Dove, and shun the bows his     heart denies. The ocean bed, until you’re whole thief endued,     by our forever our

memory moth, pod of Love are     beyond the charity, that for your hands dropped noticed&that     the command; like a

religion, pages that wait there are     gone—even be thy loss and me. That brought upon her closed     her eye well? A glimpses

of the dark—Forgive maidens be;     her king shot he discomforts have her deem me thus it is     the forward the cold, to

mine eyes and rings I have loved gone,     but strive the sun as Egypt kneel here kneeling made unapt     for a day! My coat; how

shall now not, though tis under eye     with personal quiet evening, where a bed of solitude,     Shared, shall o’er hearts, sister,

my lays, sweet life confines of     the milk are understand upon the one word that time. Rather     thing, with wild flow’rets

of the Sea; listen! And found the     Mother heavens the blue: to-morrow may seek for deluded     human kind but woman.

I watchmen that life, no midnight     have left of life is still strew on the lightning, from above     has dried he had owsen,

sheep look into thee, and     attention, to speak of my beloved, let us view, which     is near; ’ and damp the rose

isles of our house’s barbed antennae     trawling woe, what was aye between they got near and branches     I never dwelling-

place. And eat appear: that Time will     go; I turn off the door in the day, they call I never     he was all virtues, let

me aside there and sences they     will. That Time is toward me some minx tripped up-stairs, she hath melt     with a broken chord, had

I do with pleasant: also a     bell evening-star’s at once the mind moss. Too many, O, the     stock mid shadows safe shall

could know thy locks with her groves, wide     eye bears the woodland Hyacinthus course is He not—Continent     catch her world may end

the hazel eye, and wave thee,     Melancholy neck a care too freshness dragged sloop in the seat     morning their first to fear.

[mint-moon25]

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BLKS - SLEASY & HER DO -

NOT - COME - NEAR HER -

PILIPINAS - END IN - 2023 -

EST - 67, 000 - YRS - MED -

MEDICAL - HISTORY - IN -

EUROPE - OUR - WORTH -

AS FEMALES - BACK - 2 -

FARMING - & - ANIMALS -

BACK 2 ANCIENT TIMES

[augustsprincess]

August drabble inspired by August nude on a beach

(purely random crap under the cut lmao)

You're enjoying a walk and find yourself lost in the hills above/behind the beach. You don't notice the private property signs but you're so hot the sea calls you to bask in it's refreshing waves.

Splashing the salty water on your arms as you stand in the shallows, you don't even notice that there's somebody in front of you. You hear rapid splashing, too rapid for it to be the windless ocean. Looking up you see what you assume to be a heat inflicted mirage. Of course you'd imagine a Greek god walking towards you instead of a bucket of cold water to drink.

It's only when he approaches and speaks that you realise hes really.

"This beach is private." His voice oozes authority but it's followed by a gentle smile that makes the moustache above his lips tilt.

"Oh! Shit. I'm so sorry I didn't see-" You look behind in search for a sign saying private. "I didn't see any signs" You flick your head back to face him and he suddenly stands directly in front of you. The sea barely reached his thighs and you can't help but look down at the 'elephant in the room'. Heat flushes to your face and you look back to his eyes.

The man smirks at you.

"You look positively parched, come with me. I've plenty for you to drink. Come." Your eyes follow him as he walks by you towards what looks like an open tent. Blankets, pillows and even a platter of fruit. You can't help but become distracted by his body instead. You follow him.

The man picks up a towel and gently pats his hairy chest before wrapping it loosely around his waist.

"Don't be shy, bird. Come sit with me."

There's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you to not talk to strangers. Especially on a private beach with not a single soul around. But GOD makes it hard when the grapes look absolutely divine and the white wine on ice is practically saying your name.

It takes half a moment for you to decide to do as he says. You ponder if you'd make a deal with the devil so quickly.

Taking a seat on one of the pillows you look up as he pours two glasses of wine.

"August." The man spoke. You wondered what the context of the month meant before he continued. "The name's August. " You smile as he hands you a glass. You tell him your name as he takes a seat so close beside you.

"Pretty name for a pretty bird." August confirms. "Very pretty little bird. And all alone. No flock to fly with." You visibly gulp at the strangers words but his smirk is what makes you begin to panic. You think quickly. You gingerly put your glass down on the small table and you watch as his eyes follow. You take that as your exit and launch yourself to your feet. You don't make it half a foot before August grabs your ankles and has you on the ground.

You shriek and kick trying to get away from him. As August digs his nails into your ribs you kick once more. Your foot collides with one of the poles and the entire thing collapses on top of the both of you.

The fruit, the table and the full glasses all fall into the sand and all August can do is laugh. You're trying your best to get from beneath him but he's laughing too hard and your giggles aren't helping you by any means.

"August! I can't breathe!" The roleplay he had planned had quite literally fallen to pieces on top of both of you and all he could do was push you deeper into the sand.

"I'm moving!" He shouts between giggles. "This wasn't part of the plan. I thought I nailed those posts in well" Finally August rolls off of you and pushes the fabric and pillows off you. He then collapses in the sand next to you, a huge smile on his face and his chest heaving.

He pulls you to him and you rest your head on his chest.

"We should save that wine, August." You whisper. "It's expensive."

"I own the vineyard, I'll get you more." He pressed a kiss on your forehead before you caught each other's eyes. "You know what rhymes with flock, birdie?" A loud shriek/laugh leaves your mouth as August ruins the moment even more. But you've no time to comprehend as he grabs you and pushes you up onto him.

"Ohhh, there's my good, sweet bird. Fly for me."

[queenlucythevaliant]

For your "which Inkling are you" quiz (which was fabulous, by the way), the quotes from the Christian poems all really got to me - do you have recommendations for collections of Christian poetry?

What a lovely question to receive! It would be my joy to recommend some poets and places to find their work.

Okay, since you liked the tastes I gave of the Inklings on my quiz, I would definitely suggest starting there. 

C.S. Lewis’s first poetry collection, Spirits in Bondage, is available for free here through Project Gutenberg. If you find that you enjoy it, you can invest in a copy of his collected poems, which is just called Poems by C.S. Lewis. Perhaps my favorite Lewis poem from the complete collection is “As the Ruin Falls,” which can be read here. 

Charles Williams’s Poems of Conformity has some wonderful gems. It’s available to view or download for free at archive.org. My favorite poem from that collection is “City of Man,” so that might be a good place to start.

A good selection of Owen Barfield’s poetry is available through his estate here. When it comes to published collections, your guess is as good as mine.

Dorothy Sayers is something of an honorary Inkling, but her poetry reads like Inkling poetry in many ways and is very beautiful. Her collection Catholic Tales and Christian Songs is also available at archive.org for free viewing and download. I would recommend starting with “Desdichado,” which opens the collection, and then going from there. 

Others poets, no particular order:

G.K. Chesterton wrote some excellent Christian poetry, but I’ve only read a little of it. Poke around his Poetry Foundation Page for a taste, maybe, and if you enjoy what’s available there seek out a more complete collection. 

I mean, John Donne, c’mon. A PDF of his complete Holy Sonnets, plus a number of other sacred poems, is available for download here. V, X, XIV, and XV are my favorites, I think, though honestly they’re all just gorgeous. Please don’t let the old-timey spelling throw you if you’re not used to it; once you’ve read the first few, it won’t be as much of a struggle, and these are not poems you want to miss out on. They’re rich, dense with theology and the tangle of the human heart. 

Mary Karr is a delight, particularly her “Descending Theology” sequence (beginning with “Christ Human”). It and others are available on her Poetry Foundation page. 

Franz Wright has written some lovely, more sparse Christian poetry. “The Raising of Lazarus” is especially fantastic, but again, poke around his Poetry Foundation page. If, after checking some of these out, you want a collection, I would recommend Walking to Martha’s Vineyard. 

Gerard Manley Hopkins. Anything by him. “Pied Beauty” is easily his most famous poem, but for my money I like “God’s Grandeur” and “Carrion Comfort” just as much. 

Christina Rosetti has some wonderful sacred poetry, in spite of the fact that some of her work is rather too erotic for my tastes. Famously, she wrote the text of “In the Bleak Midwinter,” but her poem “Good Friday” is also well worth a read. 

Anne Bradstreet. “Contemplations” will give you a good idea of whether you’ll enjoy her work.

Anna Akhmatova is a famous Russian poet and an all-time favorite poet of mine. Her poems “Rachel” and “Lot’s Wife” aren’t devotionally Christian, but they’re thought provoking and beautiful and they deal with some hard parts of Genesis. 10/10 would recommend if you’re feeling adventurous. (Sorry about linking to some random blogs instead of something more standard. I wanted to provide my preferred translations--more literal, without the enforced English rhyme scheme-- which was harder than I anticipated.)

That’s what I’ve got off the top of my head. Anyone else with recommendations, feel free to chime in!

[holysimsblog]

GUYS!!! I just found a whole file with all ts3 store content! And guess what?? They are ALL on mediafire :/ I don’t have the time nor space on my computer to download them all! I’ll link them below and hope that maybe some of you can save them up and repost at some point - thanks! (credit to freesims-3.tumblr.com)

Barnacle Bay decrapped: Mediafire 

Barnacle Bay objects only: Mediafire 

Riverview decrapped: Mediafire 

Riverview objects only: Mediafire

To install venue lots, the .package file must be placed in your library folder, not your packages folder 

Last Venue of Amore: Mediafire 

World of Wonder: Mediafire

The Now & Then Century Manor: Mediafire 

Deliciously Indulgent Bakery: Mediafire 

Prism Art Studio: Mediafire 

The Boardwalk: Mediafire 

Grandpa’s Grove: Mediafire 

Grim’s Ghastly Manor: Mediafire 

The Golden Ticket Toy Shop: Mediafire 

Business as Usual Bistro: Mediafire 

The Duke of Bows Renaissance Faire: Mediafire 

Tiny Prodigies Early Learning Centre: Mediafire 

Al Fresco Street Market: Mediafire 

Stones Throw Greenhouse: Mediafire 

The Lucky Simoleon Casino: Mediafire 

Gothique Library: Mediafire 

Modern Luxury: The Coffee Bean Hipster Loft: Mediafire Everyday Teens Collection: Mediafire Everyday Kids Collection: Mediafire Top o’ the Tots Hairstyles and Headwear: Mediafire Everyday - Cool Summer Nights: Mediafire Everyday - Hot Summer Days: Mediafire Everyday Casual Chic: Mediafire Luxury Spa Set: Mediafire Luxury Resort Attire: Mediafire Luxe Lounge Spa: Mediafire Contemporary Comfort Bedroom: Mediafire Contemporary Comfort Living: Mediafire I Heart the 50’s Laundry: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Laundry: Mediafire Bayside Laundry: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Bath: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Kitchen: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Girl’s Bedroom Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Boy’s Bedroom Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Teens Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Bedroom Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Dining Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Living Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Outdoor Set: Mediafire Ultra Lounge Study Set: Mediafire Jet Set: Mediafire Jet Set Teens: Mediafire Jet Set Elders: Mediafire Haute Hip: Mediafire Diva and Divo: Mediafire Glitter and Glam Bedroom: Mediafire Collectionne Stancke: Mediafire Runway Riot: Mediafire BahHaus: Mediafire 

Premium: Brunch at the Old Mill: Mediafire 

Travel and World Style: Bohemian Garden: Mediafire Mother Russia: Mediafire One With Nature: Mediafire Nautical Living: Mediafire Fifth Avenue Fashions: Mediafire Live, Laugh, Love: Mediafire Palace of Versailles: Mediafire Waning Moon: Mediafire Old Town Starter Kit: Mediafire Ragtime in the Big Easy: Mediafire Itadakimasu! Japanese Inspired Dining: Mediafire Japanese Inspired Living Collection: Mediafire Japanese Inspired Clothing Collection: Mediafire Drifter’s Desire: Mediafire Kingdom of Cambodia Bedroom Set: Mediafire Kingdom of Cambodia Bathroom Set: Mediafire Fabulous Fiesta Ice Cream Machine and Deep Fryer: Mediafire Haute Hacienda Kitchen Set: Mediafire Haute Hacienda Dining Room Set: Mediafire Dreams of India: Mediafire India Inspirations Clothing and Hairstyles: Mediafire India Inspirations Bedroom Set: Mediafire Africa Inspirations Safari Living Set: Mediafire Africa Inspirations Collection: Mediafire Adventurous Life! Vertical Challenge Rock Wall: Mediafire Viva Las Vegas Bedroom: Mediafire Viva Las Vegas Living: Mediafire Vineyard Villa Furnishings: Mediafire Mediterranean Villa Kitchen/Dining: Mediafire Hollywood Regency Den: Mediafire Muse Luxury: Mediafire Morocco Mystique: Mediafire Cante Captivating: Mediafire Buccaneer’s Bounty: Mediafire Hacienda Luxury: Mediafire Provence: Mediafire Beach Bummin’: Mediafire Island Villa: Mediafire Life’s a Beach (Swim): Mediafire Sun, Surf & Sand (Sleep): Mediafire Zen Again: Mediafire Imperial Bedroom Zen: Mediafire Asian Fusion: Mediafire Worldly Goodies: Mediafire 

Activities: Surf’s Up Sun and Fun Collection: Mediafire Level Up Collection: Mediafire It’s Game Time: Mediafire Championship Dreams: Mediafire Front Row Centre Bedroom: Mediafire Wretched Threads: Mediafire Loud, Fast, Clash! - Bedroom: Mediafire Loud, Fast, Clash! - Attire: Mediafire Adrenaline Rush: Mediafire Transport to the Future: Mediafire Pushin’ Pedals: Mediafire Speedy Styles: Mediafire Goal!: Mediafire 

Fantasy: Tutor of Tudors: Mediafire Happily Ever After Clothing and Hairstyles: Mediafire Happily Ever After: Mediafire Futureshock Loft Collection: Mediafire Futureshock Living: Mediafire Futureshock Bedroom: Mediafire Futureshock Kitchen: Mediafire More Magic!: Mediafire The Soothsayers Crystal Ball Set: Mediafire Steampunk Kitchen: Mediafire Steampunk: the Return: Mediafire Steampunk Savvy: Mediafire Through the Spyglass: Mediafire Through the Spyglass - Bedroom: Mediafire Faire Folk Outdoors: Mediafire Faire Folk Attire: Mediafire Faire Folk Slumber: Mediafire Faire Folk Den: Mediafire Sweet Escape Nursery: Mediafire Full Interior Castle Set: Mediafire The Complete Castle by Castles Kits, Inc: Mediafire Victorian Fashions: Mediafire (I saved that one betcha)

Fun: Double Down Poker and Roulette Bundle: Mediafire Lullabies and Nursery Rhymes: Mediafire Date Night: Mediafire Le Cirque Esprit: Mediafire Le Cirque Nouveau: Mediafire Gothic Glamour - Living Room Set: Mediafire Gothic Glamour - Home Office Set: Mediafire Show Stopping Styles Collection: Mediafire Edwardian Expressions Kitchen Set: Mediafire Back 2 Skool: Mediafire Street Couture - Kids and Teens!: Mediafire Street Couture: Mediafire Luxe Kidswear: Mediafire Indulgent Living: Mediafire Luxe Loungewear: Mediafire Fanciful Fashion: Mediafire Frontier Finds Kitchen and Dining: Mediafire Frontier Finds: Mediafire Animals Abound - Outdoor Fun: Mediafire Animals Abound Playground Bed & Bath: Dead link Wild Wears: Dead link Forest Bedroom: Mediafire Critter Comforts: Mega Wilderness Dreaming: Mediafire Panda & Friends: Mediafire Gothique Sleeping Room: Mediafire Gothique Living Room: Mediafire Regal Living Bedroom Set: Mediafire Regal Living Dining Room Set: Mediafire Regal Living Living Room Set: Mediafire Regal Living Kitchen Set: Mediafire Regal Living Bathroom Set: Mediafire Tiki Outdoor Party: Mediafire Tiki Dining Room Set: Mediafire Tiki Living Room Set: Mediafire 

Classics: Homecoming: Mediafire Farm Fresh Folk Set: Mediafire Country Livin’: Mediafire Mid-Century Modern Dining & Style Set: Mediafire Mid-Century Modern Bedroom Collection: Mediafire Mid-Century Modern Bathroom Collection: Mediafire Mid-Century Modern Kitchen Marvels: Mediafire Mid-Century Fantasy: Mediafire Killer Classics: Mediafire The Sims Classic - Welcome Back to Three Lakes Set: Mediafire Atomic Age Living and Dining: Mediafire Boho Vintage Men’s Collection: Mediafire Boho Vintage Men’s Collection: Mediafire Jazz Age Living Room: Mediafire Jazz Age Wear: Mediafire Romanza Bridal Party: Mediafire Romanza Attire: Mediafire Romanza Reception: Mediafire Romanza Ceremony: Mediafire Club Vaindenburger Den: Mediafire Club Vaindenburger Study: Mediafire Hewnsmen Dining Room Set: Mediafire Hewnsmen Living Room Set: Mediafire Hewnsmen Bedroom Set: Mediafire Hewnsmen Outdoor Set: Mediafire Hogan’s Deep-Fried Diner Starter Kit: Mediafire Rebel Just Because: Mediafire Bayside Kitchen Set: Mediafire Bayside Bathroom Set: Mediafire Storybook Dining Room Set: Mediafire Storybook Living Room Set: Mediafire Storybook Bedroom Set: Mediafire Storybook Bathroom Set: Mediafire 

Holidays and Gifts: Fashionable Fitness Set: Mediafire Happy Mardi Gras!: Mediafire Cosmic Cosmetics - Registration Bonus: Mediafire Dark Industrial Set: Mediafire Quantum Power Pack: Mediafire Tropical Waters Hat Pack - Registration Reward: Mediafire Carnaval Costumes Pack - Origin Preorder Bonus: Mediafire Mascot Attack Pack: Mediafire Seasons Wall Decal Pack: Mediafire Plants vs. Zombies Fan Pack: Mediafire Freestyle DJ Booth: Mediafire Atomic Age Pets Registration Gift: Mediafire The Sims 3 Generations Registration Gift: Mediafire The Red Carpet Collection: Mediafire The Ultimate Career Bundle: Mediafire Explorer’s Loot: Mediafire Happy Holidays to Your Furry Friends!: Mediafire Sims Santas: Mediafire Happy New Year 2012!!!: Mediafire Happy New Year ‘11: Mediafire ‘Tis the Season For Gift Giving!: Mediafire More Holiday Presents: Mediafire Happy Holiday Presents: Mediafire Harvest Bounty: Mediafire Fall Fruition: Mediafire No Tricks, Just Treats: Mediafire More Halloween Treats: Mediafire Halloween Treats: Mediafire Happy Halloween Gory Goodies: Mediafire Carnivale Celebration!: Mediafire Year of the Dragon: Mediafire Year of the Tiger: Mediafire Year of the Rabbit: Mediafire Kalliopi’s Gifts: Mediafire Weba Yayfoo!: Mediafire Oktoberfest Celebrations: Mediafire In the Dawn of Sims: Mediafire The Sims Strike Back: Mediafire Let There be Sims: Mediafire Happy St. Patrick’s Day: Mediafire Happy Valentine’s Day 2012: Mediafire Eye of the Bolder ‘10: Mediafire Earth Day: Mediafire